“Innocence in its purest form,” Tiernan pondered, considering Ethyn and Ciara. “That could mean a number of things, but one rises above the rest when it comes to sacrifice and conjuring great power.”
“The blood of a virgin?” Julie exclaimed, following Tiernan’s line of thinking. She cringed as if she’d hated to say it.
“How...Hollywood,” Madison said dryly, mouthing, “I’m sorry,” to Ciara.
“Really?” Ciara looked at Tiernan, incredulous. “Are you sure?”
“Nay, not entirely,” Tiernan responded. “But it makes more sense than most other scenarios. Many a folklore tell of virgin blood being powerful in its own right. Some say its purity can fuel or enable dark magic under the right circumstances.”
“Versus say, the blood of a newborn babe,” Marek theorized. “Or the powers of a chaste goddess.”
When everyone frowned at Marek, he merely shrugged.
“That’s darkly specific, brother,” Cray muttered before looking at Chloe. “I was able to follow verra little in Madison’s mind. What just happened with you two other than hinting at another possible puzzle piece in all this?”
“Well, for me, it was close to what I felt before when remembering Ethyn and Phelan in that life,” she replied. “Except this time, I felt like I knew not just Ethyn but maybe Ciara too...before she became a wolf.” Chloe nodded. “She was definitely his one true love.” She glanced at them, troubled. “Before something truly horrible happened.”
“It wasn’t exactly the same for me,” Madison said. “But more like I sensed it through the Stonehenge. My dragon knew all the harm the Brotherhood would eventually reap there.” Distress saturated her gaze. She put a hand over Cray’s on her womb, sadness in her voice. “Yet, I didn’t stop it...” Her voice broke off as she gathered herself. “I did nothing more, so I didn’t risk the lives of my other children.”
“And that’s okay,” Ciara said firmly, her heart in her eyes as she looked at Madison. “Family first always. Your children first always. I would expect nothing less.” She looked from Madison to her other friends then back. “Do you understand? Nothing less.”
“I see why she chose you,” came a deep rumble from out of nowhere. “Why she chose all of you.”
Ciara blinked, confused when everything seemed to stand still. Everyone kept talking, but all she heard was complete silence. The air felt heavy and light all at once. Lightning sizzled over the Viking blade strapped to Ethyn’s back.
That’s when she saw him.
A man standing in the darkness.
She went to speak, but he shook his head.
Instead, he relayed a message of his own.
Chapter Fourteen
“THEY CAN’T BE right,” Ciara repeated as she and Ethyn settled into their tent. It had started raining, and the storm was nearly here, so everyone had said their goodnights. But not before they speculated on the mysterious man Ciara had witnessed. “Though he did definitely look like a Viking.” She nodded her thanks when he handed her a fresh skin of whisky. “A bad-ass holy-hell Viking at that.”
He grinned. “Aye, our Viking ancestors tend to look that way.”
“Pretty daunting,” she admitted. “I mean, you and your cousins are huge, but he had you by a few inches.” She made a gesture, referring once more to the man's appearance. “Then with all the black leather, longish black hair, little braids, tats and shaved stripes in his eyebrows, crazy wild primal looking.”
“That could describe most of the Vikings I know save the eyebrows.” He shook his head. “That’s not something our ancestors do, but it is something the Ancients and their offspring are known for.”
“Right, Ancients, those originally born to dragonkind’s fiery homeworld of Múspellsheimr,” she said, repeating what she’d learned. “And based on my description, Tiernan thinks he’s someone called Leviathan?” She quirked her lip. “Which, I’ve got to admit rings true. He most certainly looked like a Leviathan.”
“Aye, I hear he’s fierce.” He tried to keep a troubled expression from his face as they sat across from each other. “Though, I agree with Tiernan, ‘tis odd he appeared to you and no one else.”
“I know.” She shook her head. “And what are we to make of his message that all hope isn’t lost for her? That there’s a way out.”
“I dinnae know, lass.” Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed. “What I do know is if ‘twas indeed Leviathan then ‘tis truly interesting he was here.”
When she looked at him curiously, he went on.
“According to Tiernan, he’s a mentor of sorts to the children of the couples my cousin helped during the last Viking war,” he explained. “Which could verra likely mean those children are grown up now, and something is happening in ancient Scandinavia.”
“Grown up?” She chuckled and sipped her whisky. “What was he, five years old, when he started mentoring them?”
“Nay.” He chuckled as well, much more interested in watching her than drinking whisky. “Leviathan doesnae age like us. Though I dinnae ken the dynamics of it, ‘tis much slower.”
“Ah.” She considered him. “So, based on what he said, do you think he’s actually here for someone? I mean, why else give me that message?”
“’Tis impossible to know at this point,” he replied. “It could have been some sort of cryptic message, so our enemies didnae hear.” He shrugged. “Or he may have somehow been the enemy himself.”
“You don’t think so, though, do you?” She sat crossed legged, with her elbow on her knee and her chin on her fist, her eyes a wee bit too merry thanks to the whisky. “You think he was really a Viking, huh? That he was here to help?”
“Aye,” he confirmed. “Based on you seeing lightning on my Viking blade right before he appeared, I do.”
“A Viking blade given to Tiernan in ancient Scandinavia to help all of us on our quests,” she murmured, thinking about that. “Do you think Leviathan’s back to retrieve it then?”
“Mayhap,” he replied. “But I dinnae think he means to take it until we’ve ensured Scotland’s history and defeated the Brotherhood.”
“Right,” she agreed. “Because he’s the mentor of the next generation of your Viking ancestors. So he would only ever try to protect their descendants.”
“Aye.” He smiled, not interested in talking about ancestors or truthfully, any of the daunting revelations they’d learned tonight. “Tell me about yourself, Ciara. Not just the time when you were Phelan but your time in the future. What it was like for you.”
“I think you know what it was like for me to be Phelan—”
“Nay.” He shook his head. “I knew what it was like to be with my wolf, you, but not how you felt. What was going through your mind. I could guess at it but never truly know.”
“Okay,” Ciara said softly. “I hear you.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and contemplated her response. “Honestly, being Phelan was many things. Heartbreaking, freeing, lonely, amazing.” She shook her head. “Obviously, wanting to be with you in human form was the heartbreaking and lonely part.” Flickers of lightning illuminated the tent. “But there were other times. When I was out in the forest running, more free than any human could ever be. More alive than you can imagine. One with nature. In tune with everything going on around me.”
“That sounds...” How to phrase it? “Verra good, lass. I’m glad you found happiness in the midst of so much sadness.”
“I did.” She took another swig of whisky then licked her lips, clearly enjoying the taste of it. Or, as it turned out, remembering. “But that wasn’t the only place I found happiness.” She recalled the holidays over the years. His people. “While it wasn’t the case in every life, in this one, I felt like I truly belonged. Everyone was always so kind. Your mom. Dad. Grandparents. They were so amazing and treated your,” she made air quotes, “wolf, like I was part of the family.”
“Because you were,” he said softly, taking her hand, never so serious, truly seeing
past Phelan to Ciara now. “You were missed when you weren’t there, lass. Not just by them but by me. ‘Twas never the same without our great wolf lounging in front of the fire. Overseeing Clan MacLomain as only a mighty beastie could.”
Ciara smiled, remembering fondly. “Did you know your mom gave me plates full of fresh food when no one was looking? She told me a wolf who watched over you so well deserved far more than table scraps.” She pressed her lips together and chuckled, eyeing her skin of whisky. “And every so often, your dad let me have a sip of ale or whisky, saying much the same as your mom.”
“That sounds like them.” He was grateful she found some semblance of happiness with his clan. Their clan. “What of your time in the future? Or even your time shifted in our era?”
“I never shifted in our era again after that first time.” She shook her head. “It was too risky. Only ever in the future.”
“And what was that like?”
“Scary as hell the first time,” she confessed, swigging more whisky before she smiled. “Then, it got easier.” She shrugged. “But then, smoking and motorcycles helped.” She cocked a crooked grin. “Which makes me understand all the numerous clichés about badass werewolves and their unsavory lifestyles.”
When he grinned and shook his head, confused, she explained. “Well, long story short, you tend to meet all the wrong people when you’re a girl with no identity. Don’t worry,” she assured when he frowned, “I figured things out pretty quickly. Once I did, I got an apartment, an internet connection, and was good to go.”
“You make it sound so much simpler than I suspect it was,” he said. “What of your bad habits, though?”
“Hey, riding isn’t a bad habit.” Ciara shook her head. “If anything, riding was the closest thing I could find to racing through the forests as a wolf. It calmed me. Got my head right.” She shrugged. “As to smoking, it’s surprising how much wolves use their mouth, either to eat, clean, etcetera, so I suspect, it just filled an oral gratification on some level.”
“Do you crave smoking now?” he asked, truly curious. “Or your motorcycle?”
“Come to think of it, no.” She kept smiling. “Good thing considering neither exists here.”
“You are truly amazing,” he said softly, marveling at her. “You know that, aye?”
“I don’t know about amazing,” she replied just as softly. “But, I feel pretty blessed.”
“That you feel that way within a curse says a lot about you.” He cupped her cheek, glad when she didn’t pull away. Hopeful that she wouldn’t as the night wore on. Hopeful for more than he said at the moment. “Might we lie closer tonight, lass? Might I...hold you?”
“But what if—”
He pressed the pad of his thumb to her lips gently, never more serious. “There is no ‘what if’ greater than what I suspect we’ve already suffered time and time again.”
Her eyes lingered on his for what felt like a millennium but was, in reality, only a few moments.
“Yeah, okay.” Ciara smiled and leaned her cheek into his touch before pulling away. “Just sleeping, though...” She hesitated, her cheeks pinkening again as she glanced at him. “And maybe a little cuddling.”
“Aye, then.” He grinned and snuffed out the candle before he urged her to lie down beside him. Though she said nothing, her thoughts were like a firestorm. Rain pelted the tent, wind gusted, and thunder cracked overhead, all a perfect match to her anxiety.
“You need not be nervous.” He pulled her back against him. “’Tis just sleep I seek...and this.”
“This feels like trouble,” she whispered. Yet her hand closed over his, and she cozied back against him. “This feels like being on the horse today.”
“Aye.” He didn’t want to push her. “But it isnae, lass. And I willnae hold you to your word.”
There was no missing the amusement in her voice. “My word?”
“Aye.” He reminded her precisely what she'd been thinking on his horse earlier. “That you would be willing to try just about anything when we made camp tonight.”
“Right.” She chuckled. “But that was only if I was looking into your eyes.”
“True,” he conceded, content to leave it at that. Truly, he was just glad to have her in his arms. It felt right. Meant to be. As though she had always belonged there. Nevertheless, she needed to understand where he truly stood. Something he suspected she knew anyway. “I willnae make the first move, Ciara, nor ask you to do anything you’re not ready for. ‘Tis for you and you alone to decide what is right. What you want.”
“I know,” she whispered, rolling onto her back. Her eyes met his in the darkness, seen clearly in the lightning flashes. “You’re incapable of anything else, Ethyn.”
“I am,” he agreed softly. Though tempted to touch her cheek, to remind her of the sparks between them, he held back. “Sleep, Ciara. You’re safe here.”
Her gaze lingered on his face, her thoughts swirling before she said what weighed on her mind. “Do you think it’s me?” She inhaled deeply, then continued. “Do you think I was the innocence the Brotherhood was seeking? The possible...virgin innocence?”
“I dinnae know.” Again he wanted to touch her cheek, chin, jaw, neck, anything in comfort but refrained. “Do you think you might be?” Then, because it’d been weighing on his mind. “Though I know you didnae lie with any man in this life, what of your wolf? Did Phelan take a mate in any life?”
“No,” she whispered, tears suddenly in her eyes. “Wolves steered clear of me in every life. As though I were tainted somehow.”
Unable to stop himself this time when met with her pain, he finally cupped her cheek and made sure her eyes stayed with his. “I’m sorry, lass. Truly so verra sorry.”
Because though she didn’t say it, and her devotion to him was thorough, she wouldn’t have minded a wolf family through the many lifetimes. A chance to feel normal in the midst of so much chaos and heartbreak. She had lived reality after reality with a wall between her and the one she loved, with no chance at happiness, even on the side of the wall she’d been thrust.
“You have no reason to be sorry, Ethyn.” A tear slid down her cheek. “You were always incredibly kind to me. Never mean or cruel. Always there...”
When she trailed off, too emotional to speak, he went to tuck her against his side again, but she stopped him.
“No,” she whispered before she cleared her throat and spoke again. “No, I don’t want to cuddle and go to sleep.”
“You’re emotional right now, lass,” he murmured. Though he worked against himself, it was the right thing to do. “You’re not thinking clear—”
She pressed a finger to his lips, a look of surprise in her eyes.
“Actually, I am,” she said softly. “I’m thinking clearer than I have in a long time.”
With that, she did something that enlightened them in more ways than one.
Chapter Fifteen
THOUGH SHE KNEW there was a huge risk in it, she was willing to take it. She wanted to be with Ethyn the way a woman should be with a man. Even if it was only one time, she wanted to feel what she’d long dreamt of. Not just being intimate with someone, but him. At last.
So she pulled his lips down to hers and kissed him in a way she hoped made things clear. Kissed him with everything she felt. Then she tentatively ran her hand up under his tunic, groaning at the feel of his hard body. Remembering oh-so-well how good it had felt the first time she touched it. Then, even more tentatively, she trailed her fingers down and finally touched the thick bulge between his legs.
“Are you sure this is what you want, lass?” he murmured against her lips, his breathing ragged, his body more than ready for her. Both lust and concern saturated his eyes when they met hers. “Truly sure?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.” She pushed his tunic up, desperate to feel his flesh against hers. Hoping he wouldn’t fight her on this now she was finally sure. She knew with everything in her that it wa
s time. Long past time, actually.
Thankfully, it seemed he was of the same mind because he pulled off his tunic then resumed kissing her. She’d never felt so alive and sumptuous when he kissed his way down her neck then slowly undressed her. Though in medieval Scotland, she saw no reason to go without a bra and panties for now, so he had those to contend with too.
It was as if he unwrapped a precious gift as he kissed everything he exposed. First, her belly when he pushed her shirt up. Then her cleavage. All the while, she shivered at the thrill of it. Moaned as pleasure fanned out from each and every spot he touched. Even when bit by bit, he pulled her arms free of her sleeves and kissed his way from her wrist to her elbow to her shoulder, it felt remarkably erotic.
Once her shirt was gone, he returned to her cleavage but left the bra in place, teasing her sensitive flesh through the material before he made his way down. She thought for sure she’d feel at least some shyness at being so exposed to him, but she felt the opposite. Rather, it felt meant to be. As if her body was designed for his eyes. His touch.
He spent extra time on the part of her leg that troubled her, massaging and kissing it before he moved on. By the time her pants were tossed aside, he’d sampled just about every part of her legs except her inner thighs. He left that joy for his journey back up. But not before he made a project of removing her panties almost slower than he had the rest of her clothing. By the time he spread her legs and peppered kisses along her inner thighs, she was clenching the blanket underneath in sweet anticipation.
She barely heard thunder crashing or rain pounding on the tent, she became so very aware of him. The way he made her feel when he finally sampled and manipulated the soft flesh between her legs. Although she’d imagined how this might feel, it paled in comparison to the real thing. In fact, she felt so much so strongly she began trembling.
Though she struggled for air, it seemed impossible to drag in as her body let go, and a flood-gate burst open. She arched and cried out, at first struggling against the overwhelming sensation. When he came up, cupped her cheek and assured her all was well, she relaxed into it.
A Scot's Favor (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era Book 4) Page 10