Blood In Fire (Celtic Elementals Book 2) Page 12

Aidan knew his chances of getting off the island were probably slim to nil, but he was of the mind he had to try, before things got any worse. Otherwise, he'd…

  He saw Heather and Lacey at the table, staring at him and he frowned.

  “What?”

  “Damn,” Lacey whispered, “now that’s what you call ‘lost in thought’.”

  Heather rolled her eyes. “We only practically screamed at you like three or four times… “ Her words trailed off, as she seemed to catch something in his face. “What is it, Aidan?”

  Before he could respond, the children came pouring into the kitchen.

  “Uncle Aidan!” Caitlin and Caithryn, the tow-headed twins jumped into his arms. They looked to be about three. Of course, they were far older than they appeared, like everyone in the Fitzpatrick family.

  Aidan hadn’t been awake for dinner and immediately after that he’d gone outside with Ronan. The children had held in their excitement to see him far too long and now they were bursting at the seams. Behind the twins, red-headed Colin was bouncing on the spot, until Chloe, who was right next to him, asked him rudely if he needed the jacks. Chloe's own hands were twisting in her skirt and her smile at him was a sunbeam straight to the heart. Even Eamon, the teenager of the bunch, has his dark head poking around the corner, pushing up his glasses with one nervous hand as he grinned at Aidan.

  “Oy, what’s this? A pair of Irish banshees trying to call me to the Otherworld?” Hiding the sweet pain that shot through him at seeing them, and all of them so overjoyed to see him, Aidan gathered the little ones into his arms. He loved children, particularly these children.

  He let the twins dangle, squealing, as he leaned over to kiss Chloe’s cheek, then made smacking noises at Colin, who danced away as his sister’s cheeks burned.

  “And who's this great big man I see before me?” He set down the two C’s carefully and stretched out his hand solemnly to Eamon, who shook it with a shy laugh.

  “Oh, quit that, Unc Aidan. I haven’t grown an inch since ye last seen me.”

  “Well, tha’ll be changing soon enough, wonna it?” Aidan stared around at them all, feeling a selfish pang at realizing since the curse had broken, they would all grow up now. These children he had known for so well for a hundred years or more…and then lost.

  And now would lose again. They would grow up out of his sight, out of his reach. Just like…

  The room slid away from him for a moment, becoming another room full of firelight, the sound of the sea and a child's laughter.

  The memory slashed so viciously, he stumbled and would have fell against the wall except for Eamon’s strong hand round his wrist pulling him upright.

  “Unc? Ye alright?” The blast of concern washed over him like a cool balm, even as Chloe dashed forward and ducked her head under his arm, supporting him as he struggled to stop swaying. Over the dark blonde head tucked close against his ribs, he caught Heather’s violet eyes, full of shock and something else he couldn’t place before he looked down at Chloe again.

  “Oy, o'course I am! Mayhap I took on too much of yer Uncle Ronan’s Irish is all. Innit that the way of it, Ronan?”

  Ronan, who had just padded into the kitchen and pulled Lacey out of her chair and into his arms, only nodded grudgingly until Aidan shot him a prompting glare over Chloe’s head.

  “Oh aye. Tha’s what happens when people go away from home too long. Ye find their stomach gets a mite weak…fer the hard stuff.” He gave Aidan a sour look while the children laughed.

  Eamon distracted Aidan from his attempt to psychically eviscerate Ronan with his eyes, by asking if Aidan by chance followed the football now. Soon he was pulled into a conversation about Ireland’s chances this year. Before he knew it the children had maneuvered him neatly into the living room. Chloe was perched on his chair, the twins were in his lap, with Colin at his feet. Eamon sat across from him, waxing philosophic about the joys of stomping all over England. The other adults drifted in, a cup of tea was pressed into his hand, and Aidan realized he wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

  Tomorrow, he promised himself, would be another story.

  “My master, I have no wish to be impertinent—” The words dried up in Declan’s throat as Abhartach cut him off with a sardonic look.

  “A wise wish, on the whole.” They were not in the hall now, but in the king’s chambers. The outer chambers, of course. Declan had never been allowed into the inner sanctum, and until recently had despaired that he ever would. He had hope now, and hope made him bold.

  To a point. His insides quaked in rubbery fear as the demon’s eyes rested like cold stones on his own.

  Declan took a breath, aware he was treading on dangerous ground here, but he must know. All his hopes and dreams rested on Abhartach having O’Neill in his hands, because then, and only then, would he get his just reward.

  Somehow the prince had escaped scot-free and was apparently just sitting in a house no more than an hour or two from the castle. At least that was what one of the lower vampires had told him snidely after the feast last night. The feast Declan had not been allowed to attend.

  On the whole, that was probably a good thing, he reminded himself sternly. Vampires in full blood lust were not always mindful of who was food, and who was not.

  “As you say, of course.” Declan continued delicately. “But I must confess a burning curiosity, my master, to hear your plan. I know all too well that you have one, and a brilliant one, to be sure. If it is your pleasure to indulge me, I would be most grateful, otherwise, pray forgive me, Master.” He was not allowed to address Abhartach as king, your Majesty or Highness.

  Had he done so, he would have been dead before the words left his lips. As a human servant, with little more status than the blood slaves chained in the dungeons below, he was not considered fit to address Abhartach as anything other than master. The king certainly never addressed Declan by his given name, nor anything other than . The old Gaelic word for slave.

  They were not of a race, after all. Yet.

  But soon.

  Please soon, please oh please, Declan chanted in his head as he demurely tipped his chin down and his eyes up.

  Abhartach sighed impatiently.

  The master’s moods had a keen edge, it was easy to get sliced to the bone. Fawn too much and lose your head for pure annoyance, fawn too little and get your throat slit for impertinence while Abhartach licked your blood from his lips and watched you die with a smile on his face.

  Declan generally erred on the side of being as ingratiating as possible. He showed spine but rarely, and then with extreme wariness. He only did so at all to keep Abhartach’s somewhat flighty interest.

  The vampire king took lovers infrequently, and never to Declan’s knowledge another male, but there was a first time for everything. Not that they were lovers very often, at least in the biblical sense. He had rarely known Abhartach to indulge in sex. His master's passions seemed confined to other, far darker areas. In truth, Declan was more like a pet than anything else.

  A pet that wanted very much to eat from the high table at long last.

  “Oh, fine. Kneel. You have a great deal to learn if you are ever to become one of us, .”

  Declan bowed his head, dropping to his knees in front of Abhartach’s seat, his back to his master, knowing exactly his master wanted.

  He shivered when Abhartach’s fingers slid into his hair and began the familiar rhythm. Stroke and pull and smooth. The demon could do this for hours, had done many times, in fact. Sometimes it was pleasant, sometimes incredibly painful, as Abhartach, if agitated enough, could go on all night long.

  After a few hours, Declan's entire body below his waist would go numb, and once released he would fall to the floor, his muscles seizing in agony. It all depended on his master’s mood.

  Declan’s shivers tonight held nothing but anticipation. He needed to know when the prince was to be brought home. Please, oh please, oh please! The chant went on and on in his head to the motion
of the gnarled fingers running through his hair. He knew better than to rush Abhartach.

  “Time is something you will have an abundance of, when you take the blood, . Remember that. There is never a need to rush, to strike blindly, even if appearing to do so is at times necessary. The moment Aidan choose to return to Eire, his fate was sealed.” Abhartach paused for the barest instant and Declan knew he was smiling.

  “But my heir is special, very special. As I have told ye many times, have I not?”

  Declan nodded, making an appropriately encouraging noise, as was expected.

  “Perhaps ye have tired of the story?”

  “Never, master.”

  The feel of another silent smile breathed cold against the back of Declan's neck.

  “He was the pride of all Uí Néill, you know. Brave and beautiful as the sun itself, not that I ever got to see him in battle, more's the pity. I only heard the stories. They loved him so. If only his legions of admirers had known the dark debt his family owed. The price he paid to me appease that debt. Three times he submitted to what was owed by Niall of Nine Hostages. Starting on the night of his first birthday as a man, then on each third year after that. 'Three times three' as was the punishment of every first born son of the O’Neills for nine generations. Aidan was to be the last.

  "He was unwilling, of course. Grudging and proud even as a lad, but submit he did. He had no choice. His blood I was owed for that debt, as Niall and I agreed all those years ago. I found him particularly delicious, though. Far more so than any of Niall's other git. Almost irresistable, he was."

  Abhartach’s fingers tightened in Declan's thick hair, the nails digging into his scalp and drawing blood. Tears pricked Declan's eyes even though he had been prepared for this reaction. Slowly, the demon’s hands loosened and the gravelly voice continued.

  “I wanted more. I wanted him to be completely mine, to be able to turn him, to change him, to use him as I saw fit. But I knew that was impossible. I could not break my vow, could not risk it. Not even for such a prize. Until the night I was approached by one who shared my interest in Aidan, albeit in a different—shall we say—vein altogether."

  Abhartach chuckled and the sound was like rocks being run through a grater.

  “I was assured that I could have him, I could turn him and he would allow it of his own free will. My vow would be unbroken.

  "I admit, I was ecstatic. Perhaps a bit blind, in hindsight.” Declan gave the expected mue of disagreement here and for a moment Abhartach’s fingers were almost gentle. Then the rhythm continued, faster and rougher now.

  “At first all went as planned, he was brought to me. Most definitely not of his own free will, though. Oh no, not at all! Be wary of a woman obsessed, , they can be quite terrifying.

  "In the end, he did submit. I didn't understand why, not then, though later I learned his secret. All's I knew then was that he said the words, releasing me from my vow, undoing his protection, though a blind fool could have seen what those words cost him.

  "He begged in the end, you know. Screamed.” Abhartach sighed as if swept away by nostalgia. “Well, that is how the change is. You will see." Declan preened at these words.

  "I thought my ‘partner in crime’ would faint by the time we were through, but she stood it. And then he was mine. My perfect heir as I had dreamed of for so very long. I would have found my greatest joy in molding him for that, but I…” The demon's voice faltered and trailed off.

  “You were most cruelly tricked, my master.” Declan’s voice was fainter than a dying whisper, but he knew Abhartach heard him.

  The big hands fell from his hair at last.

  “Indeed I was. He shall never trick me again. The leverage that was used to force Aidan all those years ago is gone. I will never have it again. Yet…I think I have found a new way to bow that stiff neck. Perhaps. The woman he was with when ye saw him—“

  “You think he cares for her, that he loves her?” Declan actually turned his head around before he could stop himself.

  If true, this was fine news indeed. Love was weakness, any fool knew that.

  “I think not,” Abhartach made a dismissive sound, but a smile curved his lips. “Not yet, anyway. But there is something there, something between them…

  “I do not believe Aidan understands it himself yet. He protected her most carefully for knowing her so briefly.” Abhartach had trailed Aidan for years. As a fae, he could not cross open water and leave Ireland himself. He sent others, of course. But after losing too many of his people to Aidan over the years he had mostly given up attacking him outright. He watched through the eyes of others, though. He always watched. He had known Aidan’s every move. Until the night he disappeared so swiftly from Turkey to reappear most fortuitously back in Ireland.

  “That is his way, is it not?” Declan couldn’t hide his disappointment, dangerous though it was. Could Abhartach actually be mistaking the banality of O’Neill’s warrior creed, his stupid habit of protecting the weak, for something more than it was?

  Abhartach tangled his fingers into Declan’s longish hair again. White-blond hair, far paler than Aidan’s, but of the exact same thick, curly texture. He forced Declan’s head back inch by inch, his smile growing.

  “It is his way, yes. Or was, we should say. He has changed from the warrior he was. But even for him, this was something different. He doesn't make attachments anymore, understand, ? Not ever, because he is smart and doesn't want to repeat the mistakes of his past.

  "The Fitzpatricks are excusable, they are protected. He knows I cannot touch them. Not without a war I'll not risk. Not even for Aidan.”

  With a regretful sigh, the demon fae trailed a finger down Declan’s throat, the nail drawing blood as those black eyes bored into blue.

  “He feels responsible for this one already, enough that he showed me so, before he could stop himself. Left to his own devises, no doubt he would get rid of her. Perhaps. But given time… trapped in that house together…with nowhere to go….

  "We wait and let that sweet noose tighten just a bit longer. And then maybe we will get what we want, and so easily, aye, daor?”

  Declan nodded fervantly as his master’s head bent, as that cold tongue slid over his skin just before black fangs pierced his jugular.

  Please, oh please, oh please!

  Declan didn't realize that the feeding tonight had a twofold intent for his precious master. Sustenance and knowledge.

  It was true. The words shot across Abhartach's mind like a ray of light. He smiled as he forced the slave to the floor, tearing flesh delibrately as he fed.

  He was not gifted like his heir, but taking blood directly could show him things, and blood did not lie. Aidan walked across this creature's memories, holding the human woman in his arms, slamming the door on a sun already high in the sky.

  Balor, it was true! He had thought the sun walker potion was a mere legend, the ghrian siúlóir a mere myth conceived by the pathetic dregs of his offspring that couldn't cope with the loss of their old lives.

  He had been wrong, the potion existed. And Aidan must know where it was.

  Feverous glee rose in the dark heart of the fae king. He hadn't dared to dream of more than having his heir back at his side, but this…this…was the very world poised at his fingertips.

  A world laid out under the light of the sun, a world burning and soaked in blood. Abhartach growled, draining Declan within a hair's breadth of death in his excitement.

  How utterly beautiful.

  Chapter 8

  “So basically you’re saying I ruined your first day outside in about a thousand years?"

  Heather looked so incredulous, Aidan had to laugh. They were in the living room, everyone else long gone to bed. He was stretched out next to her on the couch, his arm behind her head, though they were not touching. Her fingers were curled around a cold cup of tea that she had never drank a drop of, her body curled away from his.

  He wanted to think her posture was more in
stinctive than delibrate, but he thought not.

  She’d been tiptoeing around him since the library. Aidan couldn't attribute that to what had happened in that room between them. As improbable as it may be, Heather had been much more comfortable with what he was after he had let her see him drink from her. Strange woman. Though, weren't they all?

  Heather was just stranger than normal, he thought with a smirk, watching her frown at him.

  When he had left her earlier she had been downright mellow. Hell, so had he.

  No, it was something else entirely that had her so skittish. Something that had happened after he left her. It puzzled him.

  Not that it mattered, he reminded himself. He’d be leaving her for good soon enough. They'd never see each other again. Aidan shifted irritably as his stomach tightened at the thought.

  They needed to have sex again, that was all. Then they would both settle down and he could get out of here in peace. His response to her question was terse.

  “Aye, tha' is the way of it. Hit me with a car ten minutes after sunrise, dinna ye?”

  “Well, shit.” Her expression had him back to amused in a fingersnap.

  “'Tis probably what I said, though I honestly canna remember.”

  “Oh shut up, Aidan! For god’s sake. I feel terrible.”

  “Do ye really?” He leaned over, his lips brushing her ear. “Tha’s good to know, might come in handy as leverage later.”

  “You're such an ass, Aidan.”

  “Ye say tha' a fair lot. I am beginning to think you’re obsessed with my arse.” He kissed the side of her neck, but she waved a hand absently.

  “It’s very nice, yes.”

  Aidan smothered a laugh against her skin, despite being perturbed by the lack of effect his attention was having.

  She was seriously upset that she had interrupted his ‘outing’. Not that he had been happy about it either, but there hadn’t had much time to dwell on it. They’d been busy every second since. And he was rather hoping to be busy again.

  It was driving him mad sitting here, waiting for Abhartach to do whatever he was going to do. He should be gone already, no matter what Ronan thought. But since he was stuck until sundown anyway….