Shatter - Sins of the Sidhe (33 page)

On that note, Rowan was determined to not let anything else spoil her wedding - or her wedding night. She held the dagger in one hand and grabbed Devlin’s hand with the other, giving him a tug.

“Let’s go home, husband… and keep the kilt on.”

Lorcan slid into the entrance of the cage while Ruark backed up into the corner. His cell was barely big enough for the large Druid to lie down in, making the corner not nearly far enough away from the evil bastard. With no place to hide or run, Ruark’s breath came in pants. He’d been trapped down here for so long, he had no concept of time any more. That paired with living alone in the darkness and tortured repeatedly had taken a toll on his mind.

Once a fierce warrior, he was strong and mighty. Ruark, along with his brother and father, had left the safety of their village to fight for their freedoms far from home. They’d left their younger brother in charge of the house, and prayed for their safety, and the warriors’ speedy return.

Those prayers were not answered.

His brother, Byron, was struck down with a blow from a catapult. His body did not survive the crush- he was only human after all. Their father, overcome by grief and bloodlust, had lost his mind shortly after. The poor man had snapped the night they laid Byron’s body to rest. Ruark tried to stop him, but his father’s madness was all consuming and there was no reaching him. Crazed and mad, the mourning father marched into the enemy’s camp and slaughtered a dozen men before they ran him through.

Ruark fought on. He was never one to abandon his duties or retreat. His magic was what saved him. A Druid can take a beating that would slay a mortal man. Ruark was the fiercest Druid in Scotland. His talent was with his sword. Ruark could slay any enemy with the skills that rivaled the mightiest of Sidhe Warriors. He was the eldest of four, and had spent much of his time in the Highlands honing in on his gifts while his siblings played and helped around the house.

Ruark was made for fighting. It was in his very bones. And yet, when it came to this battle, Ruark was not there to save his brother and father from their untimely deaths. A guilt for which he carried like a sack of rocks around his neck.

It took almost five years to conquer that particular battle and he was finally going to return home. But he never made it there. Weak and tired from battle ,and fraught with thoughts of how to bring such terrible news to his family, Ruark felt drained and had let his guard down one night. It only took a second, a flash of a moment, before Ruark’s sleeping body was snatched and dragged back to this hell pit.

Hissing and buzzing, those blasted demon noises stung in his ears. They were relentless. Though not many came this far back to his prison, their sounds echoed through the tunnels and were driving him mad. Looking up towards the entrance to his cell now, he cowered. Ruark was no longer a warrior. He was a frightened babe. Screaming in shrieks that would rival a banshee, Ruark held his hands over his eyes so he’d not face the monster before him. But it was no use.

It was never any use.

“Come now Ruark, I thought you were a warrior? A Druid such as yourself would never crumble and cry when facing an enemy.”

He stepped closer to the huddled man. Truly, Ruark’s whimpering was taking all the fun out of this for Lorcan. He wanted a bit of a struggle from the Druid, but there was no fight to be had here. The warrior was too broken. Lorcan smiled with pity at the man shaking and mumbling in the corner.

“Ah well, fear tastes sweeter than valiance anyway,” Lorcan bent over Ruark, mustered every ounce of energy he had, snatched him by the neck and sunk his teeth in.

The blood flowed into Lorcan’s mouth like a heady wine. It was hard to not gulp it down greedily; a vintage like this is to be savored. With every swallow, Lorcan felt more alive as a strong thrill of magic went cascading down his throat and into his body. Stopping himself before he drained the Druid dry, Lorcan ripped his jaws from the fleshy neck that was now lolling around. Ruark was unconscious, though from fear or blood loss, it was a coin toss. Licking his warm lips, Lorcan dragged his tongue over his fangs and to the corners of his mouth.

Waste not, want not.

Powerful magic surged through him now. Icy eyes piercing the darkness with a glow that beamed around the cage. He did not expect Ruark’s blood would be so substantial. It would be better to hang on to this prized gem a little while longer. Having tasted the blood of dozens of Druids, ‘twas only enough to get him part of the way to full recovery. Ruark was the last one he had. A genie in a bottle. Unknowingly, he’d saved the most potent one for last.

Kicking Ruark away, the Druid’s body just rolled over like a corpse. Had he gone too far? Was the Druid dead? Concerned, Lorcan bent down to listen for life. Aye, he still breathed. Barely. ‘Twas enough though. Druids healed, though this one might take a while to do so.

Lorcan walked out of the pitch black tunnels with a new plan ready to set in motion. The piercing sounds of shrills and buzzes, hisses and screams welcomed their master. Lorcan stepped out of the tunnels and into the large room in the center of his realm. Swirls of shadows, demons and other lesser creatures keened and wailed when they saw him. For now, after eons of waiting, Lorcan was once again a full Sidhe of flesh and blood. It felt fucking good too. His skin warm and radiant, eyes cold as ice, and he had a shaft that throbbed for attention he’d been denied far too long.

Rowan.

Her name was like a sticky web, spun everywhere in his mind. The thought of her writhing under his body, his hands able to touch her, tongue to lick her, teeth to bite her, had him growling like a starved wolf. He wanted her. Now.

He had been trying to seek her out in dreams. No longer able to come near the house she was staying in, her mind was the only way to reach her, and that was proving to be a challenge as of late. Her subconscious no longer answered his calls. He felt cheated. The one who’s got her so wrapped around their finger, or their shaft, will pay dearly for taking what is rightfully his. Rowan belonged to him.

Lorcan just needed to get to her, and there was only one way that was going to happen: If he couldn’t go to her, she was going to come to him.

Morning was creeping through the windows; birds were chirping happily, waking Rowan up. She was exhausted. The honeymoon night should have been called a honeymoon marathon. Her body ached in all the right ways and she let out a little moan as she stretched out her arms and legs. It hurt so good.

Devlin was still asleep, one arm under his pillow, the other arm tucked around her. He was amazing. And he was all for her. Lucky and happy was Rowan.

She eyed the large dagger over on the chair where she’d left it the night before. Her hands itched to hold it. Looking at her sleeping husband, she didn’t want to wake him so she slowly inched her way out of the bed.

Still naked, hair in a serious state of bed head, she padded over on bare feet towards the weapon. The fire banked from the night before left a wonderful steady glow that warmed the air, but not the floor. The chilliness of the floorboards made her shiver and gooseflesh puckered over her body causing her nipples to harden like small pebbles. She bent over and grabbed the blade’s hilt.

Rowan couldn’t stop staring at its beauty. She held the weapon out in front of her in a fighting stance, like she was ready for battle. Feet spread about shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent, she sliced through the air to make the blade sing. High-pitched music came from the miraculous weapon and Rowan wondered if the music would wake up Devlin. Looking at him still asleep, she was grateful. And greedy. She swung the blade again, this time with more force. Its music made her body rejoice.

“Och lass, ye look like an angel of death wielding that blade. ‘Tis a magnificent way to die, seeing your naked body so hard and ready.”

A little embarrassed at getting caught, she put the blade back down on the chair and sauntered over to her man. She did some serious talking with those hips of hers. Coming up to Devlin’s side of the bed, she dragged light fingernails down his body. The effect was just what she was hoping for.

She bit her bottom lip, “Mmm, looks like I’m not the only one that’s hard and ready.”

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her body on top of him like she was no more than a rag doll. She loved that he was so big and she was so small. Ro thought it was the perfect combination. Devlin was so much taller than she, large muscles, big presence, his being in a room sometimes felt like he took up the whole space himself.

And then there’s Rowan… small, tiny and definitely sprite-size by comparison. But he didn’t make her feel small and insignificant. Devlin made her feel strong and feminine. She didn’t realize how great a feeling that was until this morning. Between the weapon on the chair and the weapon holding her by the hips, Rowan’s confidence meter was getting cranked up big time.

She ran her fingernails down his chest again in a light scratch that spanned from his shoulders down to his navel. His response came in a growl and a grind. The fact that she could have such an effect on him with one look and a simple touch made her feel powerful indeed.

Devlin pulled her in for a kiss when her stomach let out a big growl. They both started laughing. “Och, ye sound like ye have a beast grumbling in your gut lass! ‘Tis been too long since ye had any food.”

She rubbed her stomach, slightly embarrassed but mostly just hungry, and agreed. Devlin thought how yesterday went so fast, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morn himself and he realized Rowan may have done the same.

“Did ye eat at all yesterday?”

She shook her head no and Devlin chastised himself for not having taking better care of his woman.
His
woman. Och, now that brings a smile to his face.

“We best get dressed and subdue the beast in that belly of yours, wife.” Wife. He smiled again. Rowan giggled at seeing how happy Devlin obviously was. His smile was so big she thought his face would split.

“What’s making you so happy this morning? I swear your face is going to crack with that big smile of yours.” As if their bodies were in sync with each other, Ro went all Cheshire Cat grin on him.

“Och, lass. Ye make me so happy. I’m the luckiest man in all the worlds.” He pulled her into a warm embrace and then held her small face in his big hands.

“Ye are my light Rowan. You’re the fire that warms the coldness in my soul. I’ve lived so long fighting and searching for something that would ease the pain and hate in my heart. Each day felt like I was in purgatory, paying a penance for what I’d done. I didna ken the notion that it could all be for something else. I searched for death Rowan, every day, I wanted it so badly. But I didna find it, I found life instead. I found ye, woman. Ye’ve given me back what I’d lost long ago. Passion, love, happiness. I canna help but think the Gods created this world just so ye could exist and for me to find ye and hold ye in my arms. Ye are worth creating worlds for woman, and worth destroying worlds for to find ye. Everything I’ve done has brought me one step closer to ye. I’d do it all again, suffer every bit of it again, and search for ye until the universe crashed down upon me. Then I’d rise from the ashes and beg the Gods to recreate it all, so that I could have another chance to love ye.”

Well, that did it. Now Little Miss Confident was Little Miss Puddle of Mush. She didn’t have a chance to say anything back before he planted a soft kiss on her lips and sent a blast of love from his body to hers. It felt wonderful, warm and exhilarating. Life, in this moment, was perfect.

They got dressed and debated on whether to make breakfast there or head to Adam’s. “Trust me lass, Nora will be expecting us there. She’s nay doubt cooked a feast in our honor and will be most displeased if we dinna show ourselves.”

Rowan didn’t want to upset the sweet Brownie. She was excited to eat whatever Nora had made, but the other part of her was not ready for the drama that was certain to come with Adam and Ava after last night’s events. She kept that thought to herself though.

Devlin read her mind and squeezed her hand with reassurance. “You’re right to have some worry
mo
ghrá
, but dinna let it sway your mind. What’s done is done. We’ve naught but to move forward.” His words made sense and her happiness meter cranked back up to full again. With a smile and kiss, make that two, Rowan and Devlin headed towards Adam’s house for their wedding feast.

They opened the back door and were greeted by the smell of Heaven - assuming Heaven smelled like cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, custard, French toast, poached pears, pastries, and a dozen other delectable delights that were coming from the dining room. Rowan’s stomach let out a growl of approval and her mouth was watering already. Nora was setting the last tray of food on the lavish table while Adam poured mimosas into long stemmed glasses.