Chapter 13
To Reaper, Dún Fianna looked like it had been built as if it had been woven into the land itself.
“I don’t think that sight is ever going to not be impressive.” He jerked his chin toward its towering palisades constructed from colossal oak trunks, their bark still rough and unyielding beneath the pale morning light.
“It is hard to find anything quite as impressive as an ancient oak,” Cian agreed. He urged his mount slightly ahead as they stepped onto the causeway that crossed the defensive ditches surrounding the stronghold. “Here would not be a good time to fall off the horse, mo Grá Croí.”
Reaper glanced over the side of the causeway, his eyes widening at the sharpened stakes, each one blackened at the tip by fire, filling it. “Nope.” He tightened his grip on the reins. “You better not dump me on my ass here, horse. Or I’m gonna be pissed enough to turn you into stew.”
“You do not need to eat me horses,” Cian called. “If you are hungry, I can already smell the venison in the Fullacht Fia is ready. We can stop by the kitchen and feed you.”
Food sounds freaking awesome.
His stomach rumbled as they crossed under the open twin gates, massive wooden doors carved with the same spiraling glyphs that Ward had found under the Volcano on ?le Saonae.
The magic beat in the very heart of this place.
The home of the Fianna was steeped in it.
Yet until this very moment, he had never felt the impact of it, as he did as it brushed over his skin like the caress of a lover welcoming him home.
Warriors moved through the gates in a steady stream, their voices a low murmur of old Gaeilge, and the occasional burst of laughter. Cian didn’t slow their pace and kept them moving through the open space between the houses and toward the hall at the center of the rath.
Pulling the horses to a stop, they dismounted and handed the reins off to a boy who came running.
Then Cian fell into step with him, close enough that the heat of his body radiated against his arm, close enough that the scent of him filled Reaper’s lungs with every breath.
The contact sent a jolt through him, and his muscles locked so tightly he could feel the tendons straining beneath his skin.
“You’re going to have to get used to my touch eventually,” Cian murmured, his voice a dark, knowing purr that slid under Reaper’s defenses.
He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached, the pressure radiating up into his temples. “Oh, I will. I’m neither blind nor immune to the sparks flying between us. Touching between us is inevitable.”
An infuriating smirk curved Cian’s lips, which made Reaper’s fingers itch to wipe it off his face—preferably with his fist. “Oh, a stór,” Cian drawled, the endearment rolling off his tongue like honeyed poison. “You can touch me any time you wish.”
A growl built in Reaper’s throat, the sound more wolf than man.
The truth settled in his gut like a stone.
He couldn’t avoid the bond between them forever.
Even if that realization made him want to put his fist through the nearest wall, it wouldn’t change the outcome.
Still, the man who had escaped a hellish relationship by the skin of his teeth needed space.
Needed something—anything—to drown out the roar of the bond in his veins, and the way it demanded both his attention and his surrender.
But now that they were back among others, it was easier to think, and easier to distance himself from the trauma of his past. “We should talk, Cian.”
The warrior’s smirk faltered for a heartbeat before that maddening calm slid back into place. “About?”
“About why I am how I am.” He paused just before the entrance to the hall and lowered his voice.
“About how it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with my past.” He couldn’t keep putting it off, and the truth was, he didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to be the reason for the shuttering of Cian’s eyes, or the way he attempted to keep the pain caused by the barbs Reaper kept throwing his way from showing on his face.
What would it be like to admit that his body still hummed from their kisses or how his lips still tingled from the press of Cian’s mouth against his?
He might not want to acknowledge the traitorous part of him that wanted this—wanted Cian—with a ferocity that scared the hell out of him, to himself.
But keeping it from the man he was going to spend the rest of his days with would be cruel.
And here I thought it would be Viper I’d be telling about Derek the asshole. Instead, I have to figure out how to tell my… my what? Husband? Partner? Grá Croí?
Terror—raw, unfiltered fear that was worse than any battlefield he’d ever stood on—slammed into him, and Cian spun toward him as if he sensed it.
“What is wrong?”
Nothing.
Everything.
I haven’t a fucking clue how to explain it.
“I’ll explain it when we talk.”
The doors of the great hall swung open before he could say anything more, and Fionn stepped out, his presence filling the space without a word. His gaze flicked between them, his expression unreadable.
“You’re back,” Fionn said. “I take it the bonding was successful.”
Reaper didn’t want to talk about this. The bond was too new, too raw, too his. It felt like standing naked in a room full of strangers, with every inch of him exposed, and every vulnerability laid bare.
Cian’s hand settled on the small of Reaper’s back. The touch was light, almost casual, but comforting nonetheless, marking him in ways that had nothing to do with ink or magic. “It was.” Pride threaded through his words. “Reaper is now my Grá Croí.”
The words sent a fresh wave of heat through Reaper’s body, his pulse spiking in his throat.
Grá Croí.
Heart love.
Fated.
His.
Mine.
A burst of warmth spread through his chest like wildfire, and he had to lock his knees to keep from swaying.
Fionn’s gaze softened, the lines around his eyes easing as if he understood the storm raging inside him better than Reaper understood it himself. “And you, Reaper?” he asked. “How do you feel about this?”
His body and his soul had been claimed by Cian.
It was fucking insane what this probably meant for him.
He thrived under the rules and regs of the US Navy; this change was the ripping apart of every protection he’d built for himself.
It would change things, change him. If he were honest, it already had.
But beneath it all, buried so deep he didn’t want to admit it was there, was a flicker of something else.
Something that felt dangerously like relief to know he’d never have to stand alone to face Derek again.
“It’s…” he ground out, “strange, but not as weird as I thought it would be.”
Fionn nodded, as if he’d expected nothing less. “Then perhaps you should take some time,” he said, his voice measured. “The bond is new. It will take adjustment.”
Adjustment?
His entire world had been ripped apart at the seams and stitched back together with threads of magic and fate, leaving him raw and bleeding and oh so different.
Cian’s fingers traced slow, idle circles on his back, the movement almost absentminded, as if he weren’t even aware he was doing it.
Reaper wanted to shrug him off, to put space between them, to breathe without the scent of him filling his lungs.
But he didn’t. Because, fuck, it felt good, it felt right, and he leaned into his touch.
Reaper’s stomach growled the second he and Cian stepped into the hall.
Zero was already at the long table near the hearth, his hair still damp from what had to have been a recent dunk in the lake, a mug of something steaming in front of him.
He looked up as they entered. His sharp eyes flicked between Reaper and Cian before a slow, knowing grin spread across his face.
“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair.
“If it isn’t the two lovebirds. You survive the night, Rodriguez?
Or did the big, scary warrior eat you alive? ”
Reaper flipped him off without breaking stride, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. Zero’s smirk only deepened, the bastard clearly pleased with his own shitty wit.
Kaze paused with a spoonful of something that looked a hell of a lot like oatmeal halfway to his mouth.
“About time you two showed up,” his voice carried easily over the noise.
“Thought maybe you’d gotten lost in each other’s eyes or some shit.
Or maybe Cian finally convinced you to run off into the woods and live off berries and moonlight. ”
Cian snorted, pulling out a chair for Reaper. The wood groaned slightly under his weight as he claimed the seat beside him, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Jealous, Kaze?” his tone was light, but there was enough of an edge to it to make it clear he wasn’t entirely joking.
Kaze rolled his eyes, “Please. I’ve seen his bare ass too many times to know Reaper’s not my type.
” He smirked. “Reaper, you’ve got shadows under your eyes like you haven’t slept in a week.
Did you get some? And Cian—” He paused, squinting at the pair of them.
“You’ve got that smug, well-fucked, I-got-laid look going on.
It’s disgusting this early in the morning. ”
Jesus, don’t react.
Don’t react, or they’ll never shut up.
Reaper raised an eyebrow. “At least I’m getting some. When was the last time you got laid, Kaze?”
“My mother is not a bird; how can I have gotten laid?” Cian’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What did Reaper get some of?”
Kill me now.
“Sex.” He whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
Kaze barked out a laugh. “Fair point, fairy boy.” He jerked his chin toward the food. “Now shut up and eat.”
“Last I checked, I was the one who could cross Trace’s fairy fence. So I’m not as human as I thought.” He didn’t want to bring up that Cian insisted he’d released a wolf from his skin as he’d slept last night.
Hell no, I’m saving that shit for payback for this shit right here.
“He got some.”
Mated less than a day, and he’ll be dead before we make it to the end of breakfast if he doesn’t shut up.
“Shh, I’ll explain later.”
“But I want to know—”
“Do your warriors make jokes and fun of each other?”
Cian nodded. “They do, but not in the hall.”
“Those two assholes are being just that…assholes.” He leaned back so the servant could put a bowl of the oatmeal-like mix in front of him, and he took the hunk of crusty bread still warm from the oven that Cian handed him.
“Thank you.” Cian’s thigh pressed against his under the table, and Reaper had to fight the urge to lean into him, because there was no chance the two hooligans he called his brothers would miss the opportunity it provided to tease the crap out of him.
Zero tore off a chunk of bread with his teeth, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “So, Cian.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “You planning on dragging your boy back through the Fianna door with you when we head out?”
Reaper stiffened; he’d put the fact that they had to return to their own dimension and what would happen out of his mind.
Cian growled and reached under the table to thread their fingers together. “Where my Grá Croí goes, I go.”
Zero held up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, big guy. I’m not gonna make you stay behind. That shit ain’t my call.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But seriously, Rodriguez, is he coming with us?”
Reaper’s thumb traced slow circles over the back of Cian’s hand. “He’s coming with me,” he said, “but only if he wants to.” He turned his head slightly, meeting Cian’s gaze.
Before Cian could respond, though, Fionn came through the servant’s entrance behind them, with one of the older Fianna warriors.
“But he needs my permission to go. His gaze settled on him and Cian with an intensity that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. “Do you wish to go with him, Hound?”
“Where my Grá Croí goes, I go,” Cian repeated.
“With your permission, of course, mo Rhí.” His fingers tightened around Reaper’s for the briefest second before relaxing, the bond between them flared warm and approving along Reaper’s skin.
He ignored the way his pulse jumped in response, the way his breath hitched just slightly.
This wasn’t the time to unravel whatever the hell that was.
Zero whistled low, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Well, damn. Guess we’re stuck with you, Cian,” he teased. “Reaper’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach. Once he digs in, you’re not getting rid of him.”
Cian’s moss-green eyes gleamed with amusement. “Who says I do be wanting to get right of him?” The demand was clear in his voice. “He be mine, and I be his.”
“No one, no one, I swear,” Zero answered, “I’m just funnin’ ya is all.”
Juice chose that moment to stride into the hall and paused just inside the doorway, scanning the room before his gaze landed on them. A slow grin spread across his face as he took in Reaper and Cian sitting side by side, their shoulders brushing.
“Well, well,” he said, his voice carrying easily. “Looks like someone finally got some...” He dropped into the seat across from them, snagged a hunk of bread from the basket in the center of the table, and smirked. “Want me to finish it?”
Reaper flipped him off. “Fuck off, Juice. Did I give you shit about Trace?”
Juice popped a piece of bread into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, you did, asshole. But seriously—” He sobered slightly, his dark eyes flicking between them. “You good, Mikey?”
Reaper exhaled through his nose, considering the question. The truth was, he didn’t know. “Yeah. I’m good.”
Juice studied him for a long moment, then nodded, accepting the answer for what it was. “Good.” He took his breakfast. “Because we’ve gotta get home. If Command comes calling and we’re AWOL, we’re pretty much fucked."
Reaper glanced at Cian, who gave him a small, reassuring smile.
“We’ll be ready,” Cian said, his voice steady. “Won’t we?”
Reaper exhaled. “Yeah. We’ll be ready.”
I’m bringing an ancient warrior through a portal and into modern-day USA… what could go wrong?
Everything.
Everything can go wrong.
We’re screwed.