Midnight Sky (The Wolf's Bane Saga Book 3) Read online

  “I mean,” Eithne began hurriedly.

  “I ken what you meant, sister,” Geileis answered. “And I do believe nae matter what, these things you are feeling cannae be one-sided. Have you spoken about them to the man who has your attention?”

  “Nay,” Eithne replied horrified. “I could nae! But he has spoken to me and given me to believe he cares.”

  “That is good,” Geileis smiled. “And you say he is unattached?”

  “I believe so,” Eithne stated. “But as I have mentioned, he has nae told me anything.”

  “Then that is something you must ask him,” she answered.

  “But,” Eithne started.

  “Nay, nae regrets, remember,” Geileis said. “I will bring the stew. Go back now.”

  “I need some water,” she answered. “And perhaps… Weylyn would care for some as well.”

  “I do believe he would,” Geileis replied before she disappeared into another room of the cave.

  Eithne went to the water skin hanging near the entry to the kitchen; it was empty. Unhooking it, she walked through the portal to their home in Skye and out the main door of the cottage. Taking a deep breath of the clean crisp air, Eithne headed down the well-known path to the Fairy Pool in the glen down below. It was her favorite place in all of Skye and the waters were cool and fresh. Kneeling before the water’s edge, Eithne lowered the skin to the water and waited for it to fill.

  Her mind was elsewhere as she watched the ripples shimmer in the afternoon sun. After a moment, she realized she was staring at her own reflection in the mirrored water. She knew her face like anyone knew themselves. Her pale skin, was pale and smooth, a tribute to her mother who was born deep in the highlands. Her dark brown hair, from her father who was a druid chief, lay in waves around her shoulders. But her eyes she always thought were dull and expressionless, but as the phantom image of Weylyn reflected in the pool as if he stood behind her, she noticed her eyes not only grew more vibrant, but also shinning and, even she had to admit, beautiful.

  The phantom of Weylyn reached forward and stroked her cheek. Leaning into his touch, she closed her eyes.

  “Och, Weylyn,” she sighed. “Will you ever see me for me?”

  A growl startled her. Turning sharply, she saw a small brown wolf, lip upturned, snarling. Its snout flared, the wolf barked a warning as Eithne slowly rose to her feet. Her path to safety was blocked by another grey wolf emerging from the woods. Eithne’s breathing sped up and her heartrate accelerated.

  “Peace, my brothers,” she said softly. “I mean you nae harm.”

  The brown wolf snapped at her. At that moment, her druidic power of second sight came over her. She saw and felt the grey wolf’s teeth snap her arm in two as the brown wolf’s claws connected with her face. Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, she took a deep breath. The wolves had not moved yet, but it was only a matter of time. She raised her eyes to the heavens and spoke low.

  “My protector,” she spoke to the wind. “My heart, my love, whoever you are, ken of my peril. I beg you, stars in heaven, take my message to the one willing to hear it.”

  A moment later, the grey wolf pounced.

  Chapter

  Five

  Growls, snarls, yaps, and whimpers all happened at once. Eithne did not open her eyes as she waited for the wolves’ bite. It was a long moment before a comforting arm wrapped around her shoulders. Someone drew her into them, she was lifted and cradled like a small child. The chest she pressed against was hard, unforgiving, and entirely comfortable. Paradise. She was in the arms of someone warm and loving. Resting her head on the bare shoulder, she did not desire to move. Then a low rumble of voices and someone barking orders, rang in her ears.

  “Tristan, follow them!” a voice very close to her ear yelled.

  “Get her back, Weylyn, thank the gods you felt something was wrong,” another voice shouted.

  “Eithne!” She recognized her sisters’ voices as they cried her name.

  “She is well,” the voice that held her said.

  “She has reverted into herself,” Geileis replied. “Set her down, Weylyn. We must bring her back to the land of the living.”

  “She is nae hurt, I made sure,” the voice said again.

  “No’ physically,” Geileis answered. “But to survive, she cast a spell lifting her soul from our realm.”

  “She will be all right,” Labhaoise said. “Come sisters.”

  The comforting wall that held her disappeared. Instinctively, Eithne reached for it.

  “Please, let me stay with him,” she groaned. “Please, donnae make me come back.”

  “Eithne,” Weylyn’s voice was near her ear. “Come back to me.”

  Immediately, she opened her eyes. Weylyn knelt beside her, Labhaoise and Geileis stood near.

  “What…” Eithne breathed looking from one to the next. Her eyes fell back on Weylyn and he tentatively reached forward to stroke her hair away from her face. “What happened?”

  “You were nearly attacked,” Weylyn answered.

  “I was,” she stated. “I ken I was.” She looked down at her arm as if expecting to see a wolf bite.

  “Nay,” Weylyn comforted. “You almost were, but Tristan and I reached you before they attacked.”

  “I… I called to the gods asking them to take my message to…” she cut off and looked at her sisters. Geileis smiled slightly and touched her shoulder.

  “’Tis all right, dear,” she said. “I will make some tea.”

  “How did you ken I was in danger?” Eithne looked at Weylyn once they were alone.

  “I am nae sure,” Weylyn answered. “All I ken is, I heard your voice begging for help. I was still with Aedan and all of the sudden I heard your voice and felt such urgency. I donnae ken what it was.”

  “I begged the gods to take my message to you,” she said.

  “Me?” Weylyn asked. “Why?” She shrugged and looked down. “Eithne,” he started.

  “How is Aedan?” she interrupted. Weylyn let out a puff of air as if she took the breath from him with her interruption.

  “He is still unresponsive,” Weylyn answered.

  “’Twill be well,” Eithne said.

  “Tea,” Geileis came back into the room. “Drink this, child.”

  Eithne took the moonflower tea and drank. “I thank you,” she said after a moment.

  Noise from the entrance of the portal drew their attention. Tristan and Isla came back into the cave.

  “All well?” Weylyn asked.

  “The wolves will nae be bothering us again.” Tristan answered. “What in the name of the gods were you doing out there alone, lass?”

  “I was getting some fresh water,” Eithne replied simply. “I am sorry.”

  “There is nae need to apologize,” Weylyn stated.

  “We are just glad that you are nae hurt,” Isla stepped forward and touched her sister’s shoulder. “Rest now, love, you must regain your strength.”

  Eithne nodded and tried to smile.

  “Would you be willing to stay with her, Weylyn?” Geileis asked.

  “Ehm,” Weylyn started. “Well, I… um.”

  “Thank you,” Geileis continued. “I will bring blankets.”

  Isla walked passed them heading to relieve Alexina’s watch over Aedan. Weylyn looked up as Tristan moved from the portal to the main room.

  “Tristan, I-,” Weylyn began.

  “Stay with Eithne, Weylyn,” Tristan said. “She may need your comfort.”

  Weylyn opened his mouth to speak but closed it when Tristan winked at him and followed Isla through the archway.

  “I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable, Weylyn,” Eithne said. “Truly, you donnae need to stay with me.”

  “Nay, Eithne, you have nae made me uncomfortable,” he replied. “I am… concerned over my son, is all.”

  “Of course,” Eithne answered. “Perhaps you should go to him.”

  Geileis came back in carrying a fur bla
nket and a feather-filled pouch for her to rest her head.

  “Here you are, dear,” Geileis said situating the gifts on the floor. “Now you rest. I put some Dagger Root in the tea, you should be feeling the effects soon.”

  Eithne yawned and nodded slightly. “I am,” she sighed thanking her sister and lying down.

  “Watch over her, Weylyn,” Geileis said. Weylyn nodded once but said no more and soon Eithne’s eyes closed.

  ***

  Weylyn watched Eithne fall asleep. His mind warred with itself. How he had heard her cry for help, he did not know. No one else had seemed to hear it. Luckily, Tristan listened to him and they dashed through the portal. Eithne knelt, her face upturned to the heavens and the grey wolf was bounding toward her, teeth barred.

  Half-phasing, Weylyn had tackled the grey wolf just before it sank its teeth into Eithne’s pale flesh. Tristan, right behind him, had seized the brown wolf as it came to its mate’s rescue. They were not wolf men, Tristan had made sure. They were no more human than any other animal, but still Weylyn felt the loss keenly. Even if they were not of his blood, they were still wolves and still his brothers.

  Weylyn’s eyes moved to Eithne’s peaceful face and his chest ached with thoughts of being too late to save her. Shaking his head, he felt the cold fingers of betrayal and guilt tickle his belly. Brietta was his mate but she was gone. He could not love another. Wolves mate for life unless, as Marrock did, he took a mistress.

  “Weylyn,” he heard his name. He looked around the room but saw no one. Then again, in that same breathed sigh, “Weylyn.” His eyes locked on Eithne’s form. She was shaking and her forehead had creased in worry. Still, she remained asleep. “Weylyn, why?”

  Cautious but curious, Weylyn slid from the wooden bench and bent to his knees. Slowly making his way to her sleeping form, he listened.

  “Why do you no’ care for me?” she moaned.

  His brows drew together and as she began to writhe and thrash, tears streaming down her cheeks, Weylyn felt an echo of that pain in his chest. Unable to bear it, he reached out and stroked her face. Instantly she calmed and sighed softly.

  “Why do I feel the way I do about you, Eithne?” Weylyn whispered.

  A soft moan was his reply and suddenly she shook with cold so hard her teeth began to rattle. Instinctively, Weylyn slid beside her and took her in his arms hoping the heat from his body would warm her.

  Almost like a kitten on a cold night before the fire, she turned her face into him and curled around his body. Her cold touch made him gasp in shock. She sighed when she finally grew warm and buried her head into his chest, her breath tickling the fine hairs. Weylyn took a deep breath and rested his head on the feather-filled pouch, his eyes suddenly heavy with contentment. Letting her presence warm him, his body eventually relaxed and he surrendered to sweet oblivion.

  Chapter

  Six

  Someone held her, someone loved her. Eithne felt like purring. She opened her eyes to see a wall of a chest, well defined and dusted with soft, light brown hairs. Her fingers moved of their own accord and she brushed through the hair. It was soft, springy and tickled the tips of her fingers. The chest rose as a sigh escaped the man holding her. Looking up, she gazed into the sleeping, peaceful face of Weylyn.

  He looked so handsome with his shoulder length brown hair splayed on the feather-filled pouch and out from under his neck, his thick eyebrows framing eyes she knew were soft, brown and intriguing. Her finger found the strait of his nose feeling the bump near his eyes where the bone had been broken years ago. Following it down his face, Eithne’s finger fell on the bow of his lip and the rough stubble facial hair lining it. She did not move any further down his face as her finger wanted to linger and explore more. Her lips tingled as she imagined those lips upturned in a grin as they lowered to hers, the smooth feel of them gliding against hers.

  A flush overcame her and she blushed from head to toe. Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head up, closed her eyes and gently brushed her lips against his.

  ***

  Eithne was moving in his arms. He had woken the second she touched his chest. Feigning sleep, he waited to see what she would do. When she touched his nose, he suppressed a shiver racing up his spine. She was taking her time exploring his face but he did not want to stop her. Something about this woman, this Druid, in his arms made his heart ache.

  She was not his mate. Brietta was his mate and she was gone; he could never move on. And yet… Eithne’s innocent exploration of him caused his body to react strongly.

  He felt her press her lips to his in a short simple kiss and it took every ounce of something within him not to open his eyes, lower his mouth, take hers again, and show her what a true kiss should be like. But he did not.

  Eithne settled back into his arms and he felt her body relax. Only when he was certain she was asleep did he open his eyes. Gazing down at her, something tightened in the pit of his belly. Eithne was beautiful, no one would question that, but there was something about her dark brown hair and pale face that sparked an inferno within him. He needed to control his raging emotions before he embarrassed himself. Sliding away from her, he stood, pulled on a tunic and padded softly to the main room.

  Isla was with Aedan who still lay on the stone table, unconscious. She sat up straight when he walked in.

  “Is anything wrong, Weylyn?” She asked.

  “Nay,” he whispered. “I am just getting a breath of air. Donnae fash yourself, lass. Rest.”

  She nodded and her eyes drifted to Aedan. Weylyn wanted to say something to be of some comfort to Isla as she watched her husband’s still form waiting for death and rebirth. Nothing came to his mind except the need to leave the stuffy confines of the cave.

  Taking a full deep breath of the chilly evening air, Weylyn smelled the peat fires from the human villages nearby. Closing his eyes, he turned his face up to the midnight sky but did not feel the warm rays of moonlight stream across his face, the moon was dark but the sky was alight with stars.

  His mind wondered to why it was when a male was a lad, he would not listen to the instructions of his father. Then, when he was older, he realized his father was right in several things. When he was grown and supposed to be the male to answer all the questions, just as his own father had, no answers came. He needed the council of his father. To speak with him about the feelings warring within him. Even though he was a father, he had very little experience with love and the physical aspects of it. He and Brietta only had two nights together; their wedding night and the night he found her again. The same night she died in his arms. He always thought it was a good thing he had no children. How could he speak to his son about the new life Aedan had created with his wife and answer his son’s questions when he had never experienced seeing Brietta carrying Aedan? How was he supposed to understand the feelings Aedan would be feeling and council him as his own father had?

  Weylyn rubbed his face, trying desperately to make some sense of it all when he heard a voice behind him.

  “Da’?”

  Whirling around as quickly as physically possible, Weylyn came face to face with his son, helped by Tristan and Isla standing behind them.

  “Aedan?” Weylyn breathed. “Are you-?”

  “Dead and reborn, at least according to Isla,” Aedan said smiling slightly.

  A sigh of joyous relief broke from Weylyn’s lips as he rushed to his son and embraced him. Tristan let go of his hold and stepped back allowing father and son to embrace.

  “How do you feel?” Weylyn asked pulling away and framing his son’s face.

  “Sore, my body aches as if I had a fortnight’s training with you,” Aedan said. “But considering, fairly good.”

  “’Tis glad I am, son,” Weylyn breathed embracing him again. As they turned to head back into the cave, Aedan’s eyes drifted to Tristan.

  “I ken I said some terrible things to you, my friend. I beg your pardon. I was nae in control of my mind or my mouth. I donnae believe
what it is I said but I was unable to prevent my words as if possessed by some unseen force of will.”

  “’Tis in the past, Aedan,” Tristan acknowledged. “You are welcome in my pack, as always.”

  “I thank you,” Aedan breathed.

  “Are you hungry?” Weylyn asked.

  “A bit,” Aedan replied.

  “There is some fresh hot stew for us all,” Isla said. “Geileis made it this afternoon.”

  “Come,” Weylyn took his son’s arm to help him.

  Chapter

  Seven

  As everyone finished their stew, Eithne and Geileis moved about refilling water or ale. When Eithne approached Weylyn to refill his cup their fingers brushed, sending a shiver down her spine. Weylyn’s eyes darkened and his eyes flashed to the yellow of his wolf then back. Uncertain why his wolf self would be taking over, she looked over at Isla who winked and promptly looked down when Aedan caught the look and grinned. Not wanting to see the interaction between father and son, Eithne turned to set the pitcher on the shelf across the room.

  “Isla, Geileis, Labhaoise, Eithne,” Tristan began. “I want to thank you for your hospitality. You have opened your home to my pack and my family. I thank you.”

  “’Tis our pleasure, Tristan,” Geileis, the eldest, replied coming around to her seat beside Labhaoise. “We have heard good things about you and we hope that this will be a step – small or otherwise – at reconciliation between our kinds.”

  “I cannae speak for other wolves but as for me and mine, you are a credit to your kind and I am willing to overlook the past, if you are,” Tristan said.

  “We are,” Geileis answered. “Thanks to Isla. She has always championed wolves and now we understand why.” Aedan covered his wife’s hand with his and squeezed gently.

  “We do hope you would consider traveling with us,” Tristan said. “When we are prepared, we will need to move on from here.”