19. Cormac
Cormac
I pushed open the heavy wooden door with barely a sound. Dún Na Farraige. The land my family called home for centuries. Where we returned after living among English royalty for five hundred years. We had, of course, stolen back to the cottage—the perfectly preserved single-room stone home my father built for my mother when they married—time and again. When my father decided we should return permanently, no one questioned another grand country home being built for an English marquess and his family. By that time, the O’Cillian name had all but died in our homeland, no longer recognizable as one of the original clans.
My gaze roamed the great hall, my throat tightening. The dark green walls with gilded accents stretched two floors high to meet the timber and plaster ceiling. At the end, an immense fireplace dominated the wall under the gallery, with doors on either side. Two grand crystal chandeliers hung above, ready to cast light across the ancient parquet floors. Four archways flanked by sconces lined each side of the hall, and between them were portraits of my family from the 1600s. We hadn’t changed at all. I gazed at the faces of my parents and my brothers, fighting the tears that threatened to gather in my eyes.
I shook my head with a smile when I noted a portrait—my portrait—had been replaced by a second portrait of Conall. Round, heavy oak tables adorned with flowers sat on plush rugs from the 1700s beneath the massive crystal chandeliers—rugs that had once been swept aside to open the space for the elegant balls my mother adored hosting. I couldn’t remember the last time this manor had seen a party—probably before we left for the United States, before the American Civil War. Truthfully, although most of our lives had been spent elsewhere, this home was the heart of our family, the place we had spent the best years of our lives.
Conall appeared at my side, his hand resting on my shoulder, a familiar weight I hadn’t felt in years, causing my chest to fill with warmth. “It hasn’t changed a bit, has it?”
I shook my head, the corners of my mouth twitching. “No. Not a bit.”
“Then perhaps you’d like to step inside so the rest of us can come in,” he quipped with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
I shot him a wry smile before stepping farther into the manor, trying to recall how many years it’d been since I’d set foot here. Thirty? Fifty? Although my heart longed to be here, I preferred to stay in New Orleans or Kentucky—the duty of watching over Aiden unsurpassed. Most of the family avoided this place now since the memories were oppressive.
Lyra trudged in behind me, her shoes clicking off the floor. Her eyes widened and flitted about as she surveyed the manor’s grandeur. “And I thought the plane was something.”
Aurora followed close behind and gave a slight gasp. Her hand reached for her pendant. “I didn’t know houses like this still existed as just a residence.”
My stomach twisted as I watched the awe on her face. I desired to hear her innermost thoughts on my home but knew I wouldn’t hear them now.
Conall responded, maintaining the facade that I was not part of the family. “The O’Cillian family has owned this manor since it was built. We used to spend a lot of time here.”
Lyra narrowed her eyes. “Kill too many locals to be able to stay?”
Conall glanced at me before chuckling, the sound echoing eerily off the walls. I turned from his gaze to face her. “Lyra, I’d ask that you show some courtesy to our hosts. We’re here to understand more about their family, not to make enemies.”
Aurora furrowed her brow. The understanding in her eyes was unsettling because behind it lay something else—a calm trust? Making an enemy of the O’Cillians was not something anyone wanted. Conall’s impish grin caught my eye; he knew we were safe, but Lyra’s ignorance could still be a dangerous thing.
Lyra scoffed, crossing her arms. “So are we just supposed to drop our stuff and sleep on the floor?”
“No,” I answered, my tone dry as I met her gaze. “You’ll learn your way around soon enough, but for now, let me give you a brief tour. The music room is on the left. The ladies’ and gentlemen’s parlors are on the right. Farther down, to the right, is the formal dining room, and straight ahead is the solarium.”
Conall raised an eyebrow at me as he cleared his throat, his eyes dancing, reminding me I was not to be the host.
I forced a smile, turning toward him. “Would you care to show us to our rooms?” I asked, hoping to deflect.
Conall smirked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Absolutely, good sir.” He led us through the hall toward the large, empty fireplace. I would have to light a fire later, just to enjoy its nostalgic comfort. I glanced at Rory, a subtle smile on my lips, and saw the sheer wonder of the moment reflecting in her eyes as she looked at the gallery. My heart fluttered as I watched her experience my home for the first time.
“What’s up there?” she asked, leaning toward me and pointing at the gallery above the fireplace.
“Beyond the doors is an overlook, but otherwise, the family’s rooms are all on the first floor.”
“Mac, care to explain how you know that?” Conall asked with barely restrained mirth, his lips faintly twitching and the corner of his eyes crinkling.
I shook my head, my smile widening. “You’ve invited me here enough times.”
Conall chuckled, his laughter a low rumble. “Ladies, this way.” He entered the last archway on the right and led us up a stairwell.
He paused at the top of the stairs and pointed at the lone door on the right-hand side of the hallway. “This is where you will find Mac and me.” He looked at me pointedly. “I insist you stay nearby, where I can monitor you. Ladies, your rooms are on the guest floor,” Conall explained as he guided us through the labyrinth.
I hid a smile as my heart tingled at his words. He had made it possible for me to stay in my own room instead of on the guest floor—a move I was highly appreciative of. He pushed open the farthest door in the back right of the house with a flourish. “Welcome home. You have everything you need. Two bedrooms on the left, a drawing room through the door in front of you, and your bathroom on the right.”
Aurora smiled, her eyes wide in surprise. “This is amazing.”
I tried to look at the room through her eyes. The pale blue walls of the windowless sitting room had always made me feel like I was immersed in a shallow lagoon. The light of the sconces cast halos of white in their light above the dark blue upholstered settee and chairs. I smiled, my eyes falling on the dark brown coffee table and the television now mounted to the wall across from it, the two pieces shattering my illusion.
Lyra, for once devoid of her usual sarcasm, simply muttered, “Thanks.”
I couldn’t tell if she was truly thankful or if the weight of our being here had finally settled on her.
I turned to Aurora, my voice soft. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep enough on the plane?”
She nodded. “I think so, but I’m still a little tired.”
I gave her a small smile, searching her eyes for anything more concerning than jet lag. It didn’t appear my blood had adversely affected the High Priestess Heir, but the last thing I wanted was to harm her. “We don’t have to do much today. We can rest if you’d like.”
She nodded again, softer this time. “I would like that.” She held my eyes a moment longer than necessary, and a warm heat rose through my body as I stopped myself from reaching for her.
Lyra’s voice pulled us from the moment with a grating declaration. “I’m taking the second room.”
Conall laughed, his voice teasing. “It might suit you.”
“What does that mean?” Lyra snapped, her eyes flashing an unspoken challenge.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, cutting off Conall’s sharp retort. They would need to know the story soon, about the dangers lurking around the manor, but now was not the time. Aurora needed rest, and I intended for that to be peaceful before she learned the full history of our home.
Aurora tilted her head toward me. “What does that mean?”
I hesitated and threw a quick glare at Conall for bringing it up.
“Mac?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
I clenched my jaw, as I realized she wasn’t going to let it go. “The last guest who stayed in that room was murdered by the Dearg Dur. She still holds a grudge against the O’Cillian family.”
Aurora’s eyes widened, a flicker of fear running through them. “Is it safe for us to be here?”
I nodded firmly, my stomach knotting. It was rare I saw fear in her eyes. “Absolutely. She cannot enter this house unless Aine invites her. You’re safe here—and with me.” I brushed her arm with the backs of my fingers. It was the little comfort I could give her at the moment.
Aurora exhaled slowly, her eyes softening but clarity dawning at the same time. “Aine really isn’t a vampire?”
I shook my head, a slight smile playing on my lips as I thought of my mother. “She’s not.”
Just then, Conall’s voice interrupted the moment. “Mac, I need a moment downstairs. I’ll show you to your room, and then we can talk. Dani and Joshua will serve tea in the drawing room in a few hours.”
Aurora’s brow furrowed. “A few hours? What time is it?”
“It’s almost one in the afternoon,” Conall replied, a laugh playing in his words.
Her eyes widened as she looked at me. “How long did you let me sleep?”
I chuckled, the sound escaping before I could stop it. “As long as you needed. You lost five hours during the flight and had quite the adventure just before that.”
She nodded, taking in my words. “I guess that’s true.”
I reveled in her gaze, a tingle in my spine.
Conall nodded toward the hallway. “Dani and Joshua will help with anything you need. There is an intercom in most rooms.”
Aurora’s eyes flicked to mine. “The same Dani from the flight?”
“Yes, and Joshua is Conall’s steward.”
“But where are the pilots?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.
“Aine hasn’t invited any new vampires into the house in over a hundred years. Any vampire younger than that is not permitted.”
She nodded as though she understood. Conall and I made our way from the room, and we were halfway back to the stairs when I heard her soft voice. “Mac...”
My stomach fluttered as I heard my name, the concern rising. I turned toward her voice. “Yes, Rory? Are you alright?”
She nodded.
My brother’s hand touched my arm. “I’ll meet you in the receiving room when you’re done,” he said before he walked down the stairs.
Rory watched him walk away, then brought her gaze to mine, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “It’s good to see you more relaxed here. You belong in this place.”
I paused, unsure how to respond, a mixture of joy and fear rising. Did she see through my facade? I smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder, feeling its warmth. “Thank you, Rory. It’s good to be back.”
“Will we have time for you to show me some of where you grew up?”
I dropped my hand and focused on the tips of my shoes. “I don’t think so.” I swallowed the lump in my throat brought on by the lie as I forced myself to look at her.
Rory’s shoulders slumped, her disappointment clear as she avoided my gaze, a calm warmth filling her words. “I just thought…” She drew in a quick breath and looked into my eyes. “We’re here, and I want to know more. I don’t have a family to share with you, and you’ve spoken about how much you miss yours.” Her jaw tightened.
I nodded, the memories of my brothers and parents walking away causing an ache in my chest. “But I’m sure you miss yours more.” I had to force the words out, speaking them hardly above a whisper.
Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Why?”
I may have missed the question if I had been human because it was so quiet. My voice remained low, my muscles tensing, my breathing shallow. I wanted to reach out to her to feel less alone as I thought of the impossible task of subduing Aiden and finding the rest of my family. “At least I have a chance of putting mine back together.”
She looked at me, her eyes softening even further, a tenderness in her gaze that took me by surprise. “Maybe I’ll find a new one someday,” she said, her voice filled with quiet hope.
I looked at her, something shifting in my chest. “Maybe you will,” I replied, my voice soft, filled with a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. “You should go rest.”
She nodded, tearing her gaze from me as she turned around to return to her room. As she retreated, an emptiness filled me, a hollow ache that only deepened as I watched her turn the corner. I wanted to call her back to tell her I wanted to be hers, to stay by her side—not just now, but for as long as she would have me. That together, we could be the family she longed for.