A Witch's Destiny

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  “Killian, what are you suggesting?” she said in a voice that quivered with the dread she was feeling.

  “Perhaps when we go back to Ireland, you might stay with your grandfather or in the round tower again.”

  She sat up, holding tight to the bedsheet in keeping her breasts covered. Her body began to tremble and her mind wandered at the gravity of what he was suggesting. He believed they should live apart even knowing they would soon be parted indefinitely. She dared to glance at Killian, hoping he would offer an explanation.

  “You don’t wish for us to be together any longer?” she whispered attempting to keep the wounded tone from her voice. “Do you bear me an ill will that cannot be forgiven because of my time with the king… or because of all that occurred with the witch?”

  “I place no blame on you, Alainn. It is only… I am uncertain I can ever be the husband I once was to you. It would be wrong to stain the memory of what we once shared, and unfair to you to pretend it could ever be what it once was.” His voice wavered as he spoke and her heart ached at the obvious depth of his despair in this moment.

  She instinctively moved closer to him to offer comfort, but she he tensed when she did so. She moved away from him again, and her heart lurched.

  “I was undeniably relieved when you were saved when I’d thought you were going to die, and I was surely gladdened to see you ridded of the evil within you. I thought if ever we had the opportunity to be together like this that I couldn’t wait to be alone with you, to hold you, to kiss you, and to make love to you for I haven’t done so for many weeks now. I anticipated taking you in my arms and loving you as in the past… but…”

  He stopped speaking and Alainn was uncertain whether to urge him to go on or to allow him to speak further when he was so inclined. Her heart ached for him.

  He finally blurted out the words even knowing the truth would further wound her. “When I am hard with arousal, I can only think of her, and of that night. When I imagine you and me together sharing our once heated passion, it is only her face I see. She may be dead, but she rules my desires and my life. She fills my thoughts by day and my dreams by night. I relive it over and over again.”

  “It is common with those who have been forced to…”

  “I wasn’t forced, Alainn! My God, I wanted her. I wanted her more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. I wanted it, all of it… each and every depraved act, every perverse and painful moment. Even as she dragged her nails down my back and tore open my skin so deeply I thought sure she would wound me to the bone, I didn’t want her to terminate her actions.”

  Alainn fought the tears that welled in her eyes, but she listened on.

  “Don’t you see, Alainn. I want her still. I can barely allow myself to be near you for I am certain you’ll hear my lusting thoughts of her, and know I am in a perpetual state of arousal. All I can think of is having her. Sometimes even now, when my thoughts go to her, I become so damnably aroused I spill my seed with no more restraint than a young boy who has only just experienced his first rigidity. And so I still the damnable need by my own hand sometimes a dozen times a day to feel some form of relief, but it only leaves me wanting her more.

  Last night, when we sat together with our fathers, even though I was overjoyed at seeing my father when I thought I might never see him again, even though I didn’t dare to hope I might ever again hold you in my arms while you slept, I could not keep my thoughts from her. I was grateful for the table before me for it concealed my erect condition whenever I let my lusting thoughts fall on her. How am I to live my life like this, in a constantly desirous state over a damnable dead evil witch? I cannot make you a part of this perversity.”

  Alainn swallowed and stifled a sob in realizing how difficult all of this must be for him to admit to her. “It was a potent magical spell of profound and unending lust, Killian. You had no more control over it than a woman who is taken by force by a man she is no match for in size or strength. Because your body responded to her, because you acted on the lust, does not indicate you truly wanted it. She directed her lustful powers toward me only briefly and even with my many powers I couldn’t fight her. I had begun to respond to her. You cannot fault yourself in any way, Killian.”

  “Aye, perhaps, but she is dead and still I am under her spell. I lust for her still. I want her still. How can that ever be changed?”

  “It will take time, I am certain.” She admitted in a quiet voice.

  “And we don’t have much time, by the gods’ own wisdom, we are soon to be parted. By your abilities, do you sense how long it will be before you are taken to the future?”

  “I am not certain, no. If I had to estimate I would suggest it will be during the winter solstice, for next to Samhain the solstices are when magic is the strongest, but I could be entirely astray in my reckoning.”

  “Seven weeks,” he said more to himself than to her.

  “Perhaps when the wounds are entirely healed the pull will be less strong. If you allow me to tend to the wounds, Killian, I might better heal you. I realize Danhoul has many healing abilities and that he has done what he can to heal you, but I would heal you with the herbs, and my magic, but my love will heal you as well.”

  “I don’t care for you to cast your eyes upon the wounds for it is as though I am possessive of them,” he admitted. “And I’ll tell you plain I’m not even certain I want them gone. They are agonizingly painful, but with each movement I am reminded of her and she fills my senses. I can see her and feel her, smell her, I can even taste her. And, God help me, that’s all I want.”

  Alainn closed her eyes and attempted to still her jealousy at his admissions, and only empathize with his cursed vexation. “I understand, Killian, but perhaps she may have left a part of her upon you or within you, a hair, a nail fragment, any part of her. If that proves to be truth, the wounds will never truly heal. Witches often do so when creating a hex. It ensures their spells are long-lasting and far-reaching. It capably imprisons those who they have hexed.”

  Killian nodded and he stared up at Alainn before he spoke again. “Does that night not haunt you still, Alainn?”

  “I mostly attempt to keep it distanced from my mind for it fills me with guilt and regret, but jealous hatred as well.” She also did not hold back her truth.

  “You forget I saw your eyes. I stared into your eyes while I was with her. I saw the pain and the enragement, and the deep jealousy as I had her, and I admit, maybe a part of me felt almost justified in causing you pain for your stubborn insistence in dealing with the witch.”

  She nodded and met his eyes. “And perhaps a part of me thought I deserved to be made to witness it for that reason as well, and even for allowing the damnable king to have me, when you warned me if it happened you would never forgive me, for carrying his child. I felt it was my just punishment. I also realize it was my unhealthy level of jealousy that fed her lust. If she’d been with Conner or Danhoul she would have derived some satisfaction to be certain, but she would have tired sooner of them. Because she knew I loved you and was jealous and possessive of you, it made claiming you much more satisfactory and pleasurable to her. So, in truth, my uncommon love and acute jealousy harmed you more than I would ever have thought possible.”

  “Sure, we can never ever go back to how it once was between us, Alainn. Never will it be the undying passion combined with the innocence of just you and me together as one. How can we ever be together without thinking of that night, of my time with her?”

  “I came to terms with the fact you bedded many, many women before me. I accepted that. I will find a way to accept this also.”

  “And when I crave vile, perverse, and unnatural acts, will you accept that as well, for that is what my mind goes to now when I think of physical intimacy. For what transpired between the witch and I that night were acts I had never dared to imagine. Will you be able to accept that when my body is joined with yours, it will be her face I see, her body I take?”

  “We
will find a way to overcome this, Killian. We have already overcome so much, this will be no different,” she whispered, but her voice held a trace of uncertainty and she fought the jealousy she still held on to.

  “But always our lovemaking brought us elation, peace, and joy, satisfaction and contentment; it united us and it got us through the difficult times, now it is sure to be the certain cause of many more difficulties.”

  Alainn could tell by the raspy tone in his voice, the talk of physical love had filled him with deep arousal. Although, after Cian died, she had feared the possibility of conceiving another child and been somewhat hesitant to share Killian’s bed, now for the first time since they had been together in a physical manner, she actually feared being intimate with him.

  “Tell me what it is I can do, Killian? Tell me what it is you want of me? Do you want me to leave you alone this day or for a time? Do you want me to allow you to have me and simply allow yourself to imagine it is Ebrill that you shag?”

  She could sense herself becoming angry and impatient when she had vowed she would only offer compassion and understanding.

  “Yesterday, we thought it would be our last day on earth, and I was content to know we would die together, and I know one day in the not so distant future you will be taken away from me and I know not how long you’ll be gone. Christ, I don’t know for certain if you’ll ever come back to me. There seem to be so many uncertainties. And now we are together, lying here together, unclothed beneath the bedcovers and I am afraid to touch you, fearful to draw near to you lest I cannot contain any measure of decency toward you.”

  “Then I will touch you,” she whispered as she dared to move closer to him.

  She placed her hand upon his face and tenderly caressed his cheeks and the stubble on his jaw. She pulled her fingers gently through his thick hair and touched his ears and his strong neck. She gently traced his lips with her fingers and then drew nearer and put her full lips on his… a tender, gentle kiss filled with love and promise.

  She sensed his heightened unnatural arousal even with her tender touch. He growled in a guttural, animalist fashion and he gruffly pulled her to him, positioned himself above her, and entered her immediately. She cried out in pain as he took her in a vicious urgent manner.

  His mouth roughly claimed her breasts, his teeth biting her nipples, and his hands pinched her hips as he drove himself deep within her. She closed her eyes for she was aware it was Ebrill he envisioned as he frantically moved above her. He thrust himself within her again and again and she cried out not in pleasure, but in apparent pain. When he reached his violent release, he growled disturbingly, moaned loudly, and moved from her straightaway.

  There had been no kisses, no affection, no love, only harsh unemotional lust. His regret was evident, and she could think of little to say or do to soothe him. He turned away from her lying on his side, ashamed and rueful. In her stunned dismay, she stood and felt the immediate pain between her thighs, aware she’d suffered injury soon confirmed when she saw her blood upon the bedclothes.

  “Alainn? It is obvious we must remain parted for clearly it is not within my power to control this unnatural lust even with you whom I love more than life.”

  “All that is obvious to me is my need to heal you and rid you of her damnable hex. Lie on your belly, Killian O’Brien, for I will tend to those wounds, and I will do it now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She pulled a chemise over her head, opened the window coverings, and lit the candles. She placed the kettle upon the hearth fire and looked through her satchel to see what herbs might be beneficial. Although she had few possessions with her when she had arrived at the realm of the gods, she had been pleased to learn many potent herbs used in healing were found in their realm as well. Out of a consistent habit Morag had instilled in her as a small child, she’d instinctively sought out herbs that served as heal-alls. Thankfully, she’d procured some and placed them in her satchel. Now as she pulled them out, she magically summoned her mortar and pestle as well. Knowing it would take time, more time than she was willing to use, she decided to employ her magic once more and aptly created a potion and an ointment that might heal his deep wounds.

  When they had been in the garden in the realm of the gods, she had attempted to heal Killian’s wounds but she had never dared to actually look upon them since the night they were inflicted. At the time, they’d appeared as dark slashes and there had been too much blood to know how many or how deep they were.

  Killian had been entirely silent as she worked to prepare the necessary items. As she drew nearer to him, his body tensed once more and when she pulled back the bedclothes she had to actually will herself not to gasp at the disturbing sight. It was little wonder he had been in pain and that every movement had caused agony. There were thirteen sunken scratches slashed down his back and onto his buttocks. They were surely more deep and raised and angry than the lashes he had once received back at Castle O’Brien. These scratches had formed hard scabbed coverings, but it was clear they hadn’t actually begun to heal. There were inflamed bite marks on his shoulders and neck.

  Alainn was hesitant to touch the many wounds, and she longed to simply magically heal them or undo the spell that had caused them… perhaps erase the memory of how they had gotten there.

  “I need you to drink a hearty quantity of whiskey, Killian. Since you are mostly immune to my magic, I will not be able to ably numb or still your body as I would desire to do.”

  He obediently listened. He sat up and took the goblet from her and, in so doing, she observed that he bore many wounds on his chest, his stomach and his thighs, even the bite marks on his manhood were visible, and once more Alainn was regretful and ashamed that she had been the cause of this unforgivable maiming and despair. She reasoned she had no time for pity or regret this day. She needed to be a healer at the moment, not a wife or even a witch.

  She waited as he drank the entire goblet and then motioned for him to lie down with his back to her once more. As she placed her hand to the first lengthy scratch upon his back, he groaned and she was sickened to see green oozing putridity seep from the wound.

  “By God’s nails, Killian, these wounds are deep and inflamed, and filled with much purulence. I can well see Danhoul did what he could with the herbal remedies, but they have been festering for many days. ’Tis fortunate you did not become fevered or the purulence did not spread to your blood.”

  “You needn’t describe the wounds, Alainn. I can well do without knowing how they appear. Do whatever you need to do, Alainn. I will bear it. I trust your healing methods and your hands.”

  She wept the entire time she pressed on each of the wounds, and she had begun to hum to calm him and herself. She drained the festering wounds, was made to remove the scabbed areas, placed warm compresses on them and then as in so many times in the past, she used her charmed anelace to slit her palm and she allowed her blood to begin to drizzle upon his wounds.

  Killian immediately screamed out in pain and she was horrified to hear the wounds sizzle as her blood touched the injured areas. Surely the witch’s magic was protesting her own magical blood and it would perhaps cause further harm. She hurriedly washed her blood away and this time coated the wounds in healing remedies and ointments.

  When that was done, although hesitant to employ her magic again, she sealed the wounds by holding her healing hands above him for a lengthy time. Thankfully, it did not have the drastic results as when she’d used her blood. She saw the light radiating from her fingertips and bathing his back with healing love. All the while she prayed for him, for his recovery, and for him to find peace.

  She was pleased to see the redness in the wounds dissipate and soon only faint pink lines remained on his back. She was hesitant to have him turn over so that she could attend to the wounds on the front of his body, but it was necessary.

  “You should feel much less discomfort from the wounds on your back. Now, I need you to turn over so I might tend further t
o your wounds.”

  He did so without question, although he placed a bedsheet over his manhood and even that caused her heart to despair for at one time they had been entirely comfortable with one another, immodest and at ease, never feeling the need to be covered in each other’s company.

  She sighed as she began tending to the wounds on his chest. She pulled the chair closer to the bed for this would take some time. Killian’s eyes remained tightly closed and she longed to take away the pain and humiliation he was feeling.

  She thought of old Morag again, the healer who had taught her nearly all she knew of healing. She said the first rule of healing was to remember the people you tended were people, but to forget as well. As a child, she had struggled to understand the seemingly odd riddle and what the woman had meant, but through the years she had learned. As a healer, she needed to maintain a certain amount of humanity in her healing, but the moment she allowed herself to become too emotionally involved, her clear thought, experience, and intellect were overruled by her heart. Morag always said she had to open her mind and harden her heart to be a worthy healer. Alainn had struggled with that, for always it was her heart that was at the center of her healing, and even now as she looked down on the handsome face of the man she loved with all her heart, she wished she could only use her mind and her hands in healing him.

  “I was wrong, Caileag,” She heard Morag’s voice within her mind and was startled to see the spirit of the old healer materialize before her when, other than in Aine’s vision, she hadn’t seen her for months. This time Killian did not appear to see or hear the spirit.

  “It was not your capable mind or even your magic that made you the most gifted healer; it was because you healed with your heart, Caileag. It is because you heal with your heart!”