Tor still fumed when he awoke at sunset the following night. He felt exhausted. The stress of introducing his partner to his one-time classmates had been tiring enough, but afterwards he'd spent most of the day tossing and turning, listening to every sound in the compound. Every creak and groan of the building played on his paranoia, because the notion that Raghnall might go after Deòthas tortured his mind. Spending a week there could well prove to be unbearable. Tolerating the presence of his former mentor, Deòthas’s abuser, seemed an impossible challenge. Yet he had to do it because his mate needed him to, at least for now.
Even she didn’t know how deep Tor’s anger went, though. She didn’t know that Raghnall’s crimes had cost him as swell. Yes, most of his anger came from his need to protect his mate, to avenge what had been stolen from her and done to her. But he also wanted revenge for what had been taken from him too. Payback for the ache in his heart which he suspected he’d feel forever, even though he’d never thought about children in the past.
The thought of providing his father with grandchildren, to be moulded into yet more self-centred ‘nobles’, had never sat well with him. He’d despised the girls his mother had selected as potential suitors and hated the notion of having children with one of them. Truthfully, he’d been so caught up in becoming a ghaisgeach that he’d never thought there would be time for children. He’d have a duty to fulfil, a duty which wouldn’t provide the best environment for babies. Tor had never wanted to be a father. But since meeting Deòthas? Now he had a mate, even though she didn’t yet know they were bound.
Maybe it would’ve been nice to have the option of children, eventually, after they brought Manipulator to justice. Raghnall had deprived him of even the possibility. He’d certainly never bed another, not now Deòthas was in his life. The consequence? He’d never have heirs, because his former teacher had done something unforgivable to the woman he loved. He wanted vengeance on so many levels. Yet his desire to bring Raghnall to justice stalled, impotent, because he needed to do as Deòthas asked. He wouldn’t risk causing her further pain, not when she’d already suffered so much.
Damn it all.
Rolling off the musty old bed and onto his feet, Tor groaned as he stretched tense muscles. When had his life become so out of control? Oh yeah, the moment the Taghadairean decided he was worthy of joining the Comhairle.
At least the meeting with the trainees had been uneventful. For the most part, the men and women he’d trained with looked at Deòthas with curiosity and surprise. Raghnall hadn’t had the opportunity to preach his hatred yet, and hopefully Tor would manage to ensure he never did. At least he could be there to defend his woman. Deòthas didn’t need the next generation to share the last generation’s misconceptions about her.
That thought galvanised his resolve to set an example for the trainees, and after pulling on a pair of clean joggers and a tank top, he grabbed up his holdall, which was already packed with a second set of clean clothes, a towel, and shower gel. The plan was to do a bit of training with the candidates, then he’d hit the gym shower block, seeing as his accommodation didn’t include the usual ensuite.
Slipping from his room, he crossed the corridor to Deòthas’s door, calling “It’s me,” and waiting for her reply.
One day he’d share her bed and he wouldn’t have to knock or wait. The thought alone set his body alight. To claim Deòthas would be… Well, it would be a dream, which was no doubt why she’d haunted the little time he had spent sleeping.
“Come in,” she yelled back from inside. “I’m almost ready.”
Deòthas was tying up her long, white blonde hair as he entered, and the pose, with her arms stretched up to control her hair, showed off her lithe body perfectly. Especially as the black leggings she’d selected for training clung to her shapely legs. The sports bra she was wearing left her flat stomach exposed and accentuated the swell of her bust. Every part of her was perfect, only marred by the small, circular scar on her hip.
How had she acquired a scar? It should’ve been almost impossible for her to mark in such a way. Had it come from another wound cause by Raghnall and his ilk? Tor didn’t dare dwell on it, not if he wanted to control his temper. Instead he allowed himself to admire his mate, his woman, the siren who called to him night and day.
She stunned him.
The warrior tattoos down her left side seemed blacker on her than his did on him, contrasting as they did with her pale, fey complexion, and making her appearance even more exotic than it had seemed previously. Everything about Deòthas enchanted Tor, from her beauty to her courage, from her ability to fight to the idiosyncrasies which must be behind the open paranormal romance on her bed. He wanted to praise every strength, learn even eccentricity, and shore up any weakness so that she’d never again feel she was on her own. So that she never had to be alone or undefended ever again.
And he wanted so much more than that. Oh, to be allowed to go over to her, to place his hands on her hips and his mouth on her throat. He longed to kiss her jaw, her chin, her lips. He longed to hold her and know she was his and that he didn’t have to fear her flight. If only she’d allow that.
“Deòthas,” he breathed her name without meaning to, captivated, his appreciation obvious.
She glanced his way, and a frown touched her exquisite face before her expression softened with disbelief. She didn’t believe that he could want her? Was she really so incapable of seeing in herself what he saw? Had her perception of herself been carved by the Comhairle, or by the mother who’d starved her and left her to fend for herself?
Deòthas swallowed nervously at his scrutiny, but her eyes sparked with a need that reflected his own. Did she want him too? Really? Was there hope for their mating, an attraction he could build on if he took it slowly? Please, Ràsbàrd, let it be so.
“Tor?” she whispered, shifting her weight uncertainly from one foot to the other.
Her shy reserve seemed so at odds with what he’d seen of her in battle, and even at his victory celebration. Yet he adored each side of her. She truly was beautiful. Truly. And she would be his, if only he could persuade her to let him claim her. If only she would claim him... He’d give himself willingly if she asked.
The ball of fire in Tor’s gut drew him forward at that thought, towards her, pulling him as if by invisible strings. Deòthas froze at his approach, her eyes growing wider with each step he took. He could feel the warmth radiating from her body when he finally stood in front of her, and he imagined sunlight would’ve felt the same on mortal skin. It would be warm and life-affirming. Essential.
Tor reached out, brushing back a stray strand of Deòthas’s white blonde hair and tucking it behind her ear as he watched anticipation and uncertainty play back and forth across the sharp planes of her otherworldly face. Her anticipation encouraged him, but the uncertainty, that was enough to bring him to his senses. Almost. Leaning down so that his lips almost brushed her ear, he whispered softly to her, hoping she’d see the truth in his words.
“You’re incredible. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise. Alright?”
Her fragrance intensified and her sharp inhale of breath told him everything he needed to know. Yes, Deòthas was definitely attracted to him. His fangs elongated, responding to the scent of his mate’s desire even as relief flooded his thoughts. Thank the gods. Her attraction was a start, if nothing else. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t run, not when she’d been pushed aside all of her life, but it meant she might give him a chance to prove himself. If only he could keep control of himself for now.
Pulling back, Tor forced himself to resist the urge to kiss her. He wouldn’t push her, and he intended to leave the first move up to her… even if it killed him. He’d do as Tancred had ordered and help the recruits. He’d be there for Deòthas if she needed him. He’d do nothing more than that.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Ready for what? The question seemed clear in her expression as her gaze dropped momentarily to his lips. In all honesty, he wasn’t even sure himself if he’d meant for training with the candidates, or if he’d meant something else altogether. However good his intentions, it was damn hard to control the part of himself which the gods had dedicated to his mate.
“I don’t… I don’t know if I’m reading you properly.”
Deòthas frowned up at him, her opalescent eyes anxious.
“So ask,” he encouraged her. “Say whatever you need to say. Trust me.”
“I’ve never…” She looked away. “I don’t want to do the wrong thing. I don’t want you to think I’m what the histories say I am. I don’t want you to think I’m… a fey whore. The baobhan sith are known for…”
“Seducing men and killing them. I know.”
His answer might sound overly direct, honest, but he saw no value in complicating the matter. Not when what he saw was so simple.
“You’re not just a baobhan sith, Deòthas. That might have been all people like the ancient scribes could see, but it’s not what I see. It’s not what you are, and quite frankly I doubt you were ever typical amongst the unseelie fey. There’s nothing you could do which would change how much I admire you. Nothing. Trust me.”
Please, Tor thought, please trust me enough to take what you want. What we both want. Don’t be afraid because you think it’ll taint my opinion of you. Don’t resist because others have corrupted how you see yourself.
“Trust me,” he repeated.
She reached up tentatively, her palm curving round his cheek as her thumb traced his lower lip. As her touch burned him, he realised he’d never wanted anyone like he’d wanted her. He’d never needed to be with anyone so much, and yet he’d also never needed to hold back during the few relationships he’d had. It felt like the most agonising torment to hold back then, to wait as Deòthas studied his expression, searching for any deceit.
“I do trust you.”
Tor couldn’t bring himself to breathe when she finally leaned up, bringing her perfect lips closer to his own. He didn’t dare move, lest he startle her by submitting to the urge to grab her and pull her against him. Instead he stood, still as a statue, giving her all the time she needed. He’d wait forever, if she asked him to.
When Deòthas finally kissed him, Tor purred in approval. His whole body relaxed against his mate as her arms slipped cautiously around his waist. Following her lead, he held her, easing her forward until her body pressed against his. He wished he hadn’t bothered with the tank top, he would have loved feeling her skin against his, but that would have destroyed his restraint. His self-control was already beginning to fray as Deòthas’s tongue traced the lip which her thumb had previously stroked, and that was dangerous for both of them.
A possessive growl rumbled up inside his throat. The sound vibrated from him, unintentional, and for a moment anxiety gripped him. Shit. He didn’t want to go too far. But then he felt Deòthas smile against him, encouraging him. Did she want more from him? Could she be willing?
He nipped at her lower lip, only just remembering that he had to be careful with his still extended fangs. If he caught her, if he tasted her blood, their mating would take another step towards completion. One kiss wouldn’t make her ready for the bombshell which would drop with the appearance of red tattoos. She’d disappear and that would destroy him, all because the gods had decided it should be so.
Such grim concerns drifted away as Deòthas growled in response to his teeth on her skin. Despite her nervousness, she gave herself over to the moment, and she took Tor over the precipice with her. With growing confidence she plundered his mouth, and the world became inconsequential. There was nothing beyond the push of her body against him, and the feel of her tongue as it tangled with his.
The feel of her, the smell of her, it set the fire at his core free to run rampage through his limbs. He knotted his fingers in her ponytail, holding her in place as he kissed her back for all he was worth. Molten heat pooled as he hardened against her, and he felt grateful when she breathed a soft moan rather than uttering a sound of reproach.
“Gods,” Tor panted between kisses. “I want you so much. You have no idea…”
“I have a vague one,” she purred back, her eyes gleaming, bright as brilliant diamonds. “I’ve never wanted anyone before, but I want you.”
Never? Not anyone? Her words echoed around Tor’s head, unbelievable and wonderful all at once. When Corvinus had said he didn’t know of any relationships, surely he hadn’t meant… she couldn’t be… was Deòthas a virgin?
“Never?” he whispered without pulling away, not wanting to break contact.
“No, never,” she admitted and frowned, uncertainty replacing at least some of the heat in her eyes. “I didn’t want anyone and… well, no one wanted me. Does that put you off? That after six hundred years I’m still…” her voiced trailed off and she swallowed before stuttering, “inexperienced?”
Put him off? Why would she think that? She’d never given herself to anyone and yet she chose to desire him. It was an honour. Quite frankly the idea only increased his need to take her, claim her, make her his and only his.
“It makes me want you all the more.”
She smiled at his admission, and in her joy she looked radiant. The gods had made her his world, and that smile lit his world like the sun, and moon, and stars combined. He would happily burn in its brilliance. He craved nothing more. But he was supposed to remember something, wasn’t he? Hadn’t he been going to remain in control?
Only he was already lost, and when Deòthas’s hand fisted in his tank top and she tugged him towards her bed, Tor didn’t think to argue. He didn’t think at all. He followed, blind to everything but his mate as she perched on the bed and guided him down so that he knelt between her legs on the mattress. Their mouths met again, each kiss growing deeper and more desperate as Tor lost any grip he’d had on the situation.
He licked and nipped, his teeth tugging at skin of her jaw and throat as she took his hand, placing it on the soft mound of her cotton covered breast. Deòthas moaned as he squeezed gently, applying pressure around her nipple as it pebbled beneath her clothes.
“Feed from me,” she murmured, and Tor’s erection twitched in response.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry! I knocked but there was no answer… shit!”
Tor leapt from the bed as if propelled by jets. His first thought was to tear the head off whichever man had dared think it was acceptable to enter his mate’s bedroom. This room would be damned well off limits to any man but him. He snarled, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as he made to spring forward, and if Deòthas hadn’t caught his wrist, he would’ve gone for the intruder.
She frowned at him as if she sensed just what he’d been intent on doing, and she didn’t understand it any more than she approved of it.
“Tor?” she asked softly as she released him. “Are you alright?”
He looked at his hands, hands he would’ve used to beat whoever was in the doorway. He couldn’t meet Deòthas’s eye, he didn’t want her to witness the violence which must surely still show on his face. It would give away too much about the strength of his feelings, especially as he struggled to calm the anger still pounding through his veins.
So that was another rumour with truth behind it; no one should get between a mated bhampair and their other half, not unless they were prepared for a fight. It seemed the gods had taken his kind’s possessive nature and doubled the overprotective, covetous drive. What a bonus prize for those whom they chose to bind together.
Would the bond multiply the strength of every emotion he felt around Deòthas? Jealousy, anger, love, lust... Were they all to be exacerbated by the nature of his bond to his mate? He’d fight and die to defend her. He could lose himself in his need for her. He had lost himself. Did madness feel like this? So selfish? So crazed? So oblivious to anything other than your own drives?
At least the interruption cleared the fog of his lust, but in its wake it left pure, unadulterated panic. Ràsbàrd’s beard, what had he been thinking? If they’d gone any further… Gods, he would’ve bedded her, he would have bitten her too. He wouldn’t have been able to resist… and the mating would have terrified her, he would’ve destroyed everything.
“Crap, I’m sorry.”
Tor didn't know why he apologised; it wasn’t like she could understand the sentiment. She remained safely oblivious to the situation, no thanks to his stupidity. Deòthas simply watched him in silence, lines of worry creasing her brow as she tried to make sense of his reaction. The trainee finally answered in her stead, sounding like he simply wanted to disturb the silence which followed the apology, rather than genuinely thinking it had been aimed at him.
“Hey, it’s no problem, man. Clearly emotions are running high in here. It’s my bad. The boss was just wondering if you were going to make an appearance?”
The gruff voice sound familiar. More than familiar. Tor looked up, recognising what he hadn’t at first.
“Eallair. Shit. Sorry man, I didn’t mean to… I just lost track of time, clearly.”
“Clearly,” replied the only childhood friend who hadn’t been chased away by Tor’s overbearing parents. Eallair had been his brother in all the ways his actual blooded siblings hadn’t. He’d been his partner in crime through school, university, and in training.
“Are you going to introduce me or do you want me to back slowly away rather than risk losing my head?” his friend asked, quirking a brow and cracking a sardonic smile.
Tor managed to force a laugh as he shook his head, although he felt thoroughly ashamed of himself.
“That’s not necessary. Eallair, this is Deòthas. Tancred’s made me her partner. Deòthas, this is Eallair, my best friend. We met in primary school and we’ve been friends ever since. I went to his mother’s house whenever living under my father’s roof threatened to become too much for me.”
Eallair looked surprised at the honesty in that introduction. It would be unusual, Tor thought, to hear him talk so openly about his father to a person who should’ve been little more than a stranger. In truth, he barely talked about his family. Much like his family didn’t often acknowledge him, really.
“You mean whenever he threatened to beat your disobedient hide?” Eallair teased, then grinned broadly. “Mam liked having you over; you have better manners than I do. Most of the time, at least. It’s not that obvious from where I’m standing now.”
Then he came forward, holding his hand out to Deòthas while maintaining a genuinely friendly expression.
“Hi, I’m pleased to meet you. You’re part baobhan sith, right? Do you have any special powers you can use to keep this ass safe now he’s come out of the trials in one piece? Don’t want anything happening to him before I can get past the Taghadairean too.”
“I have a few tricks,” Deòthas assured him, gripping the offered had firmly even though surprise registered in her eyes. She wasn’t greeted often, either, if her reaction was anything to go by. “Not that he needs my assistance really. He’s an outstanding warrior already. I’m pleased to have him as my partner.”
At her praise, the smile that spilt Tor’s face was instantaneous. Hearing her say it was a big improvement on ‘I don’t need a partner’. When he looked back at his mate she smiled too, warmth in her gaze as it met his.
“I think we’d better go down, though, before Raghnall decides I’ve eaten you both.”
Her tone remained light, mocking, but Tor felt the pain behind the words as if it were his own. It was his own now, as long as they both lived.
Eallair’s expression grew serious and he murmured uneasily, “He did say we had to be careful around you. He said… well, it doesn’t matter what he said. He has more darkness in him than you have in you.”
“You’re a seer?” Deòthas enquired, picking up on the strangeness of that statement and no doubt wondering if he shared Aodh’s gift of prophecy.
“He sees auras. Sometimes it’s enough to know who’s trustworthy and who isn’t,” Tor admitted before adding accusingly, “He didn’t tell me about Raghnall, though.”
With a shrug, Eallair shook his head as he admitted, “No, well, it was just anger I sensed to start with, when we came here three years ago. A lot of anger, sure, but sometimes people are just that pissed off with life, you know? It colours their halo, like with your father. I thought little of it. It’s only turned into something else lately, over the last few months really.
“You were preparing for the trials so I didn’t want to worry you with it. You know I get it wrong sometimes, and if I’d told you, you would’ve wanted to investigate. I simply prioritised for you. Now you’re out from under his care, maybe you can look into whatever he’s up to with a little less risk.”
Tor sighed unhappily; if Eallair really suspected Raghnall of being up to something, then he almost certainly would be. Despite his modesty, Eallair rarely made a mistake. And if Raghnall caused anything which hurt Deòthas, it would be the last thing he did on earth. Tor swore it.
“Awesome, and here I thought I’d been given an easy job here. Let’s get going then, otherwise he’s going to grow suspicious sooner than I’d like.”
Once they stepped into the corridor, Eallair moved aside, letting Deòthas pass and clearly hanging back to speak with him. Tor didn’t want Deòthas to get too far ahead, not on her own, but Eallair’s concerns often proved weighty enough to be worth heeding, and so he fell back as well. As long as he could see his mate, she’d be alright. It wasn’t like she was incapable of defending herself. Not anymore. No matter what had happened in the past. He needed to remember that, if he didn’t want to go insane with worry.
“Look out for her, your partner,” Eallair warned him as they headed towards the stairs. “I can see it, you know.” Tor’s friend tapped his face under his right eye, the place where mating tattoos were placed by the Gods. “I know why you’re keeping quiet too, and I think you’re right to do so. Don’t do anything that could push her out of reach. You need each other, more than either of you can comprehend right now, but Raghnall has it in for her. We all saw how much he glared at her last night, and we’ve all been forced to listen to him recite what he claims are her sins today, while we were waiting for you. You need to protect her from him, from anyone who would harm her. She’s important. She’s worth far more than anyone realises, even Deòthas herself. Especially Deòthas herself.”
Tor rubbed his eyes, feeling tension creep back into his shoulders again.
“You’ve seen more than I thought you would. You’re getting powerful.”
Eallair chuckled. “So says the class one warrior who’s just about bagged himself the most experienced bana-ghaisgeach the Comhairle has. I know you well enough to read you, bro, and she’s been through enough for me to see the scars of suffering on her aura, along with the brilliance that comes from what she is. You two are open books to me, and what I’m reading is vitally important. You must protect her, Tor. Above all else. There’s something about her, something that will be important. Not now, not against the Manipulator, but in the future. Keep her safe.”
“I will. I’ll die for her, if it comes to it,” Tor promised honestly. As if he had a choice. “How could I not, with what she means to me?”
“You love her already,” Eallair stated, and it wasn’t a question. “She loves you too, although she’s not ready to admit it yet. She’s afraid that it’s not real, and she’s afraid of being close to anyone. She has a strength I can’t fathom, but there’s a lot of fear in her too. The idea of family, it terrifies her. And there’s guilt… something happened. But mainly it’s fear.”
“I know,” Tor admitted softly, regretfully, “and it’s all justified. What our kind has done to her, Eallair. I can’t believe that the Council, the supposed protectors of all supernaturals, would let it happen. Worse, they encouraged such brutality. It sickens me. I find myself questioning everything I ever believed, everything I saw in the Council, because of what they did to her.”
“She didn’t deserve whatever she’s been through, especially as she’s one of our own,” Eallair agreed.
He frowned deeply as he studied the back of the baobhan sith up ahead of them.
“There’s something else, something I can sense but can’t place, isn’t there? Someone took something from her, and it’s something that’s costing you too. You’re in mourning, Tor. Why?”
Feeling tears prickle his eyes, Tor blinked rapidly, pushing them back. It wasn’t his place to discuss what Deòthas had told him in confidence, even if silence meant grieving alone.
“I… I can’t go into it. Not now, at least.”
His best friend nodded again, accepting that answer without question.
“I know. Just remember that one day you’re both going to have to face up to what was lost. If you need me, then I’ll be here for you.”
Gratitude flooded Tor, just as it had throughout his youth. He meant every word as he said, “You’re the only brother I’ve ever really had, you know?”
“I know,” Eallair answered, and his stride became an ever so slightly arrogant strut.
Tor chuckled, mirth breaking through some of his gloom, and that had undoubtedly been his friend's intention, even before Eallair added, “That’s why I expect to be your second at your wedding.”
The other man grinned broadly as he claimed bagsy on the position which humans called ‘best man’. It didn't occur to Tor to gainsay him.
“You know, I understood why you passed over the arrogant brats your mam selected for you to ‘court’. However, I could never understand why you only had a couple of relationships at uni. I mean what was wrong with the girls who threw themselves at you? I found my type, but you never seemed to find yours. Now I realise it’s because there’s only one of your type on this side of the veil. You sure know how to pick the unique ones.”
How right he was.
When they caught up with Deòthas at the head of the stairs, Tor tugged her into his arms again. He took another risk, planting a firm kiss on her cheek before he admitted, “She’s certainly that.”
“I’m what?” she asked, without pushing him away. “You’d better be nice about me, rookie. I bet I could still kick your ass, you know. Experience and all.”