Dragon's Moon (9 page)

Barr had suggested she leave her clan for a reason. Ciara had stopped eating the day she found her mother's dead body. She'd stopped sleeping, too…and barely spoke.

Abigail and Laird Talorc had coaxed Ciara back into life, such as it was. She owed them so much, but she could not give them unfettered love. She had none left inside her dead heart.

Ciara did not wish to think what it would mean to her sanity if her heart was not as dead as she had believed.

These thoughts got her nowhere. Instead of focusing on her own shortcomings or the unequal relationship she had with her adopted family, Ciara needed to turn her attention onto something else.

“So, the dragon prince is your friend.” Right. Discussing Eirik was such a great improvement over thinking about him.

Did she have no control at all over what came out of her mouth?

“He accepted me when others questioned my motives, helped to heal me when I thought naught could so.”

“With the Éan's sacred stone?” Had her brother been right? Did the Éan still have possession of their sacred stone?

Lais jerked as if startled. “What do you know of the
Clach Gealach Gra
?”

So it was called the moon's heart stone. As fitting as the wolves naming theirs the wolf's heart. And his words had certainly not been a denial of its existence.

“I know only that each of the Chrechte peoples once had them.” She looked up into the sky, searching for a glimpse of her dragon. The dragon. Not
hers
. Never could Eirik be hers. “The old stories say that the stones can be used to connect with God and his creation in the coming-of-age ceremony to bring gifts beyond the great one bestowed in our ability to share nature with an animal.”

“I had thought all Faol ignorant of the sacred stones.”

Which meant Barr and Laird Talorc had never heard the
old stories telling of the wolves' sacred stone, or if they had, the stories had been dismissed as legend. Much as those of the Éan once were.

“What else do the ancient stories of the Faol say?” Lais asked, his curiosity almost urgent.

“That when a member of the family of the stone—the royal family—touches it, the sacred stone can do other miraculous things like healing.”

“I thought what happened to me a miracle.”

“I'm sure it was, but not a miracle that could not happen for another of the Chrechte given the right circumstances.” At least that was what Galen had told her.

“The wolves have no such stone.”

“You are so sure of this.”

“The Faol would not have given up such a treasure if they had it.”

“Our ancient coming-of-age ceremonies were violent, filled with a sexual aspect the modern clansmen would not find so easy to stomach, I think. Perhaps we gave up the stone when we gave up our ceremonies.”

“Perhaps. Or mayhap MacAlpin stole the stone like he stole the throne of Scotland from his relatives.”

It was as plausible a supposition as any Galen had put forth, Ciara supposed. “Some Faol believe it was stolen by the Éan and that they hid it but have forgotten over the centuries where.”

“Faol like Wirp and Luag, you mean.”

Feeling chastised though Lais had not actually said anything against her, Ciara nodded. “Aye, men like that.”

“More like there never was a sacred stone for the wolves. What need would such powerful shifters have for extra gifts?”

The
Faolchú Chridhe
existed, but she wasn't going to tell Lais so. Then she would have to explain how she knew and she was not ready yet to share that secret. When she did, she was determined to do so with the man who called her daughter.

'Twould only be right.

E
irik spun and kicked out, connecting solidly with the Sinclair's thigh.

The Chrechte laird stumbled but did not go down. “You'll teach that move to our soldiers.”

“Naturally.”

They spent each morning in mock combat with one another before training the Sinclair soldiers (human, Faol and Éan) together. Eirik had discovered the predator's approach to fighting different than that of the raven. Both were effective, but together were devastating to their foe.

As even the most elite soldiers realized when they faced either their laird or the Éan prince in mock battle.

“Ciara has changed since you arrived.” The Sinclair's fist connected with Eirik's left shoulder.

Eirik went with it, lifting his right arm to block the next blow, but his movements were near as disjointed as his thoughts. He did his best to hide the temporary effect the laird's words had on him with a practiced sequence of moves that ended with Eirik's arm around the laird's throat. “Having new members is bound to shake the clan up a little.”

“Aye.” Talorc broke Eirik's hold with a sneaky move of his own. “But new blood, new ways, they can be good for our people.”

They fought in silence broken only by the sound of flesh hitting flesh for several minutes before finally breaking apart and facing one another in preparation for the next bout.

“Wouldn't you agree?” the Sinclair asked.

And Eirik had to think quickly to remember the laird's last words. “Yes.”

“Ciara's change is particularly welcome.” Talorc gave Eirik a look he could not quite read.

“Good.” But Eirik did not think the laird would be as happy with the events of the night before.

The kiss that should not have happened, the sexual desire
that had flared hotter than dragon's fire between Eirik and Ciara.

The two warriors moved closer, circling each other. Eirik was watching for any opportunity as he knew Talorc was as well.

Finally, the Sinclair swept his foot out with a wolf's speed to try to trip Eirik. “When Ciara came to live with us, she barely ate, spoke only occasionally and never, ever smiled.”

Eirik was no wolf though. He was not even purely raven. He was dragon. Jumping over the swiftly moving foot, he used the momentum to gain a short distance from the other warrior. Enough space to land a solid kick.

He kicked out with his right leg, while leaping forward to land an openhanded blow against Talorc's head. “She seems fine now.”

The Sinclair avoided the kick and moved so that the blow was glancing, while bringing his own arm up toward Eirik's chin. “She has nightmares and barely sleeps. She's stopped eating again.”

The blow landed, knocking Eirik's head back as the older man's words sunk in. “And you claim she is doing better since my arrival?”

“Yes. The dreams and lack of sleeping started before you came; Abigail and I feared Ciara would become a ghost among us again, but she has not.” The laird stopped fighting in order to meet Eirik's eyes. “Since her family's deaths, Ciara has held her emotions so close, there are times she seems not to feel anything at all.”

“And yet you treat her as your daughter.”

“The first day she came into my keep and I looked in her eyes I saw pain unlike anything I had seen before. She hid it after that, but I never forgot it was there. She does not have to call me father for me to know I am hers. One day, she will realize this as well.”

Eirik felt regret for his words the night before, but the woman he knew was not lacking emotion at all. She was filled with anger. Toward him.

Perhaps it was time to tell Talorc the truth of Ciara's brother's death.

C
iara had lost her peaceful sanctuary on top of the towers, so she sought her next favorite place of solace—the forest. And solace she did need. She'd done her best to stay out of Eirik's way, but her emotions were in more turmoil than they'd ever been. Busy seeing his people settled in, he seemed just as intent on avoiding her.

That did not stop him from giving her looks that made her thighs clench, her toes curl and her heart pound uncomfortably in her chest whenever he did see her though. He alternated between those heated looks and scowls that let her know he was still angry with her for questioning his intentions toward Laird Talorc.

Knowing the dragon was so disgusted with her did no good at tamping down her own feelings, either. Ciara had never been as aware of her own femininity. Her wolf wanted out to howl, to hunt…to mate.

Thankfully, Eirik was not another wolf to recognize the signs, or take advantage of them. It was all she could do to keep her reactions hidden from her adopted family.

It did not help that Ciara was still wavering in her decision to tell Laird Talorc of her dreams.

She berated herself for her indecision. She knew she could trust her laird, but to give the dreams to him was to let go of the last bit of her life she had shared with her brother.

With her mind in such turmoil, Ciara had no choice but to let the beast take over some nights. Unbeknownst to anyone else, she had taken to running in the forest after the others living in the keep were safely asleep.

Ciara had learned that in her wolf form, she could jump from her window to the castle wall, though it did not look possible. Then she would jump the nine feet from the top of the wall to the grass below. While the towers were more than three times that high, the castle wall was tall enough to keep marauders out, but not a determined femwolf in.

She was sleeping no better and disturbing dreams were
plaguing her more than ever before. Worse than the nightmares of her brother's or mother's deaths, were the heated dreams replaying the kiss between her and Eirik.

Some did not end with her pulling away, either.

Those scared her the most.

The only sleep she got was in her wolf form, snuggled up at the base of her favorite tree. It was old, so tall she could not see the top if she looked straight up from the base. So big around, a whole family could live inside its trunk if it were hollow.

A tree that had grown since the beginning of time, or at least since the beginning of the Chrechte in the Highlands—she felt a connection to God and the Chrechte that had lived before her here. It was a special place. Perhaps even a sacred one.

So, she should not have been surprised to find someone else had found sanctuary at its base. A human woman curled against the bark, her body shivering in the cool summer night.

Moved by pity and concern, Ciara padded over in her wolf form and nudged the human female.

The woman flinched and whimpered, but did not scream. She sat up, looking wildly around before letting her gaze settle fully on Ciara.

Pale hair hung down around a face pinched with worry and blue eyes filled with tears. “Please tell me you're the one. The dreams led me here, but if you're not the one, you're probably going to eat me. I don't want to be eaten. I don't think that would be much of an improvement over my father's fists.”

Ciara was so shocked by the implication that a Highland man beat his daughter, she barked.

The other woman started, but seemed to try to force herself to relax. She put a trembling hand out as if to shake Ciara's hand, or maybe let the wolf scent her. “My name is Mairi. Please tell me you are a shifter and not a wild wolf.”

Ciara's wolf took over, sniffing Mairi's hand. She smelled of herbs, dried blood and fragile human skin, but nothing to give concern.

“My father is a wolf,” Mairi continued to prattle. “His first mate was a non-shifting Chrechte like me. My mother.
Please be the wolf I dreamed about.
Father took a Chrechte for his second wife. He and my brother don't think much of me, and neither does his new wife for that matter. I don't have a wolf. They call me weak. Defective. Useless.”

The human woman's voice broke on the last words and Ciara had to suppress the urge to growl. The anger growing inside her was not directed at Mairi and Ciara would not have the other woman frightened because of it.

Mairi clearly knew about their people and her scent said her story was true. But Ciara knew from her own experience, deceit could be masked.

Still she nudged the woman to stand. Mairi did, wincing as she gained her feet and Ciara's determination to stay in her wolf's skin faltered.

The scent of dried blood was strong, but so was that of desperation and fear. This human needed help.

If you ignore the dragon, it will eat you. If you try to confront the dragon, it will overpower you. If you ride the dragon, you will take advantage of its might and power.

—C
HINESE
P
ROVERB

C
iara turned and trotted around the tree so she could shift. When she came back, Mairi was leaning against the tree, her face set in misery.

But it transformed with anticipation when she saw Ciara. “You
are
the one. You're the princess of our people who can gift me with the ability to be a wolf, with strength to protect myself.”

“I don't know what you mean.” She had never heard of such a thing. Not even in the ancient stories. “Besides, I'm not a princess. I'm an orphan.”

“Oh, no, my dreams do not lie. They led me here, to you. Only a princess of our people would dare roam the woods alone at night, unafraid of what might be lurking in the shadows.”