Elphame's Choice (Partholon #4)

Elphame's Choice (Partholon #4) Page 32

Lochlan entered the Chieftain's bedchamber by Elphame's side. He held her hand tightly within his as a tide of emotions broke over him.

"My mother walked here." His voice was a raspy whisper. "Before she knew pain and self-imposed banishment, she knew love and happiness here."

"Don't do that to yourself. Do you think for one instant your mother regretted your birth?"

Lochlan blinked and focused on Elphame's face. He shook the self-hatred from his mind and answered her honestly. "No, from the moment of my birth, to the moment of her death, she loved me fiercely and completely."

Through their joined hands, Elphame could feel the tension within him relaxing. He looked around the spacious chamber while he continued speaking, his voice shifting back to the deep, rich tone she knew so well.

"I know it sounds strange, and your brother, as well as the rest of your clan, will probably never understand, but it feels right that I am here. It somehow completes things." He smiled at her and the sadness was gone from his eyes. "My mother would be very happy to know that I have returned."

She moved closer to him and leaned against his shoulder. His arm encircled her along with the tip of one dark wing. He bent to kiss her with a sweet tenderness that made her breath catch. She understood what his mother had felt - she, too, loved him fiercely and completely.

"Now, tell me about this Feeling that has so troubled you," he said, leading her over to the golden chaise that sat adjacent to her bed.

With a rustle, Lochlan's wings fitted themselves neatly against his back so that he reclined comfortably on the chaise. He bent his knees so that they formed a backrest for her and she curled up leaning against them, facing him.

"It happened when Cuchulainn came to me to ask my permission as Brenna's Chieftain to court her. Of course I gladly granted his request." Elphame's eyes stared over Lochlan's shoulders, as if she was trying to reconstruct the past. "Then, almost automatically, I evoked Epona's blessing. The moment I spoke the Goddess's name I was filled with a terrible sadness and I heard the sound of weeping."

"Perhaps your premonition had nothing to do with Cuchulainn and Brenna. Could Epona have been sending you a vision of what would come when you announced your own marriage? Could she have been trying to prepare you for the struggle ahead of us?"

Elphame shook her head. "I already considered that. No, this Feeling was definitely linked to Cu and Brenna." She drew a deep breath. "And then there's the spirit of The MacCallan. He agreed that it was a vision sent to prepare me to be strong."

Lochlan's brows shot up. "You've spoken with the shade of The MacCallan?"

"More than once. Actually, he has even appeared to Cu. That's how he knew to come after me the night of my accident. The MacCallan sent him."

"My uncle..." Lochlan shook his head, hardly able to believe it.

"And my great-grandfather." She hesitated before adding gently, "He mentioned your mother the last time we spoke. He loved her very much."

Sadness shadowed Lochlan's eyes again. "Do you think he would hate me?"

"I don't know," she said truthfully. "But I think that it's a good sign that he hasn't appeared to drive you from the castle. I have no doubt that the old spirit knows everything that happens within MacCallan's walls."

"Should I leave? I would not wish to trouble him."

Elphame took his hand. "Don't leave. I want you here. I need you here. Remember, you are of the Clan MacCallan, by oath as well as by blood."

"It's not the MacCallan blood that concerns me." He lifted her hand to his lips for a brief kiss. "What do you intend to do about your vision?"

Elphame sighed. "I don't think there's anything I can do. The MacCallan warned me to prepare for what is to come." She shrugged her shoulders, feeling the great weight of her responsibilities pressing down on them. "All I can do is to try to be strong, and wait."

"You are strong, my heart. And we will wait together for what will come."

His words comforted her, even as she realized that they shouldn't have. The vision did not pertain to him, but Lochlan was undoubtedly a part of the coming storm. She knew their relationship would be a bitter thing for her family and her clan to discover, but she could not turn from him. All her life she had dreamed of, wished and prayed for a lifemate, never really believing she would be granted such a gift. And now that she had found him, she could not let him go.

She clasped his hand. "Yes, even great sadness will be easier to bear together."

"Did you ever think that Epona might be foretelling Brenna's rejection of your brother? If he truly loves her that would be a great sadness for him, but it is something from which he could recover."

"Brenna will not reject him. You should have seen them together today, Lochlan. It was as if they had discovered a wonderful secret. I recognized all too well their long looks and frequent touches. No, Brenna will not reject him."

"Then, if Epona grants it, let your brother likewise recognize our love when he discovers our secret."

Thunder boomed outside the castle and lightning cracked dangerously close. Elphame shivered as a sudden chill ran through her blood.

"The storm grows closer," she said, staring up at the window slits that glowed fitfully with lightning.

"It will pass, my heart."

Elphame's eyes turned back to her lifemate. He was watching her with a sure, steady gaze, which evoked confidence and made her suddenly want to believe his words. She thought that he must be a great leader among his people. Chagrined, she realized that, though he had mentioned other women who had survived the birth of their half-Fomorian children, and though she had understood that there had to be more beings like him, she had not asked him about the others he had left behind.

"Lochlan, tell me about your people."

All expression slid from his face, and he was silent for so long that Elphame didn't think he would answer her. When he began to speak, his words sounded strained.

"My people live in the Wastelands. Life is difficult, but, as you already know, we are long-lived, few of us die. And, though I wonder at the wisdom of it, many new children are born every year."

"Children?"

Lochlan's smile held no humor. "Yes, we can procreate. Whatever anomaly caused the Fomorian females of my father's time to become sterile has healed itself in us. We are strong and resilient. My people thrive almost as much as they suffer."

Elphame shook her head. "They suffer? I don't understand."

"Those of us who were born from living mothers all share certain similarities - our appearance is more human than demon, we have the ability to move about during the daylight hours without the sun causing us pain, we do not need to feed on living blood to sustain our own lives, and we all struggle to cling to our humanity as we fight against the pull of our dark heritage. You already understand more than you realize, Elphame. You have seen evidence of the struggle within me. What you don't know is that every time I fight against the demon within me, every time I choose humanity instead of the darker path, it causes me pain. The pain that my people and I experience as the price of our humanity is driving many of us into insanity." Lochlan's jaw tightened. "It is especially difficult for the children. They, too, are born more human than demon, but they have no human mothers to guide them, and our own mothers are long dead."

Elphame was overwhelmed at the thought of a young Lochlan struggling to be human without the aid of his mother's strength and belief.

"Then they must come here!" She squeezed his hands, suddenly not caring if she sounded young and idealistic. "We can help them. My family will accept you -  they have to. When they see how good you are, that you struggle against darkness every day and defeat it, they will begin to trust you as I do, and through you, your people will earn their trust, too."

Lochlan could not look away from the bright belief in her eyes. Now was the time to tell her about the Prophecy. Now was the time to admit to her that his mission had been to seal her doom, but that he had forsaken his people and the Prophecy out of love for her. But he could not. She wrapped him in the sparkling web of her dream, and he did not wish to be awakened.

"If only it was that easy," he said.

"If it was easy, it wouldn't be worth doing." She smilingly echoed his mother's words.

"I do love you, my heart." He pulled her into his arms. "I will always love you."

Elphame leaned into him, returning his kiss. When she heard his wings begin to rustle with arousal, she whispered against his lips, "Take me to bed, husband."

With strength that was more than human, he rose swiftly to his feet, cradling Elphame in his arms. His feral, gliding steps covered the space to the bed in less than a single beat of her heart. Soon, their clothing, still damp from the rain, was pooled in a discarded heap around their feet. Naked, Elphame slid across the luxurious linens. Lochlan lay above her, his wings unfurling like a tremendous bird of prey. He held most of his weight on his elbows; his hands were balled tightly into the thick comforter. She could feel the tension that trembled through his body, and as she tried to deepen their kisses, he visibly held himself back, trying to steady his breathing and remain in control of his passion.

"Lochlan, you are my husband. You cannot be afraid to love me."

"I'm not afraid to love you!" His voice was thick with lust and frustration. "I'm afraid to harm you!" He drew a trembling breath and pressed his forehead against hers. "My hands become like claws. My pleasure becomes bloodlust. I cannot love you without fearing for you."

Something in the tone of his words stirred an instinct deep within her and she felt the ire of a goddess come alive with a slow, steady burn. Her skin tingled and her blood pulsed with a hot, sensuous rhythm.

"You insult me."

Lochlan lifted his head, surprise clearly reflected on his face. She pushed him back from her with a strength that widened his eyes.

Deliberately, she leaned forward and stroked the underside of his wing causing his breath to catch in a moan. "I do not shrink from your touch. Have you forgotten that I am more than human? I am faster - I am stronger." She stroked his wing again, and as he moaned she teasingly bit his shoulder, leaving a raised red mark like a brand. "Some even say I am a goddess. Do not treat me as if I am any less." She took his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged.

Lochlan's eyes flashed with a dark light that sparked an answering lust within her. She remembered the bloodlust that he had admitted to her. She didn't mean for it to be, but there was something erotically compelling about the thought of him pressing his teeth into her skin - a kind of sensual invasion, not unlike him entering her body. The aura of barely contained violence that surrounded him was palpable, but it did not frighten her - it drew her to him. As his mate she did not feel like an anomaly or a mutation, instead she felt that she had finally discovered her match.

"Love me, Lochlan," she purred. "I will not break and I will not turn from you."

His answering kiss crushed her against the bed. She met his passion with equal force, teasing and tempting with her hands and her mouth. When he entered her it was with none of the restraint he had shown the night before, and she arched beneath him, goading him on. He took her hands in his and pulled them over her head. His breath came in hot gasps as he bowed over her. She barely recognized the voice that whispered dark words into her ear.

"You do not realize what you ask."

"My trust is not something half-given." She raised her head and bit his shoulder again - hard - as she moved rhythmically against him.

Lochlan growled low in his throat. He pressed his daggerlike teeth against the softness of her neck.

Elphame felt a brief burning and then a blade of erotic sensation slid from her throat down through her body. Waves of pleasure took her as he drank her blood at the same time he filled her with his seed.

Suddenly, with an agonized cry Lochlan hurled himself away from her body. Feeling disoriented, Elphame raised up on one elbow, blinking in confusion. He was standing beside her bed, staring wide-eyed at her. There was blood on his lips and a small trickle of crimson ran from the corner of his mouth down his chin. Elphame's hand went to her neck, and she felt two small, damp, puncture wounds.

She smiled shakily at him.

"I'm fine, Lochlan. You didn't hurt me."

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stared in horror at the blood smeared there.

"No!" he cried in a broken voice. "It cannot be this way. I will not let it be this way."

He stumbled backwards, shaking his head from side to side.

Elphame sat all the way up, fighting a rush of dizziness. "Lochlan, what is it? Look at me - you did not hurt me."

"No!" he repeated. "I will not let it be this way!"

With the incredible speed of his father's race, he glided across the room and disappeared through the entrance that led to the bathing chamber and the hidden tunnel.

"Lochlan!" Elphame yelled as she lurched from the bed.

"Do not follow me. Stay away..." His voice drifted eerily from the stairwell.

Elphame fell to her knees and wept.

Lochlan burst from the tunnel and ran. He didn't care where he went; he only knew that he had to get away. The night was unrelentingly dark, but his vision was sharp, and he maneuvered between trees with little effort. The rain lashed his naked body, but he welcomed it. It was nothing compared to the shattered remnants of his heart. He shrieked his agony to the unhearing night. He could still taste her blood, and he still heard the whispering tale it had revealed.

He had been wrong. They had all been wrong.

The Prophecy was true - he and his people could be saved through a goddess's death. But it was not her blood that was needed as sacrifice, and it was not her physical death that was required. He knew that now.

When he drank of her blood he had been filled with the infallible knowledge of a goddess. Elphame's blood would not save them. It was only by her accepting his blood that his people would find their salvation, and through him Elphame would absorb the darkness of their blood and take within her own body the madness of an entire race.

It would be worse than a physical death. If she drank his blood, she would be filled with evil. Elphame would live. Lochlan's thoughts screamed through his head in a cacophony of agony___It wasn't a physical death the

Prophecy foretold. She would live the long life of any being whose body held the blood of the demonic Fomorian race, but she would be driven completely mad. He knew too well what she would become, what the blood would twist her into being. He could not sentence her to centuries of agony. Not even to

save his people.

He must stay away from her, and he must be certain than none of his people ever discovered the path through the rugged Tier Mountains that led to the lush pine forest of Partholon and MacCallan Castle. He must keep his clan's castle, his love's home, safe.

His arms pumped in time with his powerful legs. His heart thundered with the storm. Farther away...he had to get far enough away so that he could not hear the magical sound of her call or feel her presence so heartbreakingly near. The land rose steadily up and he welcomed the burning pain that quivered through his straining muscles. Lightning flashed and through the rain that pelted his face he thought he caught the outline of shadowy figures atop the next ridge. With a dreadful sense of foreboding, he slowed his ascent, waiting for the next flash of light to be sure. When it came, he stumbled to a halt. Standing on the ridge, silhouetted against the storm, were four winged figures.