Page 16 of Cathmoir's Sons

The rawness in Luca’s amber-green eyes says I haven’t been as tender with him as I should have.

“Luca. My sweet Luca.” I draw him to me and pull my Cait close, my arms around each of their necks. “Come with me now. Let me show you that we are each other’s. Help me heal your brother and celebrate the Mother’s blessed new year with me.”

The men on either side of me rub their warm, smooth cheeks against mine. I laugh softly at the slight scrape of stubble on my left side. Lawson always misses a few spots on his chin.

I turn my head and kiss Luca, then Law. “You are my blessings.”

Luca’s breath grows ragged, and I hug my consorts tightly, letting them scent-mark me, soothing them with the touch of my skin. They’ve suffered while I’ve slept, these men I love. They’ve missed me. They’ve wondered and worried. I could force this body to accept all of my power. I could use the ancient magicks to fix my memories so I never wake again knowing less than I do now.

“Am I being selfish?” I wonder aloud. “Should I force the fusion of my current and past selves?”

“Could it hurt you?” Law asks.

“I have no way of knowing.”

“Then we don’t take the risk,” Luca says, burying his face in my neck. “You’re awake again. That’s the best Yule gift we could ask for.”

I squeeze him. “Rhodes returning from the Mother’s breast is the best Yule gift any of us could ask for. But I’ll try not to sleep again for so long, my loves. It must have been frightening, not to see any sign of me. You’re very courageous.”

“I haven’t felt courageous,” Law admits in a whisper, his breath warm in my hair. “I’ve felt desperate. And lost.”

“You are not lost. Even when we’re estranged, I am always with you. Let me soothe you tonight. If I wake in the morning not remembering everything I am, hold the memory of tonight close. Let it guide you on your Path, as you two must guide my unawakened self. These are dangerous times with all of us vulnerable. Let us be together while we can.”

Lawson nods, rubbing his cheek against mine.

I find their hands and lead them into my tower.

Luca folds my hand between his and lifts it to his lips as he walks beside me. “Caileán, I want this. Believe me, I want this more than anything. But if Kellan remembers tonight, she won’t trust me.”

I can protect my consorts in this small way.

“I will teach you a spell. An ancient spell. Fire is the Element of protection, beating back the darkness. Air is the Element of thought, which weathers into memory. Together, you can lock my memory of tonight away. Either of you can release it with a word. The same spell, reversed, will force all of my memories to the forefront. It will trigger the fusion of my past and current selves. I leave this in your hands. If there comes a time when this is necessary, I trust you to make the decision.”

Law squeezes my hand while Luca gives a soft groan.

“Thank you for your faith, Caileán,” Luca whispers.

Has he felt my faith in him lacking? Have I given him so much reason for doubt?

“Luca, my love—” I begin, hoping to soothe the hurt I’ve caused.

“Caileán promised me something that night in Italy,” Law says. “She promised me that our souls would be one again. I’ve held on to that thought in the darkest moments. That’s everything I want, everything I’m working toward. When you have doubts, hold on to that thought, Lu.”

“Okay,” Luca says, his lips soft against my knuckles. He shifts so his body is pressed against my side. Sandwiched together, unwilling to let a breath of air separate us, we make our way upstairs.

I didn’t have a chance to show my beloved Rhodrhi the bedrooms of my castle before we were called into the battle with Bromios. The doors are all open when we reach the first floor, each bedroom beckoning, warmly lit by witchlight. But I lead them to the third doorway. It was our bedroom all those years ago and I have no doubt my awakening conscious has reconstructed it faithfully.

The room is large but looks crowded because of a massive, ebony, four-poster bed in the middle of the floor. The bed is neatly made, evidence of the castle’s bwg at work, with a deep plum counterpane and snowy white pillows. Hanging over the bed, there’s an embroidered pelmet and canopy. I remember setting every stitch of the embroidery. It’s a hunting scene with lines of Rhodrhi’s poetry weaving among the sinuous bodies of the Cait and their prey. The black, green, blue, and russet of the hunting scene is echoed in the room’s other furnishings: overflowing bookcases, deep chairs and loveseats, the richly carpeted floor and hanging tapestries that make up for the lack of windows. Between the bookcases there are small canvases with more pastoral scenes of Cait life a thousand years ago. I smile at one that shows a pair of Cait sneaking through long grass toward a small flock of piskie sheep. That was Marcher’s favorite, I remember.

I lead my consorts to our bed and climb up onto the high mattress. “Look around,” I invite them, sinking back onto the soft bedding and stretching decadently.

Neither man looks around. They climb onto the bed with me, their muscles rolling. I laugh softly to see them stalking me. My beautiful Cait.

They stretch on either side of me. Lawson, who will always be the first to take anything I offer, puts his warm hand on my stomach, pressing me lightly into the bed. He brushes his lips across mine before dipping his head to lick a rasping line down my chest. My body softens, my legs spreading, toes curling.

Luca’s eyes take in my movements; the amber around his iris heats to gold. He reaches out tentatively. I catch his hand and guide it to my lips, pressing soft kisses against the rough pads of his fingers. I suck his fingertip into my mouth and lave it with the point of my tongue.

“Caileán,” he breathes.

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