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Gods, he tired of the cold. He wished for a warm ale in his hand, an able-bodied woman on his lap, and the cold to disappear forever. None of which were likely to happen. He had sent away the only woman he wanted in his lap, there was no ale, and frost was gathering around his lips again.
He didn't need the fire, for a fire lived in his memories. Sorcha, the one woman who had captivated his thoughts since the moment she burst into his throne room. She danced in his mind's eye, swaying to and fro with the fire.
“A Weaver’s purpose is to tie together the lives of druid and Fae. To link those of us who keep watch over the land and its people. It is a rare gift.”
He saw red hair stirring in the breeze, trailing over freckled skin so white it was nearly milk. Dirty fingernails with blood caked underneath from helping heal his people, even though he didn’t want her to. Eamonn heard her name dance in the air and tasted sunshine on his tongue.
She was innocent. She did not know the ways of the Fae, nor did she know how to protect herself. Of all people, he would preserve that innocence with his last breath.
They would all live. It was a miracle that should fill her soul with happiness. But she was still so empty.
She had known the moment she left the isle that she took a piece of his soul with her.
She let out a choked sound, and then they were running towards each other. She didn’t know which one moved first, but it didn’t matter. His arm wrapped around her, one hand lifted to cup her face and press her forehead against his, breathing her in.
Eamonn bent, lifting her by the hips until he could kiss her without straining. They poured their frustrations, their longing, their heartbreak into a single kiss that wiped those emotions away.
Eamonn kissed her as if he were a drowning man. Each lingering pass of firm lips and biting crystal healed her fragile heart. He didn’t just take her lips, he devoured her.
He wanted to brand her with his touch because he’d come so close to losing her.
She had dreamed of this moment so many times but no dream could replicate the feeling of his hands so gentle on her hips.
“I hear you, my fierce druid priestess.” He traced the outline of her lips with his thumb.
“I will always put myself as your shield. I have to protect those I cherish. And you are my heart, Sunshine.”
“You cured the plague, didn't you?” The proud expression on his face filled her heart near to bursting. He believed in her when her own family hadn’t thought she could make miracles happen.
Druids were fearsome creatures to the Fae. Humans capable of magic defied all logic.
He turned to her then, pulling her into his arms and bending to rest his chin on her forehead. “I didn't think it possible to miss another person as much as I missed you.”
Sorcha grinned. “Is there someone following us, Eamonn?” “No.” “I’m quite certain I can hear a third set of footsteps.” “Stop it!”
“He will be the greatest king they have ever seen. He will take a Seelie faerie as a bride and forget all about me. I will help his people, I will guide his thoughts, but he will never make me queen.”
“This throne does not make you a Queen, but your actions from here on out. Do you accept this title?” “I do.”
“You are King Balor’s granddaughter?” “And you are Nuada’s grandson.”
A great king, a horrible enemy, and the father of the druid race. And now, he looked upon the fearsome creature’s granddaughter with new eyes.
We bring together families, people, races that have never existed side by side before. We are the beginning of a new age, Sorcha. Together.”
And in that moment Eamonn made a vow to himself that he would protect her from everything. Even herself.
The dwarves watched with wide eyes as the dangerous warlord who had led them through battle calmed at the touch of a druid woman.
Eamonn reached out and took her hand, his thumb smoothing over her knuckles. “I missed you, too.”
If they were foolish with their bodies, their hearts, their minds, then yes. I would judge them. But they are highly intelligent women. I have never once thought less of them for their choices.”
“I don’t need to yell at you, Eamonn. You’re already doing it for me.”
He placed his head in her lap, wrapping his arms around her waist with a low moan. “Yell at me, mo chroí. Be angry, break pottery and statues. Do something other than this, I beg you.” “What good would it do?” she said, stroking his head. “You know what you did, and how wrong it was.”
“Stand, warrior.” He looked at her as if she were his world. Eamonn rose to his feet, powerful chest broad and scarred.
“Anyone can be beautiful if they love themselves, but not everyone can be intelligent. Which do you want to be?”
Beauty was fleeting, but intelligence meant that her name would remain on people’s lips for thousands of years to come.
“If I measured my worth in beauty, I would live a life full of riches and happiness. If I am valued for the knowledge I impart on the world, then I live forever.”
Sorcha would never forget moments like this. She didn’t need wondrous declarations of love, romantic scenes in front of other faeries. She wanted a quiet evening hidden away from others where they could privately enjoy each other.
“I pledge my soul to you,” he growled. “My heart, my mind, my life are now yours.” Somehow, she knew she was supposed to say the words. “I pledge my soul to you, my heart, my mind, and my life are now yours.”
When the king and queen were happy, so were their people.
It was why he had to stay away from her so much. He would give anything to hear her laugh over and over again until the world ended.
She stood straighter than she had when she first arrived to the isle. Her eyes sparkled with life and a vivacity that he knew were from helping his people. She showed love to everyone she passed with bright smiles, blown kisses, and a gentle touch that shook the foundation of his being. She was a gift he did not deserve.
The wind scooped underneath her arms, trailing along the length of her sides. She was beautiful, wild, and all his.
“I am no longer the faerie prince with soft words. My poetry for you is a vow. The world may burn down around us, but nary a flame shall touch thy beloved flesh. The ocean may swallow the land, but I shall be your ship and feed you sweet air. A sword may try to cut you down, but I will bear all your wounds. I have lived a thousand years in the dark, waiting for the rays of your sunlight.”
Eamonn had always thought a woman in the throes of passion to be a wondrous sight. He spent centuries learning every inch, every trick to pleasure them. But each one was a unique pearl. A book that must be read, correctly and frequently to fully understand. He was a very attentive student.
Sorcha was home. Every inch of her, whether he was inside her, beside her, or so far away that he could no longer catch the scent of her on the wind. Home had been a place he had fought and searched for. Centuries had passed with many people and places passing by. Eamonn had never realized home could be a person. He hadn’t known how a single smile, a curl wrapped his finger, a graceful arch of a foot could change his life forever.
“Everywhere you go, I shall follow. You are the only light in my life, the beacon at the end of a long and winding road. Together we will be more than lovers, husband and wife, king and queen. We are a thousand years of want and desire and love. So much love.” “Together,” she repeated and pressed a delicate kiss upon his lips.
“Mo chroí.” He pressed a kiss against her lips, her cheeks, her eyes. “My heart beats for you.”
They lounged on the cliff edge until the sun set and the stars blinked to life above them. Sorcha didn’t want to leave. Every second that they had together was infinitely precious.
Temptation was the definition of him. Her heart throbbed every time she looked at him. They were different here in this castle than they had been on Hy-brasil. Responsibilities filled their lives and finding time together was difficult. The time they found was rare, and therefore all the more special.
But you are a druid priestess, a Weaver who is capable of great things. The granddaughter of Ethniu, Fomorian and mother of the druid race. You have nothing to fear.”
“I am in my childhood home for the first time in centuries, with the woman I love more than life itself. A man would have to be insane to not wish for distractions at a time like this.” “You may regret that come morning.” “I shall never regret a single moment of your time.” His hands smoothed down her ribs to the dip in her waist. “If this is our last night, then I wish it to be a night our souls remember in the ancestral halls.”
She would destroy his house and pity the fool who tried to stop her.
“A dark, powerful creature with no man to temper her steel. You shall wield a sword as your crown, a whip as your jewels, and armor as your gown.”
