Lightning In Sea (CELTIC ELEMENTALS Book 3) Read online

  His words brought an instant, overwhelming sense of peace, protection and love. She smiled, leaning into his touch. Aidan cleared his throat, his crystal eyes suddenly gleaming as he pulled away, dropping his hands.

  “I need to make sure Declan will no’ be back this night,” he murmured in a choked voice. “Heather . . .” His voice trailed off as he looked to his wife. At her gentle nod he strode off down the beach, those long legs eating up the sand so quickly he was soon nothing but a shadow in the night.

  Sloane watched him go, her own throat tight.

  “Give him a moment,” Heather murmured. “He’ll be back.”

  “Do you know what he just called me? In Gaelic?”

  Heather shook her head. “I’ve been trying to pick it up, but I only recognize a few words.”

  “I’ve learned enough to understand those. They’re an endearment. A rather old-fashioned one. They mean, ‘my share of life.’ ” Sloane looked back down the beach, but the man who had called himself her father was already out of sight.

  Heather sighed, a faint, sad smile on those famous lips.

  “You love him very much.” Sloane cocked her head, studying the profile she’d seen on dozens of magazine covers.

  “More than life. And I mean that quite literally.” There was a twisted smile on those famous lips as Heather shoved at her fall of dark hair with one hand. Sloane’s eyes started at the web of scars on Heather’s slender hand, the thin, evil marks limned by the moonlight. She’d seen the tabloid headlines, the lurid, speculating magazine covers, and she wondered. Heather said nothing, just watched her with that wry smile.

  “Your scars . . . There was no car accident, was there?”

  “Not a car, and not an accident, no.”

  “Was it . . .” Sloane let her voice trail off, knowing the monster who had attacked her was somehow a part of Heather’s disappearance from the fashion world, but not sure how she should voice the question. She needn’t have worried. Heather nodded impatiently, her eyes narrowing as she glanced down the beach once more.

  “Yes. That thing you saw tonight was there. Not the one wielding the knife, but enjoying the spectacle all the same. He’s a vampire, Sloane, as was his master.”

  Instead of disbelief, some primal truth rose in Sloane’s throat, threatening to gag her. Vampire? That twisted mouth, the flash of unnatural white, glowing cobalt eyes . . . Those fucking teeth.

  Yes. She’d seen it all before, in nightmares she’d never remembered until this moment.

  It explained so much, but at the same time . . .

  “These things,” she said helplessly, “how can they be real?”

  “They are. And you need to know, I’m one of them.” Heather turned to Sloane, her face wary, but determined. “And so is Aidan.”

  Sloane stumbled back, opening her mouth to protest when another vision swept over her, pulling her down into that hazy, faraway place.

  Tears on her face. A broken voice she recognized as belonging to the man who called himself her father.

  He was begging.

  The smell of blood and sulfur surrounded her, along with a horror too thick for words. Another voice spoke, one grinding its way into her very bones. “The gods do not hear you, my child, but I do.”

  Sloane blinked, then sat down hard on the bench, the icy press of the iron barely registering against her already shaking body.

  Her father was a vampire.

  19

  “I know it sounds like utter bullshit. Believe me, I’ve been where you are. But for your own sake, you need to accept this. As quickly as possible.”

  Sloane looked up at Heather, starting to feel a bit desperate and pissed. She’d accepted the mystery of Aidan being her father—or at least her heart had. Her mind was far from convinced any of this shit was actually happening. Throw in fucking vampires, and this cocktail was getting real hard to swallow. Even for a writer.

  “Look, Miss Kantos. Umm, Mrs. O’Neill—”

  The woman smirked. “Heather will do. Though I expect right now you’re thinking somewhere more along the lines of you crazy fucking bitch.”

  Sloane couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud, and it felt good. “Well, if the shoe fits.”

  “Believe me, it does.” Heather grinned back at her and Sloane knew they were going to be friends, really good ones at that. Heather sat down, touching the back of Sloane’s hand. “But I swear I’m only trying to prepare you. I wasn’t kidding about being in your shoes. Seeing shit happen right before my eyes that my mind wouldn’t—couldn’t—fathom. It almost broke me.” She looked down at Sloane’s hand, squeezing it hard. “I don’t want it to break you.”

  “For his sake.” The depth of the connection between this woman and her father was almost palpable. Heather looked up, dark hair curving over that lovely profile. She smiled.

  “Of course. What is important to him is even more important to me, but I expect I’ll love you for your own sake soon enough.” She patted Sloane’s hand and got to her feet. “Until then, do try and make him happy.”

  “I’m hearing an ‘or else’ in there.”

  “I can’t imagine why.” This time, Sloane caught a glint of white in Heather’s smirk. She blinked.

  “Making friends, Nobody?” Aidan was back. He’d slipped out of the dark so smoothly it was startling.

  “You know me too well.”

  He snorted, even as he snaked a hand around her stomach and pulled her back against him, leaning down so his nose brushed her hair. The way his whole body relaxed as he breathed her in made Sloane’s heart contract painfully and she had to avert her eyes.

  Witnessing love that raw was beautiful, but almost too much, like trying to look straight into the sun at noon. They murmured to each other, but she didn’t attempt to listen in. Maybe shock was finally settling in, because all at once she was so damn exhausted breathing itself took all her energy.

  It took her a while to realize Aidan was standing in front of her, his hand on her chin. She didn’t resist when he tilted her face up to meet his concerned gaze.

  “She told you what I am.”

  “Yes.”

  He swallowed. “Well ye aren’t screaming and running away yet. Tha’ is promising.”

  Her lips twitched, but it was a minute before Sloane could order her thoughts to answer his unspoken question. Aidan didn’t push, though she could see how each second cost him. “I don’t understand any of this. Why that . . . vampire tonight tried to kill me. How you can be my father when I have one I’ve known my whole life.” She hesitated. “I don’t understand it, but I do believe it. I’m one hundred percent positive you’re my father and that you love me.” She gave a short, wondering laugh. “It’s crazy.”

  “Nae, tha’s the one thing tha’s no’. I do love ye,” Aidan said fiercely, his eyes blazing as he pulled her into his arms. “And I’ll do whatever is needed to keep ye safe, same as last time.”

  “Last time?” she asked as soon as he released her.

  Aidan frowned, then glanced at Heather, who shook her head.

  “The details can wait; she’s dealt with far too much already tonight.”

  Sloane had to agree, as a slightly hysterical laugh started bubbling up inside her. There was more? “Yes,” she said wearily. “Between the bullshit with Mac early tonight and then all this, I am about—”

  “Mac?” Her father looked suddenly fierce. “Manannán, do ye mean?”

  “How do you know Mac?” But something stirred inside her. I made a promise to your da long ago… Oh my fucking god. Surely not. But the look on Aidan’s face brought her thoughts to an abrupt halt.

  “Aye. I know him.” There was something hard in her father’s voice, something that made her squirm.

  “Now, Aidan—” The look he shot the woman that Sloane supposed she’d have to start considering her step-mother made her go silent at once.

  Those crystal eyes turned back to Sloane. “Go on. What is Mac to ye?”

&nb
sp; This was awkward. Aidan managed to absolutely radiate the whole protective father thing so thoroughly, that even though they’d know each other for all of twenty minutes, it was hard to get the words out. But the fact was, she was a grown woman. No reason not to act like one.

  Sloane took a deep breath. “We’re lovers. Or we were. I’m not sure what we are now, to be honest. We had a bit of a . . .” her voice trailed off.

  Aidan had gone pale, his eyes flashing as he cursed. Then cursed again. His expression made Sloane swallow and take a step back, watching as he fumbled for something in his pocket. Something small and shiny that glinted white. He lifted it to his lips and bellowed just as she realized it was a shell. Her eyes went wide. A tiny pink conch.

  “Manannán mac Lir!”

  The sea shifted behind Aidan’s rigid form, a form rising up out of the waves. A form swiftly taking on a familiar shape. Sloane sank back onto the bench again, knees shaking, her eyes wide with disbelief.

  “I know it’s been a while, O’Neill, but like I told you the last time, there really is nae need to shout.” Mac blinked as he stepped onto the sand, looking from her to Aidan to Heather and back again. “Well, shite.”

  “Shite, indeed.” Without further ado, her father’s fist ploughed into Mac’s face.

  “Jesus, Aidan,” Heather breathed, but she didn’t make a move to stop her husband, even when he raised his fist again. Sloane could only sit on her bench, her fingers curling into the chilled wood, unable to process what she was seeing.

  “One I will give you, O’Neill, but doona push it.” Mac staggered at the blow but remained upright.

  “Push it? Push it? You swore to protect her. Protect her, mac Lir!”

  I promised your da, when ye were very young . . .

  “And I have, ye cursed bloodsucker!” Mac waved an imperious hand. “There she is, whole and safe.”

  “And warming yer bed? Is tha’ wha’ ye call safe, mac Lir?”

  For an instant, Mac looked ready to explode, his body becoming huge, almost monstrous, then his eyes met hers. All at once he was just Mac again. His gaze flicked back to her father, and Sloane could swear he looked a bit sheepish. “I was going to tell ye, O’Neill. I swear.”

  “Ye swear,” Aidan sneered. “Ye’re no better than yer bleeding sister. When will I ever learn you canna trust the gods?”

  “Gods?” Sloane said softly. Three heads turned her way at once, each one taking on varying expressions of concern.

  “Umm, Sloane, this might be a bit—”

  She lifted a hand and Heather’s voice cut off. Sloane kept her eyes trained on Mac. “What the hell are they talking about, Mac?”

  Aidan shook his head. “She doona even know who ye are.”

  But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? The man o’ the sea, Da. But he told me to call him Mac.

  With a curse, her father threw up his hands. Sloane started to shake. Heather glanced at her and then moved closer to her husband, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “Aidan. I think we should give them a moment.”

  “Oh, I think they’ve had enough bloody time alone—”

  Heather punched his arm.

  “Oh aye. A minute then,” Aidan said grudgingly. “But mind, we’re no’ going far.”

  He glared at Mac before the pair walked off down the beach, fingers intertwined, heads so close together they were nearly touching. Sloane wanted to keep watching them, to steal some of their peace and avoid any more shocks tonight. But she could feel Mac waiting and finally she made herself turn.

  “What did he mean? Who are you really, Mac?” He blinked, then looked away, staring out over the sea. A sea gone glasslike and calm.

  “What happened here tonight?” he countered.

  It didn’t escape her he was avoiding the question, but she answered anyway. Or tried to.

  “There was a man . . . thing. It attacked me, at least it was going to. Aidan stopped it.”

  Mac turned almost as pale as Aidan had been earlier. He didn’t say a word, but his hands curled into fists at his sides.

  “They said it was a vampire,” she said hesitantly. “Aidan is a vampire, too. He’s also my father, apparently. And Mac?”

  “Aye?” he said hoarsely.

  “I know damn well you already know all of this and I am really, really fucking pissed about that.”

  He hesitated, then nodded once, his hands relaxing at his sides. “All right.”

  “Really? That is all you have to say?”

  “Aye. Ye’ll get yer answers, tha’ I promise. But right here, right now, tha’s no’ what ye need, is it?”

  She blinked. He was right. She wasn’t up to hearing exactly what Mac was, or what her father had meant about gods, or what had happened between her and Mac earlier tonight.

  There was only one thing she wanted right now.

  “I need you to hold me and tell me everything’s going to be all right,” she whispered.

  An instant later, she was surrounded by thick, muscled arms, the rumble of Mac’s chest against her ear.

  “It’s going to be all right, machree.” She closed her eyes as those rough palms stroked her hair over and over. “Everything is going to perfect.”

  20

  It wasn’t all right, of course. But in fairness, Sloane had known she was asking Mac to lie.

  All things considered, it could have been a lot worse. Declan had vanished again. Mac was trying to figure out where he was, both he and Aidan were convinced the vampire had not left the island and Aidan was furious at what he considered a lapse in Mac’s duty to her. For Mac’s part, he kept insisting it was ‘nae possible’ for anyone to hide from him on Manx. He was sure magic was involved.

  For her part, Sloane was still avoiding facing exactly what, or who, Mac was. The Celtic gods were real, and she was pretty sure her lover was one. It was all too mad to absorb completely. Her stories had always been real, in substance, if not in exact detail. Vampires were not only real, but her dad was one.

  Thankfully, Aidan’s place in her life was by far the easiest thing to accept in this whole surreal mess. His joy was almost frightening at times, when he’d look at her with so much love and disbelief it was humbling.

  She’d moved into the house by Bride, even though for once both Aidan and Mac had been in utter agreement on their distaste for the idea. Neither of them wanted her out here alone.

  So she hadn’t been alone. Not for one damn second in the past week.

  From sunrise to sunset, Mac was with her, helping to work on the house, though they hadn’t had sex since that night in his bedroom for a multitude of reasons.

  For one, from sundown to sunrise, Aidan and Heather watched her. Sometimes both, sometimes one or the other. She understood the why of that. It was because they needed to hunt. Sloane had spent many hours grilling Heather about all aspects of being a vampire.

  Aidan wouldn’t broach that subject at all, but her father had other stories to share, ones about a childhood she remembered with growing clarity but never become quite ‘real.’ Mac said it was probably best, that remembering too much of her first life would not be good for her.

  He didn’t seem to mind Aidan’s stories when he heard them, though. She caught him listening sometimes, a smile on his face. With a start, she realized some of those vague memories she had being having included Mac. Drawing pictures in the sand for her. Making the waves dance as she laughed and tried to ‘pet’ them.

  She didn’t tell Aidan about those memories, though. Somehow she doubted he would approve.

  While he and Mac seemed to have come to a sort of wary truce, she didn’t want to do anything to break it.

  She wasn’t allowed to tell Jenny anything. She hadn’t even seen her friend once in the past week. It was hard, but she understood. Knowing this stuff was heady, but incredibly difficult. Heather had been right; it could definitely break you if you weren’t careful.

  Jenny was the reason she and Mac were headed into Pee
l at the moment. Gery had called, letting Sloane know in no uncertain terms she needed to make an intervention. “She thinks ye’re bloody well being a stuck-up bitch, but I know she’s hurt, Sloane. What the feck is going on? Ye two need to talk.”

  But when they got to Gery’s house, she wasn’t there. He stood in the doorway, looking anxious. “She took off when I told her ye were coming up today. I do not know where she went, been looking fer hours. She musta taken the damn bus, or maybe the rail.”

  Feeling anxious, Mac and her drove back to Ramsey. The sun was starting to go down by the time they made their way to the flat. Mac had put the Rover in park when he stiffened suddenly.

  His hands tightened on the wheel.

  “Mac!” Sloane reached for him, but he shook his head violently.

  “Doona touch me.”

  She jumped at the fierce command in the words. With an effort, he moderated his tone, even as his body started to shake. “Ye’ll be pulled in along with me. It’s Lugh, a royal summons.” He gritted his teeth. “I canna fight it. Call Aidan. Now.”

  She fumbled for her phone. When she looked up, Mac had already vanished.

  Her mouth fell open as the phone dropped from her nerveless fingers. It took a few minutes, but she pulled herself together, or at least tried to. Call Aidan. Yes. But the phone had fallen far under the seats and she couldn’t reach it no matter how hard she twisted.

  Swearing, Sloane opened the door. Getting out, she bent over to peer under the seats.

  “Slo.” Her head snapped up, bashing painfully into the dash. She barely registered the shock of pain, happy and relieved to hear that familiar voice.

  “Jenny. Thank Christ.” Stepping away from the Rover, she looked around anxiously. It was startling how dark it had gotten already. Shadows filled the winding street. Jenny was nowhere in sight.

  Frowning, Sloane called out again, only to have the sound freeze in her throat.

  A shadow had pulled away from all the others. A shadow with gleaming teeth and blood-tinged eyes.