And I trusted him enough to know that regardless of the argument we’d shared before, he’d keep his word. For Ian had his own agenda in this war. One which wouldn’t let him rest until he’d seen the end of it.
So, I pushed myself to my feet, acknowledging his offer with a nod of thanks. But as I left the room, I made another mistake. My gaze dropped down to the last surviving Daughter and traveled over that beautiful face, lingering on those rosebud lips.
Those lips that I wasn’t meant to think about.
Those lips that had nothing to do with the hardness between my legs.
Fuck.
3
Tritus
3rd Century BC, Ancient Scotland
The tension in the air was palpable.
The Winter Goddess had left, vanishing just as she’d arrived. For a while, the three of them all stood in shock, disbelieving of circumstances until Drust cleared his throat and tentatively broke the silence.
“Tal—”
“No!” Talorgan snarled at his brother. “Enough has been said today! I need to be alone.” He turned sharply on his heel and strode off into the forest, his brown robes swirling around his ankles. In seconds, he was lost from view.
Tritus looked at his friend, noting the heartache and loss on Drust’s face as his eyes tracked his brother’s path into the shadowed forest. Aside from the clothes they wore, and Talorgan’s fractured left eye, Drust was an exact replica of his twin brother, right down to the blue tribal tattoos on their faces.
Drust must have felt the contemplation, for he turned to Tritus and said softly, “Thank you for saving my brother.”
His tone was heavy, but Tritus could hear the sincerity and jerked his head in acknowledgment, still not trusting himself to speak.
“I want you to know that I don’t blame you,” Drust continued. “I acknowledge my brother’s faults. I know he is too proud, too unbending. One day, it will be his undoing.”
Tritus knew that for the truth, but Drust didn’t need to hear it, not now. “Talorgan’s sentence may change him.”
Drust speared him a glance, his eyes heavy. “Maybe.”
Tritus looked away first. He didn’t have a brother, let alone a twin, and didn’t understand what it would feel like to love someone like that or feel tied to them in that way. “Dusk will soon be upon us. It’s too late to begin the journey home now. Given that Cailleach bade us leave at sunrise, we should set up camp here for the night.”
Drust jerked his head. “I think that’s wise. But we should leave at first light—Samhain is tomorrow eve, and I do not wish to tempt the creatures who come out at night.” He glanced at the three felled deer on the forest floor, one kill for each of them. “Help me with these. We must secure them for the night.”
Tritus helped him hoist the carcasses back into the tree and waited while Drust tied the rope securely. Satisfied they were safe from predators, he turned to Drust to address their own needs. “I’ll collect some firewood while we still have an hour of light.”
The temperature had suddenly dropped as the last rays of the afternoon sun slowly slid behind the mountain peaks. Winter was on their heels.
Drust nodded. “I’ll find us some water and forage for roots and berries. I don’t think Cailleach would appreciate it if we indulged in any more of her creatures.”
Tritus agreed. They would never leave the mountain alive.
Drust looked in the direction his brother had gone. “I’ll see you at dusk.”
Tritus wasn’t surprised when Drust followed Talorgan’s path. He ventured in the opposite direction, wanting to put as much distance between the twin brothers as possible. The shadows in the forest cowered closer as he ventured into its depths, gathering dead branches, leaves, and moss, enough to start a fire. Not wanting to return to that small clearing just yet, he dropped the bundle below the trunk of a distinctive oak tree and ventured farther afield to gather denser logs—large enough to burn through the night and warn off any predators.
He scented her before he saw her—a hint of pine with a sharp bite of frost. He’d never forget that scent; it belonged to her and her only. As he bent to pick up the log, Tritus became aware of a cold burn at his back. He hesitated, muscles locking with tension as he anticipated the blow.
But it didn’t come.
Swallowing, knowing there was no escape, he turned to face her. Her visage hadn’t dimmed in the evening light. She still blazed like a deadly arrow, beautiful but lethal, and Tritus could feel the sharp edge of danger in her presence, like the press of a knife sticking in his side. She was stunning beyond all reason, tall and willow slim, clad in a virginal white dress with each of her slender arms encircled by a bronze arm torc. Her hair was pale as moonlight and hung braided to her knees, and on top of her head lay a crown of flowers in full bloom, securely fastened by thorny stems braided together.
Dropping the log, he ducked his head, careful to divert his gaze from her intoxicating silver eyes. He did not want to be stung by the powerful burn of her stare. Not after what had happened last time. “My lady.”
He felt the white-hot heat of her power; knew she was waiting on him to kneel. But for some reason Tritus couldn’t fathom, he refused to do so. There was an urge to meet her, equal for equal, which was insanity given she was a goddess and a powerful, ancient one at that. As the silence lengthened, he lifted his gaze, careful to avoid her silver eyes lest he be ensnared by her bewitching beauty. He focused on her nose, and this vantage point enabled him to ascertain her expressions without being trapped in her web.
As if aware of his machinations, Cailleach’s eyes narrowed. Tritus’s skin prickled with awareness and he stilled the urge to back away. He asked softly, “What can I do for you, my lady?”
“We need to talk.” Her voice was melodious, in one instant discordant, in the other beautiful beyond imagining. He felt his ears ring with the sound, the pressure building as it had before. Except, this time, the sound was more lyrical, softer, as if his ears were becoming accustomed to her power.
Tritus couldn’t help his gaze from wandering down her body. Her willowy form teased him in its sheer white gown, his gaze lingering on the soft swell of her breasts. He felt his loins tighten, and he shifted to adjust, raising his eyes back to her nose. “Talk?” he inquired, pleased his voice was steady. “About what?”
The Winter Goddess placed a hand on her hip. “You intrigue me,” she murmured as her eyes traveled down his body, a mirror of what he had done to hers just moments before. “There’s something about you—something different to the others.” She paused, then lifted a hand to her mouth, tapping her index finger against her lips. “You’re a Druid, yet you don’t practice.”
“No, I refused its call.”
“Interesting.” Cailleach cocked her head to the side, and her long braid of ash-blond hair swung heavily with the momentum. “I can feel your anxiety. There’s something you’re not sharing.”
Tritus tensed but didn’t respond.
Her voice was soft as she whispered with relish, “A challenge, then.”
He felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest. Remain calm and pretend ignorance.
“Why were you not aware of who I was?”
Tritus knew he should tread carefully, but it wasn’t his way to lie. “I come from the land across the sea, my lady. I had not heard of you before.”
“Hmm. And which of my brothers and sisters has gained your people’s attention?”
“None of them, my lady. We worship other gods.”
“Who?” she demanded.