Shatter - Sins of the Sidhe (31 page)

One by one, the spirits had backed away from the light she offered, and in return, she’d let out the darkness. Poor child, she was so full of herself, selfish and eager for someone to heed her commands. No wonder he loved her. They were a perfect match.

Without her having called out to him that day in the woods, offering her blood to the ground to anyone who wanted it, he would have never been given a second chance at redemption. His realm all but opened up to her once it got a taste of what was inside her.

She was the light at the end of a dark and lonely tunnel. It was an opportunity to once again walk the earth and potentially find his way back to the Faelands. He only needed to gain a little more strength and power before he was no longer a shadow of his former self, but made again as a Sidhe of flesh. He was so close now and his remaking had been a long time coming.

He had a mission, self-serving as can be, but a mission nonetheless, which has been the driving force for all his madness: Lorcan belonged on a throne.

Lorcan’s talent was in bloodletting, but it was not his only skill – as Rowan learned in his bed. The Sidhe deserved a crown on his head. The Fae nobles were so pretentious and ignorant. The very thought of those high and mightys twirling about and being merry all day had him spitting his disgust on the ground. They knew nothing of battle and sacrifice.

While Lorcan was fighting for their lands, the royalty were sipping wine and dancing in their large banquet halls with equally wretched nobles bowing down to them. Weak and pathetic, they should have been food for the dogs. He would be a better ruler. A more fierce ruler. A true leader for the strongest and most deadly of the Fae.

He just had to get back there to prove it.

A banshee wailed past him in a black blur and her screech snapped him out of his daydream. The quiet hum in his chest vibrated with every thought of Rowan. He was so used to feeling the thrumming, it took a few minutes for it to register that the thrumming was now barley a tingle. That sent an alarm clanging through his mind. Someone else has a stronger hold on his beloved and she had blocked out all but whoever that person was. Somehow, Lorcan’s tie to Rowan was nearly severed.

How could this have happened? She was getting further away from his reach when he needed her most. Lorcan needed more power. And he needed it now.

He looked hungrily around the room as if what he needed was within reach of where he was sitting, but it wasn’t. He’d been saving this final source for a day that he needed it most. It was the last of its kind. Or so he assumed. Rowan was not going to slip through his grasp. Not now when he was so close to having her.

He’d been trying to reach her, to see her sweet face, but she’s been holed up in a house in Ireland, of all places, and the property was covered in protective spells and guarded more frequently by that blasted black hound. Lorcan knew who that dog answered to, and would prefer to stay away from such creatures.

The hound was part of the Wild Hunt, a ferocious and deadly mass of the fiercest creatures in all the lands. Death Bringers. Soul Searchers. They had the ability to kill Fae, without much effort too. Lorcan had to keep his distance from that hound and the Wild Hunt, lest they discover Lorcan’s plan and slay him before he’s had a chance to see it through. Nay doubt they’re pissed that he’s taken so many souls and bodies that belonged to them. What he’d done was absolutely forbidden and unforgivable.

Not that he cared.

Lorcan guzzled the last dregs of his drink and handed it to the three-headed creature standing by his side. Heads down, the demon took the skull and skittered away out of sight. Lorcan strolled gracefully towards an opening in his cave. Gliding through the hall, he came to a split of tunnels. He took the one that was less traveled in.

It was so dark; Lorcan couldn’t see his hands in front of his face. He sent out a small pulse of energy, his transparent skin shimmered with a light golden glow. It wasn’t much, but was enough to see his footing as his continued into the blackness.

His boots thumped like loud drums. Chains rattled in panic up ahead. Lorcan smiled to himself, he didn’t need a light to see the fear emanating from inside the cage before him.

“Good evening, Ruark.”

Ava and Adam were thrilled with the news that Ro and Devlin shared. “This is wonderful!” Ava said, clapping her hands and coming over to pass out hugs.

“Aye,” Adam said – he was a Sidhe of many words.

“We want to do it tonight. Can ye make the arrangements, Ava? A hand-fasting will do for the now.” Devlin held Ro’s hand and brought it up for a light kiss.

“Aye, love! A hand-fasting is easy to do, though I’m sure Rowan will want something larger with her family and friends and the like.” Ava cocked her head to the side waiting for Rowan to agree.

“No, I don’t want anything big and flashy. Something small and simple is all.”

Ava gave her a reproachful look. “Aye, you’re right. ‘Tis not for me to say that you have a big wedding with all the ruffles, cakes, and flowers about.”

Rowan saw the disappointment on Ava’s face; she all but oozed poutiness. “Tell you what Ava, when we get done beating the big, bad wolf, I’ll let you throw me a wedding with all the bells and whistles if you want.”

That promise had Ava smiling like a kid at Christmas. “Deal!” Ava went out the door whistling like a robin in spring time.

They decided the ceremony would take place that day at sunset. It didn’t leave a whole lot of time, but there wasn’t a whole lot to do. At least the rain had stopped and hopefully the clouds will stay away for a while. Rowan was in the spare room at Devlin’s house rummaging through the clothes she had. She was determined to try and find something nice that she could wear.

Tapping her foot on the floor as she went through the bag with a lot of puffing and cursing, her options were limited: jeans, leggings, and more jeans. Crap. A knock at the door made her jump and she threw a pair of low rides down on the bed with a huff.

“Come in!”

Ava walked through the door carrying a large garment bag. She gave an amused look at the clothes scattered all over the bed. “Och! You don’t plan to be wearing jeans and tank top to say your vows do you? Here love, a gift.”

Ava unzipped the bag in one long smooth motion. Peeling away the top cover, she pulled out what was hidden inside. A dress the color of the richest red swished out of the bag. Ava held it up and shook it loose so that the hem stretched to the ground. It was the color of dark red rubies. A low neck line, the trim was golden thread that spun in Celtic knots across the bodice. The arms were three-quarter length sleeves that flared a gold lace trim. It was simple but detailed. Ro’s mouth made an O-shape and she was completely speechless. She just gawked at the fabric and then at Ava.

“Wow Ava, this is beautiful!”

“Aye, ‘tis a gorgeous frock is it not? And today it’s yours.”

Rowan didn’t know what to say. This was so unexpected. She stared at it again and then let out a squeal. Ava laughed and helped her into the offered gown. Completing the look with a belt that hung low on her hips, Rowan felt like a princess.

Ava beamed approvingly at her, “Aye, it fits you perfect. I thought it would.” Standing back to admire the view, Ava clapped her hands to her mouth, “Och, Devlin’s going to fall flat on his face when he sees you!”

The two women squealed some more and then Ava braided Rowan’s hair. The two women stayed locked away in the bedroom until the sun started setting, signaling it was time. Before walking out the bedroom door, Ava grabbed Ro’s arm and halted her.

“Rowan, I know this has been a tough time. You’ve taken it better than most ever would. The Fate’s have a plan. I can’t see your future, but I know that without love and light, there is no future. For anyone. Devlin loves you beyond measure. I can see you feel the same about him. There is a reason you were brought together, love. You are
anam cara
. Soulmates.” Ava gave Rowan a kiss on the cheek. “Now let’s go watch your man turn to a puddle when he sees you.”

Smiling at their plan, the two women headed out for the garden. They had a wedding to go to.
 

Devlin was nervous and kept pacing. Birds were quieting and the sun was setting. He went to rake his fingers through his hair, but remembered it was pulled back in a queue.
Ballocks!
What if Rowan changed her mind? He’d thrown this proposal at her so fast she’d no real time to think it through. Now the wee woman was hiding in his spare bedroom and had been for hours. What if she didn’t want this? What would he do if she’s changed her mind?

“You’re making nature nervous, brother. She’ll come, don’t worry.”

Adam had just walked through the gate, a slight smile on his noble face. He was dressed in his best Sidhe finery. A high collared shirt with vines and leaves embroidered around his neck in the finest of silk, the dark green tunic fit perfectly on his broad shoulders and back. Brown leather pants, belt and a sword completed his look. Shaven head and peacock eyes, his skin shimmered in the setting sun. He was a wild force of nature - beautiful and fierce. It had been a long time since Adam looked like that, Devlin thought. The Sidhe has been away from his home for too long.

Adam came over and fixed the anxious Druid’s shirt. Adam was stone-faced as usual and stood back to look at his friend. “I feel like we’ve been brothers these many centuries, it’s not been easy to live the life we were given. Fighting side by side in battle and living the way we must, ‘tis a hard thing, being on your own for so long. I’m happy for you, Devlin Alistaire MacCullum.”

Devlin closed his eyes when he heard Adam say his name. He’d not heard it in so long, it felt foreign and familiar at the same time and he let out a long breath savoring it. He didn’t know when he’d ever hear it again. Devlin was named O’Connor now, and before that it was something else, and before that, something else. But tonight, he was himself. He was who he was born to be. A Highlander, a Druid, a Warrior, a MacCullum.

Devlin was wearing his family’s colors of blue and green and he wore that tartan with pride. His kilt was wrapped snug around his waist, tan leather belt with a copper buckle holding it in place. The buckle had the markings symbolizing he was a Druid. His sword was strapped at his side, a symbol of his protection and honor. The white shirt he wore was making him itch and the fit over his shoulders felt constraining even though it was perfectly tailored. Devlin felt like he did before a battle: nerves and anxiety feuding with excitement and adrenaline in his body. ‘Twas maddening. Just before he almost lost his composure, he looked up toward the sky in a prayer, and then out to the gates.

That was when the world stopped.

There she was. A powerful beauty. Rowan’s dress clung to her in all the right places. It fell to the ground behind her with a slight swish as she came closer. Gold thread embroidery clung across her chest and down her body. She was one of the Gods’ greatest creations. Glorious. Enchanting. And she was all for him.

Adam cleared his throat, no doubt entranced as well. Rowan was pure fire. Her presence warming the very air they breathed. She walked with grace and dignity, like a queen to rival any Fae noble. Ava snuck up behind Devlin and watched Rowan make her way closer to her destiny. The sun set and ignited the sky in hues of violent shades of pinks and purples. It was Mother Nature’s most brilliant backdrop.

Rowan saw none of it.

She had eyes only for the man with the whiskey eyes. He took her breath away. She didn’t expect to walk out here and see Devlin looking the way he did. Rowan almost swooned by the gates when she saw him in his full glory. He wasn’t just a powerful Druid, he was a strong Highland Warrior. Pride and love was thrumming off of him in waves. He was full of joy, and so was she. Rowan felt like she floated more than walked towards him.

She looked up and took in the view slowly: His kilt was perfect, his posture was strong, and his jaw was set. They stared, lost in each other’s eyes like they often were, and Rowan saw a new kind of Druid before her now. The man was pride and strength chiseled out of muscle and raw power. He stood with such pride the intensity of it made her want to cry.

The last of his secrets was confessed in a thought as she heard the name
MacCullum
in the back of her mind.
My name is Devlin Alistaire MacCullum
. Rowan smiled up at him and she
took his offered hand. She knew there was more to his story than he’d told her. She knew it the day she met him, brogue and all. His bones might be Druid, but his roots were all Highlander.