Tapestry for Love

Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Tapestry for Love Copyright © 2010 by Rayne Auster Cover Art by Rayne Auster Cover Design by Mara McKennen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-1-61581-522-7 Printed in the United States of America First Edition July, 2010 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-523-4

For my “weird” brother, who recently developed an interest in this genre because of a special friend; my unique adopted sisters, who love me no matter how “crazy” I get; my editors, who patiently taught me where my weaknesses lie; and all my readers, who encouraged me to never stop dreaming. May you all cling to those “impossible” dreams.

Tapestry for Love

Spinner of Dreams

SILENCE permeated the air as he worked, weighing heavy in the soft candlelight that illuminated the room Aislinn was seated in. He carefully ran a single finger over the page before him, barely noticing the rough texture of the parchment as he read through the list of names and the dreams associated with each one, trying to determine to whom he could best allocate the care of each mortal’s dream. He’d done this many times before, and his mind was focused solely on the task at hand. Clack clack clack. The intrusive sound started out soft but soon increased in volume, drawing Aislinn’s attention to the fact that someone had intruded upon his domain. Listening carefully to the sound, he quickly identified its source and sighed in defeat. He distinctly recognized that particular clack of heels upon the floor and the pattern with which their owner walked. “Good evening, Brigid,” he greeted softly, just as a slim woman rounded the corner and came into sight. The long locks of bright red hair framing a pixie face were offset by the fire in her violet eyes, the sheer force of her presence alone enough to let Aislinn know he was in trouble.

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“Don’t you ‘good evening, Brigid’ me!” She paused in the doorway, tapping a single bright red heel impatiently. The bright red heels were the only noteworthy pieces of clothing she wore, a vivid contrast to the ash gray suit that went along with them. However, despite her small stature and the conservative clothes, Brigid was a force to be reckoned with. “What are you still doing here? Last I checked we all have the evening off and you have a party to attend.” “I said I might attend. Please note my emphasis was on might.” Aislinn turned back to the parchment in a bid to let Brigid know he was busy and had no intention to participate in any further debate regarding the matter. “Just because your name sounds like it has ash in it doesn’t mean you need to live a hollow burned-out life, Aislinn,” Brigid reprimanded him, completely ignoring the cold shoulder he, her superior, was trying to give her. Being the daughter of the king usually gave her liberty to get away with things most others wouldn’t even dare to contemplate, let alone attempt, but Aislinn, being older, distantly related to her, and her dream-spinning teacher, was one of the few who did not bend to her will. He never had and was not about to start now. The fact that he’d helped raise her did not help her position much either. “Why not live up to its actual meaning instead and reach for something more? Dream a little, Aislinn.” “I gave up dreaming a long time ago, Brigid.” Aislinn kept his response short. He was not in the mood to go down a path of debate that had long ago gotten old and overused. Aislinn didn’t even flinch when Brigid slammed the palms of her hands down onto his wooden table. She was prone to overt gestures of expression, and he was used to her sudden flashes of temper. “You’re a dream spinner. How can you give up on dreams? You, better than most, should know the value of one.” Dream spinner. With that single declaration Brigid found the crux off all Aislinn’s problems. She was right. Aislinn was a dream spinner. He wove tapestries that would define the dreams another would 2

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receive. The dreams ranged from simple to complex, pleasant to terrifying, and each one was uniquely defined by the soul the dream was meant for. Aislinn had become an apprentice dream spinner when he still believed in dreams, when one of his own dreams had been to become a master so he could enrich others’ lives. He’d started by spinning happy dreams, hopeful ones that were meant to guide a soul gently toward their destiny, and he was quickly promoted, becoming a full-fledged dream spinner in only two years. Then the source of his happiness, the reason for the very existence of his own dreams, had been torn away from him, leaving him jaded, hurt, and torn. Even though he no longer believed in dreams and happy endings, he’d remained a dream spinner because he was good at what he did. He’d moved up the ranks and upon becoming a senior had been introduced to the dark tapestries that were woven as punishment for souls that had strayed from their destined paths, each image a dark nightmare meant to scare a soul into repentance. Those were only entrusted to the most skilled dream spinners. The nightmares suited him more than the happier dreams he no longer held any hope for, and he immersed himself in the art, a piece of his soul dying with each dark tapestry that he wove. Master of both the dark and the light, he’d then inherited the position of Master Dream Spinner, and with that his job had changed yet again. He was now in charge of handing out tasks to those beneath his command and on rare occasions responsible for spinning the tapestries for the special requests that came from the king himself. He was meant to be a mentor, a teacher for all those beneath him, and even though a part of him still yearned for the man he’d been when he first started his journey, his heart was no longer really in it. It was a job he both loved and hated, and that was a concept Brigid would never understand. Aislinn sighed and dropped the quill he was using, looking up to face Brigid head-on. He’d known Brigid since she was a little girl and knew that the only way to deal with her when she was in this mood was directly, face to face. “For mortals, Brigid. The dreams we spin are for 3

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mortals.” “How exactly does that make a difference?” she demanded, her eyes flashing a challenge. She leaned forward into his space in an attempt to intimidate him with the force of her sheer presence alone, forgetting that Aislinn was one of the few individuals immune to her stature, her temper, and her status. “The dreams we weave are either encouragements or punishments, there to guide mortals through their fleeting existence. The dreams give them something either to aim for or avoid in an attempt to guide them toward a better future. Dreams give them purpose and meaning. Giving them that is the purpose of my own existence. Mortals do not live long enough to realize just how unobtainable dreams often really are.” Aislinn didn’t allow Brigid’s invasion of his space to unsettle him in the least. “Not all dreams are unobtainable! What about the dreams that come true?” Brigid demanded, still fighting what Aislinn knew to be a losing battle. Brigid was nothing if not persistent, but nothing she could say or do would ever make him change his mind. “Are those unobtainable too? It is not the dream that is unobtainable; it’s the individual who fails to reach for it that makes it unobtainable, Aislinn.” “What would you know about unobtainable dreams?” Aislinn stood, slamming his palms down onto his desk in a move that echoed Brigid’s earlier action. Sharp remembered pain and disillusionment coursed through him, dark hidden memories stirring with Brigid’s words. “There are some things that cannot be overcome no matter how much one may wish it were otherwise!” “Like what?” Brigid challenged, unmoved by Aislinn’s anger. She’d grown up with him, and it was obvious that it hurt her to see him so lonely and sad, but there was nothing Aislinn could do to change that. He was who he was, and the innate grief Brigid saw within him every time she looked at him was an intricate part of who he had become. The sooner Brigid accepted it and left him alone, the happier he’d be. He wasn’t some charity case she could fix with a few pretty 4

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words. “Like death. Know anyone who can bring the dead back to life, your highness?” Aislinn suddenly switched from yelling to dead-cold calm, his response soft yet firm. That single question and the calm way Aislinn voiced it shocked Brigid into silence. “I thought not.” Aislinn seated himself once more and picked up the quill he had discarded in favor of the argument. “What about reincarnation?” Brigid asked just as softly a long moment of silence later. “Does that not give the dead another chance at life?” “And how exactly does that solve my problem? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a single soul among billions?” Aislinn’s response was filled with bitterness, the depth of which could only be achieved through repeated disappointment and loss. “That doesn’t mean we need to stop dreaming.” “Holding onto dreams we have no hope of ever obtaining only leads to pain,” Aislinn responded shortly, brushing Brigid off. In his opinion she was far too young and naive to understand just how destructive hoping for that which was truly unobtainable could be. “This coming from our master dream spinner. How can you believe that and still do what you do?” Brigid leaned back, and the shift in position drew another distinctive clack from the heels she wore. “Because, my dear apprentice, ignorance is bliss, and mortals don’t live long enough to discover the truth. At least this way, I can influence someone’s life for the better, even if it is but for a fleeting moment.” “See, you’re not as cynical as you like to make yourself out to be,” Brigid retorted, leaning back into his space. She dropped a hand onto the parchment he was attempting to read and absently traced the letters that composed some of the names upon it. “You still believe that dreams can influence life for the better.”

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“For mortals,” Aislinn repeated, clearly making the distinction he was trying to make Brigid understand. “Not for us.” “That’s a load of bull, and you know it, Ashes.” Brigid paused, her violet eyes meeting the hard steel of his silver ones without flinching. Brigid always had been fearless. “Don’t you have someone else to direct your insubordination toward?” Aislinn gave Brigid a pointed stare, his patience with their conversation long since gone. He wasn’t in the mood to go into the hows and whys of his disillusionment and knew if he let this carry on for much longer, those would be exactly the answers Brigid would demand. “It just so happens that I’m here in an official capacity. I’m delivering a request for my father, so technically, for now, I am not your apprentice, so this doesn’t qualify as insubordination. Besides, even if I wasn’t here to deliver a message from my father, I would be here as a friend and not as one of your dream spinners. We have the evening off, remember?” The last was said pointedly, each word clearly meant to give him a message, which Aislinn chose to ignore. “You have a message from your father?” Aislinn pounced on the only part of her speech that bore any importance to him. “What would his highness have me do?” Brigid rolled her eyes at him. “It’s always work with you, isn’t it? My father wants you to spin this person’s dream.” She slid a small piece of parchment across the table. Aislinn pushed the large piece of parchment he was working on to the side and reached for the small piece Brigid had slid his way. It was folded and sealed using blue wax. It was rare that such a request came his way, a single name upon a single sealed piece of parchment. The seal bore a sparrow, symbolizing creativity, joy, simplicity, and hope. It was the symbol associated with dream spinners and was used by the king to mark special requests meant for the master dream spinner himself.

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Sliding his finger beneath the seal, Aislinn carefully opened it. Scanning the contents, he raised an eyebrow and glanced up to meet Brigid’s stare. “His dream is fairly simple. Why is it a special request?” Brigid shrugged and turned her attention to her bright red nails, painted that color in honor of her heels. “I have no idea. You know my father. He can be fickle sometimes.” “Why do I get the feeling you know more than you’re telling me?” Something in Brigid’s demeanor niggled at Aislinn’s senses, but he could not pinpoint what it was. He had the sneaking suspicion she knew more than she was letting on but also knew she would deny it point-blank should he call her on it. The parchment was legitimate, and the seal had been unbroken. If Brigid knew more about this matter than she should, he knew it certainly wasn’t because she read the parchment before delivering it to him. “Because, dear, distant cousin of mine, I do know more than I’m telling you. I may be young yet when compared to you, but I know how to live, I know how to have fun, I know how to look good, and most of all I know how to dream. Telling you all about that could take us well into the next century.” Brigid’s response was cocky and her tone gave her away. Aislinn was well aware of the fact that Brigid was deliberately pretending to misunderstand him. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” “I know,” Brigid shamelessly admitted, glancing back up at him. “But that’s all you’re getting from me.” Suspicion confirmed, Aislinn dropped the subject, knowing he would get nothing further from her. He carefully refolded the small piece of parchment and placed it on his desk. Shuffling through similar small pieces of parchment on his desk, he pulled out three sheets and held them out to her, his silent message clear. “As you command, oh master dream spinner.” Brigid plucked the sheets from his hands and turned to leave, pausing at the door to wink 7

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back at him. “Though I’ll only start on these tomorrow. It still is, after all, our evening off.” And with that, she was gone, leaving Aislinn to his solitude. Aislinn stared at the document before him and watched the candlelight reflect off the bright blue seal as he contemplated the relatively simple request it contained.

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Tapestry

SILKEN thread ran through his fingers, the coarse texture created by the friction of spinning thread sliding over familiar calluses. The soft whirr of a spinning wheel was the only sound in the room, and it was so familiar it might as well have been silence itself embracing him in his solitude. His task at hand was a simple one, and so it was that Aislinn lost himself in thought as he prepared the thread he would use for the dream tapestry. He wondered why such a simple task had been allocated to him, his thoughts racing as they sought to identify what it was that made this particular mortal special enough to warrant the king’s attention. Unfortunately for him, he came up completely blank. Aislinn didn’t have enough information even to hazard a guess, let alone one that made sense. The only information he had was the dream tapestry he was requested to weave and the request that it contain a companion for one Keith Wilcox. Male, female—it mattered not, as long as it gave Keith hope that someday he might have someone at his side. Though simple, the request seemed to tug at something deep within Aislinn. A long-forgotten memory stirred in his mind, and his heart ached for what it had lost. Aislinn ignored it and continued to work, the magic at his fingertips changing the color of the thread every now and then in order to create the picture already in his mind. It was late by the time he finished spinning the colored thread he

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would require, but Aislinn didn’t even notice as he set up his loom. Long fingers linked the thread he’d just spun to an ivory shuttle and then began the steady process of weaving the dream tapestry he’d colored into the thread he’d spun. The soft swish of the shuttle traveling through the loom was as familiar to him as the soft whirr of the spinning wheel, and he soon fell into a comfortable rhythm, his thoughts lost somewhere between the present and the past, no longer attempting to solve the mystery of the tapestry he wove. The image was already decided and dyed into the thread. All that remained was to piece it together so it could be hung in the hall of dreams. The shuttle made its last journey across the loom just before sunrise, and long fingers reached for the thread, tying it off to seal the image in. The soft material was caressed, trained fingertips brushing over the textile in search of flaws and glitches. Finding none, Aislinn then proceeded gently to turn the material, folding the newly born dream tapestry so he could carry it. He lifted it without a sound and slipped from the room, heading for the hallway of dreams. His boots echoed dully through the empty hallway, seeming to taunt him with the knowledge that he was alone, but he ignored it, the familiarity of the sound oddly comforting. It had been a long time since he’d allowed anyone close enough to be a companion, and solitude was as intimate as a lover’s embrace. He turned round the last corner and then paused in the doorway, eyes running over the huge circular chamber he was just about to enter. It was one of many rooms especially created to contain the active dream tapestries that had been spun. This particular one was decorated using rich burgundy and white, the combination of colors both warm and cool to the mind. The warm burgundy carpet was soft beneath his feet, muffling the sound of Aislinn’s footsteps as he approached one of the multitude of windows within the room. Each window was just wide enough to contain a single tapestry; wooden rails placed just so, waiting for the 10

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rich fabric of a dream tapestry to hang upon them. Early-morning light spilled into the room through the still-bare windows and merely trickled in around the tapestries already hung in those that were no longer bare, thus illuminating the intricate images upon the tapestries. The pale light seemed to shift and dance to a rhythm all its own, the magic of its touch giving ethereal life to the still images before him. Aislinn couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it. The beauty of the rooms hopeful dreams were hung in never ceased to amaze him, especially when he considered their contrast to the darkness and chill of the rooms the deepest and most complex nightmares he was usually requested to weave were hung in. Those rooms brought the very demons in one’s soul to life, never seeing warmth or light of day. Shaking off the cold fingers reaching for his soul at the mere thought of the rooms he normally dealt with, Aislinn flicked the tapestry in his arms, allowing the pattern and weave free rein as warm, rich color spilling smoothly over his arms. He stepped forward, up into the air, and climbed invisible stairs to reach the wooden rail. He reached for the braided ties and carefully tied the tapestry to the rail, running his hands over the rough material to smooth out the ripples and folds that would shift the material before the window. Satisfied, he carefully stepped down and backed away from the window to admire the image he’d just created. The shadows shifted around the newly hung tapestry, and it took the faint morning light a moment to find the gaps it was meant to slip through in order to illuminate the image, drawing out rich reds, golden browns, and bright warm yellows to reveal a couple curled up upon a chair before a hearth. Both figures were male, seated side by side, leaning into each other with the intimacy of two playful lovers. The younger of the two was completely curled up on the rich red sofa, his bare feet tucked beneath his body peeking out from beneath the loose pajama pants he wore. His bare chest brushed the cloth of the shirt the second man wore as he playfully leaned in to the other man’s space, short golden brown hair falling into his eyes. The second man was older, dressed in denims and a loose-fitting white top. He was cradling 11

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a glass of wine in one hand, long midnight locks of hair resting against his shoulder. Something in the image niggled at Aislinn’s senses, a faint memory stirring once more in the back of his mind as he tried to puzzle out why the image seemed so familiar yet not quite right. He carefully began to study the image before him, focusing on the features of the two lovers. It was as he came to the facial features of the older, darkhaired man that a gasp of horror mixed with recognition escaped his lips. Staring at him through steely silver eyes was the face of his biggest transgression. The sound of running footsteps registered upon his mind just as he instinctively reached for the tapestry in an effort to deny what he’d done. That was when he knew it was over. Any attempt he made to rectify his grave mistake was futile because they already knew and were coming for him. He dropped his arms, hung his head, and waited in silence for the king’s soldiers to arrest him.

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Shadow of Memory

KEITH hummed softly beneath his breath. The soft resonance of a teaspoon against ceramic heightened his awareness and the excitement that threatened to bubble over. He was happy. He knew he was anticipating the moment he finished mixing his cup of tea and knew that something good was waiting for him. If he’d taken the time to question the implicit knowledge in his mind, he would’ve quickly realized that he had absolutely no idea what it was he was approaching nor why it should make him happy, but he didn’t question the feeling as he shook the excess liquid off the teaspoon, lifted his cup, and danced out of his kitchen, still humming under his breath. His footsteps made no sound as he moved, the thick lush red carpet in his home soft and plush beneath his bare feet. He really loved the color red, the vibrant and passionate undertones and the sheer inhibition it implied. It was his one little guilty pleasure, and he reveled in it. Grinning in mischief, he turned the last corner and stepped into his living room, the orange flicker of flames warming the happy sparkle in his eyes as he took in the sight before him. He recognized the dark red sofa facing the hearth but did not recognize the figure lounging within it, long ebony hair catching the dancing light. Unhesitating, he approached the chair and the stranger, a happy jump in his step seeming to contradict the very fact that he did not know whom he was approaching. It didn’t seem to matter. All that 13

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mattered was the fact that he was happy. Slipping gracefully onto the red sofa, he curled his feet beneath himself and leaned forward to drop a kiss onto the strange man’s lips, mind only half registering the fact that he was about to kiss someone he didn’t recognize, the motion more familiar than anything he’d ever done in his life. His lips encountered velvet and then warmth as he plunged his tongue deep into the other’s mouth. Rich flavor burst across his tongue, the tart-sweet flavor of wine a clear indication of what the other had drunk just before the kiss. It was the sweetest and most intoxicating kiss he could remember and the wine had nothing to do with it. It simply felt right. The firm touch of this stranger’s lips seemed to be a mere extension of his own, their every breath mingling to create a new rhythm uniquely theirs, and then it was over. He drew back to drink his tea, a wide smile upon his lips, only to gasp in shocked recognition as he met the stormiest silver eyes he’d ever seen. His world shifted and changed, the color of those eyes tugging at memories that could not be his own. He could hear a rich chuckle trickling into his ear, the warmth of it sending a sharp spike of grief through his heart. They had been so happy then. Barely registering the stray thought, he drowned in a myriad of images flowing through his mind with the speed of a film reel spinning out of control. He was with the stranger in each and every one of them, each snippet resembling a photograph taken to map out a pair of lovers’ lives. Most flashed by too fast to register their content and the possible meaning behind the scenes therein, but a few stood out, burning a message into his mind. In those, he and the stranger were holding hands, curled up together, or sharing soft kisses. The images raced past in a bid to spill all the secrets of his life to him in but a moment, and just as he thought he would surely die, he woke with a start.

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His sheets were tangled around his tense, sweat-soaked body, and a stray siren blared in the distance. Keith stared blankly up at the ceiling in his room, barely able to see its shadow in the dark as he fought to recover from the panic that had taken hold of him with the realization that the visions in his mind were possibly leading him to his death. It felt as if he’d lived each moment at some point in his life, but he knew it was impossible. He’d never seen the man in his dreams before and was certain if he had, he would have remembered that piercing shade of silver. The very realization disconcerted him, driving him into motion. He slipped out of bed and headed toward his kitchen, snapping the light on before he could think better of it. The moment the light illuminated the room, the reality of his dream hit him like a ton of bricks, remembered excitement and contentment dancing across his nerves as he recalled the scene that had started it all. He’d been making himself a cup of tea, much like he was about to do now, and had been eagerly anticipating the moment when he would return to his lover. Despite the fact that he was obviously single, it was an innocent enough scene if taken on its own, but he couldn’t seem to escape the feeling that he knew the stranger in his dreams, and it was that knowledge that shook him to the core. Throat thick with unexplained fear, he forced himself to step onto the cool kitchen tiles, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips. He fought the urge to let a figment of his imagination drive him away from his home and reached for a cup. He ignored the fact that the thick fear within him was coupled with a strange sense of premonition, every nerve in his body telling him he would have to face the implications of his vision sooner rather than later. The sound of the kettle beginning to boil broke the eerie silence that had settled over Keith and his surroundings, and the normalcy of the sound slowly drained the tension from Keith’s muscles. The moment the kettle clicked, signaling the end of its boiling cycle, Keith

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reached for it and poured the boiling water into the porcelain cup that stood beside it, mixing the liquid to brew his tea. Leaning forward, he tossed the teaspoon into the sink before picking up the warm cup. Cradling it, he savored the heat it emitted, for a moment lost in comfortable silence. He headed for the comfort of his living room and sank down into his sofa. He didn’t even bother to turn on the lights. The pale moonlight filtering in through the large window was more than enough to illuminate any obstacles in his way. He was still shaken, but most of the initial shock that had coursed through him upon waking was now gone, the sweet scent of chamomile tea a heady mixture of comfort and familiarity, gentle enough to drive away the darkest shadows in his mind. Sighing, Keith once more broke the silence that surrounded him and on impulse reached for the phone, dialing a number before he could think better of it. The phone rang once… twice… three times…. “Hello?” A feminine voice answered sleepily. The moment Keith heard Sarah’s, voice he was awash with relief, the intensity of the emotion driving all thought from his mind. He clung to the handset and completely forgot to respond as his world shifted back onto its axis with the knowledge that his sister was on the other side. If he’d considered himself any less of a man than he was, he would have given in to the urge to weep. “Keith?” Sarah questioned, an undertone of conviction in her voice. She seemed to know it was him and grasped on to that knowledge. “Did you have another bad dream?” “Yes…. No….” He stumbled over his words, the images in his dream once more flashing through his mind, taunting him with secrets and hidden knowledge just beyond his grasp. “I….” He swallowed, forcing himself to regain his composure before continuing to speak. “I guess it depends on how you look at it. They weren’t nightmares this time, but they felt every bit as real as the other dreams. I keep getting this feeling that they’re memories and not dreams, and no matter what I 16

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do, I can’t seem to shake their feeling of familiarity. It’s like I’ve lived them but can’t really remember doing so. Maybe this is what regaining your memory after amnesia feels like. But, amnesia aside, tonight I saw a man in my dreams, and I knew he was my lover. It felt so natural, so real, and it feels like I’ve spent a lifetime with him. Yet I know for a fact I’ve never even seen let alone met someone who looks like him.” The words simply came pouring out, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. Sarah was his twin sister and the only person he could truly speak to. She was the first person he’d spoken to when he’d found out he was gay. She hadn’t even blinked. He was fifteen at the time, and they’d been talking about potential boyfriends for her and girlfriends for him when he’d crumbled, desperately needing someone to confide in. A single moment of silence had followed his confession, and then she’d filled the air with chatter once more, casually throwing potential boyfriends at him instead of girlfriends. His love life hadn’t worked out quite the way he’d hoped back then, but he’d gained a whole new aspect to his relationship with his sister and hadn’t looked back since. “Maybe it’s a premonition or….” Sarah paused for a moment, and Keith could hear her shuffle around on her bed. He pictured her in her pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the bed as she had done so many times since his dreams started four years ago. “Maybe they are memories. I did some research on reincarnation and regression and found out it’s possible to encounter your soul’s repressed memories when dreaming. That would explain the strange clothes, swords, and shields you always see in them. Maybe you are dreaming what happened to you in another life.” Her voice raised an octave, her excitement clearly audible, even through the handset. Keith rolled his eyes, seeing the image of her bouncing on her bed in glee so clearly she might as well have been sitting beside him. It was not a difficult sight to imagine, for he knew Sarah better than anyone else. She loved anything that even hinted it might not be quite normal and loved to jump on and accept theories that were not commonly known or accepted by the majority of so-called civilized society. 17

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“Don’t you think that’s a far stretch? Most people need to be under hypnosis to regress to a past life. What makes me so special that I get the honor of a free nightly experience back to the past?” Bitterness colored his tone, and a thread of dread curled thick in his stomach. Something in Sarah’s words rang true, and he feared that he would be driven into the depths of insanity should he even contemplate the possibility as fact. “What makes anyone special enough to experience something extraordinary?” Sarah shot back without pause. “Live a little, Keith. Believe a little, and maybe you’ll come to peace with the life you seem to have led before this one. You’re fighting it, and it’s tearing you apart. You need to accept that this is as much a part of you as the color of your hair or your eyes. It’s been four years since it all began. Maybe instead of fighting it, you should try to embrace it. You might be surprised to find where it will lead you. If tonight’s dream is to be believed, it isn’t all bad….” She paused for a moment, letting her words settle before adding, mischief clear in her tone, “Besides, it’s not like you’d be cheating on a current lover by dreaming about a past one. You’re a little bit romantically challenged, and I have to say it is comforting to hear that you’re getting some, even if it’s only in your dreams and not in reality.” “Sarah!” Keith exclaimed, the sheer audacity of her statement momentarily distracting him from the fear and dread that seemed to have taken up permanent residence within him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I get some, now and then.” The heat of embarrassment burned his cheeks as he fought to prove some undefined point. “A dildo doesn’t count, Bro.” Sarah retorted, giggling into the phone. “Even if it is ridged with extra vibrate functionality.” “It doesn’t vibrate!” The moment the words slipped past his lips, he realized exactly what it was he’d just admitted to. He coughed, choking down the denial that rushed to his lips. His sister knew very well she’d just caught him out, and any attempt at a lie now would only

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serve to prove her point further. “My point exactly, dear brother of mine. I think you’ve forgotten how to live. Your choice of career doesn’t help much either. You never go out. You’re always stuck in the past, looking back and never forward. How do you expect to find someone to love when you refuse to see what’s right in front of you?” Keith cleared his throat in a futile attempt to stall a confrontation that was already staring him down. “I happen to like my job, and for your information, it does get me out. I’m going out on Friday for the whole day.” “A bunch of ninth graders in a museum ought to be a riot.” He could hear the disdain in her voice even before she made it blatantly clear. “Seriously, Keith, it’s not what I mean, and you know it. How do you expect to find a lover in a museum with a bunch of crazy adolescents hanging around?” “I’m not looking for a lover, Sarah. Those dreams you’re enjoying so much scared the last one off, remember? I barely escaped being institutionalized. He went and reported me as a danger to myself and society, and I spent three months trying to prove my sanity to a bunch of shrinks! I had to look for a new job afterward. Did you forget that oh-so-joyous episode in the series that is my life?” “That was nearly two years ago, Keith. Not everyone is as narrow-minded as Jordan. He’s a mathematics teacher, for crying out loud. If ever there is a profession that is narrow-minded, that is it. Besides, dating someone who works with you is never a good idea, and you just managed to prove why. Why not take it as a life lesson and move on with your life? Find someone more open-minded, someone who doesn’t need every moment in life to be defined by an equation that explains all the magic in life away.” “That’s a little prejudiced, don’t you think? Just because someone happens to like it when things make sense doesn’t make them narrowminded.” Keith’s knuckles turned white, the hard contour of the

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handset digging into his palm. This was a sensitive topic that touched nerves he didn’t want disturbed. “It does when they try to have you certified simply because they can’t make sense of who you are. Come on, Keith. Why are you taking Jordan’s side in this? He called you crazy and nearly ruined your life because of it.” Sarah’s words hung in the air between them, echoing in the silence that followed her statement. Jordan had done a lot more damage than even Sarah could imagine, and just the mention of the possibility that he might be losing his mind brought all of Keith’s insecurities to the fore. “Because….” Keith tentatively broke the silence. “He may be right. I feel like I’m going crazy, Sarah. Everywhere I turn, something reminds me of things I’ve never seen, never heard, and certainly never lived, yet they’re always there, dogging my every step, and I no longer know how to stop running from the nightmares in my mind.” “Oh Keith.” Those were the only words she had left to say, and the pain in them was similar to the pain hidden in Keith’s heart. “’Night, Sarah.” Keith whispered, and with that said, he hung up, returning to his now lukewarm cup of tea.

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Admission of Guilt

DRIP drip drip. Aislinn shivered in the cool moisture of a dark, empty dungeon, all hope for coherent thought threatening to drown in constant turmoil in his mind. Something in the air around him had changed, and his focus shifted outward, every sense in his body trying to pinpoint the source of the interference. Drip drip drip. He moved, and the chains linked to the shackles around his arms shifted, the sound of jingling metal momentarily drowning out the steady rhythmic beat of water he’d grown accustomed to. Stilling, he waited for the rattle of chains to die and concentrated once more, waiting for the faint sound that had interrupted his introspection to resurface. Drip drip clack. The moment he identified the familiar sound, the tension drained from his body, his breath escaping him in a soft whoosh that surprised him with the knowledge that he’d held it to begin with. He shook his head and ran a weary hand over his face, softly berating himself for his paranoid behavior and loss of calm. Then again, he figured he had a right to slip a little when taking his current circumstances into

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consideration. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to calm down and then looked up, staring blankly between the bars before his face. “Hello, Brigid. I take it his highness gave you special permission to come see me one last time before my trial?” He couldn’t seem to stop the undertone of bitterness that colored his tone. “Come to say goodbye?” “Come now.” Bright red heels came into view, their color rich and lush despite the dark, dank surroundings they were forced to endure, almost as if in defiance of darkness itself. “Enough with the theatrics. What’s done is done. Neither I nor you can change it now. However, my father is not such a cruel man as to have you executed over something as small as this.” Aislinn shrugged and looked up to meet Brigid face to face, taking in the elegant formal style she now had her hair in. It made her look stern and intimidating, but Aislinn was unfazed. As she had so nicely pointed out, what was done was done, and there was nothing he could do to take back his fatal mistake. “Let me teach you one last thing as your master dream spinner.” He paused to let her consider the impact of all that he left unsaid. “What I have done is no small mistake. I have given a young man an unobtainable dream, one he cannot even hope to achieve, and there is no pain greater than the hopelessness you experience when you realize that which you wish to reach for with all your heart and soul can never be yours. The consequences are devastating and more often than not followed by suicide. For this transgression I will take whatever punishment is due, be it execution or not.” Aislinn’s tone was monotonous, his silver eyes hard and cold. “It was my mistake, and I will deal with the consequences of my actions. I expect no favorable treatment simply because I am considered to be part of your family.” “You can be a real heartless bastard when you put your mind to it. You know that, right, Ashes?” Aislinn could see a thread of hurt and disappointment in her eyes, but her composure remained sure and calm. He had to respect her for that. “You’re like a second father to me, and you expect me to look the other way when your life is at stake? I can’t 22

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say you thought that through very well, but that’s not why I’m here. I want to know why you did it. Why did you weave yourself into a mortal’s tapestry when that’s the first and most basic rule that is drilled into our heads the moment we decide to become dream spinners? After all, it was you who repeatedly reminded me of that rule on a daily basis for a year when I first started.” Aislinn dropped his gaze, the guilt within him making it hard to pretend nothing was wrong. He shrank in on himself and tangled the fingers of his hands together, rattling the chains once more. Again he waited for the sound to die out and for the silence to return, Brigid’s question running circles in his mind. It was exactly what he’d been asking himself from the moment he saw the image on the tapestry. “I don’t know.” He tugged at his hair, suddenly frustrated beyond belief, completely ignoring the ruckus the movement brought to life. “I really don’t know.” An undertone of desperation colored his voice, and he glanced up at her again, seeming to plead for a logical explanation. “I lost myself in thought as I was spinning the thread and weaving the tapestry. I was trying to figure out what was so special about that specific mortal that the king himself would request a special tapestry for him. It was a simple request—a companion. I’d done a million before, when I was still not a master dream spinner. I let my fingers do what they had done thousands of times before, and for the life of me, have no idea how I managed to spin my face into that thread. I’ve never spun my own face before. I didn’t even know it was possible to spin it so accurately….” He allowed his words to trickle away, the anguish within them echoing off the stone that surrounded them. Drip drip drip. The echo of falling water was once again loud in the silence that followed Aislinn’s outburst, and it took Brigid and him a moment to recover. “You won’t die, Aislinn,” Brigid said softly, the calm conviction in her tone drawing Aislinn’s attention to her once again. “I can promise you that.” So it was that once again, in the span of less than a day, he saw a familiar light in her eyes and knew she was hiding

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something from him. “You’re hiding something from me again,” Aislinn said, watching her for a reaction. He was sorely disappointed. Brigid didn’t even flinch. She merely smiled, kissed her fingertips, and reached into his cell to drop the imaginary kiss onto his forehead. “Now it’s my turn to share a piece of advice with you, Ashes. No matter what happens, I love you. You are family to me and always will be. Remember that and remember it well. Now perk up. The guards will be here to take you to trial any moment now, and if I know anything about you, I know you’re too proud to let them see you moping.” She reached in again and handed him a small red velvet pouch attached to a red silk string. “This is my gift to you. Wear it beneath your clothes so no one sees it. Don’t open it until the moment is right, and before you ask… when the time comes, you’ll know.” And with that, she turned and walked out, not even sparing him a backward glance. Aislinn traced the soft velvet material, curiosity threatening to burn a hole in his gut. His mind raced as he desperately tried to figure out what it was that Brigid could have possible given him when he was facing a trial, of all things. He reached for the drawstring that sealed the little bag, completely disregarding Brigid’s request that he only open the pouch when the time was right. Just as his fingers encountered the smooth texture of the thread, he was interrupted by the sound of marching footsteps. His breath caught in the back of his throat, and he hastily tugged the thread the pouch was attached to, managing to hang it around his neck and hide it beneath his clothes with mere moments to spare. The guards didn’t even look at him as they grabbed him and dragged him out of the cell. Aislinn supposed it was better than being jeered at and mocked, but it still made him feel invisible, and part of him wished that one of them would at least look at him, thus acknowledging his existence. Then again, perhaps it was better that they did not. The soft touch of velvet lay heavy against his chest, gently 24

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reminding him of the secret he now hid from those around him. He stumbled along the rough stone, the pale flicker of the single torch carried by the head guard too small to illuminate the pitfalls along a path he was not accustomed to taking. The fact that he was cold, damp, and numb didn’t help matters much, and he came close to kissing the floor more times than he’d like to count. The moment they stepped out into the light, the journey became both easier and more difficult. He no longer stumbled over things he couldn’t see, but he was now the center of attention. A large crowd had gathered to witness the trial, all eager to see the master dream spinner’s humiliation. Even though the crowd was less than desirable, the moment Aislinn stepped out of it, he was overcome by a sudden surge of dread, for it could only mean that he had reached his destination. He stumbled to a halt, and the jingle of the chains he wore was suddenly loud in the dead silence that followed his arrival. Everyone’s attention was focused on him, making him feel naked, small, and inconsequential in the great scheme of things. It was an oddly familiar feeling that brought to the fore a long-forgotten ache in his heart, and he had to fight back the tears of grief that threatened to overwhelm him. Much to his surprise, he remained coherent enough to recognize that their source was not the current situation he found himself in and as such he refused to give the vultures gathered around him the satisfaction of seeing him broken… again. Glancing up, he ran his silver eyes over the brightly colored crowd gathered to see the downfall of someone they all respected yet managed to hate at the same time. He’d given up being social a long time ago, his grief driving him into himself, and the world he lived in had forgotten the young, friendly, carefree man he had once been. All that remained before them was a hollow, empty shell, always aloof and distant, never taking the time to acknowledge any of them, and they hated him for it because it made them feel inferior and beneath his notice. The fact that he was damned good at what he did didn’t help matters and only served to give him an air of superiority that complicated the situation even further. 25

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Aislinn didn’t really care, and that was the crux of the problem. Not even taking the time to register any of the faces linked to all the color before him, he continued his sweep of the crowd with only one goal in mind. The moment Aislinn saw the man he was looking for, he stopped searching and actually looked at one of the faces before him. The man’s sad amber eyes peered at Aislinn from beneath a head of bright red hair, the shade every bit as bright as his daughter’s. Ruaidhri, ruler of the immortal realm. Brigid was seated on his left side, and Faelan, his son, was on his right. Faelan’s presence worried Aislinn, for he was the immortal realm’s executioner. Those who lived in the immortal realm did not die of natural causes such as disease and old age, but they could be killed by those who worked among the Togairlan—the choosers of the slain. Faelan was their head and held in his hands the ultimate decision of who would live and who would die. Usually the Togairlan only targeted mortals involved in mass accidents, natural disasters, or in war, but there were times they were called upon to execute a criminal in the immortal realm. If Aislinn was to be executed, his soul would be sent into the mortal’s cycle of reincarnation, all his memories of his current life wiped away so that he might start another life upon a clean slate. It was the most terrifying thing he could imagine because it was his memories that defined his identity. Ruaidhri stood, and Aislinn’s attention was drawn back to him and the sorrow in his eyes. He was so lost in the moment that he forgot to bow. A guard’s kick sent him to his knees. A murmur rippled through the crowd but was quickly killed when Ruaidhri raised his arm. “You have been brought to trial to face the charge of weaving yourself into a mortal’s dream tapestry.” Ruaidhri’s voice carried, echoing throughout the room. As a man, he was larger than life, his presence alone often enough to calm the most violent of altercations. “How do you plead?” Aislinn swallowed in an attempt to soothe his dry throat. The fear of the moment threatened to pour out of him, but he refused to give in to it. He might be many things and knew he’d made many mistakes, but 26

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he refused to leave this life a coward. Pushing himself up off the ground, he stood, his chains rattling once more, and settled, waiting for the sound to die out before speaking. He met Ruaidhri’s gaze dead-on, squared his shoulders, and uttered the only word that mattered. “Guilty.” Another murmur swept through the crowd, and Ruaidhri was forced to raise his arm again to still it. “Seeing as you will not contest the charge, I have but one last question for you before judgment is passed. Do you have an explanation to offer?” Not a sound followed the question, everyone gathered in the room holding their breaths in anticipation. The answer to that question was the reason most of them were there, after all. They wanted to know what it was that had led to the master dream spinner’s transgression and longed to witness his downfall. Aislinn decided he would leave them only half-satisfied. “No, your highness.” He bowed his head, the motion a small sign of respect and acceptance. Aislinn was well aware that short as his trial was, it was over. He had admitted his guilt and would plead for no mercy. All that remained was the sentence. “Very well.” Ruaidhri seated himself once more, looking down on Aislinn and the gathered crowd before him, every inch the king in charge. He showed no emotion as he handed down the sentence Aislinn knew he would receive, for he’d never intended to contest the judgment. “I sentence you to a mortal’s existence.” A shocked gasp interrupted the rest of the sentence, members of the crowd speaking among themselves while the words swirled around in Aislinn’s mind. So much for not being executed. The thought barely registered in his mind when Ruaidhri once again demanded silence, his voice cutting into the gossip and rumor that was already finding life. “I’m not done yet. Aislinn, you shall not be executed. You will be sent to earth as you are and shall be given a mortal’s life, your memories intact. Dwell well on the mistake you have made. You will have the remaining mortal time span of your life in which to fix it.” The moment Ruaidhri finished speaking, everyone else took his 27

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place, a loud ruckus replacing the dead silence that had accompanied the rest of the sentence. Aislinn ignored it all, despondency thick in his veins. Despite the fact that he would not be executed, he had just in essence been sentenced to death. Aislinn watched as one of the Togairlan approached him to take him away and shivered at the light he could see in the man’s eyes. The man, Cathaoir, had icy pale blue eyes and silver hair, and something in his manner and the way he moved stirred the hidden memories fighting to make their presence known in Aislinn’s mind. He knew this man, knew his name, knew who he was and what he did, and for the life of him Aislinn couldn’t remember why. A trickle of fear made its presence known, a dark sense of premonition coiling and mingling with the fear in his gut, and Aislinn tensed just as Cathaoir reached out to touch him. His breath caught in his throat, and he faced the knowledge of his approaching death in Cathaoir’s eyes. “Not you, Cathaoir.” Cathaoir turned to face Faelan, breaking eye contact with Aislinn. The heavy pressure upon Aislinn’s chest lifted, its presence now recognizable with its departure. “Sinead will take over execution of this sentence.” The command was unmistakable. Cathaoir nodded in acceptance of the subtle order hidden within Faelan’s voice and stepped back, making way for a pretty dark-haired woman with a warrior’s band around her right arm. Sinead reached for Aislinn and led him out, taking him to the eventual death he knew awaited him, but something in her manner was different from the hidden undertones in Cathaoir’s, and Aislinn couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he’d just escaped death.

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Fateful Encounter

“ABIGAIL, get back here. This is a group tour in a museum, not a shopping trip in a mall. You need to stay with the group so you can listen to what is being said. Horrifying as I’m sure the concept sounds, you might actually learn something.” Keith’s reprimand echoed through the Greek mythology section in the museum as he finally managed to track down his missing student. Exactly one hour into the tour, he’d counted his students, only to realize one was missing. Much to his aggravation, he was unsurprised to realize it was Abigail. She was popular, a cheerleader, and had no interest in the great institution that was school life, even less when it came to history, the subject he taught. Fortunately, he was not the only teacher there to supervise the large group of rowdy ninth graders and had been able to slip away from the tour in order to look for her. His reprimand earned him a glare that was probably meant to put him in his place, but he remained unfazed. One did not become a teacher if one was susceptible to being intimidated so easily. “Abigail, now.” He pointed at an empty spot beside him. “What is your problem?” Abigail snapped, taking a step forward, aggressive reluctance visible in her posture. “I was only checking out the statues of naked people they like to call both art and history. I didn’t want to come on this stupid museum tour anyway, and they’re the only 29

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things that are half-interesting in here.” The moment she was beside him, Keith shook his head and turned to head back toward the rest of the group he had left behind. Not reaching out to touch her, he took a step forward, assuming she would follow now that she had been caught. “Your desire to be here or not is inconsequential in the great scheme of things. You are here, and as such you will remain with the rest of the group.” He fell silent to listen for her footsteps, thus confirming that she was indeed following him.

“LEGEND states that the tapestry was commissioned by Queen Matilda, William the Conqueror’s wife, but studies have later revealed that it was probably commissioned by William’s half brother, Bishop Odo. It’s likely that neither theory is true, but….” The rich baritone trickled into Keith’s mind as he approached the hall containing the Bayeux Tapestry. The voice, more than the words themselves, drew his attention, sending shivers down his spine. His steps slowed, and his breath caught in his throat, every nerve in his body on edge. “It’s the not knowing that really gives it magic. Even though it is called a tapestry, it is not actually a tapestry. The true definition of a tapestry requires that the design be woven into the cloth. The Bayeux tapestry is, in fact, embroidery….” Keith paused just before the entrance, taking a moment to peer warily in, seeking to define the owner of the voice. “Created from wool yarn that was stitched into tabby-woven linen.” Keith’s eyes were drawn to the man currently leading his group through the various tapestries in the room, sharing historical facts about each one as he did so. He was tall and slim and wore his long hair up in a high ponytail, the majority of it draped over his right shoulder. He waved his hands about, pointing to various parts of the tapestry hung on the wall before the group of students, each movement fluid and smooth. The man had grace and presence that simply drew attention to

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him, keeping it with ease. That alone would have been enough to cause Keith to take notice, seeing as he’d somehow managed to capture and hold the attention of eighty-seven grade-nine students. Anyone who could do that had Keith’s respect from the get-go, but there was something else about this man that was niggling at his senses, and he shifted closer in order to see him better. “Regardless of where, how, or why it was made, the tapestry tells the story of the events that lead up to the Norman Conquest of England. The main character in the tapestry is William the Conqueror. The tale begins with a panel depicting King Edward the Confessor, who—” Shock coursed through Keith, causing his breath to hitch in the back of his throat the moment the guide turned to face the students, thus revealing his features. Seeming to sense his presence, the guide turned to stare directly at him, still speaking, despite the fact that the moment Keith met his stark silver eyes, everything else around him ceased to exist. “Had no heir.” The words and their individual meanings shifted and blurred in Keith’s mind, drowned out by the sudden roar that rushed over him. Suddenly unable to breathe, he turned and walked back the way he’d come, heading directly for the exit, students, responsibility, and the museum tour forgotten as he drowned in icy tendrils of shock. Sunlight danced over his skin the moment he stepped outside, but even its warmth was not enough to chase away the dread that had him in its grasp. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, hand trembling as he tried to dial his sister’s number. It took three attempts to get it right, and the moment she picked up, he didn’t even give her time to greet him. “Sarah, I just met him!” His voice trembled every bit as much as his body, and he ran his free hand over his face in a vain attempt to calm himself. “I can’t believe it. I actually met him. Okay, so maybe not technically met, but I saw him. He’s in there, in the museum with the kids. How can he be in there, Sarah? How is it even possible? He’s not supposed to be….” Sarah interrupted his rush of words. “Hey. Keith. Calm down.

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You need to take a couple of steps back here. Who did you see?” Sarah’s question forced Keith to backtrack through his mind in an attempt to explain that which made no sense to him, rapidly searching for a reference his sister would understand before stumbling upon the obvious. “The man in my dreams, Sarah! The one I was kissing! He wasn’t supposed to be real, Sarah! I’ve never seen him before. Even if those were my memories, he can’t be real! He looks exactly the same as he does in my dreams, only he’s wearing more modern clothes. Even if we do get reincarnated, how is that even possible? Aren’t we supposed to change appearance when we get reincarnated?” “I… Keith….” The fact that Sarah was struggling to find a response only served to heighten Keith’s unease. Sarah was not an easy person to leave speechless, always ready with some kind of radical explanation, and if not that, then a retort. Despite the fact that he often didn’t agree with her outrageous attempts to explain away the chaos in his life, she always managed to leave him feeling at least a little better, which was why he tended to call her when he didn’t know what to do with the insanity in his mind. This time, however, she seemed to have nothing to offer him by way of attempting to unravel the events in his life. “Are you sure?” “As sure as I live and breathe, Sarah.” Keith sank down onto the stairs outside the museum, pressing the handset tightly against his ear. “Everything’s exactly the same. The color of his skin, his eyes, and his hair. His hairstyle is even exactly the same. With the exception of the clothing he’s wearing, he’s the mirror image of the man in my dreams. No, wait, in the first part of my dream he was wearing jeans. I swear, Sarah, on everything I know and love, it’s the same man.” “I… Keith….” Sarah’s voice dropped to a whisper and he had to strain to hear what she was saying. “Do you think…. Do you think you really can see the future? Maybe those dreams were visions of what will happen, not what has happened?” “Then how would you explain the clothes, Sarah? Other than the jeans he wore when I first saw him in my dream, all the clothing he 32

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wore looked Victorian. He was wearing loose flowing silk shirts, smart pants, and event waistcoats. Who seriously wears waistcoats these days, Sarah? Not anyone who earns a mediocre salary, I can promise you that! I mean, seriously, in some of them he was even wearing tunics straight out of some kind of fantasy novel. Tunics! Sarah. This isn’t some kind of fantasy cosplay! This is real life! When is he going to be wearing tunics? Don’t even get me started on what I was wearing in those dreams!” “I don’t know, Keith. I really don’t, but all of this has to mean something. There’s no way it can all be just a coincidence!” The vehemence in her tone took him completely by surprise, leaving him unable to interrupt her. “There’s something going on here, and I really think you need to go meet him face to face. And before you tell me you intend to do nothing of the sort, let me tell you this. I know you better than most, Bro, and I know you have a tendency to walk away from things that make you uncomfortable, but don’t do that. Not now. Talk to him before you possibly make the biggest mistake of your life. He’s the first actual connection you’ve made between your dreams and reality. There has to be a reason for it. He may know something!” Keith pulled a face, hating how well his sister knew him at times. She was right. He was dying to walk away from this. He liked things predictable, and this situation had dangerously unpredictable written all over it. “Sarah, I….” “There are no can’ts, won’ts, or maybes about it, Keith! If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: live a little! Who knows? He may even be the one. Why don’t you stop listening to your damned logical mind for once and go with your heart instead? Dreams have a way of revealing our innermost desires to us. It’s true, yours have an interesting twist to them, but the base message is still there. He’s your lover in your dreams. It may or may not be destiny, but at least give him the chance. Don’t run away simply because you don’t understand it. It’s the first real sign you have that you’re not going crazy! Grab it!” Keith sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead, massaging the

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shadows of the headache seated there. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” “No. I’m not. And if you don’t go introduce yourself to him, I’ll be flying over there myself to do the honors,” Sarah retorted, tongue in cheek. Despite the levity in her tone, though, Keith knew she was dead serious. “Okay, okay.” He shook his head even as he agreed to do what she said. “I’ll introduce myself to him, but that’s all I’m doing, okay? I’m not following him home, coming back here, or asking him out. If nothing comes of it, we’ll drop the entire matter and pretend it never happened, all right?” “Keith….” He cut her off before she could voice the protest he knew was coming. “I’m serious, Sarah. If it really is meant to be, then fate needs to intervene just a little more before I decide to put my heart on the line for someone who is essentially a complete stranger to me. Unlike you, Sarah, I need a little stability in my life.” Keith waited in the silence that followed his declaration. He knew Sarah was considering his words, weighing the pros and cons before giving her response. “Okay.” She finally broke the silence with her agreement, the single word all the confirmation he needed. He knew she was probably scheming how to help fate along a little but didn’t care. He’d catch her at it if she interfered, and he knew she knew he would not stand for it. “Promise you’ll go introduce yourself to him.” “I promise.” And with those two simple words, he sealed his fate. Snapping his phone closed, he stood and turned back to the museum, footsteps heavy as he reluctantly made his way back. He was just about to step into the museum itself when he bumped into none other than the stranger he’d just promised he would introduce himself to. He wasn’t ready for the encounter just yet but figured he might as well get it over and done with. However, just as he moved to speak, the stranger interrupted him. 34

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“Hello, Keith.” He held his hand out to Keith, the gesture a casual greeting between two strangers, but the words he’d just uttered contradicted his posture. Chill flowed down Keith’s back with the realization that he had yet to introduce himself to the other man before him. How then, did he know his name? “My name is Ash—” “Aislinn.” The word slipped past Keith’s lips before he could even think to stop it, dead certainty behind it. “—ley.”

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The Lies We Tell

“AISLINN.” A shiver coursed through Aislinn the moment he heard the name, sending his thoughts completely off-kilter. He’d left the name Aislinn behind the moment he’d gained mortality. In order to reconcile himself with his new identity, he’d been given a new name and new life. He was now Ashley Yates and worked at the museum. His main job description required that he assist with the care and restoration of tapestries, but occasionally he took over the part of the tour that dealt with the tapestries, seeing as he had a vast well of knowledge when it came to them. There was no way in which Keith should know his real name, and the moment he uttered it, Aislinn knew there was more to him than he’d first anticipated. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and grabbed Keith’s arm, some sixth sense he’d long since learned to listen to telling him that the other was just about to flee. The moment he touched him, Keith tensed and began to speak once more, not even giving Aislinn time to voice the burning question in his mind. “I’m sorry. I should learn to keep my big mouth shut. I have a cousin named Aislinn, and when you started to introduce yourself, I just thought that was your name for some reason. You’re Ashley, not Aislinn. I got it.” Keith rushed into the explanation, clearly more than a touch flustered. As soon the words slipped from Keith’s lips, Aislinn knew them for the lie they were. If asked, he’d have been unable to clarify how he 36

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knew this, but he knew. Keith knew his real name and for some reason was trying to hide what was obviously a slipup. He was burning to know how Keith knew him but held his tongue, noting the nervous shift in Keith’s posture. As much as he wanted answers, he figured cornering Keith into giving them would not help his cause in the long run. He needed to befriend Keith, not drive him away, so he settled for a more comprehensive introduction and an invitation. “Let’s try this again, then,” he said smoothly with a smile. He deliberately ran a thumb over the skin of Keith’s hand, making the motion seem absentminded. “I’m Ashley Yates. I work with the tapestries here. I’m in charge of restoration and care.” Suddenly remembering that he wasn’t meant to know Keith’s name, either, he followed Keith’s example and added his own lie to the mix. “I hear you make quite the history teacher. Some of your students mentioned you have a passion for the subject, and I wanted to meet you. It’s rare to find others with passion for things long since passed.” Keith remained both silent and still, watching him closely. The close scrutiny Aislinn was receiving told him that he’d been caught in his lie as well. Keith, however, did not confront him either, obviously more than willing to let the matter slide. That alone caught Aislinn’s attention, making him want to get to know this mortal better. “So, what are you doing for dinner?” Aislinn dropped the question before he could give himself time to think better of it. It had been a long time since anyone had intrigued him, and the moment he uttered the words, he regretted them. Remembered pain flashed through him, a reminder of all that he’d lost, making him want nothing more than to take the invitation back so he could withdraw back into himself, no longer caring that he was in the mortal realm to fix the grave mistake he had made. “Dinner?” The completely baffled expression in Keith’s pale green eyes pulled Aislinn back into the present, tugging at Aislinn’s heartstrings to stir tendrils of affection deep within him. Shocked by the sudden emergence of an emotion he’d convinced himself he was no

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longer capable of, Aislinn dropped Keith’s hand and took a step back, his own breath ragged. “Hey, are you okay?” Keith’s voice came at him from a distance as he struggled to separate past from present. Looking up, Aislinn met green eyes, only this time they were no longer pale. They were bright green, hiding brilliant yellow undertones that only came out with the right kind of coaxing. Golden brown hair was now darker and longer, tied in a warrior’s knot at the back of his head, and it was apparent that it was no longer Keith who stood before him. “Kian.” The soft pained whisper passed his lips, and for but a mere moment, it all made sense. The moment of clarity was, however, too fleeting for Aislinn to grasp the knowledge deep in his heart, and it slipped away before he could begin to register the implications of what he’d just seen. “Who’s Kian?” Keith’s voice pulled Aislinn back into the present, a warm touch at his lower back burning his skin. Keith was resting one hand against Aislinn’s back, his pale green eyes watching him in concern. Shaking off the niggling sense of déjà vu, Aislinn stepped back, forcing Keith’s hand to slip away from the hollow of his back, thus giving him space to think. He had no idea why this mortal’s presence had triggered his memories of Kian and was disconcerted by the fact that they had been so easily brought to the forefront of his mind. “Just someone I knew a long time ago.” He turned abruptly, intending to leave so he could lick age-old wounds in peace, the track his conversation had been on lying forgotten. “What about dinner?” The words Keith called after him stopped him dead in his tracks, their meaning, for a moment, too much to comprehend. 38

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“What about dinner?” Aislinn echoed, turning back to Keith. He’d been convinced that Keith had been uncomfortable with the invitation, especially as he hadn’t given Aislinn an answer. So he couldn’t understand why Keith was bringing it up again when he was more than ready to retract the invitation and leave it be. “You invited me to dinner,” Keith reminded him stubbornly, something in his eyes niggling at Aislinn’s senses once more. “It’s only polite that you wait for me to actually give you a response, or didn’t your mother teach you basic etiquette?” Aislinn’s breath hitched in his throat, the echo of Keith’s words ringing in his ears, stirring yet another memory. A slim, pale hand reached into rich brown hair, bright green eyes dancing in mirth as they met his in the mirror. Aislinn was filled with impatience. They were already late, and he couldn’t understand why Kian wanted to fix his hair. In Aislinn’s opinion it looked great the way Kian normally liked to wear it, and he saw no reason why Kian should try to do something different with it simply because they were going to eat out. Kian, however, saw it differently. He took great pleasure in teasing Aislinn, and Aislinn, well aware of the fact, let it be. He’d do anything to make Kian happy. Running late was a small price to pay. Kian wore a small teasing smile as he slid the last few clips into his hair, running his fingers through a few stray strands to settle them just so. “It’s not the end of the world if we’re a couple of minutes late, Aislinn,” Kian teased, standing. “You didn’t give me much notice, and I need to get ready. Besides, it’s only polite for you to wait for me, or didn’t your mother teach you basic etiquette?” “Manners aside”—Keith’s voice once again pulled Aislinn back to the present—“before you go running off, here’s my answer. Meet me tonight, six o’clock on the hour at Jilly’s Pub just down the road from 39

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here. I’m not sure what you had in mind, but the best meal in town is to be had there. It’s one of the few non-franchise places still left, and it’s well worth it.” The confidence with which he spoke seemed to go against the uncertainty Aislinn could see swirling around in Keith’s eyes, but he let it slide, thinking it better not to mention the contradiction in behavior. He respected the courage it took to confront him just as he was ready to run away, and in deference to that courage, he decided to take a chance he was certain he was not yet ready for. “It’s a date, then,” he said with a smile, the faint shadow of true warmth slipping into his cold silver eyes. “That’s better,” Keith responded with a nod, stepping forward to stand beside him. “Now let’s go find my wayward students before I’m fired for being irresponsible.” The small furrow in his brow let Aislinn know that he was dead serious. Keith seemed to take his responsibilities seriously, which only further emphasized the fact that there was more to the situation than there appeared to be. “We wouldn’t want that,” Aislinn agreed just as seriously, taking a step forward to set them into motion. The rest of the journey back to the tapestry hall was spent in surprisingly companionable silence as Aislinn once more lost himself in thought, trying to solve the conundrum that was Keith. He didn’t even notice that the smile he’d shared with Keith was still upon his lips as he made his way back to where he was meant to be.

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One Step Forward

SHIRTS, pants, ties, socks, and even shoes littered the bedroom floor, covering every inch of available space in an array of bright color and chaos, and Keith was still no closer to deciding what he was going to wear. Even worse, he had no idea why he even cared. He’d been reprimanding himself for getting into this situation from the moment he’d reminded Ashley about the invitation. He didn’t know what on earth had possessed him to be so forward when he’d fully intended to walk away from Ashley and the eerie resemblance the man seemed to have to the man haunting his dreams. He didn’t need this complication in his life, but something about Ashley drew him to the man, and he found it difficult to walk away. Even now, several hours after the fact, his nerves were buzzing in anticipation, and he really didn’t know what to do with himself. Wading through the mess he’d made of his room, he grabbed the first shirt he could reach and shrugged into it, eyeing the rest of the mess on the floor. He hadn’t even realized he owned so many colorful pieces of clothing. He’d thought being a boring history teacher was synonymous with owning a boring monotone wardrobe, but he guessed he wasn’t really surprised. Most of his clothes were purchased by Sarah anyway, and she was adamant he be prepared for the off chance that he might actually acquire a social life. It was ironic that her instincts were finally paying off. 41

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Bending down, he snatched up a pair of black slacks and turned to inspect himself in the wardrobe mirror. It was another commodity he’d never thought he’d have a use for. Who needed mirrors with only a bunch of rowdy teenagers to impress? Especially when those teenagers didn’t notice one way or another, seeing as they were more interested in causing havoc than anything any of their teachers wore. Deciding that the loose-fitting deep turquoise button-down shirt and neat black slacks would have to do, he slid on the first pair of shoes he found in the chaos of his room, and the key operative term in that phrase was pair. He had to toss several potential candidates aside due to a lack of partners. Dressed, pressed, and as ready for action as he’d ever be, he snatched up his keys and wallet and headed out the door, silently cursing himself for allowing the entire situation to get to the point where he was distracted by something as inconsequential as the clothes he was going to wear. It went against his very character to worry about making a good first impression, especially seeing as the first impression had already been made, and he could find no logical reason for his sudden desire to dress smart. Now he was going to be late, and didn’t like it one bit.

HALF an hour later, he was parked outside of Jilly’s Pub, nervously tapping the steering wheel. Random thoughts raced around in his mind, each one seeking yet failing to capture and hold his attention as he fought the butterflies in his stomach in a bid to gather the courage to actually go into the pub. Tap tap tap. Keith jumped and whipped his head to the side, seeking the source of the unexpected sound. Heart beating rapidly in the back of his throat, he ran his gaze over the figure standing just outside his window. It took him a moment to realize it was actually Ashley leaning against 42

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the side of his car. He figured Ashley must have tapped on his window in order to get his attention. Swallowing down the fear that had settled in his throat, he snapped open the lock and swung the door open, stepping out into the cool early evening air. The moment he opened the door, Ashley spoke. “I wager it’s more comfortable inside.” “I… uh….” Keith deduced from Ashley’s statement that Ashley must have seen him sitting in his car, battling the indecision that was currently playing tug-of-war with his emotions. He wondered how long Ashley had known he was there. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He settled for not asking. He didn’t want to make an even bigger fool of himself than he already had. “If you discount the fifteen minutes you’ve spent sitting out here, then you weren’t all that late.” Keith ignored the questioning eyebrow Ashley raised in his direction and focused instead on his words. Glancing at his watch, he ran a few quick calculations through his mind and concluded that Ashley must have seen him drive up. Discarding the thought before he could allow himself to dwell on it, he responded to the only part of the silent question in Ashley’s words that he was willing to address. “I’m sorry. Despite initial appearances to the contrary, I’m actually not the most punctual person around.” “Six o’clock on the hour?” Keith flushed in embarrassment when Ashley echoed his earlier statement. He’d seen that one coming and still had not been prepared for it. “I really don’t know where that came from,” he admitted, looking down at the ground to avoid the contemplation he could see in Ashley’s eyes. “I don’t usually speak like that, but it felt right for some reason.” He frowned, puzzling over the statement. He’d spoken those words without thinking about them, and despite the fact that they seemed contrary to everything that defined him and his way of life, they felt as if they belonged there on his lips to be shared between Aislinn—no,

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Ashley—and him. He shifted when all he received in response was silence. Despite the fact that he was looking down, he could still feel the scrutiny Ashley directed at him and could well guess at the possible reasons for it. Feeling even more foolish than he could ever recall, he cleared his throat and headed to Jilly’s Pub. “I guess we’d better go in. We came here to eat, and I’m wagering you’re hungry.” “Not particularly, but you do have a point. We did come here to eat.” A soft, warm touch on Keith’s elbow drew his attention up, and he met the silent contemplation is Ashley’s silver eyes. They headed in, and it was only as they were seated that Ashley spoke once more. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered something for us to drink.” He pointed at the cooling cups of coffee standing on the table. “Though it’s probably cold by now. I ordered it when you arrived.” Keith offered a wan smile and reached for the cool cup of coffee. Taking a big sip, he pulled a face at the tepid temperature. He didn’t really like his coffee cold but figured he needed the caffeine burst. “Sorry,” he muttered, absently swirling the remaining liquid Ashley sighed. “Let’s try this again. I’m Ashley Yates. I work at the museum. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Would you mind accompanying me to dinner at”—Ashley paused to glance at the watch on his right wrist—“quarter to seven?” Keith stared in incomprehension, not sure why Ashley was holding a hand out to him. Neither the statement nor the action made sense in the context within which they were offered, and Keith struggled to figure out what Ashley was trying to do. He felt as if he were wading through a murky stream of water, lost without a compass or a guide. The situation was so ridiculous that it actually took several moments for the meaning behind Ashley’s words to click into place, and when it did, Keith beamed, relieved. “Why, of course. It would be my pleasure.” He responded with a bright smile, shaking Ashley’s hand with a laugh. “I’d like to

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recommend Jilly’s Pub, if I may.” “But of course.” Ashley chuckled lightly, and the smile that accompanied the sound lit up his face. The expression had not had time to even begin to fade when Keith was struck by the urge to put it there again. Something told him it was an expression Ashley’s face hadn’t seen in a very long time. “So what would you recommend we order at Jilly’s Pub when we get there?” “The chicken-wing basket.” Keith allowed himself to be swept away by the moment, deciding that maybe for once in his life, he could live in the present. That was the easiest question he’d had to answer since meeting Ashley, and just for a minute, Keith wanted to pretend that it was as complicated as their relationship would be likely to get. He knew the hope was futile. The dreams lurking in the shadows of his own mind usually did a good job of chasing potential dates away, but Ashley seemed to bring out a side of Keith he hadn’t let loose in far too long, and Keith could pretend with the best of them. “Chicken wings and chips it is, then. It’s not the fancy dinner I pictured when I first suggested it, but then again, you never were one for fancy dinners, were you?” And with that, the carefree moment was gone. Ashley looked every bit as shocked by the statement as Keith felt, and the niggling sense that Keith was supposed to know this man before him returned with a vengeance. “How would you know that?” He articulated each word carefully, speaking slowly for fear of losing coherency should he try to speak at a normal pace. “I….” Keith could clearly see that Ashley was flustered, but he was no longer willing to let it slide. There was something lurking between them, and he wanted confirmation that Ashley sensed it too. “Aislinn”—Keith deliberately used the name he could not seem to let go of—“I want to know what’s going on here. Do we know each other? I feel like I’m losing my mind, and the thought scares me.”

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“Do you believe in magic?” The soft question was unexpected. Keith didn’t know what response he’d been expecting, but a question about magic had certainly not been on the agenda. “Not really, no.” He reached for a paper napkin and began nervously to fold it in an attempt to give his erratic train of thoughts something more mundane to focus on. “It’s not really practical to believe that something can be made from nothing.” Ashley shook his head. “That’s where mortals get it wrong. Magic is not about creating something from nothing. Only God can create something from nothing. The rest of us need something to work with. Magic is about grasping the energy that inherently exists in everything around us, changing its flow and its integral shape and form, thus creating something new. A more intuitive form of science, as it were, as it relies more on innate knowledge and feeling than on logic and structure.” “Mortals? Why do I get the feeling you’re not including yourself in that broad statement?” Keith asked, something niggling at the very sixth sense Ashley was describing to him. Ashley chuckled once more, but this time the sound grated on Keith’s ears, the bitter derision not going unnoticed. “Believe you me, I am every bit as mortal as you are.” The statement seemed to hide a well of pain, and something in the way Ashley said it warned Keith not to delve into the topic any further. It was a gut instinct Keith intended to listen to. Sudden desire to get to the truth aside, there were some questions Keith was not ready to ask, and something told him this was one of them. He decided to veer back to their original track of conversation to avoid the sensitive topic. “All right. So magic can be defined as an intuitive form of science. But it would still require some form of other worldly knowledge to function, right? As far as I can see, we mortals are not sensitive enough to sense this energy, let alone touch or manipulate it, which ultimately brings me back to my point. Without someone around to sense and manipulate it, magic cannot, by definition, truly exist.” 46

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“Yet there are some who can sense and manipulate it. Aren’t there?” Ashley pointed out softly. “Human language even has words for it—gut feeling, déjà vu, sixth sense, precognition, premonition, psychic power, telekinetic energy. Do I need to continue?” “Isn’t all that merely a product of human imagination?” Keith asked, desperate for an escape route. Every word Ashley said made sense, and that scared him. He had enough trouble dealing with the world he lived in. He didn’t want the added complexity of another plane. Especially as he already seemed to be balanced on the edge of it, his dreams fighting to pull him into an unknown existence that threatened to pull his sanity apart. “Isn’t human imagination merely a different plane of existence?” With that simple question, Ashley managed to tear apart everything that was safe and familiar in Keith’s world. Keith remained silent, waiting for the impact of Ashley’s statement to settle before reaching for the knowledge that had been with him from the moment Ashley had first introduced himself to him. “Your name isn’t Ashley, is it? It’s Aislinn.” “I left the name Aislinn behind when I moved here.” Ashley confirmed Keith’s suspicion and in doing so shook the foundations of everything Keith believed to be true. He’d known Ashley’s real name before ever meeting the man, and he sensed the knowledge was connected to his dreams. Now all he had to figure out was what those dreams actually were, because it had already been proven that they were not figments of his imagination. “What are you running away from?” Keith asked softly, wondering why Ashley would have left his old name behind. A name formed an intricate part of an individual’s identity. It was linked to the life that was lived using that name, and a person did not change their name unless they were running from something defined within the old identity. Keith couldn’t imagine wanting to run from something so badly that he’d need to change his own name in order to do so. The only extenuating circumstances that he could think of that could 47

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possibly drive him that far were all linked to crime, and with that realization, he wondered if he really wanted to know. “What gives you the idea that I’m running away from something?” Ashley’s question was not entirely unexpected. Keith hadn’t really expected him to give an honest answer so easily, and the vague response gave him the perfect opportunity to drop the matter. Unfortunately, Keith was rarely one to listen to prudence when it came to keeping his curiosity in check. “People don’t usually change their names for the fun of it.” “True, but fleeing one’s past is not the only reason to change one’s name. Mayhap a better question may be what am I running toward?” Keith blinked in surprise, his original train of thought completely derailed by an angle he hadn’t even considered. “Okay, so what are you running toward?” The response he received was even more unexpected than the change in perspective Ashley had just subjected him to, effectively killing their conversation by throwing up the biggest no entry sign Keith had ever encountered. “Death.” Some questions were better left unasked.

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Two Steps Back

THE familiar coarse texture of thread slid across his fingertips, faint ridges shifting beneath his touch as Aislinn gently ran his fingers over the fine tapestry thread. A mere whisper of magic almost forgotten by his mortal form slipped into the thread, carefully guiding wayward strands back into the image, its color just a touch more vibrant after Aislinn was done with it. This was what he’d been hired to do, and this was where he felt at ease, lost within the stories each tapestry had to tell. Completely enthralled by the images upon the material before him, Aislinn didn’t even register the soft clack of heels upon the carpeted floor. So the sudden appearance of two white paper bags being waved before his face took him by surprise. “I need your advice.” Brigid launched into speech without even offering him a greeting. “Which pair of heels do you think would suit me better?” She pulled out two pairs of bright red heels, the first pair strappy and the second closed, laced together with a bright red ribbon. “Good afternoon, Brigid.” Aislinn pointedly greeted her, standing slowly to appraise her. As usual she was wearing muted tones offset by a pair of signature bright red heels. He wasn’t sure why he’d been expecting something different, but he had, especially as he hadn’t expected to even see her in the mortal realm. “I don’t see why you want my advice, seeing as I know nothing about feminine apparel. Nor, 49

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might I add, do I want to.” “No need to be a spoilsport, Ashes,” Brigid reprimanded, tossing the closed heels back into one of the white paper bags before proceeding to change into the strappy ones without so much as pausing in between. “I was trying to include you.” She packed her old shoes and tapped her feet, settling the new shoes in with a smile. Nodding in satisfaction, she turned back to face him. The playful manner was completely gone, and she proceeded to change topics as rapidly as she changed her shoes. “Really, Ashes, running toward death? Must you be so melodramatic?” Aislinn pulled a face, stepping forward to launch himself into motion. He was suddenly filled with nervous energy and felt the need to walk it off. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” He ran a hand through his hair, absently tugging at the strands. It was a nervous habit he’d managed to pick up somewhere that he’d been unable to rid himself of. “Come now. Mortality isn’t that bad. You haven’t even given your new life here a chance, and already you’re hoping to die?” Aislinn paused his pacing to turn to her, anger rushing though him at the blasé manner she used to address his impending death. “What would you know about it, your highness?” he snapped tersely. “You’re not the one trying to make a new life while still in possession of memories of your old one! You said I wouldn’t be executed. Well, how exactly is this any better? I’m going to die now. What difference does it make to me that it is approaching me a little later rather than sooner? At least if they’d executed me first, I wouldn’t have to remember what I lost!” “You know something, Ashes? That’s your biggest problem,” Brigid retorted, completely unfazed by his outburst. Part of him hated her for that, hated the fact that he couldn’t seem to shake her confidence, no matter how bitter, hurt, and angry he became; but another part, the part of himself he’d buried beneath waves of disillusionment, couldn’t help but respect her for it. He could always count on her to be honest. “You’re so busy looking into the past that 50

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you forget to look into the future. You are so hung up on what you’ve lost that you’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you. How about trying to look at what you’ve gained for a change?” “And what exactly have I gained?” Aislinn swept an arm across the room in demonstration, too angry to register anything but the bitterness eating away at him. “I’m stuck here day after day, fixing tapestries someone else made!” “You love your job, and you know it. Admit it. It’s the next best thing to actually weaving them, but I’m not referring to the tapestries, Ashes. I’m referring to Keith. Why did you let him go?” That single question was enough to bring Aislinn back to the real reason for his discontent. He’d been trying not to think about it by distracting himself with work. He’d been doing a good job of it, too, until Brigid decided to waltz in and ruin it all. After their serious conversation during dinner, Keith and he had moved on to lighter topics of conversation, like the weather. Neither of them had known how to overcome the obstacle Aislinn threw up between them, and they had parted ways with barely a good-bye exchanged between them. Aislinn had tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter. After all, he had no intention of getting involved with someone, not again, and was of the opinion that it was better for both of them if he didn’t go about creating false hope. Despite this reasoning, a part of him still regretted the way they’d parted, and he wished he could do the whole date over, this time avoiding the topic of death altogether. “Just because I made the mistake of weaving myself into his tapestry doesn’t mean we are meant to be together, Brigid.” “Really?” Brigid raised an eyebrow in clear disbelief. “Did you deliberately weave yourself into that tapestry, then?” “I’ve already told you it was an accident.” Aislinn resumed his pacing in frustration. “I didn’t even notice I’d done it until the moment I hung the tapestry. What’s your point?” “My point is someone gave me a wonderful piece of insight into 51

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our job not so long ago—just after I started, if I recall correctly. I approached a certain master dream spinner with a burning question: how do we know what the image on the tapestry should be? The descriptions of what we should weave are so vague, after all. An image needs to be far more specific.” Aislinn stared at Brigid in disbelief, shivers dancing over his skin with her every word. He knew where she was going with this and knew he should stop her before she voiced the reality he feared to face, but he couldn’t make himself do it. It was like watching an accident unfold— being unable to look away despite the knowledge that the scene you were about to witness would haunt you forever. “You know what this master dream spinner told me? He told me to follow my heart. He told me the image would spin itself into the thread. He said all we really needed to do was to give it free rein to do so. That master dream spinner was you, Ashes. It was the best piece of advice you ever gave me.” “I… Brigid….” Aislinn’s thoughts raced about in his mind, random pieces of knowledge calling for his attention in a bid to create a bigger picture that would hopefully make sense. He measured her words against the events that had disrupted the life he had grown accustomed to living and came to a conclusion he wasn’t sure he liked. “You knew I would weave myself into that dream tapestry, didn’t you?” “I’m not a fortune teller, Aislinn. I’m a dream spinner. I do not possess the power to predict the future.” Despite the fact that her response made sense, Aislinn couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that Brigid had something to do with all of this. She might not be a fortune teller, but she knew him and knew better than most how to manipulate him. It wasn’t something he liked to admit, but he wasn’t blind to it, which brought him back to the fact that something in her response simply didn’t sit well with him. But he couldn’t call her on it until he figured out exactly what was bothering him. “Okay, so you’re not a fortune teller. Tell me this, then. Why are

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you here?” “Because you let Keith walk away. You haven’t contacted him in two weeks! Two weeks, Ashes! What’s wrong with you? You’re supposed to be going forward, not backward!” He ignored the reprimand he could hear in her voice and gave her a pointed look instead. “And how, pray tell, do you expect me to have contacted him when A, I do not have his phone number and B, I have not the slightest idea where he lives?” “You could have made an effort. I’m sure the school he works at is here on record somewhere. They did, after all, book the tour in advance.” Aislinn rolled his eyes when it became clear that Brigid had not considered all the factors influencing his situation. “I’m not exactly privy to those records, Brigid. I was hired to work with the tapestries, not to read and organize their booking sheets. Don’t you think I’d look a little suspicious accessing those records? No offense, but I don’t actually have the most stunning résumé, seeing as I didn’t live and grow up here and can’t afford to lose this job on suspicion that I am perhaps involved in something not quite legal.” “Then I guess you’re in luck.” The playful humor in her tone sent a thread of apprehension through him. He could almost sense his own impending doom. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Brigid and playfulness often meant he wouldn’t like what she was up to. “I happen to know exactly where he works. No, wait.” Aislinn could see the mischief sparkling in her eyes and began to contemplate running away before she could finish that last sentence. Unfortunately, he didn’t react nearly fast enough. “I can do one better. I know where he lives. Come on. Let’s go.” And with that she turned and headed for the door. When he did not follow, she turned to raise a questioning eyebrow in his direction, the order clear in her eyes. She was not asking him to follow her; she was telling him to. Despite the fact that he believed she should no longer have any power to order him to do

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anything—seeing as she was not technically allowed direct interference in the mortal realm—he gave in. He followed her, releasing a soft, defeated sigh. Sometimes it was simply easier just to go along when a raging river swept through one’s life.

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Company

DING dong. The sound of his doorbell reverberated throughout his apartment, tearing Keith’s attention from the book he was engrossed in. Mind still lost among the ruins of Troy, he absently wondered who could possibly be at the door when he wasn’t exactly the most social person around. Ding dong. The doorbell rang again, emphasizing the fact that while trying to solve the mystery of who could possibly be coming to visit him, he hadn’t even moved to open the door. Sliding a bookmark into his book, he reverently closed it before placing it on the coffee table before him. Sighing, Keith stood and then proceeded to approach the door. He managed to open it just as the doorbell rang for a third time. “Hey, Bro.” He was shocked to find Sarah standing at his front door, a suitcase and several grocery bags lying at her feet. Not giving him time to register the fact that she’d just flown hundreds of miles to come see him, she made her way in, slipping past him with only a single grocery bag in tow. “I bought you some groceries, seeing as you’re not big on shopping and cooking. I also hope your washing machine is working. I only brought one bag.” “I… you….” Keith struggled for something to say, for a moment unable to comprehend that his sister was standing right before him. “What are you doing here? You have a family to support.” Finding his 55

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tongue, he grabbed her luggage and the remaining grocery bags and followed her into the kitchen. “You can’t just leave your husband and kids to give me a surprise visit. Especially when I don’t actually have any leave I can take to spend with you at the moment. It’s both a waste of time and money.” “Coming to see my beloved brother is never a waste of time or money.” Sarah began to unpack the grocery bags, not even sparing him a glance as she promptly took over his kitchen, opening cupboards haphazardly as she moved. “Now, where did you move your pots to? I’m making you supper, and I can’t very well do it without something to cook it in.” She gave up her search and turned to face him, hands on her hips. Sighing in defeat, he dropped the grocery bags onto the counter and opened the cupboard his sister was looking for. He’d learned a long time ago that it was better not to argue with her when she was in this mood. “Why are you really here, Sarah?” he inquired softly, eyeing the pile of groceries taking over his counter. “Something tells me it’s not because you’re worried about my diet.” “Of course not, silly!” Sarah pulled out a pot and a cauliflower. “I know you can cook. When you put your mind to it and actually remember to do so, that is. Even though you do have a tendency to bury yourself in your books and the past, hunger does occasionally pull you back into the land of the living, so I’m not exactly worried you’ll wither away without me. I just figured you might enjoy a home-cooked meal, made for you by your favorite sister.” Keith knew something was up the moment the last two words escaped her lips and feared he knew what all of this was really about. He’d known all along she would interfere but had hoped she’d prove him wrong. Part of him wanted to confront her about it while another part wished he could let sleeping dogs lie in the hopes of avoiding the matter entirely. Denial, however, had never helped him escape his sister’s plotting, so he decided to go with the former urge. Just as he moved to demand the answer she’d avoided giving to him, he was once

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again interrupted. Ding-dong. “What the…?” He turned to face the door in disbelief, once again unable to comprehend why it would possibly be ringing again. Once in a single evening was rare enough. Twice, however, was unheard of. “Well?” Sarah prompted, pointedly raising an eyebrow in his direction. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” “I… uh….” Keith turned away from the door to stare blankly at her, not really paying attention to her. His mind was lost in trying to puzzle out who could be at his door when his sister was already inside. Her surprise visits, though rare, were not entirely unexpected, but he’d never really had anyone else at his front door. Anyone other than Sarah’s family, that is, and it had already been established that she’d come alone. Sighing in exasperation, Sarah dropped both the cauliflower and the pot before turning to push him out the kitchen door. “Answer the door, Keith.” She turned him toward the door and gave him a hard push. “Despite popular belief, it’s actually rude to keep one’s guests waiting.” “Despite popular belief, I’m not expecting any guests,” Keith said, hurt by the veiled reprimand in her words. He reached for the door handle and pulled. “It’s probably a mis—” The door swung open with ease, slipped from Keith’s suddenly lifeless fingers, and hit the wall with a resounding bang! “Take.” “Hi. You must be Keith.” Bright red flashed right past him as, for the second time in a single evening, a woman made her way into his apartment without waiting for him to issue so much as an invitation. However, it was not her presence that had him rooted to the spot. It was the presence of the man she had with her. “My name is Brigid. Ashley told me all about you, and I just had to meet you.” “Ashley?” Keith fought down the urge to groan when Sarah peered out the kitchen, her curiosity aroused. This was the last situation 57

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he wanted to be in with his interfering sister around. He’d been hoping to prevent her from meeting Ashley, thus killing any matchmaking attempts before they had time to grow into plots and schemes. After all, if she didn’t know who Ashley was, she couldn’t try to get them paired up. Seemed fate had other ideas. “Did someone just say Ashley? You didn’t tell me you were having guests, Bro. Luckily I haven’t started supper yet!” “Sarah, I….” Keith was just about to reiterate that he hadn’t been expecting anyone but thought better of it. The rest of his sentence died unspoken as he decided to give in to the inevitable as gracefully as possible. He switched midsentence and directed his conversation at the two new intruders who had decided to invade his home uninvited instead. “Looks like Sarah’s just invited the two of you to dinner.” The words were barely past his lips when he found himself propelled forward by a firm grasp upon his wrist. Brigid dragged Keith along with Ashley, gripping one wrist in each hand as she headed to the living room without pause. “Perfect. I’m starving.” She pushed Keith down onto his sofa, forcing him to sit before he could register what was happening. “I’ll go help Sarah cook.” Brigid then stepped out of the living room as quickly as she’d made her way in, leaving him feeling as if he’d just survived a hurricane and now had to deal with the eerie aftermath. Keith frowned when the seat shifted beneath him, still moving despite the fact that his body had fully settled upon it. Keith turned to determine why he was still moving and paused, his breath escaping him with a soft sound, when he met stormy silver eyes watching him with conflict in their depths. That’s when the fact that Brigid had just left him alone with Ashley hit home. “Er… hi?” Keith’s uncertain greeting only served to highlight his discomfort and the tension in the room. The tension dancing over Keith’s already high-strung nerves only grew when Ashley didn’t reply, making him wish he could bury himself back in the book he’d been reading before his home had been invaded. He glanced nervously

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at the book now lying on the table and then back at Ashley, trying to figure out if there was a diplomatic way to pick it up and read it. Coming up blank he turned back to Ashley and watched as Ashley pursed his lips, staring at the same book Keith had been staring at. Ashley leaned forward and picked it up, flipping it to view the title on the cover: “Where Troy Once Stood,” he read aloud. The soft sound of Ashley’s voice breaking the tension between them startled Keith. When no greeting had been forthcoming, he expected the awkward silence to continue, and the casual way Ashley broke it was unexpected. “It’s an interesting take on the history surrounding the story of Troy.” Keith reached for the book and flipped it over, pointing at the blurb. “It’s always been believed that Troy was in Turkey, but if you really look at it, there are too many things that don’t make sense when taking into account Homer’s Iliad. Iman Wilkens argues that Troy was, in actual fact, in England, and I must say he presents a powerful argument. It makes more sense.” “Does it really matter where it happened?” Keith glanced up at the soft question, caught by and drawn to the deep sorrow he could hear in Ashley’s voice. “Of course it matters,” he whispered in response. He wasn’t sure why he whispered, but something within him was afraid that the world would shatter if he didn’t take care in how he trod. “It’s a part of our history and defines who we are.” “How does it define who you are? The fact that you are a history teacher aside, how does it really change the quality of your life, Keith? What difference does it make if they died in Turkey or in England?” That was the moment Keith realized there was far more to this conversation than there appeared to be on the surface. Ashley was too adamant, too filled with bitterness and pain for an innocent historical debate. “It changes the very definition of our roots, redefines who we are, and teaches us valuable lessons, Ashley. The lay of the land allows

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us to explore the strategies that were used to win the war, and the archeological items found give us a glimpse into the way life was lived. It is both an intellectual and emotional enrichment that gives us insight into knowledge that was lost, while at the same time giving dreamers the freedom to dream.” “What good are dreams when they only lead to disappointment? One can only hold on to fantasy for so long before reality intrudes, and when it does it usually leaves you with your soul in pieces.” The echo of Ashley’s words filled Keith with heartache. He was disappointed with Ashley, the feeling so deep that it scared him to think about it, so he didn’t. He knew Ashley, knew who he had once been, and it hurt more than he could imagine to see who he had become. Ignoring the fact that logically speaking he hadn’t known Ashley long enough to really comprehend anything about him, he gave in to the knowledge that he realized he shouldn’t possess and let it sweep him away. “You’ve changed, Aislinn.” He subconsciously used Ashley’s original name. “You finally got your wings and then went ahead and clipped them.”

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A Soul’s True Reflection

“YOU’VE changed, Aislinn. You finally got your wings and then went ahead and clipped them.” Keith’s words echoed through the room, bringing with them an eerie sense of finality. Aislinn knew of only one person who would utter them to him, and the realization that he was now faced with his shadow hurt more than he ever imagined it would. “Kian.” The pain-filled word escaped him before he could even think to stop it, forcing him to face the reality that he now knew lay before him. He’d finally found Kian’s soul, and the reunion was nothing like he’d pictured it would be. The single word seemed to shake Keith out of the trance he’d slipped into just before throwing Aislinn completely off-kilter. Keith frowned at him and cocked his head to the side, thinking, the movement itself yet another confirmation Aislinn could not run from. “Kian again,” Keith pointed out softly, a distant look slipping into his eyes once more. “Who exactly is he?” Aislinn was unsurprised by the question. Keith had already asked it once, and with the reappearance of the name, Aislinn doubted he’d be able to resist asking a second time. Kian had always had a tendency toward subtle persistence, never one to fully let go of his curiosity.

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“Just someone I knew a long time ago.” Aislinn repeated the exact response he’d given at the museum despite the fact that he knew that it would probably not work a second time around. “Let’s try a different approach this time, then.” Keith pulled his feet onto the red sofa he was seated on and turned to face him. An alltoo-familiar image flashed through Aislinn’s mind, consisting of a red sofa, a glass of wine, and a fireplace exactly like the one to Keith’s right—the dream tapestry that had started it all. His breath hitched and he waited for the world to shift or to end. Reality rushed in instead. “Did you even hear a word I just said?” Keith waved a hand before his face in a bid to get Aislinn to notice him. That alone might have been successful, but it was what he said next that truly got Aislinn’s attention. “You know, for someone as jaded about dreams as you are, you certainly seem to daydream a lot.” “I wasn’t daydreaming. I was—” “Reminiscing. I know.” Keith finished his sentence for him, waving away any further protest he may have made. “You know, losing yourself in memory is another form of dreaming.” Keith’s words stirred something deep within Aislinn, a truth he was not willing to face. “No… I… uh….” “Never mind that.” Aislinn swallowed a sigh of relief when Keith’s second interruption saved him from delving too far into his heart and the things he’d left buried there. Keith, however, was not done with him yet, and by letting one topic drop, he pounced back on another, one every bit as sensitive as the one he’d just let slide. “Since you don’t want to tell me who Kian is, I’m going to give you my guess instead.” “Keith, I really—” “I’m speaking right now. Let me have my say, and then you can have yours. Kian is someone you care about deeply. A friend or a lover….” Aislinn tensed, regretting the motion even before it was fully complete. Keith was watching him like a hawk, and he’d just given 62

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himself away. Keith’s eyes filled with awareness as he picked up on the subtle clues he was so obviously looking for. “Lover it is.” Keith murmured, confirming Aislinn’s suspicion that he was fishing for information before continuing. “And you lost him. Either a breakup….” A pause. “Or death….” Another pause, one in which Aislinn flinched, despite every attempt not to, giving himself away again. “I’m sorry, Ashley,” Keith finished softly. The pity in his eyes grated on Aislinn’s nerves, making him defensive. “I neither want nor need your pity,” Aislinn growled. “What or who Kian was to me is none of your business. It was over a long time ago, and it no longer has any bearing in my life.” “That’s what you think.” Brigid’s voice interrupted the tirade of hurt he was about to let loose upon Keith and drew Aislinn’s attention sharply to her. She stood in the entrance to the living room, wielding a spoon, which she proceeded to wave in his direction, punctuating each word. “It has more bearing on your life than you’ll ever admit to. It’s also very much Keith’s business, and you know it. You can’t convince me you’re that blind, and denial will only get you so far.” With those few words, Brigid confirmed a suspicion that had been bothering Aislinn from the moment he received the request to weave a certain tapestry. There was little doubt now that Brigid had known all along whom Keith was. “You knew. You knew all along whose tapestry it was, and you still let me weave it? Why?” He felt betrayed, in the deepest sense of the word. He’d trusted Brigid, thought she always had his back, and the realization that she’d let him make the biggest mistake in his life stung more than he cared to admit. “I just wanted to let you know dinner’s ready. You’ll have to eat without us, though. Sarah and I are going out. We’ve decided to have a girl’s night out so we can get to know each other better.” Brigid blatantly ignored his question, changing the topic as effortlessly as the wind changed directions. With that said, she turned and walked out, not

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giving Aislinn time to gather an appropriate response. The soft click of the front door closing broke the awkward silence a few moments later, pointedly echoing through the room. Aislinn and Keith were now completely alone. Despite Brigid’s warning, the sound managed to startle them both, spurring them into motion. “I have to go to the bathroom,” Aislinn muttered just as Keith, too, muttered his excuse. “Guess I’ll go dish up.” And with that they parted company, each fleeing the demons in their hearts. Clicking the bathroom door closed, Aislinn leaned against the door, taking deep breaths in a bid to rid himself of the sick feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. Recent events swirled around in his mind, a kaleidoscope of error and coincidence playing out too perfectly for it to be anything but planned, and he knew Brigid had to be behind it all. Shaking himself back into motion, he headed for the basin and turned the tap on, lost in memories he’d long ago buried deep in his heart. He’d missed Kian more than he’d realized, and now that he’d stumbled upon his soul again, he didn’t know how to handle the nostalgia consuming him from the inside out. He remembered all the happiness he’d shared with Kian, the smiles, the touches, the secret knowing looks, the laughter, and the sweet impromptu kisses, but most of all he recalled the spontaneity. Neither he nor Kian had ever thought too deeply on what had drawn them together. They’d merely accepted it and let it sweep them away, but all that had unfortunately changed when Kian died, and Keith was not what Aislinn had expected. Kian had been his light, his life, and his heart, and Aislinn yearned for the return of that connection with every fiber of his being. Reaching into the basin, Aislinn splashed water onto his face, blankly staring at his own reflection in the mirror, unable to separate himself from the conflict in his heart. Images of Kian, both from then and now, rushed around, vying for recognition, demanding that he admit to that which lay before him. But for the life of him, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t reconcile the man he’d known so long ago with the 64

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man he had become. A soft knock on the bathroom door pulled him back into the present. “Ashley? You okay in there?” The soft concern in Keith’s voice made him want something he hadn’t wanted in a long time. Ignoring the fact that he really should not be acting upon the desire, he opened the door and pulled Keith into his arms, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to take in the scent of his hair. It smelled like rain and trees, different from the scent of spring and citrus that had followed Kian around. Keith did not pull away. Nor did he protest. Instead he stilled in Aislinn’s arms, making the moment strangely serene. Past and present merged. The body in his arms felt so familiar, lean, strong, and warm. It felt like he’d done this a hundred times before, because he had— several lifetimes ago. Yet at the same time, it was different. Keith was taller than Kian had been, his scent was different, and the hair tickling Aislinn’s nose was just a touch coarser. Despite all of the differences, though, it felt right. It felt like this was where they belonged—together. Unfortunately the moment was over all too quickly, and the reality of the differences came crashing in. Kian was dead. The person he had been all those years ago was also dead, and the person he’d become was still in essence a stranger to Aislinn. Aislinn withdrew from the embrace, hating the reluctance with which he had to force himself to do it. Logically he knew it was the right thing to do. Keith knew him even less than he knew Keith, memories of his past life forbidden to him. Part of him, however, wished he could simply erase all the years they’d been apart, erase all the lives Kian had lived without him and return to what they had been. Keith stepped back, avoiding his gaze, and for a moment Aislinn regretted giving in to the impulse to embrace him, but the regret was fleeting. He could still feel the warmth of Keith’s skin upon his own and it was a pleasant feeling. One he never realized he craved. Unable to stop himself, he reached out to touch Keith again. He caressed his cheek, savoring the soft feeling beneath the pad of his thumb. “I missed 65

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you.” The words slipped past his lips before he could think better of it. Keith flinched, reacting to Aislinn’s few whispered words as if they were a gunshot. He pulled away entirely, forcing Aislinn to drop his hand, before speaking. “Dinner’s getting cold.” He shifted, eyes darting around a room he should already know. It shouldn’t hurt. It couldn’t hurt, yet it did. Keith’s avoidance cut sharply into Aislinn’s heart. Fighting to ignore the raw emotion, Aislinn nodded, walking past Keith, and entered the kitchen. “Then I guess we should eat it before it does.” He tried to keep his tone light, but his voice broke midway through the sentence, betraying him without his consent. He ignored the urge to glance back to see if Keith noticed and stepped into the kitchen, settling down at the table. He reached for the food and ladled a decent portion onto his plate, taking his time before glancing up to meet Keith’s eyes. Keith was sitting across from him, watching him carefully, wary confusion clear in his eyes. It was more than apparent that he thought Aislinn had lost his mind. Little did he know, he’d never had it to begin with. Ignoring the question he could see in Keith’s eyes, he handed the ladle to Keith and began to eat his meal without another word exchanged between them. And so, for the second time in as many weeks, they spent a meal in awkward silence. Aislinn gathered his dishes. “Well, I guess I’d better get going, then.” He stood and moved over to the sink, placing his plate inside before heading for the front door. Keith followed mutely in his wake. Just as he turned to say an awkward goodbye he was not looking forward to, Aislinn was struck by a sudden revelation. “Brigid is my transport!” The wince Keith gave at his exclamation did not bode well. “The girls left a note.” He turned and rushed back to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a small, tomato-sauce-splattered piece of paper and handing it to Aislinn.

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We’ll be out all night. Don’t wait up for us. ☺ It was the all too innocent smiley at the end of the note that really did it. Aislinn snapped. Brigid had gone too far this time. “Sin é! Go hifreann leat!” He proceeded to tear the piece of paper into tiny pieces, cursing Brigid in his native tongue, completely forgetting where he was. He knew Brigid had done this on purpose. All of it was planned, and he wanted nothing more than to send her into the deepest and darkest of nightmares he could conjure. He prepared to find a way to do just that when Keith’s softly spoken response to his rant brought his rage to a grinding halt. “Tá brón orm. I’m sorry.” The apology was repeated in English, but it did nothing to hide the fact that it had been said in Irish first. “What?” “I’m sorry.” Keith repeated, this time only in English. He reached for the landline in his hallway. “My car is currently in the shop. My cylinder head cracked, and it will take them some time to fix it, so I can’t take you home myself, but I can call you a cab if you like.” He lifted the handset to his ear, absently biting his lip as he dialed a number. Aislinn continued to watch him, still trying to process Keith’s response and the impact of what it meant. “You understood what I said?” he asked, suddenly ashamed. Losing his temper and telling someone to go to hell was not exactly an impression he wanted to leave Keith with. “No.” Keith frowned, his response absentminded. It was clear he was focusing on the phone and not on the conversation at hand. “I didn’t understand it, but I could hear you were upset. Tone remains a universal language.” Keith’s response sent goose bumps down Aislinn’s skin. Keith

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had unwittingly replied in Irish, yet he claimed not to understand it. Aislinn’s thoughts veered right back to all the previous things Keith had said without realizing it. Each of them had been unexpected, fleeting, and sure, soft reprimands directed at him. There was only one logical explanation for it. Kian’s soul had slipped out in those moments, perhaps in response to Aislinn’s. It was both a disconcerting and exhilarating realization. He watched as the frown on Keith’s face deepened. His finger moved to redial, only to pause. A strange stillness settled over Keith’s body, clearly informing Aislinn that something was wrong. When Keith tapped the phone several times, Aislinn was hit by a suspicion he didn’t really want to contemplate. But it was a truth he could not run from. Dropping the phone down, Keith turned to him and confirmed it. “It’s dead.”

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Spending the Night

“IT’S dead.” The deafening silence that followed his statement threatened to suffocate him, taunting Keith with the knowledge that fate was not done with him yet. The awkward evening he’d inadvertently found himself a part of was not yet over, and now it appeared he was stuck with Ashley. The realization made him feel more than a little trapped. Ashley stirred something deep within him, made him long for something he could not define, and pulled memories that were not his own to the fore. He didn’t know what to make of it and wanted nothing more than to pretend none of this had ever happened. Even though it was starting to look surprisingly lackluster in comparison to what it had become, part of him wished he could go back to the life he’d been leading before he’d met Ashley. It was comforting, familiar, and safe. “Dead?” The dismay in Ashley’s tone was clear, merely reinforcing Keith’s reluctance. “How am I supposed to get home now? Is there a bus I can take?” Keith glanced at the clock on the wall—ten fifteen p.m.—and shook his head. “Last bus into town runs at nine thirty.” Ashley frowned and began to pace, muttering darkly under his breath. “Damn Brigid. What the hell do you think you’re doing? This 69

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isn’t going to work, you know. It’s too late. It’s been too long. We’re not the same people anymore. How the hell are we supposed to make this work? What are you thinking? Wait, a better question right now would be are you even thinking at all?” His voice rose with the last exclamation, and he stopped dead, turning to frown at Keith. “So what now?” The furrow in Ashley’s brow deepened, and Keith had the sudden urge to brush his finger along it, gently tracing the path it took across Ashley’s face so he could wipe it away. Lost in the sudden urge, he reached out to brush his fingers over Ashley’s skin, the soft, warm texture bringing the nerves in his fingertips to life. Keith was halfway across the line before Ashley’s words sank in, bringing with them a hearty dose of reality. Dropping his hand, he glanced away, feeling as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I guess you can stay here.” Keith turned and headed to his own bedroom, trying really hard to ignore the sense of excitement within him. This was supposed to be an inconvenience, not a treat. “Sarah is using the spare bedroom, and even though the note says they’ll be out all night, she may return before we’re up. I have a spare mattress if you don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” Keith realized he was rambling and forced himself to stop. “The floor’s fine.” Keith nodded and pulled a spare mattress out from behind his wardrobe, sliding it across the floor. He dropped it beside his bed before pulling out a spare pair of pajama pants. “The bathroom’s on your right. Feel free to take a shower.” That said, he turned away and proceeded to make the bed, doing his utmost to ignore Ashley’s presence and the strange yet oddly pleasant things it was doing to his nerves. “Thank you.” Ashley’s soft words trickled through his mind as he left the room, leaving Keith alone with the chaos in his mind.

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Tiny drops of water glistened on smooth tanned flesh, trickling slowly down to reveal the naked skin below. Soapy white bubbles followed in their wake only to be chased away by more water flowing smoothly over firm muscle, outlining the tone of the body currently getting gloriously wet. Pale threads of mist rose from the ground, reaching out to caress the exposed skin, embracing and shrouding the bathing figure, hiding him from his sight, but the mystery merely added to rather than detracted from his excitement, urging him forward. Keith licked suddenly dry lips, hunger coiling in his belly as he stepped forward to claim the vision before him. He trailed his eyes over the silhouette, tiny details revealed as the misty curtain parted with each step forward, each glimpse better and clearer than the one that came before. The tiny streams of water continued their downward journey, playing with him, taunting him softly as they trickled over shape and form he longed to see, touch, and taste, down the lean column of a neck, flowing over a shoulder before traveling over the curve of the man’s lower back. They paused there for a moment, waiting for their friends to gather the pool, giving each drop the last nudge it needed to push it over and into forbidden territory, gloriously running over the large curve of a buttock, racing now with the final destination in sight, across a thigh, over the back of a knee, down a calf, all the way to the ankle. That was as far as his gaze got, running back up the sleek body, going against the flow like salmon seeking to mate now that he was close enough to touch the warm body. Giving in to the inevitable flow of his desire, he reached out, wrapping his arms around slick, firm flesh, relishing the subtle ripple his touch triggered. Taking advantage of his element of surprise, he ran his hands farther up, carelessly disrupting the established flow of water, the addition of his hands upon the firm flesh ceaselessly changing the patterns of flow. Humming in pleasure, he lapped at the flesh beneath his lips, catching wayward trickles and following their paths up a hard shoulder blade, traveling smoothly over soft flesh right into the groove just

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below the neck, settling to suck the tender skin there. A shiver coursed through the body pressed against him, echoed by his own, the movement pressing him closer, the throbbing heat in his groin jumping in anticipation when it settled in a tight crack. Thrusting eagerly up, he slid his hands back down, rushing toward another goal, this time eager to join the water’s natural downward flow over pecs, tight, firm nipples, hint of abs and hips, approaching a rougher destination. Smiling in anticipation, he glanced up to meet stormy silver eyes grown dark in pleasure. In that instant of recognition, the image shattered, shifting wildly out of control. Bright shards of color swirled around him, and the pleasant warmth in his arms was replaced by icy wind, fear and confusion thick in his blood as he was thrown from one reality straight into another, far less pleasant one. His stomach lurched, and he fought down nausea as he was suddenly surrounded by pain and chaos. Turning, he found himself surrounded by armies of men waging battle against one another. Blood, sweat, and tears bathed the scene, cries of grief mingling with cries of war and death to form a single tragic wail that rang through his ears with terrible finality. Panic took hold, urging him to run, but his feet refused to move, a strange sense of calm sweeping the panic away before he could register it. Breathing in deeply, he took a measured step forward, studying the carnage with but half a mind. He’d done this before, more times than he could count, and would do it again, just as many. He had a mission to fulfill, a list of names ingrained upon his mind, and he only had one more left to find: Ulysses. Scanning the field, he ignored the scattered colors surrounding him and focused entirely upon the task at hand, seeking to identify a single soul among many. It was something he’d mastered a millennium ago. His magic reached across the field, dancing over empty shells and broken shards, seeking the flames still burning brightly upon the battlefield. Finding them, it danced between them, seeking one in 72

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particular, a special one, one marked for collection, thus changing the flow of battle and the destined course of history. He found what he sought, senses drawn to his right to take in the magnificence before him. Ulysses—his soul was a bright burning flame flaring up with passion, determination, and conviction, greedily eating at the tallow of his life, drawing him ever closer to the sun and its consequences. Oh, what a steep price mortals must pay for glory. “You really should have paid more attention to Icarus’ tale,” Keith whispered, reaching for the twin blades upon his back. Lips curving up in satisfaction, he threw himself forward and prepared to reap the soul he’d been sent to gather. He only managed to take two steps forward when a searing pain coursed through his body, bringing him to his knees, twin blades falling uselessly from limp fingertips. His mind fought to comprehend what his body already knew, bright red liquid staining his clothes for the first time since he’d officially been initiated into the guild of Togairlan. It wasn’t possible. No mortal could see him, let alone touch him without his consent, yet the evidence remained stark before him. His life was trickling out between clenched fingers, the digits too slim to stem the flow that poured from the gaping wound in his gut. Glancing up in disbelief, he glimpsed a pair if bright green eyes, the yellow undertones within them the last thing he saw before darkness surged in to sweep him completely away. A scream tore Keith from his slumber, echoing in his ears with the maddening persistence of an alarm bell that simply refused to be turned off. The shadows in his room flickered before him, scattering the last shards of memory, leaving him completely disorientated. Despite the fact that the images were gone, the fear and sense of betrayal remained, coagulating deep within, his logical mind uselessly raging against the bars his emotions had formed. Shifting, Keith moved to get up, hoping that physical activity

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would tear him from the remainder of his nightmare, jagged thoughts helping little to ease the situation he found himself in. If he could only get the incessant screaming to stop, if he could only get to the light switch, if he could only chase away the shadows, then he could pretend it had never happened, and everything would be okay again. The scream died abruptly. Just as he managed to reach a halfseated position, warm hands prevented him from moving farther. “Shhh… it will be okay. It was just a dream.” The warm whispered baritone eased the tension in his body, allowing the firm, confident grasp to push him back down. The shadows stopped swirling, and his eyes drifted closed once more, deep emotional and physical exhaustion taking hold of him. Keith’s mind released the nightmare, focusing instead on the gentle words of comfort that continued to pour over him, strong hands brushing his hair back, the motion soothing the turmoil in his soul. “Go to sleep, love. No one’s going to hurt you. I’ve got you. I promise.” A warm body slipped into bed beside him, the sheets rustling softly with the motion. It didn’t make sense. There shouldn’t be anyone in bed with him, but it felt right, and he had no desire to question it any further than that. He curled into the heat, taking in the sweet familiar scent of warm skin, surrounded, embraced, and safe once more. It was as his mind calmed that the puzzle pieces began to fall into place, logic given free rein now that the emotional turmoil was past. The screaming had been Keith’s, and the strong arms now wrapped around him were Ashley’s. He knew that last realization should bother him, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care. The body beside him felt as if it belonged there, and his mind was too exhausted to engage in any form of protest. So he gave in to exhaustion and drifted off into comfortable, dreamless sleep.

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The Morning After

AISLINN woke to pleasant warmth, more relaxed than he could ever remember being. Humming, he took stock of his surroundings to find that he lay upon a soft mattress, cocooned within a warm, fluffy blanket. Stretching, he opened his eyes only to freeze mid-motion when reality came crashing in. Realizing he was not in the bed he was supposed to be sleeping in, he turned only to pause yet again. “Morning,” Keith greeted softly, watching Aislinn carefully. “Morning,” Aislinn responded uncertainly, trying to make sense of the situation he currently found himself in. He remembered showering and going to bed clothed in Keith’s pajama pants. He recalled lying down on the spare mattress and spending a good half hour trying to convince his body to go to sleep. His body had insisted on reacting to the knowledge that he was clothed in Keith’s clothes, and convincing himself that it did not matter had been far more difficult than it had a right to be. “Thank you.” Keith interrupted his train of thought, pulling his mind away from contemplating the merits of wearing something that had touched Keith’s skin. Aislinn shook his head in confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re thanking me for.” He sat up and peered around, trying to piece together how he’d ended up in Keith’s bed when he was supposed to be 75

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sleeping on the floor. “Last night.” Aislinn was just about to ask what Keith meant by that when he was interrupted yet again. The door banged open, and Sarah peered in, squealing before he could truly even begin to register her presence. “Guess what, Brigid! You were right! They are in bed together!” Giggling maniacally, she then proceeded to rush into the bedroom. The bed bounced as she leaped onto it in excitement. “I’m so happy for you, Bro.” Sarah embraced Keith. “You finally got some live action.” “I… no… Sarah!” Keith spluttered in response. “You got it all wrong. This is not what it looks like.” Keith wiggled, trying to work his way out of the stranglehold his sister had on him. “We didn’t sleep together. Well, technically we did sleep together, but we didn’t sleep together.” Aislinn heaved a mental sigh of relief, ignoring the pang of disappointment that accompanied it. At least one of his questions had been answered. This entire situation with Keith being Kian’s reincarnation was complicated enough as it was without adding impulsive sex to the mix. Moving around Sarah, he slipped out of bed and reached for his clothes, intending to change and go home where he could think things over in the peace of solitude. “Starting a new fashion trend, Ashes?” Aislinn turned toward the voice, unsurprised by Brigid’s presence in the doorway. Her comment was a obvious reference to the fact that Keith’s pajama pants were too short for him, but that did not faze him. What did disconcert him a touch, though, was the smug, self-satisfied expression on her face. “Nice of you to return, Brigid,” he responded coolly, slipping into his shirt. “Was last night a well-planned, deviously executed plan or merely a happy coincidence? Surely you couldn’t have known his sister would be here.” “What are you trying to imply, Ashes?” Brigid sauntered into the bedroom, her footsteps muffled by the thick, rich carpet on the floor. “I 76

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have better things to occupy myself with than planning your social life. Really, I’m not your personal assistant.” Aislinn shook his head, momentarily defeated. He knew Brigid had something to do with all of this. Too many things had fallen in place all in her favor for her not to be interfering, but he also knew that getting her to admit it was mission all on its own. He wasn’t awake enough or emotionally stable enough to engage in the argument extracting the admission of guilt would require. “Did you enjoy your night out?” he asked instead, reaching for his pants. “Not as much as I’m sure someone is about to enjoy the sight of your ass.” Brigid’s response triggered a giggle from Sarah and a pause from Aislinn. Glancing back, he noticed that both Sarah and Keith were watching him. “I had no intention of changing my pants here,” he lied, heading to the bathroom. He couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten all about Sarah and Keith as he changed. Brigid’s presence as he changed didn’t bother him in the slightest. He’d known her far too long to be concerned about her checking him out. As she so keenly pointed out, she had better things to occupy herself with. “But of course,” Brigid called after his retreating back, sardonic humor in her tone. Aislinn closed the bathroom door with a sharp click. He ignored the fact that the click was a tad more forceful than was entirely necessary and proceeded to change, momentarily distracted from the events of the previous night as he wondered what exactly Brigid had meant when she’d told him someone was about to enjoy the sight of his ass. Was she referring to Keith or to Sarah? Something told him it was the former, and the thought of Keith checking out his ass sent thrills of pleasure through his body.

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“AND you should have seen her in the club.” Sarah’s voice carried throughout the entire apartment, getting louder as Aislinn approached the kitchen. “All the men wanted to dance with Brigid, but she didn’t give them the time of day. It was the strangest thing.” Aislinn stepped into the kitchen, drawn by the promise of company. Sarah continued to speak, barely giving Aislinn a nod to acknowledge his presence. “They all stared at her as if she were a goddess gracing them with her presence, and she played the part perfectly. If I weren’t already married and taken, I’d have been kind of affronted that none of the men even seemed to notice me. Many of the other ladies were upset, but they didn’t do anything about it, and Brigid didn’t care that they were glaring at her.” “Sounds just like Brigid,” Aislinn commented, sliding into a seat. Keith smiled at him and slid a cup of coffee his way. “You’ll need to excuse my sister. Once she starts talking, she doesn’t stop.” Keith sat down beside Aislinn, giving Aislinn his full attention despite the fact that Sarah still appeared to be talking. “You really don’t remember last night?” Sarah stopped talking just as Keith spoke, causing the question to echo in the sudden silence. Aislinn glanced around and found all eyes upon him, everyone waiting for his response. “Can we please have this conversation another time?” The night’s events were coming back to him in fragments, and he wasn’t exactly comfortable speaking about what happened with both Sarah and Brigid avidly listening. He didn’t know Sarah all that well and wasn’t sure he trusted her, and Brigid certainly didn’t need more fodder to feed her interference campaign. Guilt crept up on Aislinn when Keith remained silent. The hurt expression on Keith’s face sent a sharp pang through his gut, twisting up his insides so thoroughly it made him feel physically ill. Unable to bear the sensation, Aislinn sighed in defeat and stood. “All right, let’s take this somewhere private instead,” he conceded, glancing sharply at Brigid and Sarah. Keith nodded and stood to follow, letting Aislinn lead him out 78

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without another word. Aislinn made his way back to Keith’s bedroom, only one thought in mind. He wanted to be as far away from Brigid as physically possible. This was a matter that belonged between Keith and him, and Aislinn intended to keep it there. Closing the bedroom door with a soft click, he took a deep breath and turned to face Keith once more, taking a moment to gather the courage to say what he needed to say. “What were you dreaming about last night?” Aislinn asked softly. Keith tensed with the question, and Aislinn could almost see the secrets and lies they’d each told hanging between them, complicating matters even further. “I don’t remember.” Keith’s response was far too tense and abrupt to be true, and Aislinn didn’t believe it for a single moment. “Then let me help you jog your memory. I woke up to the sound of your screaming,” Aislinn said, heading for the window. The events of the previous evening were becoming clearer with every word he said, and he now remembered what had woken him. Keith had been screaming in the middle of the night, but it was what he’d been saying that had affected him more than the screaming itself. “You were speaking in your sleep.” Aislinn shivered, despite the warmth seeping in through the window. “In Irish. You were accusing someone of betraying you. You accused him of being a traitor to the Togairlan.” Aislinn turned to face Keith as he said the last, still trying to deal with the impact of what he’d heard Keith say. “That can only mean one thing. I can’t run from it anymore, no matter how much part of me may still want to. You are Kian’s reincarnation.” The Togairlan existed only in the immortal realm. They were the choosers of the slain, and their main purpose was to fetch mortal souls during battles and mass disasters. They were meant to collect those destined to die and had the power to change the very course of history based merely on who they decided take and who they decided to leave. Every soul involved was left unaware of the other worldly touch, the survivors never truly aware how lucky they really were.

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The souls that were gathered by the Togairlan never saw or met their reapers. The only way Keith could remember being betrayed by one is if he was immortal himself. Kian had possessed the blood of an immortal. He had been a Togairlan, and the only being that could have possibly killed Kian was another Togairlan. “Kian’s reincarnation?” Aislinn could hear the disbelief in Keith’s tone and knew exactly what Keith was going to say next. “Let’s see if I’ve got it right. Kian is your dead lover, right?” Aislinn nodded when Keith paused, remaining silent. If he had any hope of getting Keith to understand him, Keith needed to draw the conclusions by himself. “And you think I’m the reincarnation of your dead lover?” This declaration was followed by another nod from Aislinn, Aislinn’s heart beating rapidly against his chest. “You’re completely insane. You do realize that, right?” “Why?” Aislinn’s question was soft, the single word reverberating through the thick atmosphere. The innocent nature of the question raised the level of tension in the room. “Let’s assume I believe in reincarnation, which is a far stretch of the imagination in and of itself. We as mortals living out our current life cycle are not meant to remember who and what we were in any of our other lifetimes. Now, I know what you’re going to say.” Keith began to pace up and down, no longer looking at Aislinn. “I have dreams that seem to contradict that very statement. Now let’s assume my dreams are a memory of another life. I would then be an anomaly, seeing as I can remember snippets of whom I was. Logically speaking, we can add an assumption here, so let’s assume that as with everything else, reincarnation allows someone to occasionally be the exception to the rule. Now we can mix some mathematics into this. The probability of finding someone who is the exception to the rule is slim. What then is the probability of finding two souls that know each other, both the exception to some cosmic rule that has yet to be proven, let alone understood?” Aislinn stared at Keith. Brigid had always accused Aislinn of

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overthinking things, but he couldn’t imagine displaying the kind of overanalysis Keith had just displayed. He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re oversimplifying things, Kian. You’re forgetting that there are things in this world that do not follow logic or reason, things that a mortal mind cannot even imagine, let alone comprehend. I never said I was reincarnated. Thus far, I have lived but one life.” “But you…. How…. I…. You don’t look that much older than me.” “I’m three thousand four hundred and seventy-five years old, Kian, and the last time I saw you was the day you died. Your immortality was stolen from you by another Togairlan, and your soul was thrown into the mortal circle of reincarnation, lost to me for the last three thousand two hundred and four years.”

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Soul’s Essence

OVER three thousand years old? Keith couldn’t believe Ashley seriously thought he was over three thousand years old. The fact that he seemed to expect Keith to believe it as well was merely the proverbial cherry on top. He’d stopped pacing entirely and was now staring at Ashley, shocked by what he’d just heard. The moment he managed to process just how ludicrous the statement was, he began to laugh, his laughter colored by hysteria. He knew Ashley was dead serious, and Keith’s heart couldn’t help but believe it was the truth despite the fact that his head couldn’t seem to agree. “That would make you my father something like a hundred and thirty times over!” Keith managed to say in between laughter, seriously questioning his own sanity while he was at it. “No, Keith, it wouldn’t. Even though your current body may not be all that old, your soul is every bit as old as mine is, and you know it. You know those dreams are your memories. You know they happened a long time ago, and you know exactly who you are. It’s only a matter of time before you consciously remember it all.” The soft manner in which Ashley replied and the dead certainty in his words killed Keith’s laughter abruptly. The words resonated deep within his soul, and he suddenly feared the repercussions that would follow meeting Ashley in the first place. “I….” Keith hesitated, 82

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glancing toward the window and the sunlight that streamed into his room, suddenly longing for its warmth to seep deep into his bones. He was cold and scared and felt more cornered than he’d ever managed to feel in his life. “I need some air.” Ashley nodded and headed for the door. “How about we take a walk?” he offered softly, pausing to brush a forefinger across Keith’s cheek. Keith shivered. He could feel the touch all throughout his body. The nerves upon his face sent the sensation right into his gut, the new emotion joining the jumble of tension, confusion, and fear already roiling thick within him. Keith took a step back, breaking the connection in order to give himself space to think. He took a deep breath, forcing composure before nodding in agreement. A walk was exactly what he needed— fresh air to clear his thoughts, sunshine to warm him, and open space to make him feel less claustrophobic. “You really believe all of this, don’t you?” Keith asked the moment they stepped outside. “You really believe you’re over three thousand years old and that I’m the reincarnation of your long lost lover.” Keith rubbed his arms, trying to rid himself of the goose bumps on his flesh. “I thought that had already been established, and I think you believe it too. You’re just scared to admit it.” “No, I don’t believe it.” The moment the words slipped past his lips, Keith knew he was lying to himself and to Ashley, but he couldn’t help it. The sheer enormity of it all was simply too much to accept without at least making an attempt at a protest. “I’m not some kind of immortal, and I certainly never was and never will be your lover.” Ashley grabbed him the moment he finished speaking, swallowing any further protest with a firm, demanding kiss. Ashley parted Keith’s lips and claimed his mouth, his tongue sweeping aggressively through the cavern. The embrace reached out to Keith’s 83

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very soul, and the sheer sweet sensation that accompanied it consumed all logical thought and reason, sweeping Keith into another plane, where the only thing that mattered was the feeling of completion. He’d just found the other half of his soul, and there was nothing his logical mind could do to deny it. Reaching up, Keith laced his fingers through Ashley’s hair, too lost in the heated familiarity of the kiss to realize he was giving himself over to Ashley’s demand. He leaned into the kiss, eagerly reciprocating every nip, every brush of tongue against tongue, and every sound, the familiarity of the ritual guiding him. Keith knew exactly how Ashley liked it, knew how to draw sweet whimpers and moans from Ashley’s lips, knew when to aggressively take that which was his, and knew when to retreat. He moaned in delight when Ashley’s tongue thrust deep into his mouth, seeking out Keith’s, and the heat that accompanied the movement threatened to turn his knees to jelly. The moan changed to a whimper of distress, and he attempted to follow after Ashley’s lips when the other man pulled away. Ashley, however, was on to him and managed to remain just barely beyond Keith’s reach yet still close enough for his warm breath to trickle over Keith’s parted lips. “Never were and never will be my lover? That is what you said, right?” Ashley’s hoarse whisper sent a trickle of desire through Keith, the emotion dancing over every nerve is his overly sensitive skin to pool in his gut, but Keith’s mind and body were not in agreement. Keith nodded absently but didn’t pull away from Ashley’s body. Logically he could see and understand the truth in Ashley’s statement. He had indeed said that, but his body insisted on turning every word into a lie, action betraying word. He wanted Ashley, wanted to be held by him, kissed by him, and loved by him. He wanted to feel the silky heat of Ashley’s skin sliding against his own and longed to run his fingers through Ashley’s hair. He shivered when Ashley once again ran a finger over his face, 84

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tracing his brow, his cheekbone and his nose before coming to a stop on his bottom lip. “I’ve missed you,” Ashley whispered, turning Keith’s bottom lip down. “Kian.” When Ashley whispered Kian’s name, Keith was plunged right back into reality, feeling as if he’d suddenly been thrown into a pool of icy cold water. Ashley didn’t see him, didn’t see Keith. Ashley was holding on to some long lost dream, and Keith wasn’t certain he could live up to the expectations that invariably accompanied an illusion held dear in someone’s mind. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back in a bid to compose himself once more. He couldn’t think with Ashley’s scent in such close proximity and sure as hell couldn’t relax with the memory of Ashley’s gentle touch upon his skin. “Tell me about him, about Kian,” Keith said. Keith avoided looking into Ashley’s eyes in the hopes of avoiding the disappointment he feared he would find there. Keith’s request was followed by a moment of silence, unspoken questions, confusion, and conflict hanging thick in the afternoon air, reaching out to stifle him. Just when Keith was convinced he could bear it no longer, Ashley broke the silence. “Kian was a very bubbly, positive person. He loved both his job and the people in his life. But he was also a Togairlan. Because he dealt with death so much, he promised himself he would live his own life to the fullest, and that’s what he—” “Wait a minute.” Keith raised his hand to interrupt Ashley. “You’re losing me. Can we take a few steps back here? What is a Togairlan?” Ashley paused and frowned, seeming to gather his thoughts before speaking once more. “I’m not sure how to put it into terms you’d understand. A Grim Reaper?” The frown deepened and Ashley shook his head after a moment. “No, that’s not right. A Valkyrie?” “Valkyrie are women,” Keith pointed out with a raised brow. “Kian was male.”

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Ashley sighed, his shoulders slumping with the motion. “I knew you’d say that,” he said with a fond smile. Ashley’s eyes lost focus, his thoughts lost in memory, and it took some effort to willingly shake himself out of his trance. “Valkyrie are the Norse legend for Togairlan. A long time ago, Kylea, one of our female Togairlan, fell in love with a mortal. She gave up her immortality to live her life out with him and shared the story of her origins with her lover. He in turn shared it with his friends. The idea of a female warrior who also played the part of a Grim Reaper seemed to appeal to the mortals of the time. The men liked the idea of having their souls gathered by a beautiful woman. So the legend of the Valkyrie was born.” Keith smiled at the story, the romantic twist making it seem more like a flight of fancy than actual fact. The avid historian within him, however, filed it away for further analysis at a later stage. He wanted to direct the conversation back to Kian, driven by a morbid sense of curiosity he did not wish to admit to. “Okay. Now that I know what a Togairlan is, you can tell me more about Kian.” “Kian was everything I am not.” Ashley took a few steps forward, his body slipping into Keith’s peripheral vision. “He was playful, social, and mischievous. He loved to tease me and took great pleasure in trying to get me to step out of my shell, as he put it.” “I, however, am none of those things,” Keith pointed out, falling into step beside Ashley. The relaxed pace at which they walked was a soothing distraction from the serious nature of the conversation at hand. “I’m not bubbly and impulsive and certainly am not social. I very much prefer my own company to that of others.” Ashley shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. People change.” “But not usually that much, Ashley. Changing from being an outgoing social person into someone who would far prefer to stay home with a book is a very key fundamental change in personality, and isn’t it a person’s personality that you’re meant to fall in love with?” “A person’s apparent outward personality isn’t what defines the

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essence of someone’s soul, Keith.” Ashley reverted to calling him Keith. “There are many things that influence the face we choose to let others see, all of it impacted by the circumstances in our lives. It’s true that some are more prone to being extroverted while others are more prone to be introverted, but deep pain, loss, and betrayal can turn even the most extroverted personality deep into hiding. That doesn’t mean he isn’t still in there.” Keith got the message loud and clear. Ashley was referring to Keith’s soul. Contrary to the declaration that he was not the same person anymore, Ashley was telling him that Kian was still very much a part of him. It was an implication Keith didn’t want to hear. Keith feared Ashley might be right, and it was a reality he didn’t wish to contemplate, let alone face. “This time it’s you who’s oversimplifying things, Ashley. You’re forgetting one key factor. Sometimes those experiences you refer to so lightly have the power to irrevocably change someone.” “You’re not the only one who has been irrevocably changed, Keith.” Ashley stopped and turned to face Keith once more, pain and grief etched firmly onto his face. “I spent over three thousand years regretting the fact that our last few moments together were spent yelling at each other.” Keith’s heart skipped a beat, and he stared at Ashley, not sure what to make of the admission. “We argued before I died?” “Yes, Keith. We argued badly the day you died.” Though it had no right to, the pain and sorrow in Ashley’s voice threatened to break Keith’s heart into two. His chest was filled with a deep, dull ache, heavy and thick as it began to spread throughout his body. “What did we argue about?” Keith’s voice came out hoarse. “You accused me of sleeping with someone else.” Ashley’s confession hit him with the force of a hammer, adding a distinctive sense of betrayal to the pain already thick within Keith. “You said I betrayed you.”

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Betrayal

THE sound of the door slamming open reverberated throughout the room, drawing Aislinn’s attention. His face lit up when he spotted his lover. Kian’s arrival caused warm emotion to bubble up within him. He was so happy, he thought he would burst, and he leaped to his feet in a bid to rid himself of the excess energy that suddenly appeared to have him in its grip. Today was the day he would ask Kian to share the rest of his existence with him. He knew he was young to be making such a serious commitment but didn’t care because he knew there would never be another, and he couldn’t wait to give Kian one of the matching pair of rings he’d made especially for the occasion. Wishing to give expression to the happiness within, he approached the brunet in the doorway, arms held wide open with the intent to embrace him and hold him close. “Kian! I’m so glad you’re back. Why did you leave just when we—” “Don’t.” Aislinn stopped dead at the abrupt word and the censure he could hear in it. He slowly dropped his arms, the happiness and excitement he felt replaced with a sense of confusion and a niggling premonition that something was terribly wrong. “Kian, I thought we—” “Why?” Kian once again interrupted what Aislinn was about to say. The pain in Kian’s voice cut Aislinn to the core, leading Aislinn to regret the previous evening, the evening he’d made love to Kian for the

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first time. He’d wanted to for so long and had thought Kian had wanted it, too, only it looked like he’d been wrong. If Kian’s reaction was anything to go by, he’d pushed Kian into something the other man was not ready for. That would explain why Kian left before he woke without even saying so much as a good-bye or “I love you.” Aislinn moved to apologize, moved to touch the man he loved more than spinning dream tapestries when the next words out of Kian’s mouth chilled him to the bone. “Why did you sleep with him?” “Who?” Aislinn lost himself within a sea of confusion, his mind racing to put all the pieces together, but no matter how hard he tried, they simply refused to fit. Last night he’d slept with Kian. Kian should know that. He was there. As far as he was aware, he hadn’t slept with anyone else. He hadn’t wanted to, always more interested in having thread running through his fingers than he was of social affairs. “You know who!” Kian raised his voice, the very fact that he was doing so a clear indicator of just how distressed he really was. Kian usually preferred to be easygoing and always wanted to focus on the good things instead of the bad. Aislinn suspected it was his way of running away from something, but he never questioned it. It was Kian’s pain, and Kian would share it with him when he was ready to. Or so he’d thought until now. Suddenly he wished he had questioned it more. Maybe it would have been useful to help him understand where all of this was coming from. “Why did you sleep with Ty?” “Ty?” Aislinn was starting to feel a little like a broken record, but one-word responses were all he could handle as he continued to fight to come to grips with the reality of the situation he was faced with. “Tynan! How could you sleep with Tynan? How could you betray me like that?” The single word seemed to be all Kian needed. Aislinn’s confused question triggered a flood of emotion and set loose the tirade that Kian proceeded to pour out in his direction. “I thought you loved me! I trusted you! I gave you my heart, and then you turn around and tear it to pieces by sleeping around behind my back!”

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Angry tears of grief poured down Kian’s face, and Aislinn wanted nothing more than to draw Kian into his arms and comfort him. The fact that Kian was accusing him of sleeping with someone else, however, told him his gesture would not be appreciated, and it was this reality that propelled his mind back into gear. “Sleeping around behind your back? Kian, I never slept with anyone behind your back. In fact, I’ve never slept with anyone except—” “Don’t lie to me, Aislinn!” Kian’s outcry drowned out the rest of Aislinn’s sentence. “Don’t demean me like that. I saw you! I saw you with Tynan.” The last outburst was followed by dead stillness, both sound and movement set on pause as the sheer enormity of what had just been said seeped slowly in through the cracks of a hurt and confused soul. Aislinn could do nothing but stare at Kian in shock, convinced either Kian, himself, or both of them were losing their minds, for there could be no other logical explanation for the accusation that hung between them. Aislinn tore himself away from the memory of his worst nightmare, back into the present to find himself in the same situation once again. Kian had stared at him in silence and then, just when he’d been convinced one of them would break, had turned and left him to deal with his own stunned disbelief. That was the last time Aislinn has seen Kian alive. Now he found himself back there, back in the moment that had changed his life, and this time he couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Not again. Reaching for Keith, he pulled the other man into his arms and told him what he should have told Kian all those years ago. “I never slept with anyone behind your back, Kian.” The admission came out in a hoarse whisper, full of remorse and regret. “I never slept with anyone but you. I should have told you that. I should have had the courage to admit I knew less about sex than you did, but I didn’t and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for letting my pride hurt you the way it did.” 90

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“I… Ashley….” Keith wiggled out of his grasp and blinked up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Even if I really am Kian’s reincarnation, I don’t remember that life. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember the argument, I don’t remember you, and I most certainly don’t remember being some kind of warrior, fighting to gather the souls of those who are meant to be dead. I barely know how to use a letter opener, let alone fight my way through an army.” The last comment was an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, and Aislinn appreciated the effort. Somewhere along the line, he’d allowed himself to get lost among demons he was not ready to face, and he was more than willing to take the new direction Keith was offering their conversation. “Don’t let your past self hear you say that. You’d be mortified. You were the smallest, most stubborn person I ever met and worked really hard to be that warrior you don’t remember being.” Aislinn smiled with the fond memory. “You wanted to prove to the world at large that size didn’t matter when you had sheer determination. You were right. You were the scariest, most efficient warrior in the bunch. You didn’t need anyone to take care of you. In fact, more often than not, you were the one taking care of me when we attracted the wrong kind of attention.” “So I was the itty-bitty harmless-looking man with a hidden mean streak,” Keith said, shaking his head. “I can’t say I like that picture much.” He smiled wryly up at Aislinn. “It seems some things don’t transcend the mortal-immortal line, though. I wasn’t kidding when I said I can barely handle a letter opener. I’ve cut myself opening letters more than anyone else I know.” “I think you might surprise your….” What Aislinn intended to say trailed off when he spotted an all-too-familiar flash of silver from the corner of his peripheral vision. Turning to face the movement, he tensed in shock, body ready to leap after the figure disappearing around the corner. He was dead certain that was Cathaoir, and that couldn’t be good news.

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Just as he took a step to run after Cathaoir, a flash of sudden movement from his right drew his attention, stirring a dark sense of premonition within him. A group of young men were coming directly up to Keith and him. Turning, Aislinn grabbed Keith’s upper arm, fighting to hide his dread. “I think we should go back,” Aislinn said softly, intending his comment for Keith’s ears only. “Why?” He felt Keith tense beneath his grasp, his own concern only rising further when one of the men in the group approaching them responded in Keith’s stead. “We’re just coming over for a friendly chat. We’re hurt that you want to leave before even giving us a chance to say hi.” The cold silver in the young man’s grasp belied the apparent innocent nature of his words and confirmed Aislinn’s suspicion that they were up to no good. Turning, Aislinn moved to flee, only to realize they were surrounded by six males in total, each armed with a switchblade. Aislinn turned back to face the young man who had spoken, assuming he was the leader of the gang. He slid his arm around Keith’s waist and used it as leverage to carefully position Keith behind him, hating the fact that he couldn’t shield him completely. “We have nothing of value.” Aislinn addressed them at large. “You’ve obviously made a mistake. Why don’t you just turn around and leave, and we can all pretend this never happened.” “We don’t make mistakes, mister.” The leader took a threatening step forward. Aislinn held his ground, not about to be intimidated. He knew that the moment he showed fear it would be over. “We don’t want no money. We already got paid for something else entirely.” Aislinn glanced toward the corner he had seen Cathaoir head for, and his blood ran cold when his wandering gaze locked upon icy blue eyes calmly watching the scene unfold. In that moment Aislinn’s suspicion was confirmed. Cathaoir was back in sight and completely unfazed by the realization that Aislinn had spotted him. “Really? And what, pray tell, might that be?” Aislinn asked with a calm he did not feel, once again facing the gang leader.

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“Your blood.” With that, the gang leader lunged forward, moving past Aislinn to close in on Keith instead. The moment Aislinn realized Keith was the actual target, he whirled around, sweeping Keith off his feet and into his arms. Dropping down, Aislinn curled his body around Keith’s and raised an arm in a bid to protect him. Sharp steel bit into his flesh, every nerve flaring in reaction as pain raced toward his mind. Aislinn took in a sharp breath to swallow the cry of pain and fought to think past it, hoping to find a way out of their current dilemma. Their opponents had them cornered, outnumbered, and weaponless, and the realization that they probably would not come out of this alive cut deep. The pain in his arm flared once again when the blade was withdrawn, a cruel laugh accompanying the action. “I see we have ourselves a hero,” the gang leader called out derisively, pausing to allow the rest of his gang to laugh. “That was such a valiant action. Pity it won’t help either of them. We’ll just have to kill them both, won’t we, boys?” A chorus of agreement followed the gang leader’s declaration. Fear coursed through Aislinn, causing him to look up to face the gang, hoping to spot an opening he and Keith could use to escape. He had to fight hard not to give in to the despondency threatening to consume him when he saw none. “But first, let’s have a little fun, shall we, boys?” The leader neared Aislinn, running a hand over Aislinn’s face. “They’re so pretty, full of fear and pain, blood dripping down their skin.” He drew the blade across Aislinn’s cheek, drawing a fine line in blood as he cut through the top layer of skin. Aislinn remained dead still, hoping their focus would remain on him and not shift toward Keith, who was currently trembling in his arms. “We should take a moment to admire their beauty before killing them, right? It would be a sacrilege not to. That way we can make it slow.” The knife trailed down Aislinn’s throat, nicking him. “And painful.” He shoved the blade into the hollow of Aislinn’s collarbone and twisted.

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Aislinn let out a cry of pain, unable to swallow it a second time, and the sound drew a malicious smile from the gang leader. “So, where shall we st—” The gang leader’s words were abruptly cut short by the distant sound of a siren headed right in their direction. “The dogs are coming!” one of the other gang members cried out, and the words were as effective as a sudden unexpected gunshot. The gang scattered and disappeared faster than mice scattering in the wake of someone entering a room, leaving the gang leader alone. The gang leader paused, eyes darting quickly around, for a moment resembling a deer caught in headlights before following in the wake of the rest of his gang, dark curse words escaping his lips as he fled. Aislinn leaped to his feet, acting before he could think, and headed for where he’d last seen Cathaoir, the silver-haired man no longer in sight. Keith momentarily safe, Aislinn had only one thought in mind—the burning need to confront the man who appeared to have orchestrated Keith’s attempted murder. Pain and fear forgotten, he hurtled around the corner only to run straight into a firm body unexpectedly blocking his path. If not for the fact that the other man reached out to catch him, Aislinn would have fallen flat on his ass. He looked up into cyan eyes, and what breath had not been knocked out of him during the impact caught in his throat. Bright red hair framed a strong, lean face etched with determination. “Let him go, Aislinn. Go back to comfort your lover, and let me deal with the treason in my ranks.” The command in Faelan’s tone was clear, and Aislinn could do nothing but obey. Brigid’s brother was, after all, the be all and end all when it came to having authority over others’ lives. As the leader of the Togairlan, he was not to be trifled with. “Cathaoir’s mine.”

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Patching Things Up

“THAT was the most idiotic, stupid, foolhardy thing anyone has ever done for me!” Keith exclaimed, dabbing at the blood still seeping from the wound on Ashley’s arm with a blood-soaked cloth. He couldn’t believe Ashley had protected him like that, getting wounded in the process. Even more irritating was Ashley’s point-blank refusal to go see a doctor when he obviously needed stitches. “How do you expect me to fix this when I’m not a doctor?” Keith dabbed at the wound once more, using a little more force that strictly necessary. Ashley’s ensuing sharp intake of breath gave Keith pause. “Sorry,” Keith muttered, dropping the cloth. “Why don’t you just let me take you to the hospital?” “I don’t need to go to a hospital.” Keith watched as Ashley picked up the cloth and continued the job he had abandoned. “Just get me a needle and some thread, and I’ll sew it shut.” Ashley dipped the cloth and rinsed it out in the iodine and water solution currently occupying the bathroom sink in Keith’s apartment. “What about infection?” Keith snatched the cloth back and proceeded to clean it properly, seeing as Ashley’s one-handed attempt wasn’t getting him all that far. “What are you going to do about that?” He handed the cloth back and crossed his arms, doing his utmost to direct the best glare he had in his repertoire at Ashley.

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“That’s why we’re cleaning it.” Ashley’s calm response only served to irritate Keith further. “And you’re a medical professional who knows when a wound is clean?” Ashley paused and caught his gaze, remaining silent for a long moment before speaking. “I should. I certainly cleaned enough of your wounds to know.” Keith tensed. It was clear that Ashley was referring to Kian, and that was a topic that made him more skittish than a wild horse, desperate not to go back there again for fear of having to face the truth he could sense in Ashley’s words. “Fine. Have it your way, then.” Turning, Keith stormed out and went to fetch the sewing kit Sarah had bought for him when he’d first moved into his own place. The attack had scared Keith. Facing the possibility of his own death had brought his darkest nightmare to the fore, and for a moment he’d relived dying all over again. He knew he was reliving it because part of him no longer doubted the fact that his dreams were memories of a past life, and the darkest was the one in which he had a blade thrust into his gut, his life slipping out between his fingertips. That was when he’d died. He knew that as certainly as he knew he now lived and breathed once again, and it threw everything he thought he knew about himself into disarray. The fact that he’d relived his own death, however, didn’t scare him nearly as much as Ashley’s cry of pain did when the thug thrust that blade into Ashley’s collarbone. That cry had cut him to the core, and for a moment all he’d been able to think about was the fact that Ashley was about to die. The realization that the thought of Ashley’s death scared him more than the thought of his own was a revelation he wasn’t certain he was ready to face. The moment Ashley had returned, bleeding all over the pavement, Keith had hustled Ashley back to his apartment with the intent to borrow Brigid’s car to take Ashley to the hospital. Brigid, however, had taken one look at Ashley and left without a word, dragging Sarah off

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along with her. Something in her expression had stilled Keith’s tongue, and he’d let her leave without letting as much as a protest leave his lips. The funny thing was that he wasn’t all that sure he regretted her departure. Picking up the sewing kit, Keith was about to rush back to the bathroom when a sudden thought stopped him short. The needle would need to be sterilized. He made his way to the kitchen and pulled a lighter from one of the drawers. Though not ideal, it would have to do. Keith headed back to the bathroom, pausing for a moment in the doorway to marvel at the way Ashley’s long dark hair managed to escape the ponytail he favored to fall into his face as he worked, now cleaning the ugly wound on his collarbone. “Here.” Keith spoke softly, taking the last few steps in to offer the sewing kit to Ashley. “Thanks.” Ashley nodded, dipping the cloth in a stronger solution of iodine this time in order to add the finishing touches to cleaning the wound. “Could you thread a needle for me, please?” Keith nodded and set the kit down beside him. He took a moment to wash his hands before sitting down on the floor before Ashley. Removing a needle, he lit the lighter and used the open flame to sterilize it before attempting to actually thread it as instructed. It took him several attempts to get it right because he couldn’t seem to rid himself of the trembling that had taken control of his muscles. He couldn’t believe Ashley was about to do this to himself. “Keith.” The warmth of Ashley’s hands on his drew Keith’s attention back to Ashley. “It’s all right. It’s really not all that bad. It looks worse than it is.” Ashley carefully took the needle from Keith’s suddenly still hands, tested the knot at the end of the thread, and then proceeded to run a cotton ball soaked in iodine over it, finishing the job Keith had started. Once he was satisfied, he calmly began to sew up the wound on his arm. Keith swallowed a few times, both horrified and mesmerized by 97

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the sight of the needle entering and exiting Ashley’s flesh, bright red blood still trickling from the wound. “It’s a knife wound. How can you say it’s not that bad?” he demanded, unable to accept Ashley’s calm reassurance and demeanor. “Because”—Ashley paused, frowning in concentration as he added a few more stitches to his arm—“unlike the one that you got the last time I saw you alive, this one is not going to kill me.” Ashley supported the thread with his teeth as he knotted it. He reached into the sewing kit and pulled out a pair of scissors, snipping the excess thread off before pulling it off the needle. “I’m going to need more thread. This one was in my mouth,” Ashley explained, holding the needle out to Keith once more. Keith accepted the needle and proceeded to rethread it, his mind distracted by the task at hand. “I don’t know how it worked in that little immortal world of yours, but you’re in my world now, Ashes.” Keith pulled the thread taut, knotted it, treated it with iodine as Ashley had, and then handed the needle back, only to frown in confusion when he realized Ashley was staring at him. “Ashley?” “You just called me Ashes.” Ashley reached for the needle but made no move to sew up the wound on his collarbone. “I did?” Keith frowned, backtracking through the conversation he’d just had with Ashley in an attempt to pinpoint when he’d let Brigid’s nickname for Ashley slip past his own lips, the word seeming to be too much of an endearment for his comfort. Realizing Ashley was right, he sighed in defeat. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I—” “Please.” Ashley cut his apology short. “Don’t apologize. I….” Ashley swallowed before shaking his head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything. Carry on.” Ashley’s voice had taken on a clipped tone. “Here.” Keith wiped his hands with the iodine-soaked cloth Ashley had abandoned in favor of the needle and thread and stood to take the needle, wanting nothing more than to break past the

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awkwardness that was developing between them. “Let me help. I don’t see how you’re going to manage that one on your own.” Ashley stared at him, and Keith held Ashley’s gaze. He wanted to tell Ashley that everything would be okay but couldn’t find the words to do so. The silent certainty of the moment was all he could offer. Seeming to accept the silent message, Ashley nodded and reached for the wound, hissing sharply when he used his hands to force it closed. “Okay. I think you can start now,” Ashley gasped out, his words filled with pain and fatigue. Keith nodded and proceeded to sew the wound shut. The first stitch was the hardest. The sight of the needle entering Ashley’s red skin was almost more than he could handle, and he had to force himself to shove the needle through, fighting desperately to ignore the fact that he was causing Ashley more pain. It’ll make it better, he mentally told himself before moving on to the next stitch. “I meant to ask you about that.” Keith nodded toward the red velvet pouch lying against Ashley’s chest. He’d wondered about it the moment he’d seen it but hadn’t found the right opportunity to inquire about it. Now, needing a distraction from the morbid path his thoughts insisted upon taking, seemed to be a better time than any. “What’s in it?” “This?” Ashley raised a hand to touch the pouch. “I don’t know.” Keith finished the next stitch. “You don’t know? You didn’t open it to find out?” “It was a gift from a friend. I promised—” Ashley paused to hiss. “I promised her I wouldn’t open it until the time was right.” “The right time? When will that be?” The stitches went more smoothly now that Keith was distracted from thoughts regarding the pain he was inflicting. “She didn’t say.” Keith paused, his next stitch put on hold. “She asked you not to

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open the pouch until the time is right but didn’t tell you what you’re supposed to be waiting for? Isn’t that a little obscure?” Ashley shrugged. “She said I’d know.” Keith shook his head as he resumed the task at hand. He couldn’t believe Ashley hadn’t as yet peered into the bag to see what it contained. “I’d have already opened it and peeked inside,” he muttered, falling silent to finish stitching the wound. When Ashley did not respond, Keith’s thoughts began to wander back to the attack. Each movement replayed in his mind allowing him to process exactly what it was that had occurred, leading him to only one conclusion. Ashley had risked his own life to protect Keith’s. “Thank you.” Stitching done, Keith tied a knot to keep the thread in place. “For protecting me.” He cut off the excess thread and turned from Ashley, afraid to let the depth of his emotion show. Sewing done, Keith then busied himself with bandaging both wounds to keep the stitches intact. “You’re my heart. I’ll always protect you, even though I know you can take of yourself.” Ashley’s words stirred an emotion deep within Keith, and he had to force himself to swallow the lump in his throat to keep from crying. So he forced himself to focus on the bandages instead. Once done, Keith tucked in the last bandage and turned to wash his hands, taking a moment to compose himself before turning back to face Ashley. “Guess we’re all done here, then.” Ashley nodded, moving to stand. “Guess we a… ar… rre….” He lost his balance and began to topple. Keith leaped into motion and caught him before he could hit the ground. Leaning into Ashley’s side, Keith wrapped his arms around him, resting his ear against the warmth of Ashley’s chest. “Guess blood loss makes a mortal body more unstable than an immortal one,” Ashley commented drily, the soft rumble of his words reverberating through Keith’s body now that he was pressed so intimately close. 100

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“Guess it does,” Keith agreed, leading Ashley to his bedroom and bed. Leaning down, he guided Ashley onto the bed before firmly pushing him down. “You should lie down and rest.” He turned to go. “Keith.” Keith turned back to face Ashley, only to have to fight with himself once more. The sight of Ashley sprawled on his bed was doing strange things to his stomach. “Yes?” “Please don’t go.” “I was going to make you some sweet tea to help with the lightheadedness,” Keith explained, the lonely undertone in Ashley’s words urging him to return to Ashley’s side. “I don’t want tea.” Ashley whispered. “Then what do you want?” Keith dropped his own voice to a whisper, drawn further into the moment by the look in Ashley’s eyes. “You.” The single word drew a few flip-flops from the general area of Keith’s stomach, happiness and nervousness dancing along his nerves. He was back at Ashley’s side before he could think, let alone stop himself, and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember taking the few steps needed to carry him there. Keith watched in silence as Ashley reached out to him. The warmth of Ashley’s palm the moment Ashley grabbed Keith’s wrist set Keith’s nerves alight, and he willingly allowed Ashley to coax him onto the bed. The moment Keith was within reach, Ashley reached up and ran his hands through Keith’s hair, holding his face firmly in place as he drew Keith closer. Keith licked dry lips, completely caught in the moment, but remained convinced he should at least make a customary protest to what he knew was coming. “I thought you were feeling light-headed,” he whispered hoarsely.

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“Hmm…,” Ashley agreed, his fingers burning a path across Keith’s cheeks. Keith tried again. “You shouldn’t be doing this if you’re feeling unwell.” “I’m doing this because I’m light-headed,” Ashley whispered in response, leaning in to drop a featherlight kiss onto Keith’s lips. “Everything about you makes me light-headed.” Another soft kiss. “Your eyes.” Kiss. “Your scent.” Another. “The feel of your skin.” This time Ashley kissed the corner of Keith’s mouth. “And most of all, your soul. I will live the rest of my life light-headed as long as I have you in my arms.” And with that, Ashley claimed Keith’s lips in the most soul-searching kiss he’d ever experienced.

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Discovering Truth

DIPPING his tongue into Keith’s mouth, Aislinn was overcome by his unique flavor. The taste of Keith’s mouth reminded Aislinn of fine wine, bitter and sweet all at once, with an edge that inflamed his desire for more, the sensation itself bittersweet. It had been far too long since he’d allowed himself to want this, and the sudden release of his restraint flowed through his veins, making him giddy. It was so very different from kissing Kian—wilder, stronger, and so very addictive. Most of Kian’s kisses had been sweet, the sugary treats he loved so much always lingering within. They had never possessed this wild tang that overwhelmed him as he took possession of Keith’s mouth, hungry for more with every plunge. Aislinn found he liked this new version more. Sweeping his tongue through Keith’s mouth, he explored every corner, laying claim to Keith’s palate and teeth. Meeting Keith’s tongue he slid his own against it, dueling for dominance. His hands traveled down the curve of Keith’s spine to slip in beneath his clothes in order to caress smooth, tight skin, carefully noting the soft pliancy beneath his touch, so very different from the whipcord strength that had been trained into Kian. A feeling of power surged through him when Keith moaned at his touch, the knowledge that he had the power to affect his lover so urging him to claim the naked flesh that should only belong to him. He swallowed the moan Keith released and pressed his palms into 103

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the arch of Keith’s back, pushing Keith’s body firmly against his. Desire pulsed through Aislinn’s body as his blood rushing to his groin. Aislinn could feel every pulse of his heart there, beating a rhythm of hunger that urged him to move, to arch up into the hard body lying on top of his own and to thrust against the thick shaft he could feel pressed into his hip, eager to take advantage of the power he had over Keith’s body. He wanted Keith, longed to bury himself deep within his supple body, but the physical longing could not compare to the desire in his heart, the yearning to reconnect with the one who was meant to be his soul mate. Drunk on arousal, he thrust against the groove in Keith’s thigh, his body aching for release, driving all other needs from his mind. Each movement sent threads of sensation through his body—heat, electricity and flickers of desire urging him to press, to touch and rub himself firmly against Keith’s lean strength, each stroke a greater mix of bliss and pain than the one that came before. When that was no longer enough, he ran his hands down into Keith’s pants and cupped the bare skin of his ass, a sudden possessive streak causing him to press Keith’s body more firmly into his own. His. Keith was his, and he would mark him for all to see. Using his grip to support both his lover and himself, he changed the angle of Keith’s thrusts, craving closer contact, needing it with every fiber of his being. Aislinn broke the kiss and groaned, heated breath escaping his parted lips when Keith’s erection brushed directly against his own, triggering a flow of emotion he was powerless to stop. Shifting, he dropped kisses down the column of Keith’s throat, occasionally nipping and tasting the tender skin he found there, but it wasn’t enough. Aislinn could never have enough. The soft whimpers of pleasure that escaped Keith’s lips drove Aislinn ever onward, his lips moving to Keith’s jaw line and the beat of Keith’s heart that could clearly be felt just beside his right ear. The cadence was a symbol of both life and love, defining the very core of existence itself, and Aislinn wanted it to beat only for him.

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Giving in to the desire to raise the ragged heartbeat beneath his lips, Aislinn ran his hands over Keith’s ass, teasing the puckered entrance with an index finger. He latched his mouth onto the pulse beating rapidly at the juncture of Keith’s throat and sucked the skin into his mouth, hoping to draw the very essence of Keith’s soul from him. He wanted to connect to the very heart the beat was coming from and to claim it forever for his own. “Ashes!” Keith hissed, his body jerking in obvious conflict, trying to move closer to both the finger at his rear and the thick shaft at his front. “Take off my pants or—” Keith broke the sentence to moan when Aislinn’s finger breached him, slipping past the tight muscle at the entrance. “Or…,” Keith repeated, the word shaky as he thrust onto Aislinn’s finger. Feeling Keith’s pulse flutter, Aislinn repeated the action, withdrawing his finger and pressing it back in, moving deeper with each push. Keith’s body played right into his hands, arching and shifting as he worked to impale himself deeper, moans now mixed into the ragged breaths, and the sight of it nearly drove Aislinn over the edge. “Or?” Aislinn prompted, taking a deep breath in an effort to remain in control. He withdrew his finger to circle Keith’s pucker, adding a second finger into the erotic dance upon Keith’s skin. “Or—” Keith’s hands moved and undid the clip of his own pants. “I’ll do it myself.” He slid the fabric down, wiggling his ass as he did so. The eagerness in Keith’s action propelled Aislinn into motion, and he reached down to help, sliding the fabric over Keith’s ass and down his thighs, his gaze hungrily taking in the pale flesh as it was exposed to him. When he reached Keith’s knees, he released the fabric, no longer able to resist the urge to slide his hands over all that glorious skin, finally free to be touched. Sliding his hands back up, he felt Keith’s lean muscles shift as Keith completed the job he’d just abandoned by kicking his pants the rest of the way off. Returning to Keith’s ass, Aislinn trailed his finger back toward the core of his desire when Keith interrupted him with a nip on his jaw.

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“Wait.” Fear stayed Aislinn’s hand, his body tense as he waited for Keith to deny him what he needed more than his next breath, the air between them filled with all the things that had been left unsaid for so very long. Aislinn could feel the exhale of Keith’s breath trickling over his lips, a shadow of the unique flavor he carried lingering even there. “This might help.” The relief that filled him when Keith merely reached for a bottle of lube hidden beneath a pillow was indescribable and threatened to break the fragile grip he had on all the joy, grief, uncertainty, and desire that filled him to the brim, the very conflict itself a flame within him. “It might.” Aislinn grabbed the bottle and opened it, spreading a liberal amount onto his fingers before returning to Keith’s ass, pressing two fingers past the tight outer ring into the heat within. Spreading his fingers, he stretched the muscle, eager to bury himself inside his lover once again. It had been so long since he’d last made love, and never had it been as satisfying as it had been the first time with Kian. Regardless of the body he inhabited, Kian was his soul mate and that would never change. Watching Keith react to his touch, though very different to the time he’d made love to Kian, was strangely even more intoxicating than the first time he’d done this with Kian. Keith’s body came alive beneath his touch, quivering with every brush of Aislinn’s fingers within him. Every cry he uttered seemed to echo the silent cries Aislinn was holding on to and drove his desire ever higher, the swelling of his erection filling the pants he still wore until the longing itself bordered on pain, his body yearning for an entirely different restraint upon his shaft. “Ashes… please… more….” Keith’s plea was accompanied by fingers digging hard into the muscles of Aislinn’s exposed lower back, his touch hot and slick with sweat. Aislinn slipped his fingers from Keith’s body in reaction and grabbed his lover’s face to claim his mouth in a possessive, all-consuming kiss. Keith’s touch heated his skin, the heat dancing along his nerves 106

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till he could take it no longer. Tearing his lips away, he moved, intending to turn Keith over onto his back, only the sharp pain in his collarbone stopped him cold, tearing a sharp hiss from his lips. Aislinn caught his breath in the back of his throat and stilled, waiting for Keith’s reaction, fearing the moment spoiled and afraid of the rejection he could almost see coming his way. Surprise flickered through him when Keith didn’t withdraw with the insistence that they could not continue due to the pain in Aislinn’s shoulder. Instead he pushed Aislinn back down onto the bed, fingers gently rubbing the bandage around his wound before trickling down his chest, past his nipple, straight to his groin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Aislinn gasped when Keith trailed his fingers over his erection, this time doing the teasing instead of being teased. If the wicked grin on his face was anything to go by, it would seem he was enjoying it, too, but Aislinn could take no more torture. “Keith…. Please….” He gasped the words out, thrusting up into Keith’s palm, the friction threatening what little remained of his control. “Now… now… before I….” Come undone. The last was left unspoken. Deft fingers snapped his pants open and then proceeded to pull the fabric from his skin. The loss of confinement released his erection, the head already slick and wet with precome, heat, and blood pulsing through it. Aislinn thrust up aggressively when Keith wrapped a hand around him, holding him in place as he positioned himself over Aislinn’s body, his intent clear, and in that moment Aislinn couldn’t imagine ever being able to love him more. Aislinn bit his lip to keep the pleading whimpers confined and held his breath, watching as Keith carefully lined himself up before bringing his body down. No longer able to contain sound, Aislinn keened, hips jerking up to sheath him deep within Keith’s body. He had to grab Keith’s hips and hold him in place to prevent himself from losing control entirely, using the touch to ground himself to reality once more. Aislinn glanced up to meet the lust in Keith’s pale green eyes, and the affection he saw

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in them did what even the sensation of being completely joined with Keith did not. It unraveled the last of his fragile control. Releasing a soft sob filled with both grief and joy, he pulled Keith back down for another kiss and lost himself within the heat of his lover’s body. Despite what he’d told Brigid, he’d longed to hold Kian again. He’d wanted to make love to him again so he could feel connected to his soul mate once more, but nothing he had hoped for had prepared him for this. Making love to Keith was so very different. Even though it was the same soul, it was not the same body, but that wasn’t what made it so different. Aislinn couldn’t put his finger on it, but the connection he felt to Kian’s soul was far stronger than it had been all those years ago, and that didn’t make sense, not when most of Kian’s memories were still buried beneath the surface of his current life. Casting his confusion aside, he allowed himself to drown in the heat of the moment and savored Keith’s slick skin, the heat of his mouth, the soft whimpers and moans of pleasure escaping his lips, and the dance for dominance and submission that they were locked in, each surging forward, retreating, and surging forward once more, the game both primal and carnal as they sought to drive each other toward completion. Just when Aislinn was convinced he could hold it together no longer, Keith tensed, gave a sharp cry, and shuddered his release, his eyes blank and withdrawn. Surrounded by tight muscles, clamping down on him, Aislinn followed soon thereafter, thrusting deep into Keith’s body to fill him with his release, thus marking Keith with his essence. Keith was his, and never again would he let anyone take him away. Catching Keith’s limp body, Aislinn rolled onto his side to cradle his lover. He was loath to withdraw from Keith’s body, afraid to break the connection he could still feel thrumming between them. He wanted to enjoy the contentment that followed the ecstasy they had just experienced and clung to the warm body in his arms. Taking a deep breath, he reveled in the scent that surrounded them, Keith’s scent

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mingling with his own. He ran his fingers through Keith’s sweatsoaked strands of hair and traced the features of his face, taking note of every change in shape, contour, and texture that he could find. Aislinn smiled, comfortable and satiated, and allowed his mind to drift lazily along the wave of lethargy and satisfaction slowing both his thoughts and movement. That was why it took him a moment to register the glazed expression on Keith’s face. “Keith?” Aislinn brushed a thumb over Keith’s lips, trying to get his attention. When no reaction was forthcoming, a thread of panic began to take root within him. “Keith?” Aislinn shook Keith lightly. The action, however, was in vain. The vacant expression in Keith’s eyes did not fade. “Keith? Please don’t do this to me. Not again.” Fear took over Aislinn’s sense of reason, and he found himself reliving what happened the last time he slept with Kian. Kian had dropped a kiss onto Aislinn’s lips, told him he had an errand to run, and left before the sweat on Aislinn’s skin had even had time to cool. The next morning he’d returned with an accusation of betrayal and then had left his life forever. Logically he knew Keith’s reaction was not the same thing, but he could not reconcile the knowledge with the emotion lying thick upon his chest, making it hard to breathe, each ragged breath a painful reminder of loss and grief. Even though Keith was still there in bed with him, he’d withdrawn, and this time was worse than the last. “Please, Keith. Don’t do this to me.” With that last desperate plea, Aislinn reached out to give Keith a firmer shake, only to pause a mere handbreadth away from touching him when Keith’s eyes suddenly snapped sharply back into focus. “I never slept with you!” Keith exclaimed, sitting up, staring at Aislinn with wide eyes. “I remember! Kian…. He…. That is, I… never actually had sex with you.” That was what finally broke Aislinn’s heart in two.

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Painful Revelations

THE room Keith was in was familiar even though he knew he hadn’t seen it before—not in his current lifetime, at least. It was decorated predominantly in dark blue from carpets to curtains. Even the wall hangings were mainly blue. Tapestries covered the walls, depicting moonlit coves, cool rivers, and peaceful starlit waterfalls. Each work was breathtaking, and Keith knew Aislinn had made each of them. The knowledge was so deeply ingrained into him that there could be no disputing it. There was but a single splash of bright color in the room, a vivid red throw upon the bed, decorated with black swallows and leaves upon its border. He’d been the one who had bought it for Aislinn. He’d wanted Aislinn to dream more, to reach for the master dream spinner’s position he claimed he would never have and to be more passionate in all that he did, hence the choice in both color and design. He thought the cover would be special, a gift from him to remind Aislinn of the love they shared. He never imagined it would become a symbol of betrayal and pain instead. Dread thick in his throat, Keith allowed his eyes to drift from the edge of the bed to the two figures that occupied it. Aislinn was in bed, lips, arms, and legs intertwined with those of another, Aislinn’s lover’s chocolate brown locks freely falling to obscure his face. Keith watched, unable to tear his eyes away as Aislinn’s lover ran a hand over bare 110

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skin that only Keith should have been allowed to touch, over lean muscle and form, laying claim to a body that did not belong to him. It belonged to Keith. It was supposed to be his, and the pain of watching another possess it tore him up inside, the wound still as raw as it had been the first time he’d witnessed this. Warm firelight illuminated their skin, the play of shadow and light taunting Keith with the knowledge that he could not turn away. Even though he was hurt to the core of his soul, the option to run away was denied him, and he would be forced to watch every single movement, every embrace, every kiss, and every touch. And so he remained, his heart bleeding with every arch of Aislinn’s back, every whispered moan of pleasure and thrust as Aislinn hurtled toward release, sheer rapture on his face. It ended with a sharp cry and a single whispered word breathed into the air, almost too soft to hear. “Kian.” The word flittered through his mind, gently brushing his consciousness in a bid to be recognized, but he denied it, too lost in torment to give it the time and consideration it deserved. Aislinn’s lover raised his head and turned to face Keith, smiling in victory, his bright green eyes piercing what was left of Keith’s heart. Only he wasn’t Keith anymore. This was Kian’s memory, the pain of it fleetingly drawing Keith into a forgotten identity. So it was that that the word Aislinn whispered as he lost himself in rapture was truly lost, forgotten as Kian allowed himself to drown in the sense of agonizing betrayal. “I remember!” Past merged with present. The image of the man seated before Keith shifted and changed with the new knowledge in his heart revealing what he’d always known but had been unwilling to face. The man before him was the same man who had broken Kian’s heart all those years ago: Aislinn, not Ashley. “Kian…. He…. That is, I… never actually had sex with you.” Keith watched Aislinn, anguish still thick within him. Logically he knew he had no right to be hurt, not when it had all happened so long ago in a lifetime he was no longer 111

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living, but what his head knew could not seem to convince his heart. “Why did you sleep with someone else when we were already together? On the throw cover I bought for you, no less?” Aislinn looked devastated, the expression on his face making Keith long to comfort him, but he couldn’t. His own soul was wounded, slipping between his fingers, and he wanted an explanation, any explanation, to fix it and make things right again. He knew there wasn’t any explanation Aislinn could really offer that would erase what had happened, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it with every fiber of his being. “I…. Kian. No, wait, Keith. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Aislinn shook his head. “I didn’t sleep with anyone but you, I swear. I didn’t sleep with anyone named Tynan. I didn’t know anyone named Tynan, and I still don’t. If—” Aislinn paused, his body silently heaving as if trying to purge itself of the despair that so obviously stained his very soul. “If”—Aislinn forced the word past his lips, no longer looking at Keith—“you regret sleeping with me, you should just say so. I promise I’ll bother you no more if you do.” Keith instinctively reached out to touch Aislinn, running a hand down Aislinn’s chest before he could stop himself. “You were supposed to be mine,” he whispered, tracing lean muscle. “You were supposed to be the only thing I never had to share, the only thing that was all mine and only mine, and I could never regret being yours in every way. Only, back then, I wasn’t. You took someone else instead, and I don’t know if I can live with that.” Keith looked up and caught the shadow of grief in Aislinn’s eyes. He regretted putting it there but could not bring himself to take his words back. This was how it had to be. He knew Aislinn truly believed what he said. He could see it in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. He didn’t know where the memory had come from or why it seemed to contradict what Aislinn so firmly believed, but he did know one thing: it was as real and true as the ones he had from his current lifetime. Aislinn had in fact betrayed him, and he desperately needed time to deal with it.

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“I understand.” Those two words echoed in the silence that followed as Aislinn slipped out of bed and pulled his pants back up. He headed for the bedroom door only to pause when he touched the knob. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to hurt you,” he said softly. “I know.” Keith paused, running his fingers over the soft cotton of his sheets, hoping to distract himself so he could avoid the pain he could hear in Aislinn’s words. “I just need time to make sense of it all. I don’t know who I am anymore. I thought I had it all figured out. I’m a history teacher living the life I was always meant to live, and even though I’ve always been alone, I was happy because I knew where I belonged. All that was missing were the answers I was seeking for the battle of Troy. I wanted to unravel the mystery of what happened at Troy so I could contribute something and leave my mark on this earth. Then you came into my life and turned it upside down. You’re waking a part of me I’m not sure I want in my life. I don’t want my past life— no, wait, Kian’s life—influencing my current one. I’m happy being Keith, nothing less and nothing more.” “Why Troy in particular?” “What?” Aislinn’s sudden question threw Keith for a loop. “Did you ever wonder why you’re fascinated with the mystery of Troy in particular?” Aislinn clarified, opening the bedroom door. Stepping out, he turned to face Keith once more, hand resting on the door handle. “Why not Greece or the Aztecs? There are many mysteries that have been shrouded by time on this plane of existence: Stonehenge, Machu Picchu, the Nazca Lines. Why not pick one of them?” Keith stared at Aislinn in confusion, unable to comprehend what Aislinn was trying to say. He really did not see what bearing his fascination with a particular historical event had to do with the conversation at hand. “What does that have to do with any—” “The battle of Troy is”—Aislinn interjected, interrupting Keith’s train of thought completely—“where Kian died.” With that said,

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Aislinn left, closing the bedroom door with a soft click. The impact of Aislinn’s parting words left Keith reeling. Keith replayed the words over and over again, struggling to comprehend the implications of the revelation and what it could possibly mean to him. He didn’t know, and the only person who really had any idea was currently walking out the door. Leaping into motion, Keith chased after Aislinn, running across the room to tear open the door. Ignoring the loud bang that reverberated throughout his apartment, he approached the front door and subjected it to the same treatment, running down the stairs and out the building in nothing more than the shirt he wore. His haste was cut short when he reached the street only to find nothing. Aislinn was already gone, and he’d taken the knowledge Keith needed with him. A gust of wind tugged at his shirttails, the material billowing around his body as he stood alone on the abandoned street, too stunned to act, his heart, mind, and everything he thought he understood in turmoil.

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Reaching Out

RING ring. Completely engrossed in the tapestry he was busy repairing, Aislinn was startled by the sudden sound. It was unexpected and didn’t make sense, seeing as he was currently alone in the room. He hadn’t seen or heard from Keith in three days and had decided to bury himself in the more solitary part of his job description. Ring ring ring. When the sound did not abate, Aislinn glanced around the room, seeking its source. He frowned in confusion when he realized the ringing was coming from his bag of tools. Reaching into the bag, he searched through his belongings and pulled out a sleek cell phone he’d never seen before. Ring ring. The phone vibrated in his hand, demanding to be answered, but Aislinn was not about to answer a phone that didn’t belong to him. He did not own one. He was just about to put it down on the table, assuming it belonged to one of his work colleagues, when the display name grabbed his attention: Keith. His finger was on the answer button the moment the name registered in his mind. Taking a deep breath, he placed the phone at his 115

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ear and pushed the button, his heart beating rapidly in anticipation. “Hello?” His greeting was uncertain. Aislinn was not sure if he should have answered the phone he held. “Ashley?” Even though Keith sounded every bit as uncertain as Aislinn did, it was the sweetest sound on earth. Aislinn didn’t realize how much he’d missed something as simple as the sound of Keith’s voice, and the single word brought that realization home, his heart skipping a beat. He was so lost in the relief that embraced him that he forgot to respond to Keith, and it was only when Keith spoke again that he allowed himself to return to reality once more. “I’m sorry if it’s not okay to call you, but Brigid gave me your number and told me I should call you if I needed help.” Brigid! Well, that explained why he had a phone he’d never seen in his bag of tools. What it didn’t explain was why Keith was calling him for help. One didn’t just call someone because some domineering woman had told them to. “What’s wrong?” Concern softened his tone despite the fact that he could still feel the sharp sting of Keith’s earlier rejection. Aislinn tensed when Keith remained silent. “Keith?” “I think I’m just being paranoid,” Keith said softly, but he failed to hide the uncertainty in his voice. Keith obviously didn’t really believe that, and something told Aislinn he had every reason to doubt that particular sentiment. Tension danced along his nerves, a dark sense of premonition niggling at his senses once more. He remembered the attack directed at Keith and silently reprimanded himself for letting his hurt get in the way of protecting the man he loved. He couldn’t let Keith die, not again. “What happened?” A note of panic crept into his tone. “Nothing’s happened, but that’s part of the problem. The police aren’t taking me seriously, because nothing’s happened. I keep getting the feeling that someone is watching me. He’s following me everywhere I go, and I just saw someone with silver hair standing in the schoolyard. I think I’m going crazy. I know he must have been a figment of my imagination. People don’t have silver hair, but I really 116

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don’t want to go home. Not alone. Please, Aislinn, could you come spend the night? Sarah has booked herself into some kind of spa. She said she wants some girl time out, so you can use the guest bedroom.” Keith’s words came out in a rush, the fear and panic evident, but Aislinn didn’t need the tone to urge him to help. The moment Keith mentioned silver hair, Aislinn’s heart leaped into his throat, making it difficult to breathe as he fought to remain calm. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, grabbed his bag, tossed the phone in, and rushed to the door, his thoughts in complete disarray. It was only when he reached the front door that he realized he had no idea where Keith worked. Pulling his bag open, he began to frantically rummage around in it, looking for the cell phone so he could rectify the situation, only to pause when his hand encountered a piece of paper. He didn’t keep paper in his bag of tools, but if Brigid had smuggled in a phone, then he was sure she’d smuggled the paper in along with it. Knowing Brigid, the piece of paper would be important. Pulling the paper out, he quickly scanned it and smiled when he found exactly what he expected to see. Written neatly upon it in Brigid’s meticulous handwriting was a school address. “I love you, Brigid!” The exclamation was called out into thin air as Aislinn ran down the stairs, destination clear in his mind.

AISLINN only breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped off the bus and spotted Keith safe and sound, standing nervously by the school gates. Running toward him, he swept Keith up into his arms before he could think better of it and whispered softly, releasing all the worry he’d clung to on the way over. “You’re okay. I’m here. You’re safe.” Aislinn took a step back and ran his hands through Keith’s hair, the gesture meant to calm them both. Keith pulled a face before shrugging in an obvious attempt to brush off both his and Aislinn’s concern. “I think I’m just paranoid.” Keith repeated his earlier sentiment. 117

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“No, Keith.” Aislinn shook his head, weaving the fingers of his right hand with those of Keith’s left before heading back to the bus stop. Keith did not resist and followed without argument. “I don’t think you’re paranoid. I hate to say this, but I think someone is out to get you killed.” “Why would someone want me dead?” Aislinn cringed when Keith asked the question. He knew it was coming, knew he had to answer it, but had still not been looking forward to actually being faced with the reality of it. “I’m not sure, but I have a theory,” he admitted reluctantly. “What’s your theory?” Keith asked. Aislinn remained silent for the remainder of the distance to the bus stop and turned to face Keith once they arrived. What he intended to say needed to be said face to face so he could try to soften the blow of it. “I think they’re afraid you’re going to remember.” Keith blinked, confusion momentarily flashing across his face before vanishing in the wake of an obvious revelation. “Remember what?” Keith’s tone was cautious and his features deadpan, but Aislinn knew Keith already suspected. “They’re afraid you’ll remember your past life, Keith. Kian didn’t die by accident. Even though Togairlan can and often do get injured upon mortal battlegrounds, the only one who can actually kill a Togairlan is another Togairlan, and someone needs a damned good reason to commit murder.” Keith stared at Aislinn, his desire to reject what Aislinn was telling him clearly waging war with the knowledge Aislinn knew he held deep within his soul, and for a moment Aislinn feared the cold logic of Keith’s present existence would win. “I thought it’s unusual for someone to remember their past life.” Aislinn swallowed his sigh of relief, fearing it would shatter the moment. Keith was willing to consider his theory, and he didn’t want to do anything to change that. “For a soul that’s only ever known a mortal 118

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existence, yes, that’s true, but your soul lived over four hundred years before it was forced into the cycle of reincarnation. You were privy to information most mortals never suspect, let alone know and understand. That kind of knowledge is difficult to suppress. It’s only natural that snippets of it would filter through. Don’t get me wrong—that doesn’t mean you would remember it all or even understand what you do remember, but the risk is always there.” “Okay.” Keith nodded in acceptance. “I can accept that. Strangely enough, it actually makes sense. Your theory may even go a long way to explaining why some people see the world differently from the rest.” Keith grinned and poked Aislinn in the side. “Like Einstein for instance. Can you imagine Einstein’s soul remembering something most can’t comprehend, let alone ima— Hold on a minute.” Keith interrupted himself. “Did you say over four hundred?” Aislinn nodded, smiling at Keith. The soft whistle of brakes being applied, announcing the arrival of the bus, interrupted any response he may have given. Remaining silent, Aislinn boarded the bus, pulling Keith in as well before sitting down right at the front. “Over four hundred?” Keith repeated, apparently unable to comprehend the number. “Yes, Keith. Four hundred and sixty-eight to be exact,” Aislinn clarified with a broad grin, loving every minute of their conversation. Keith shook his head, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was obvious that his thoughts were racing, and Aislinn suspected he knew exactly what Keith was trying to figure out. “The battle of Troy is dated somewhere around 1194 BC, and you said I’ve been dead for three thousand two hundred and five years, if I recall.” “No, I said your soul has been lost to me for three thousand two hundred and four years,” Aislinn corrected, interrupting Keith’s analysis. “Technically speaking, you weren’t dead. Okay, you were dead some of the time, but the rest of the time you were living a mortal life somewhere.”

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“Technicalities.” Keith waved a hand, brushing the correction off. He was too focused on the analysis at hand to allow himself to be sidetracked by anything Aislinn could say. Aislinn’s smile softened in fond remembrance. Kian had been every bit as focused. It was apparent that some things didn’t change, even after a few varied mortal lives added into the mix. “You’re three thousand four hundred and seventyfive years old, and I, Kian, died three thousand two hundred and five years ago. That means you were two hundred and seventy years old when Kian died. I’m older than you?” “It’s been three thousand two hundred and four years since Kian died.” Aislinn corrected Keith yet again, that single additional year important to him. He’d been engaged in a similar conversation before, a long time ago. “Which made me two hundred and seventy-one.” “But I’m still older than you,” Keith insisted. Aislinn shook his head incredulously, the familiar conversation stirring fond memories. Kian had enjoyed teasing him about his age, taking great delight in pointing out that he was the older of the two. Aislinn had always retaliated by teasing Kian about his height. “You’ve been dead and alive so many times that I’m no longer sure that appl—” “My soul, Ashes,” Keith interrupted him insistently. “I’m talking about my soul.” “Then yes,” Aislinn relented. “You’re older than I am.” And suddenly the admission was worth it. Keith beamed at him, eyes literally sparkling in mirth, and the happiness he could feel radiating off Keith warmed Aislinn to his heart. Keith had found something he had the upper hand in, and Aislinn would gladly hand him several more small victories if only to keep him smiling. “Keith….” Aislinn reached out to cup his cheek ready to beg forgiveness. He was willing to accept any punishment Keith chose to bestow upon him for a betrayal he didn’t remember committing as long as Keith took him back. He wanted a second chance at this, a second chance at happiness, and was willing to give up everything he ever was

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to stay at Keith’s side. “Can we…? I lo—” Aislinn stumbled, looking for the right words to express what he longed for. “I’d really like it if you could give me another cha—” Aislinn’s awareness was drawn to a familiar flash of silver, a horrified gasp escaping him before he could finish his sentence. Cathaoir stood on the pavement, staring at the bus. When his gaze met Aislinn’s, he smiled and waved, the gesture taunting Aislinn with the knowledge that something was about to happen, something Cathaoir would enjoy. Unfortunately, Aislinn was dead certain he and Keith would not. Even though the sudden screech that followed did not surprise him, Aislinn couldn’t help but turn to face the front in order to look for its source. The world slowed upon its axis, and every detail became clear. The car that was cutting in front of the bus was a red sedan, windows tinted a few shades darker than they should be. It contained only a driver, and the curve it took was ironically artistic, the smooth line a sheer sign of doom, for Aislinn knew there was no way the bus could stop or slow in time. That was the last clear thought he had. His mind lost all semblance of coherence and understanding, his body suddenly thrown against Keith’s. Reality rushed back in on him with a vengeance, overtaking his senses with a kaleidoscope of color and a cacophony of sound. Screams rent the air asunder, and fear became a living thing, growing bigger and spiraling right out of control. A bump separated him from Keith, and then he was free falling, spinning, thrown back and forth, unable to comprehend where he ended and the rest of the world began. Only it ceased to matter when everything ended with a loud crash—impact followed by pain and… nothing.

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Reality Check

KEITH was surrounded by eerie silence, the very stillness unnatural. He struggled to comprehend what had just happened, seeking some kind of normalcy, anything to cling to in order to prove he still lived and breathed. The first thing he discovered, unfortunately, was searing pain drawing a gasp from him. Every nerve in his body was on fire, his muscles aching in protest, and he struggled to pinpoint where it all was coming from. Understanding it didn’t really matter as the knowledge wasn’t really going to help him any, he forced the pain away and struggled to find a way to relieve it instead, shifting his focus to his environment. Something was lying firmly pressed against his chest, and the weight of it made it difficult to breathe comfortably. One point of discomfort pinpointed, Keith moved to push it off. His mind silently screamed in protest, warning him that he could be injuring himself further by taking action, but his body was too focused on the desire to ease its agony to listen, so he actually managed to push against the weight upon his chest before stilling in shock. The weight was not cold and hard like he’d expected it to be. Instead, it gave way beneath his touch, warm, soft and so very familiar. It was only as his eyes snapped open that he realized he’d had them closed all along, and it took a moment for them to adjust to the sudden intake of light. Shape, color, and form swirled around in his 122

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mind, all demanding attention, yet none of it was where it was supposed to be. Struggling to redefine the world as he knew it, he focused on the only thing that made sense in it all: Aislinn was lying still upon his chest. Keith reached for Aislinn’s shoulder and shook him, distressed by the pallor of Aislinn’s skin. “Aislinn?” Filled with panic he shook him harder, completely discarding the false name he was supposed to be using when referring to Aislinn. “Aislinn!” Keith became frantic when Aislinn did not respond, anxiety threatening to consume him as he fought not to contemplate the fact that Aislinn may be dead. Sobbing, he attempted to shake Aislinn even harder, only to be suddenly restrained, arms embracing him from behind. “Calm down. He’s only unconscious. He’ll wake up soon. Even though he’s going to have a bit of a headache when he does, he’s going to be fine.” And that was when it became clear that Keith was lying on top of someone else. “Who are you?” Keith asked, resisting the urge to tense. He wanted to turn around to face the man he could now feel breathing into his ear, but he was trapped, and his arms were the only part of his body he could freely move. Fortunately for the man he was lying on, those were currently occupied, busy running over Aislinn’s hair and skin. Something within Keith was unwilling to take a stranger’s word at face value and needed confirmation that Aislinn was still there, warm and alive. A soft sigh of relief escaped him when he felt the rhythmic pulse of Aislinn’s heartbeat beneath his searching fingertips now pressed against Aislinn’s jawline. The stranger’s soft rumble of laughter jarred his body, and Keith had to take a breath to keep from crying out in pain. He failed to contain the cry completely, and a sharp hiss escaped him, all too loud in the confines of what he now knew to be the wrecked bus. “Sorry,” the stranger apologized, staying his laughter. “To answer your question, I’m not anyone you’d know. You were dead before I was born, Kian.” Keith tensed, his hands stilling on Aislinn’s shoulder blades. “You’re from Aislinn’s world, aren’t you?” Keith asked carefully, not 123

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sure if he really wanted the confirmation that Aislinn wasn’t crazy. Part of him believed what Aislinn told him while another part kept hoping it was all an elaborate dream so he could once again wake up to a world he knew and understood. “My world? What about my world?” The moment he heard those words, Keith forgot all about the man cradling him from behind and watched in relief as Aislinn stirred and opened his eyes. Though unfocused and foggy, they were the best sight Keith had ever witnessed, and he embraced Aislinn before he could think better of it, wanting nothing more than to express the joy in his heart. Aislinn was awake! “Keith,” Aislinn hissed, making it obvious that he, too, was in pain, but Keith was reluctant to let him go, so he settled for loosening his hold instead. “What about my wor—” The moment Aislinn’s eyes focused, he interrupted himself, looking at the man behind Keith. “Faelan, what are you doing here?” “Saving your ass, apparently,” Faelan retorted drily, releasing Keith. “If it wasn’t for you, my ass wouldn’t need—” Aislinn’s retort was interrupted by the sound of approaching sirens, the loud incessant wail making it difficult for anyone to hear themselves think, let alone speak. The sirens were quickly followed by voices, and the voices were followed by loud crunching metal as rescue workers avidly worked to make their way into the overturned bus. Chaos took over once more, and Keith could begin to feel his fragile grasp on reality slip, once again dissociating his mind from his body and the world that surrounded him.

“ROLLED and then proceeded to plow into the underbrush on the side of the road. Rescuers have thus far found eight bodies, including the driver of the bus, as well as two survivors who have managed to miraculously walk out with nothing more serious than a few cuts,

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scrapes, bumps, and bruises.” The reporter’s voice, transmitted over a car radio somewhere in the vicinity was the first thing Keith registered when he was once more pulled back into reality. The warm blanket draped around his shoulders was the second. “You’re lucky to be alive, you know.” An unfamiliar voice drowned out the broadcast, the words followed by the sharp sting of antiseptic. “It’s unbelievable that you barely seem to have a scratch on you.” The paramedic cleaning his wounds dabbed at the cut on his forehead. “You don’t even need stitches.” “I hurt all over,” Keith pointed out, not really feeling all that lucky. If he’d been lucky, he’d have missed the bus altogether. The paramedic shrugged, smiling wryly up at Keith from his crouched position. “Not surprising. You’ve taken quite the beating. I hear the bus rolled several times before coming to a stop. It wasn’t exactly a short way down, either. You took quite a tumble, even if I do say so myself. You’ll still need to visit the hospital just to make sure, but I suspect you’ll be released today.” Keith only half registered the paramedic’s comment, his attention already wandering to more important concerns—looking for Aislinn. Not having Aislinn in sight was making Keith nervous, and he suffered through a moment of anxiety as he searched for him. The reporter had mentioned two survivors, and he feared the second might be Faelan and not Aislinn as he hoped, not that he wanted Faelan dead or anything. He simply wasn’t all that emotionally attached to Faelan, and his fate, though sad, wouldn’t impact Keith’s life nearly as much as Aislinn’s would. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m looking for—” A sigh of relief interrupted Keith’s question the moment he spotted Aislinn standing just beside the ambulance he was seated in. He was speaking to a blood-covered stranger, hair every bit as bright red as the blood tied up in a warrior’s knot upon his head. “Looking for?” Keith barely even heard the paramedic’s prompt, already slipping off the stretcher he was seated on, intending to join Aislinn. The paramedic grabbed him just as he managed to stand. 125

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“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded. Keith ignored the reprimand he could hear in the paramedic’s tone, instead brushing him off to take those needed five steps to Aislinn’s side. Aislinn appeared to be completely engrossed in his conversation with the stranger, and Keith was urged forward by a jealous streak he had no desire to face, eager to stake his claim. Aislinn was his, and no gorgeous redhead was about to take him from Keith. Not as long as Keith lived and breathed, and he would be living and breathing a long time if he had anything to say about it. “Care to introduce me to your friend?” Keith cut in. He didn’t really care if he was interrupting or not. He wanted Aislinn’s attention and would demand it if need be. “Keith?” Aislinn started, blinking at him in confusion before glancing back at the stranger. The look sent heated anger through Keith’s veins, the implication that Aislinn was deferring to the stranger in this grating on his nerves. If he were a dog, his hackles would have risen and he would have growled possessively, but that manner of expression was denied him, so he settled for weaving his arm through Aislinn’s, glaring heatedly at the stranger. He was, however, completely thrown for a loop when the stranger chuckled, clearly not the least bit intimidated by Keith’s show of possession. “We’ve already met, though not officially.” The stranger held his hand out to Keith. “I’m Faelan. It really is nice to finally meet you Kian, though I wish it was under different circumstances. I hear, if not for your untimely death, you’d have my job.” Faelan. The name echoed through his mind, confusing the mathematician in Keith. The reporter had claimed there were two survivors, but Faelan’s presence along with Aislinn’s bumped the number up to three. He fought to make sense of what he’d seen and heard and failed dismally, unable to get the numbers in his head to fit. “But the reporter said only two of us survived,” he said, feeling more than a little stupid. He wondered absently if he hadn’t perhaps hit his head while tumbling around in the bus. 126

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“Oh.” The confusion on Aislinn’s face faded. “Mortals can’t see him. Faelan’s a Togairlan and was in that bus on official business. Isn’t that right, Faelan?” Faelan grimaced, and Keith realized the comment was meant to be a barb. Aislinn didn’t look all that impressed, and it was clear that Faelan was the source of his displeasure. “Aislinn, don’t be like that. I was only trying to make sure Cathaoir didn’t get you and Kian killed.” “Bloody good job you’ve been doing so far,” Aislinn snapped, eyes flashing in anger. “You prevented me from chasing him down and told me you’d take care of it. Why is he still running around free? It’s obvious he wants Keith dead.” “It’s not that simple. I can’t have him arrested on—” Aislinn interrupted Faelan, cold anger thick in his tone. “You certainly could get me arrested pretty quickly. And the only sin I was guilty of committing was that of weaving myself into Keith’s dreams. Last I checked, attempted murder was a greater offense, especially for a Togairlan.” “Aislinn, you’re not listening to me,” Faelan said, returning Aislinn’s scowl threefold. Faelan was, in Keith’s opinion, better at looking intimidating than Aislinn, but then again, the large sword on his back helped a lot. “Cathaoir is not the only one involved. He’s reporting to someone. Getting rid of Cathaoir will only temporarily get rid of the problem. I’m trying to track down the person he’s reporting to because there is something seriously wrong in our ranks, and right now Cathaoir is the only clue I have.” “Reporting to someone?” Aislinn echoed, clearly shocked. “You mean to tell me there is more than one person involved?” Faelan nodded, glancing at Keith. “Yes, he’s following someone else’s orders as far as I can tell, and with Kian’s memories sealed, we have no real way of rooting him out. We’re keeping an eye on Cathaoir, but he’s a slippery one.” “You think Kian knows who he’s reporting to?” Aislinn asked, 127

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staring at Faelan in disbelief. Faelan shrugged, watching Keith carefully. Keith returned his stare, unknown emotion stirring deep within his chest. “You do, don’t you?” Faelan directed the softly spoken question at Keith, raising the sense of disquiet Keith was only just beginning to identify. “That’s why you’re being targeted. They’re scared you’ll regain your memories, and Aislinn’s presence in the mortal realm isn’t helping their cause all that much. He’s triggering the memories in your soul, and they’re getting desperate.” “I….” Keith shook his head, overwhelmed by everything he was being confronted with. He was still struggling to accept Kian’s life as his own. He didn’t need secrets, betrayals, and murder plots to complicate things further, but it seemed he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. “I don’t know!” With that said, he turned and made his way back to the ambulance, too scared to face the chaos his life had become.

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Weathering the Storm

AISLINN watched Keith in concern as the taxi slid smoothly to a halt. They’d been taken to the hospital and had been discharged after a brief checkup, just as the paramedic had predicted. Their painful bumps and bruises had been treated with painkillers, and the scrapes and cuts had received a hearty dose of antiseptic. In short, the pain they’d endured had been worse than the injuries themselves. Aislinn knew he should be relieved that they’d walked away with only a few scratches, but it was difficult to feel relief when Keith was taking it all so badly. The only words Keith had uttered since their discharge was a softly spoken request for a taxi. Understanding Keith’s fear, Aislinn had ordered one without protest. Sliding into the taxi, he’d been faced with a question he should have seen coming: the driver asked where they would like to be taken. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead and had been at a momentary loss. This had all started with a request from Keith that he spend the night. He’d rushed over to Keith’s side without thought and was suddenly faced with the realization that he hadn’t packed a thing. Turning to Keith, he’d asked if it was all right if they first stopped by his apartment so he could pick a few things up. The noncommittal shrug Keith had given in response had stung, and Aislinn began to doubt the continued validity of Keith’s invitation. Taking the decision into his own hands, he’d directed the taxi to 129

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head to his apartment. He didn’t want to leave Keith to deal with all of this alone, not with a psychotic renegade Togairlan after him. He didn’t deserve this. Kian hadn’t deserved death all those millennia ago, and Keith certainly didn’t deserve consequences from a life he barely remembered living. “We’re here.” Aislinn dropped a hand onto Keith’s shoulder, longing to comfort him. What he really wanted to do was to gather Keith close so he could hold him, but he knew it wouldn’t be appreciated. Not when it looked like Keith was busy fighting really hard not to fall apart. Stirring, Keith stepped out of the taxi, silent and stoic, not even sparing Aislinn a glance. The void between them widened with that action, and Aislinn’s heart broke all over again, barely held together by the threads of desperate hope. Accepting the rejection, Aislinn followed Keith out, asked the cab driver to wait, and headed to his apartment complex. He left the decision to follow or not entirely up to Keith. He was startled out of his thoughts by a splash. The water rushing into his sneakers drew an exclamation from him. “What the…?” Following the stream back to its source, he gaped, too shocked to comprehend what his eyes were telling him. The water was pouring out of his ground-floor apartment, merely rushing toward the street, and standing in the middle of it all was Brigid. “It’s about time you got here,” she greeted him, gracefully making her way through the water with barely a splash. “Your water pipes burst.” Brigid spared his apartment a glance before turning to face Aislinn once more. “I’ve called the superintendent, and he’s already contacted the municipality, but you can’t stay here. Almost everything’s wet. It will take some time to sort out both the leak and the insurance, seeing as most of your furniture is now damaged. You need to find another place to stay for the next couple of weeks or so. Keith has room. Sarah won a weeklong holiday at a spa, so she won’t be back for a few days.” Brigid paused expectantly, obviously waiting for Aislinn’s response. Receiving none, she frowned, noticing his battered appearance. “What happened to you?”

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Aislinn shrugged, turned away from Brigid, and stepped out of the water onto the grass. “Why don’t you ask your brother?” Aislinn was well aware his response was surly, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t ready to discuss the details with her. Even though he was no longer looking at her, Aislinn could practically feel her scrutiny. The silence that followed his statement was very telling, and he knew Brigid was filing his reaction away for analysis at a later stage, but it didn’t matter. The only thing he cared about was avoiding the questions he was too raw to answer. “I took the liberty of packing your things.” Brigid’s tone was matter-of-fact, completely brushing the awkward moment away with a simple change in subject. “I saved the dry things. The rest is waterlogged.” Relieved to be moving away from dangerous waters, both figuratively and literally, Aislinn turned back to face her, taking in the backpack she was holding out toward him before reaching for it. Slinging it over his shoulder, he gave Brigid a nod, silently thanking her before turning to head back to the cab, only to pause once more. Keith had chosen to follow him and was now standing in the water, looking very lost and forlorn. “Go comfort him. You know you want to.” Brigid’s whisper startled Aislinn, her breath trickling momentarily into his ear before vanishing, followed by the soft clack of her departing heels. He had no idea how he’d managed to miss her approach but spared it only a brief thought. Oblivious to the water once again seeping into his shoes, he made his way to Keith’s side and reached out to brush a few strays of strands of hair out of Keith’s face. “It will be all right, you know,” Aislinn said softly. “No, it won’t,” Keith countered, titling his face into Aislinn’s touch. “You know you can’t promise me that.” “I can try.” Aislinn brushed the pad of his thumb over Keith’s 131

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cheek, gently tracing a bruise he found there. He ached through and through, hating the pain he could both sense and see, and longed to wipe it clean away. Following the bruise he trailed his fingers down Keith’s cheek toward his chin, tracing every line that now defined his lover’s features. “I’d do anything to protect you,” he whispered, using his thumb to part Keith’s lips. “I know.” Keith’s response danced over Aislinn’s lips, his exhale mingling with Aislinn’s breath, tempting Aislinn ever closer. Even though their lips had yet to meet, Keith’s flavor lingered on the tip of Aislinn’s tongue. It was a remembered sensation, as familiar and welcome as breathing, and it was only natural that it drew them to one another. Softly, sweetly, gently, their lips met, and through the simple touch they shared breath, grief, and life, the myriad of emotions linking them to each other. Aislinn wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist. He wanted to envelop him in affection and love, and each brush of his lips against Keith’s was a silent promise to hold, cherish, and protect. Keith was his, just as Kian had been, and there was nothing anyone could do to change it. “I’m never letting you go,” Aislinn whispered, his breath trickling into Keith’s mouth. “I know you think I betrayed you. I know you need time to deal with all of this, but I simply can’t let you go. I’d rather die than have to live without you again. Please….” Aislinn paused as he tried and failed to contain the desperate plea in his voice. “Please, Keith, let me stay by your side.” His voice cracked, revealing the inherent pain he’d kept buried for so many years, a soft cry of anguish escaping him before he could push it back. Fingers ran through his hair, down the column of his throat, down his shoulders and his arms, sharing the comfort only touch could bring to a wounded soul. The last of Aislinn’s control snapped, and he crumpled to his knees, taking Keith down with him. Keith landed in his lap, forcing Aislinn to sit right in the water streaming from his apartment, but Aislinn didn’t even notice it. “I’m sorry, Keith. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I missed you so much. I…. When you…. I should have run after you that day. I should have made sense of what was happening. I should have prevented you from leaving like

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that. You have no idea how much I regret pushing you, Kian, into sleeping with me before he, you were ready. I was young and so very stupid, and then I did it again, with you. I’m sorry, Keith. I’ll wait. Even if you never want to be intimate again, I’ll wait. Please, Keith. I didn’t mean—” Keith placed a finger on his lips, attempting to stem the frantic flow of words, but it was the soft kiss initiated entirely by Keith that actually did the trick, shocking Aislinn into silence. “It will be all right, you know.” Keith whispered Aislinn’s words back at him, smiling wryly. “I—” Aislinn’s voice hitched, a wave of affection soothing the sharp edges of grief to make way for hope. “I ran out to call you back that day.” Keith brushed his fingers through Aislinn’s hair. “I regretted chasing you away the moment I did it, but I couldn’t find the strength to take my words back. I’m sorry, Ashes, for sending you so many mixed signals.” Keith paused to drop another kiss onto Aislinn’s parted lips, lingering there for a moment before withdrawing once more. “My life is in so much chaos right now. I’m struggling to deal with everything, and the fact that I’m questioning my very identity isn’t helping. I need to sort out my head, and it looks like I need your help to do it. Let’s take this one step at a time and see where it takes us, okay? No promises. Not yet. I can’t give a promise I’m not sure I’ll keep once I remember everything.” Keith’s words were daggers cutting sharply into Aislinn’s heart with each logical argument made, but he understood their source. The arguments made sense, and even though they were not what Aislinn had hoped for, they were more than he’d expected, and he was willing to grab on to even the slimmest chance with both hands. “One step at a time.” Aislinn echoed Keith’s sentiment in agreement, weaving his hands through Keith’s hair before pulling Keith down into a kiss he needed more than his next breath.

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Making Sense of It All

THE soft clink of steel against ceramic was more soothing than Keith would have ever imagined possible. The act of making a cup of tea was so mundane it returned a sense of normalcy to his life and calmed his frayed nerves. Dropping the teaspoon into the sink, he gathered up the cup and took a deep breath, savoring the sweet undertones of his favorite comfort tea: chamomile. Temporarily content, he turned and made his way to the living room, wiggling his toes when his bare feet sank into his plush red carpet. Glad to be home, he turned the corner, and the smile upon his face was softened by affection. Aislinn was sprawled over his sofa, absently watching the flickering flames in Keith’s hearth. It reminded Keith of the first time he remembered laying eyes on Aislinn, the dream still fresh and clear in his memory. Giving in to the impulse to hold on to the magic a little longer, he slipped in beside Aislinn, curled his bare feet beneath himself, and leaned in to drop a light kiss onto the corner of Aislinn’s lip. “What has you so deep in thought?” Aislinn’s start was a clear indication of just how lost he had really been, Keith’s presence an obvious surprise to Aislinn. Blinking, he shook his head and focused on Keith before speaking. “I’m trying to make sense of it all.” Keith sighed in defeat, the glaring facts of reality slipping back 134

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into the dreamy atmosphere he’d been enjoying. “I thought that was my job.” He took a careful sip of his tea. “Making sense of it all?” Aislinn shifted, his clothes rustling softly against the material of the sofa, and Keith couldn’t fight off the urge to shift along with him. Keith used the opportunity to approach Aislinn and settled himself against Aislinn’s side, needing the comfort of touch more than he’d ever care to admit. “You could say that, I guess, but I was referring to being confused. You’re supposed to be the certainty in this relationship, the one who knows what’s going on and understands why it’s happening. So far, you’re the one who’s been explaining everything to me, and if you don’t know, then….” Keith left the rest unspoken, his meaning clear. He’d come to rely on Aislinn to guide him through this, and Aislinn’s uncertainty disconcerted him. Aislinn remained silent, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the room as each of them contemplated the implications of the situation they found themselves in. “If Faelan is to be believed, the secret to everything that’s been happening recently actually lies within your memories, not mine.” Aislinn suddenly broke the silence, turning to face Keith. “I’m not sure what to believe. To be honest, I had problems long before you came into my life. The dreams started four years ago,” Keith admitted, tracing the rim of his cup. “Like the one you had the other night?” Aislinn prompted when Keith fell silent. Keith nodded, looking up to face Aislinn head-on. “That’s the one I have the most often. The thing I remember the most is the feeling of my life slipping away. I can’t imagine anything more terrifying than the sheer powerlessness of that moment. I was dying, Aislinn, and even though it wasn’t supposed to be happening to me, there was nothing I could do about it.” “Keith, I—” 135

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Keith interrupted what Aislinn was going to say. “Let me finish.” It had taken him a long time to give voice to the demons the nightmares stirred within him, and he feared he’d be unable to continue if he allowed himself to stop. “You’re right. I am Kian’s reincarnation. It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s the only explanation that fits with what I remember from the many times I’ve had this dream. I was on an ancient battlefield, at Troy.” Keith took a deep, wavering breath. The truth in the statement managed to shake him even though he’d subconsciously been aware of it all along. Facing what he knew was a lot harder than he’d expected it to be. “It is the reason I’m so obsessed with trying to find out what happened at Troy. I can remember being there, and I want it to make sense. I was looking for someone—no, wait, that’s not right.” Keith paused and shook his head, frowning in concentration. “I was looking for someone’s soul. I was supposed to reap it. Ulysses was supposed to die in that battle, but I never got that far. I saw Ulysses’ soul, and just as I moved to collect it, someone stabbed me.” Keith choked on the rest, part of him unable to believe he’d actually managed to voice as much as he had. He could almost feel the unacknowledged barrier crumble, baring a hidden part of his heart to someone for the first time. The fear that pulsed through him was a heady drug, an adrenaline rush like no other, and he caught his breath, waiting…. “I wish it could have been me.” “What?” The fear was washed away by confusion. Aislinn’s statement was unexpected, and Keith needed a moment to understand it, not quite on the same page. “I wish it could have been me and not you,” Aislinn clarified. “You didn’t deserve that.” Aislinn’s explanation swirled around in Keith’s mind, remaining out of place despite all Keith’s efforts to determine where it could possibly be coming from. “And you think you did?” “No.” Aislinn shook his head. “But I’d have done anything to

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protect you.” “Life doesn’t work that way, Ashes.” Urged on by a desire to offer comfort, Keith reached out and ran a hand over Aislinn’s cheek, tracing the bandages he found there with an index finger. “He hurt you too, didn’t he?” he asked, the revelation shifting his perspective. Aislinn leaned into Keith’s touch, his eyes losing focus with the caress, only to snap back into clarity the moment Keith finished speaking. “He?” Aislinn questioned urgently, reaching out to trap Keith’s wandering hand. “You remember who killed you?” Keith hated the disappointment he could see on Aislinn’s face when he shook his head in denial, but it couldn’t be helped. Things were only beginning to make sense, and names were a detail he was not privileged with in his dreams. “I’m sorry, Ashes. I don’t know his name.” “But you know what he looked like,” Aislinn insisted. “Bits and pieces,” Keith admitted, nipping his bottom lip. The image was clear in his mind, burned into his consciousness, but he didn’t know if he really could do this, because that was not the only memory he had of his killer. He had one other, one in which he suffered a betrayal greater than death. “Tynan.” The shocked whisper escaped him before he could stop himself, weighing heavy in the atmosphere between them. “What?” Aislinn echoed Keith’s earlier confusion, the tone colored by disbelief. “His name is Tynan,” Keith whispered with dead certainty. The sheer agony of betrayal he’d remembered suddenly made sense. Aislinn had not only betrayed Kian by sleeping with someone else. He’d done it by sleeping with someone Kian both knew and trusted. “Slim build, shoulder-length chocolate brown hair and bright green eyes with yellow undertones. He likes leather, carries twin blades, and wears his hair in a warrior’s topknot.” Aislinn paled as Keith spoke, looking like he would pass out at 137

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any moment. “What?” Aislinn repeated, clearly struggling to process the information. “I remember why he looked so familiar now.” Keith rushed into an explanation. “I saw him in one other dream. He’s the man you made love to when you were supposed to be all mine. I didn’t make the connection when I first saw the vision.” “Keith.” Aislinn’s interjection was lost as Keith forged on, not about to pause. He didn’t want to rehash an old argument when he had a point he was trying to get to. “I couldn’t figure out why he looked so familiar, but now that I think about, it’s the same person who shoved a blade into my gut. You said I, Kian, accused you of sleeping with someone called Tynan. If my dreams are really Kian’s memories….” “Keith.” Even though Aislinn was growing more vehement, Keith continued to ignore Aislinn’s attempts to interrupt. Keith’s mind raced as it made connections between snippets of memory he’d only just begun to believe. “That means his name is Tynan. You betrayed Kian by sleeping with the person who ultimately murdered him. If that’s true, I can understand why—” “Keith!” Keith fell silent, unable to ignore Aislinn any longer. The silence that followed the loud exclamation was ominous, full of things that should never really have been given voice, giving regret time to fester and grow as it became clear he’d gone about this the wrong way. He’d unintentionally hurt both Aislinn and himself. Keith jumped when Aislinn spoke, the ragged whisper an ironic contrast to the exclamation he’d given in the hopes of being heard. “You realize—” Aislinn paused, the very air in the room charged with tension. “You’ve just described yourself. Kian had chocolate brown hair and bright green eyes with yellow undertones. He was slim, wore warrior’s leather, and wore his hair up in a warrior’s topknot.” 138

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It couldn’t be. It simply didn’t make sense. Keith knew what he’d seen. He knew he was watching actions someone else had committed against him in his dreams and could see the man before him, clear as day. Part of him was inclined to believe that this new revelation meant he wasn’t Kian’s reincarnation. He longed to jump on the explanation as an easy way out, but that didn’t make sense either. Despite fighting the knowledge tooth and nail since being confronted with it, he knew he was Kian. He didn’t know how, but he knew it as certainly as he lived and breathed, which left him with only one explanation. Someone had manipulated and betrayed them both. “I think Tynan has a lot of explaining to do,” Keith whispered in response.

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Seeing Clearly

FACTS and memories flowed through his mind, each thread changing the tapestry that defined his life. The picture shifted and changed along with his perception, and everything he thought he knew became a question. Keith’s implication was a revelation that twisted the very foundation of a relationship that had defined his existence for as long as he could remember, and he didn’t know how to reconcile himself to the fact that he might have lived a lie. “Are you implying that…?” Aislinn fell silent, unable to give voice to the conviction stirring deep within. “I’m implying someone played us both for fools, Ashes.” Keith’s confirmation stung. “I don’t remember much about Kian’s life, but there are a few things I’m certain about. Like you said, Kian was a warrior. He knew how to take care of himself but was both hurt and betrayed in the last few days of his life. He was killed at the battle of Troy by someone he both loved and trusted, but that hurt him nowhere near as much as being forced to watch you consummate a relationship he considered sacred with someone who was not him. The fact that it was the same person in both cases means someone had ulterior motives for both acts. That much is clear to me. It’s the rest that’s starts to become blurry. Now, having met Brigid and Faelan, I’m assuming that those in the world you come from can cross over into ours.” Aislinn nodded when Keith paused, starting to see where Keith was going with this. “Yes, but generally they need special permission 140

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in order to do so.” Keith waved his response aside. “I’m assuming a Togairlan has that kind of special permission, seeing as coming here seems to be a key part of the job description. I realize that more often than not a Togairlan is not visible to us mere mortals”—Kian smiled, clearly teasing a little—“but Faelan was visible to me, and I’m starting to suspect that there must be a touch of magic involved there somewhere. The paramedics didn’t even glance at him, and he was bleeding more than you and me combined, which makes me think I’m the only one he wanted to see him, other than you, of course. Now, I suspect that’s not always the status quo. In order to do their job properly, a Togairlan needs to know and recognize the souls they have been sent to reap, right? I suspect that may sometimes require a bit of research. Now, that begs the following question: how does a Togairlan ensure they can move freely about even when visible to other humans? Surely having people continually die around someone who always looks the same would be suspicious, and that’s not even taking into account different races on this earth.” “They have the ability to change their appearance to a certain degree, allowing them to blend in,” Aislinn whispered, silently reprimanding himself for not seeing this sooner. He was the one who had all the background knowledge needed to come to this conclusion, yet it was Keith who had leaped to it. “Exactly.” Uncertainty enveloped Aislinn, settling heavily upon him with a revelation that hurt him every bit as much as it had hurt Kian all those years ago. Aislinn had unwittingly betrayed the only person who meant anything to him, and the weight of it cut deep. Now that he thought about it, he realized he should have known something was not right. Kian had seemed moody and different that day, and Aislinn had been surprised by how simple it had been to actually tempt him into the act. He hadn’t questioned it then. He’d been too happy, too blinded by lust and desire and that had been his downfall. He should have 141

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questioned it, should have seen something was very wrong and— “Aislinn, don’t.” Keith interrupted Aislinn’s headlong dive into selfrecrimination, drawing Aislinn’s attention back to him. “I can see what you’re thinking. Don’t go there. Not tonight.” “But I—” Keith’s finger on his lips effectively silenced Aislinn. “Can we let sleeping dogs lie just for a little longer?” The soft whispered plea pulled at his heartstrings, making Aislinn wish he could fix it all, wipe every mistake away and start again on a clean slate, but that, unfortunately, was not even an option. Not with someone out to silence memories that had not even managed to fully resurface. “I wish we could, Keith, but we can’t.” Aislinn hooked a finger into the one Keith held at his lips, linking their hands. “We don’t exactly have that luxury. Someone wants you dead, and they’re not going to stop until they kill you. That attack, the one outside your apartment, was directed at you, and the bus was too. I saw Cathaoir at both locations, and Faelan says he’s working for someone.” “Who is Cathaoir? Faelan mentioned him before, but I never got the chance to ask.” The question startled Aislinn. Somewhere along the line, he’d forgotten that Keith, despite being Kian’s reincarnation, possessed but a single mortal’s lifespan of memories. The few memories Keith had accessed in his dreams were but the tip of a very large iceberg, and Aislinn had no guarantee Kian even knew Cathaoir to begin with. He heaved a sigh, not really sure where to begin. “Cathaoir is a Togairlan and wanted to be the one to take away my immortality, but Faelan stopped him. I only met him briefly before becoming mortal. He was at my trial.” “Trial? Why were you…?” Aislinn raised a hand to stem the flow of Keith’s question. “I’m not sure how to explain this, but here is my abbreviated version. I am a dream spinner. Or at least I was. It was part of my job to spin tapestries 142

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to hang in the hall of dreams. These tapestries contain the essence of a dream someone, usually a mortal soul, will either be cursed or gifted with, depending on the kind of dream the spinner has been requested to spin. This essence is captured in a single image that influences and guides the dreams that stem from it and basically forms the core around which all dreams will then be played out. I was supposed to spin a picture of a companion for someone. It was a simple request, but I made a fatal mistake. I spun an image of myself into a mortal’s tapestry.” Aislinn fell silent, distracted from the original thread of conversation he’d intended to follow. Keith looked thoughtful, and Aislinn held his breath, waiting for the conclusion he knew Keith would draw. “It was my tapestry, wasn’t it? You spun yourself into my dreams.” Aislinn nodded, not surprised in the least. If there was one thing Keith had managed to prove in the short time Aislinn had known him, it was that his mind was every bit as sharp as Kian’s had been. “I didn’t know you were Kian’s reincarnation and was trying to figure out what made you so special while I was busy spinning your dream tapestry. I wasn’t really paying attention to the actual image I was spinning and didn’t even notice I’d done it until I hung the tapestry.” “So the first time I saw you in my dreams was your doing?” Keith asked. Aislinn nodded, smiling wryly. “Unfortunately, yes.” Keith’s brow furrowed as he lost himself in thought, absently tapping the cup he held. “I wouldn’t call it unfortunate.” Keith spoke softly just as Aislinn began to worry that he might have revealed too much too soon. “It was a nice change from the memories of death that kept running through my head. I didn’t want to contemplate the idea that my dreams may be memories, because it seemed like none of them held any true joy. The dream with you in it was pleasant. It triggered flashes of pleasant memories, and I was happy. Kind of like now.” Keith looked up and offered Aislinn a soft smile, honestly meaning 143

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what he said. It didn’t make sense, though. Aislinn couldn’t understand how Keith could be happy with all the chaos that had followed Aislinn right into Keith’s life. It was possible that Cathaoir would’ve never tracked down Kian’s soul if not for the mistake Aislinn had made. “You’re happy? But—” Keith once again silenced him with a finger on his lips. “Don’t ruin it,” Keith whispered, slowly tracing Aislinn’s lip. “Please don’t make me face the complications when all I want right now is this moment in time.” “Keith.” The name escaped him on a breath, the need to protect Keith even from himself in conflict with the need to simply hold him close and enjoy the time they did have. The latter desire won. Aislinn reached for the cup Keith still held and took it from him, placing it onto the coffee table with a soft tap. Barrier eliminated, he swept Keith up into his arms and buried his face in Keith’s hair, taking in the spicy fresh scent of his shampoo. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” Aislinn whispered. “I promised you I’d wait, you know.” “I know.” Keith’s breath trickled over the hollow of Aislinn’s throat, warm, sweet and seductive all at once. “It was a stupid promise.” Aislinn started, relaxing his hold a little. “It was? Why?” “Because—” Keith paused to nip on Aislinn’s throat, following through with a lap that sent shivers down Aislinn’s back. “I never wanted you to wait.” “Wha—” The rest of Aislinn’s exclamation was swallowed, Keith’s lips aggressively laying claim to his own in a possessive gesture that rivaled Aislinn’s own.

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Heart’s Revelation

THIS was where he belonged, embraced, treasured, and loved in a way only touch could express. Aislinn’s lips were soft and pliant beneath his own, the moment a dream come true in the most literal of definitions. He was living the dream that had started it all, curled up beside Aislinn on the sofa in his living room, the heat of the fire in his hearth warm on his skin, chamomile tea lingering on his tongue. The only thing missing was the tangy sweet flavor of wine in Aislinn’s mouth, but that didn’t matter. The reality was so much better than any dream. Keith reached up and wove his fingers into Aislinn’s hair, the silky texture dancing across his fingertips, the texture of it so very familiar. He’d done this many times before and would never tire of it, addicted to everything that defined Aislinn. Parting his lips, he gave up control of the kiss, exhaling into Aislinn’s mouth. Their breath mingled and merged, sharing two unique flavors to create a third, more addictive than anything Keith could have imagined possible, hunger for more coiling deep in his belly. Aislinn’s tongue slipped into his mouth and flicked across his palate, drawing a heady moan of pleasure from Keith, and the heat in his gut swirled and intensified with every touch. He whimpered softly when Aislinn broke the kiss, only to gasp when Aislinn moved on, nipping at Keith’s jaw, his throat, his Adam’s 145

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apple, the curve of his shoulder, and down to his collarbone. Nimble fingers deftly divested him of his button-up shirt without pause, the movement an art form in and of itself, and Keith had to bite back a cry when Aislinn moved on to his nipples, biting, licking and sucking each hard nub. Every caress was an erotic dance, sending threads of arousal through Keith, each one pooling in his groin till the very ache itself became heady pleasure, enough to take his breath away. Keith fought to breathe through the haze that descended upon his mind, touch, heat, and sound amplified, threatening to throw him over an edge that knew no bounds. The slick heat of Aislinn’s tongue sliding down his skin was complemented by the soft rustle of cloth and the fire in his blood. Ragged breaths filled the space between them, and warm air danced across skin that trembled in response, sensitive to every shift, the softest movement echoed through every muscle. Aislinn’s fingers traced their way across his chest, down his abdomen, and around to the curve of Keith’s back, burning and stroking. Slipping one hand into his pants, Aislinn reached around with his free hand and cupped Keith’s erection, drawing a soft cry from between the ragged breaths. Keith thrust up into Aislinn’s hand, rubbing himself against it, the friction but a prelude to what he really desired. “Ashes, please don’t tease.” His plea was followed by a button popping. Aislinn’s long fingers brushed over the tip of his erection even as he eased the pressure the confined fabric had exerted, the light touch triggering a whole different kind of pain, a yearning deep inside. “Ashes,” Keith whined, pride not even in the running. Aislinn’s chuckle drifted through Keith’s mind as fabric finally slid down his hips, and he slipped it the rest of the way off, a few strategically timed wiggles helping it along. Free of the fabric, Keith immediately thrust up against Aislinn’s stomach, his desire both complex and simple in nature, wanting nothing more than to mark Aislinn with his own essence all while yearning for pressure and release, the desire so base it remained unchanged throughout the ages. He wanted, he needed, and it would never be enough. 146

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Aislinn. It had always been Aislinn. No one else could stoke or contain the fire deep within his gut quite like Aislinn. The burning need to be claimed, to be possessed, to belong would react to no other, and Keith lost himself to it, knowing there would be no turning back. Not for him. Not ever. Aislinn was his, and Keith was not willing ever to let him go. Releasing his hold on Aislinn’s neck, he slid his hands down firm, naked flesh, barely registering the velvet bag and hard nipples beneath his palms before moving farther down to remove the only barrier that still remained between them, unwilling to remain separated longer than necessary. Keith parted the fabric of Aislinn’s pants and reached inside to stroke the heated flesh he found there. “In.” Keith continued to rub against Aislinn’s stomach, reduced to single incoherent words. “Now.” Rub. “Please.” Precome lubricated Aislinn’s skin, each slide easier and smoother than the one that came before yet still not enough. Keith wanted to be claimed, wanted to feel Aislinn deep within his body, yearning for the friction that would mark him, fill him, and take him to ecstasy. The whimper that escaped Keith’s throat when Aislinn reached out to still his hips was torn, protesting the delay. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to still, and didn’t want to wait. Not when he was so close to what he wanted, mere inches separating the quivering muscles in his ass from the hard, pulsing heat in his hands. “We need lube.” Aislinn’s breath stirred his hair, the small quiver in Aislinn’s grasp a clear indication of just how precarious his control was. Just a little farther. Keith only needed to push a little more to get what he want, lube be damned. Tightening his grip on Aislinn’s heated length, Keith jerked his hand down, hoping to tip the scale in his favor. The pained groan Aislinn released made Keith giddy, proof of the power he held over the man who was stealing every corner of his heart, but he still didn’t get what he wanted. “Keith. No.” Aislinn nipped Keith’s earlobe, sending another shiver through his body. “I’m not taking you without lube.”

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“Then move and get some already,” Keith snapped, all semblance of patience gone as he slid his hand back up Aislinn’s erection, thrusting it back down in the hopes of emphasizing his point. He wanted Aislinn deep within his body already, and the waiting was driving him crazy. “Keith. I can’t move if you keep doing…. Oh to hell with it.” Keith experienced fleeting victory when Aislinn moved to get up. He wrapped his legs around Aislinn’s waist and stilled when Aislinn lifted him, resisting the urge to torment Aislinn further when he stumbled, heading for the bedroom. The lack of coordination would probably have Keith on his ass if he provoked Aislinn any further, and that would only delay things again. It would have been funny if he really stopped to think about it, but Keith didn’t have the inclination to appreciate it. The short distance to the bedroom was too long as far as he was concerned. When his back connected with cotton sheets Keith reached for the lube on the bedside table, throwing caution right out the proverbial window. Hooking his ankle into the hollow of Aislinn’s back, he pulled his lover down, lube already in Keith’s hand. “In. Now.” He repeated his earlier sentiment, opening the bottle to pour a liberal amount onto Aislinn’s fingers, impatience in every gesture. Temporarily storing the bottle between his teeth, Keith then grabbed and guided Aislinn’s hand toward his asshole, ignoring the urge to kick him when Aislinn still had the presence of mind to chuckle lightly. The moan that escaped him as Aislinn’s fingers slid past the first tight ring was muffled and needy, filled with desperate hunger. The slim breach of two fingers was not nearly enough, each stroke merely teasing, toying with his senses as his body yearned for a far more invasive intrusion. Muscles trembling in anticipation, Keith thrust his hips up, silently begging Aislinn to give in. When that was not enough, he reached for the lube again and coated his hands with it before discarding the bottle completely, the gel no longer necessary. Reaching down, he palmed Aislinn’s erection and hummed deep

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in his throat, final goal already in mind as he thoroughly lubricated Aislinn’s shaft. Aislinn’s hips jerked in reaction, the tremors in his body followed by a ragged moan as Aislinn obviously forgot to be amused. Sweat slipped from Aislinn’s brow onto Keith’s chest, the slow slide of liquid erotic as it brought to mind other body fluids, as much a part of his lover’s essence as the sweat upon his skin. Wanting to prolong his small victory over Aislinn’s body, Keith slowed his strokes, rubbing the slick gel into heated flesh, lapping at Aislinn’s skin, eager for the unique salty flavor that could only be found in one place. He planned to drive Aislinn to breaking point, each movement an attempt at seduction, but his plan backfired on him as his imagination bombarded him with all-too-familiar images of being parted by the organ sliding through his fist. Overcome by impatience, he dropped Aislinn’s erection to reach for the fingers still gliding seductively slow, deep within his body. Titling his body, he pulled them out, biting down on Aislinn’s shoulder in punishment when Aislinn attempted to resist. He might be playing the submissive role in this relationship, but right then he was in charge, and he was no longer willing to wait to get what he wanted. Nipping Aislinn’s skin, Keith reached for Aislinn’s erection once more and guided it straight into his body, sighing in satisfaction when the muscles in his ass burned and quivered with the invasion. Aislinn stilled within him and dropped tense, rough kisses onto Keith’s parted lips, literally taking his breath away before sliding out with a pained groan. Keith keened and wrapped his arms around Aislinn’s neck, bracing himself for the ride of his life as he watched the remains of Aislinn’s control fall, a jagged plunge back into his body brushing across his prostate and tearing a ragged cry from his throat. Each thrust made him feel thoroughly possessed, claimed in the most intimate of ways, and it wasn’t long before he joined in the dance, giving as much as taking, the slap of skin against flesh echoing in the room between them. Leaning up, he ravaged Aislinn’s lips, sucking and nipping and groaning with each shift. Aislinn responded, thrusting his

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tongue into Keith’s mouth, twining, twisting, tasting, and emulating the thrust of his erection, each indulgence fuel to the flames of desire. Keith gave himself up to the flow and let it sweep him away, instinct controlling the rapidly growing rhythm, each beat silently adding a strand to the thread rapidly weaving a link between his heart and Aislinn’s. “Keith.” Aislinn’s exclamation as he filled Keith’s body with come triggered a distant memory, and in that instant, Keith found himself in both the present and the past, Kian’s heart beating at one with his own. Kian. The single word, spoken while in the throes of pleasure and release, echoed throughout his mind, playing insistently over and over again until he could avoid it no more. Previously lost between pain and betrayal, the simple exclamation now resurfaced to whisper a truth he had been unwilling to see the first and only time his soul had heard Aislinn cry it out, confirming that Aislinn had never intentionally betrayed him. Aislinn had thought it was Kian in bed with him, and the realization that Aislinn had been tricked into bedding someone else all in a bid to get back at Kian set Keith’s blood boiling with rage. Anger seeped throughout his body, merging with the passion that still had him in its grasp and drove Keith to aggressively thrust against Aislinn’s trembling body, still seeking and craving his release. Each pulse deep within his body filled him with heat, marking him with Aislinn’s essence even as it eased the slide of the shaft that parted his burning muscles. He twisted and impaled himself on the quivering shaft, and the final plunge buried Aislinn’s erection as deep as Keith could take it. A particularly thrust it his prostate dead-on and finally tipped him over the edge. His muscles clenched, milking the rest of Aislinn’s release from him as tremors shook Keith’s body, hot, sticky come hitting his abs, his hips, and most importantly of all, soaking Aislinn’s skin with his essence, and that was when Keith knew without a doubt, he was hopelessly in love with Aislinn.

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Reaching for Truth

CLICK. The front door clicked softly closed as Aislinn slipped out of Keith’s apartment with only one thought prevalent in the forefront of his mind. He needed to speak to Faelan and needed to find out if he knew who Tynan was. The thought of being manipulated into committing one of the biggest acts of betrayal he could imagine grated on his nerves, and he was itching to confront someone. Since he had no idea who Tynan was or even where to look for him, Faelan would have to do. Unfortunately for Aislinn, he had to find him first. Stepping out of the apartment block, he looked around, hoping to spot familiar red hair. Failing to do so, he sighed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, subconsciously defensive as he took a moment to prepare himself for the confrontation he was about to instigate. “Brigid, I know you’re around here somewhere. I need to talk to you. It’s important,” Aislinn called out to seemingly empty air, his gut instinct sure he was right. He caught his breath and waited, straining his hearing in the hopes of picking out a distinctive sound he would recognize anywhere. One. Two. Three. The soft chirp of morning birds announcing the imminent sunrise filled the early morning air. Four. A gust of air blew a few stray pieces of paper across the empty street, whispering secrets 151

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softly in a language no mortal mind could hear or understand. Five. Six. A bird landed on the ground, rustling a few leaves, searching for breakfast. Seven. Eight. Nine. Aislinn inhaled, about to call out Brigid’s name again on ten when the soft tap of heels intruded upon his mind. Clack clack clack. Aislinn was enveloped by a sense of relief wiping away the tendril of doubt that had managed to creep in despite the conviction that Brigid had more to do with his current situation than she let on. “It’s about time you showed up,” Aislinn said nonchalantly, not about to admit to any form of uncertainty. “As I’ve said before, I’m not your personal assistant, Ashes. You can’t expect me to jump every time you call for me.” Brigid stopped beside him, raising a pointed brow in silent reprimand. Aislinn ignored it, not about to let Brigid get the upper hand when it was clear that she was actually in the wrong, seeing as she was spying on him. “Tell me that when you’re not sticking your nose into my business, and then we can talk.” “My, my, you’re touchy today.” Brigid leaned against the wall beside him and proceeded to brush imaginary lint off the sleeves of her black suit top. “So, what’s so important that you need to talk to me at this forsaken hour?” “I need to speak to Faelan.” Brigid glanced up to raise an incredulous brow. “You need to speak to my brother, and you’re yelling for me?” “Your brother is not the one following me around in order to manipulate what I do with my life,” Aislinn pointed out. “I’m not following you around to—” Aislinn interrupted her denial. “Cut the crap, Brigid.” He was not really in the mood to play her games. “I don’t have time for this. I really need to speak to Faelan. It’s a matter of life and death. I have 152

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some information he may find useful regarding the Togairlan who may have murdered Kian all those years ago, and I need to pass it on now. Someone has already tried to kill Keith twice, and I’m not about to give him a third attempt to get the job done if I can help it.” “Okay. Tell me what you know, and I’ll pass the message on to Faelan.” Aislinn shook his head, reluctant to share the information with Brigid. Even though he trusted her implicitly, something within him urged him to speak directly to Faelan. He needed to be certain the information got to him and wanted to ensure it did so directly. “No, Brigid. I need to speak to him personally.” Brigid sighed. “You’re mortal now, Ashes.” “What’s that got to do with anything?” Aislinn demanded, anger shooting through him. “Are you trying to imply that I have nothing valuable to add to the investigation merely because my lifespan has now been limited?” Brigid shook her head, raising her hands in an attempt to stall Aislinn’s rant. “No, Ashes. You’re jumping to conclusions. That’s not what I’m saying. You’re not supposed to be speaking to any of us now that you’re living a mortal existence. We are not allowed to interfere with things that fall out of our jurisdiction. The only time Faelan should be present in your life should be around the time of your death. Asking to speak to him is tantamount to asking him to break every rule we have been trained to live by.” “Not every rule,” Aislinn snapped, irritated by Brigid’s exaggeration. “Only one of them, and last I checked, it certainly hasn’t stopped you. You’re a dream spinner. You’re never supposed to set foot in the mortal realm.” “That’s because I’ve never been one to play by the rules,” Brigid retorted, with a pointed look in Aislinn’s direction. “You know that better than most.” Affection softened her features. “That could get you into a lot of trouble, Brigid,” Aislinn said. 153

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“I know, but some things are worth the risk.” Brigid said pointedly, her implied meaning clear. Brigid considered Aislinn to be worth the risk. Aislinn shook his head, grieved by the risks Brigid appeared to be taking on his behalf. He couldn’t believe she would risk so much to help him, and the worst thing was that it was his own fault. He was the one who’d allowed himself to become jaded in the first place, and it was that disillusioned attitude that was driving someone he loved dearly to desperate measures in a bid to teach him to dream again. “I’m not worth risking your life for, Brigid. You should have never interfered. Things were better the way they were before I found Kian again.” “Where they really?” Brigid countered. “Can you honestly stand there after holding him close and loving him the way you just did and tell me you would go back to the person you were just a few weeks ago?” “If it would protect him, I—” “Cathaoir would have hunted him down anyway, Ashes.” Brigid interrupted Aislinn’s protest. “They’ve been searching for and murdering Kian’s reincarnation for centuries. They don’t want him to remember something, and with a soul as strongly tied to the immortal realm as his is, the chances of all his memories coming back are high.” Aislinn stared at Brigid, shocked by her sudden revelation. He was overcome by a slow-burning rage, the knowledge that Brigid had known Kian was in danger all along grating on his nerves as it spun around in his mind. “How could you?” he demanded. “How could you know all this and still set him up to die again? What did Kian ever do to deserve—” Brigid stilled him once again, placing a finger at his lips, temper flaring in her violet eyes. “I didn’t set him up to die, Aislinn.” Brigid’s voice was cold, and the sheer authority within it sent shivers down Aislinn’s spine. “I set him up to find true love. Faelan is doing

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everything he can to track down everyone involved so this can be stopped once and for all. Now, tell me what you know so I can pass the information on to Faelan.” Aislinn swallowed, fighting back the thread of fear Brigid’s commanding tone had awakened within him. In all the years he’d known her, Brigid had never pulled rank on him quite this vehemently, and he couldn’t help but obey her command. “Keith remembered a few things. He says the person who killed him looked like….” Aislinn licked dry lips, struggling to admit to the next part. “Looked like Kian. He thinks someone impersonated Kian, causing me to betray him. You see, before he died, Kian and I argued. He claimed I betrayed him by… with… because… I apparently slept with someone called Tynan, and Keith thinks the same man killed Kian at the battle of Troy. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I figure it’s important.” Aislinn fell silent, staring hard at the ground at his feet. He’d never told anyone what happened the day Kian died, and it turned out to be the hardest thing he’d ever had to say. “Is that all?” Brigid startled Aislinn with her casual demeanor. Aislinn glanced up, looking for signs of judgment or disgust on her face, part of him convinced that the admission had ruined his relationship with Brigid. Finding none, he nodded, only to blink in surprise when Brigid merely nodded in return and turned to leave. “Brigid!” Aislinn called after her before he could think better of it. She paused and turned to him in question. “I—” “It wasn’t your fault, Ashes.” Aislinn shook his head, unable to accept the comfort Brigid was extending, unable to forgive himself. “I should’ve known something was wrong, Brigid.” “Let it go, Ashes. Go back to your lover and hold him close. Enjoy the present, and let us take care of the past.” With that said, she

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turned and disappeared, not even giving Aislinn the chance to respond. Aislinn stared after her, his mind racing and his heart torn, still fighting to make sense of what little he knew. When it became clear that it was a lost cause, though, he shook himself out of his daze and turned back to the apartment, intending to return to Keith. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it very far. “Not so fast.” Aislinn froze in dread when a familiar voice halted his progress. A cold steel blade was pressed against the hollow of his back, its twin held at his throat. “You’re coming with me.”

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Waking Nightmare

KEITH woke slowly, smiling when he stretched and encountered a familiar ache deep in his body. It was a clear indication that he’d just been thoroughly screwed. Despite the twinge of discomfort moving caused, it was a pleasant feeling. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this good after sex, not even when he’d still been involved with Jordan, and that in itself was very telling. Sitting up sleepily, Keith glanced around the room with a frown, absently looking for his lover. The warm feeling of contentment dissipated when he spotted the empty, rumpled sheets beside him. Reaching out, he brushed a hand over them, seeking to determine how long ago they had been abandoned. They were cold, which meant Aislinn had been gone for some time. Frowning in confusion, Keith slipped out of bed and searched the apartment, only to come up empty once again. Aislinn was nowhere to be found, which didn’t make sense. Aislinn’s bag was still in the apartment, and it was still too early for him to have left for work. Reaching for his phone, he lifted the handset. He then dialed Aislinn’s number and held the handset to his ear. The phone began to ring. On the third ring, Keith walked over to the window and moved the curtain to peer out, stretching the cable to its limit. He absently wondered if Aislinn had perhaps gone for a walk. On the fifth he began 157

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to nervously tap his fingers, agitation humming in his veins. When he reached voicemail, he hung up and made his way to the kitchen, forcing himself to calmly make a cup of tea. Click. The kettle finished boiling. Trickle. The water flowed into his cup, steam drifting into the cool early morning air. Tap. Keith slid the ceramic cup onto the kitchen table and sat down, cradling the heated cup in his hands, his mind completely blank. It was some time later that he shook himself out of his mindless stupor, the cup of tea now ice-cold. Standing, he returned to the phone and pressed redial, once again counting ring tones, a dark sense of premonition creeping up on him. Something was very wrong. Keith dropped the phone on the ninth ring, aware he was about a second away from being redirected to voicemail once more. Aislinn was clearly not answering his phone. Driven into action by fear and concern, Keith ran into his bedroom and haphazardly donned some clothes. Grabbing a coat, he ran back out and headed for the front door. He needed to look for Aislinn, needed to find him, and needed to get him out of the trouble his gut was telling him Aislinn was in. Keith’s hand connected with the handle, and he managed to fleetingly register the cool metal beneath his grasp before he was hit by sudden darkness. Pain, invasive and deadly in its intent, brought him to his knees with a sharp cry. The shadows were alive, swirling and dancing about even as they hid a more corporeal presence from sight, but Keith knew it was there. He could feel it, alien thoughts brushing through his own, invading the privacy and sanctity of Keith’s very sanity. I see you’re doing well. The alien voice was clearly in his mind.

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It was strangely familiar even though Keith knew he hadn’t heard it before, not in his current lifetime, at least. “Who are you?” Keith looked around, desperately seeking something familiar, something he could grab on to, to confirm his own continued existence in the swirling emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole. I’m hurt. How could you betray me with such ease? The voice brushed across his thoughts once more, etching itself upon the very essence of his soul. You don’t even remember me. Was it really that easy to replace me, Kian? I didn’t think it was possible. Not when you were alive at least, but you didn’t wait all that long after your death, did you? You always had to be part of a twin pair, never able to exist alone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keith said, fishing for more information, more time, anything in the hopes of escaping this waking nightmare that had him in its grasp. “I don’t remember Kian’s life. I’m mortal now. My name is Keith, and I’m no longer the person you think I am.” Lies. The single word was filled with malice and anger, all of it directed at Keith, and Keith began to fear for his life. You always were and always will be Kian. No matter whom you become, whose shape or form you take, your memories are always drawn back to but one life. Even so, you continue to betray me, always choosing to be born as one of a twin pair, always linked to another. Why? “I can’t choose the circumstances of my birth. I can’t help it if my mortal existence is characterized by being part of a twin pair!” Keith protested, desperation seeping into his tone despite his efforts to rein it in. He felt trapped, cornered into a conversation that made little sense, and it was an effort not to doubt his mind. This was happening to him. It was not a figment of his imagination, and there was nothing he could do about it. Your mortal existence? Again you wound me. We used to do

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everything together. We used to be a team, inseparable, and that was the way it was meant to be. Then you met him, and I was no longer the other half of your soul. You tore me apart. Disregarded my very existence and betrayed me just as you have continued to do ever since. The whispered words triggered something deep within Keith’s soul, snapping barriers Keith was only just beginning to recognize. Pictures drifted slowly up into his consciousness, forgotten memories resurfacing with each whispered accusation. The panic and fear began to fade as a blanket of calm embraced him, soothing the pain in his heart. A soft voice, his own conscience, Kian’s voice, guided him toward peace and told him it would be all right, granting Keith a measure of control over the situation as Kian’s memories slipped into place among his own. He would get out of this alive because he now knew how to get Tynan out of his mind. “No, Tynan,” Keith whispered, the picture suddenly clear. “It was you who betrayed me. I never disregarded your existence. You pushed me away because you couldn’t accept Aislinn.” The shadows that had been taunting Keith disappeared, revealing the man Keith already knew was there. Tynan stood before him, the amber undertones in his bright green eyes flickering in anger. Why would I want to accept someone who was stealing half my soul from me? “He wasn’t stealing half your soul, Ty.” The endearment escaped Keith before he could help himself, because somehow, despite all that had been done to him, part of his soul still loved Tynan. “He was merely completing it. You used to be half of my soul, the part I would not be able to exist without, but Aislinn was and still is my soul mate.” Tynan scowled. What need did you have for a soul mate when you already had me? “The same need everyone else has. One soul split into two halves still needs another soul in order to be complete. Actually, it needs two, one soul for each half. You never could understand that, could you? There was enough love in my heart for both you and Aislinn.” 160

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The amber in Tynan’s eyes flashed, clearly indicating his rise in temper. It’s not me who doesn’t understand. It’s you, but no matter. What’s done is done. You’re dead to me. You no longer exist in the same realm as I do and have no power over my life anymore. I, however, do have power over yours. Dread swirled in Keith’s gut when Tynan paused. He suspected he wouldn’t like what Tynan had to say, and the malice in the smile that crossed Tynan’s face only served to disconcert him even further. I have something you want. “What did you do to him?” Keith demanded, feeling the muscles in his body tense. He wanted to throw himself at Tynan, wanted to hit him, tear his throat out, and do him some serious physical harm, but Tynan unfortunately was not really there. He was merely using the mental link Kian had always shared with him in order to communicate, and even though they were able to talk and share images, they could not physically influence each other in any way. Tynan shrugged, unfazed by the anger clearly audible in Keith’s voice. Nothing yet. The silent message was clear. Even though Aislinn was still alive, he probably wouldn’t be unharmed for much longer. “What do you want from me?” Keith asked softly, afraid to provoke Tynan now that he knew he had something to lose. Oh nothing much. Tynan pulled one of the twin blades strapped to his back out of its sheath and pretended to inspect it, the action a silent threat. Just a little game. Faelan has been called out to a meeting with his sister, and I find I have a little time on my hands. You see, when the cat’s gone, the mice come out to play. “What kind of little game?” Keith asked. Nothing too complicated. We don’t have much time, after all. We’re starting with hide-and-seek. I’ve hidden your so-called soul mate, and you’re required to seek him out. We’ll discuss the next stage of this game should you find him. The fear returned along with the conviction that Tynan was not going to let him win the game he was forcing Keith to play. Keith was 161

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certain Tynan would change the rules and keep extending it until he got what he wanted, and there was little Keith could do except play along and hope Tynan would make a mistake. “Hide-and-seek is usually played within a well-defined area,” Keith pointed out, hoping Tynan would give him some kind of clue that would let him know at least where to start looking. Usually, yes, Tynan agreed. His amusement trickled through Keith’s thoughts, silently mocking him. It was clear Tynan knew exactly what Keith was trying to do. Keith knew he was in no position to bargain, but that didn’t stop him from trying. “Then you need to define where this game will be played.” Do I now? Tynan asked. Keith’s fear rose a notch. He had no idea how he was going to find Aislinn if he had to search the whole city, and that was based on the assumption that Aislinn was still even in the city. “I’m a mortal now. I no longer have the same resources you do at my disposal. If you don’t give me a clue, it won’t be much of a game. Wouldn’t be all that much fun, would it?” Keith caught his breath as he waited for a response, hoping to successfully manipulate Tynan’s desire to play with him, macabre though the game may be. It was the last proverbial card he had at his disposal, and he really didn’t know what he was going to do if it didn’t work. How about I do one better? Tynan paused for dramatic emphasis, but Keith already knew he’d just gained a small victory. How about I show you where he is? Tynan’s statement was followed by a rush of images flickering through Keith’s mind, each one but a fragment of a larger picture, only to settle upon the most generic one of them all. He saw early-morning sunlight, filtered by maple leaves, so indistinct it helped him not at all. The entire city was populated with maple trees, the flora an indigenous 162

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part of the landscape. He was about to comment on the uselessness of Tynan’s so-called clue when the image shifted to reveal bleachers, the slats painted dusty blue, a color so unique he would know it anywhere in the world. Tynan was outside the school Keith taught at. Muscles bunching up Keith prepared to leap into motion, ready to push Tynan out of his mind when Tynan interrupted him. I’m not done yet. The image shifted yet again, and Keith found himself in a place more familiar than his home. It was filled with chairs and wooden desks all lined up in neat little rows, graffiti inscribed upon each one. Tick tock, around the clock, the game is on a roll. Pitter patter, the kids will scatter, the knell of death doth toll. Tynan’s parting words echoed through Keith’s body, raising the stakes of the game. The morbid poem made it clear that Aislinn was no longer the only one at risk. Tynan had added the lives of innocent children to the bet. More specifically, the lives of children Keith knew and cared for. Pain and grief cut deep into Keith’s heart as the image of who Tynan had become shifted and grew darker in his mind. He couldn’t understand how someone he loved very much, someone whose soul had once been joined with Keith’s could change so much. The Tynan Kian had known all those years ago would never have involved innocent lives in a dispute older than modern memory. Especially when the very nature of the dispute itself was shrouded by time and forgotten lives. Ty…. Keith reached for Tynan’s mind, a forgotten instinct resurfacing from the shadows of Kian’s memories, their essence now a part of Keith’s own. Please don’t do this. Too late. Keith’s mind managed to touch a corner of Tynan’s soul, spotting a tiny flicker of light fighting to survive in the encroaching darkness that was changing who Tynan had once been, and then the glimpse was gone. Tynan shut the link down, and Keith found himself in his home once more, the door handle he’d been reaching for so long ago but a mere handbreadth from his grasp.

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Boredom

SOUND, touch, and sight swirled through Aislinn’s senses, pulling him ever closer to full awareness. The first thing Aislinn registered was the slide of a chair being dragged across a tile floor. The second was a soft tap followed by the swish of cloth as someone sat down, followed by… silence. Every nerve in his body told him he was being watched, so he waited. A dull throb in his temple then made its presence known, beating in time with the rapid beat of his heart. Thump. Thump thump. One, two, three. Absently counting the beats, he tried to place the reason for the pain, his thoughts drifting back to cold steel at his back and throat. The voice had been so familiar but not quite right, a subtle tone in it different now that he was allowing himself to hear it. No longer able to avoid the reality of the situation he was in, Aislinn opened his eyes and met bright green orbs, the shifting amber in them a nostalgic sight. “Kian.” The name escaped Aislinn’s lips upon an exhale, echoing throughout the empty classroom he now found himself in. “Morning, sweetheart.” The greeting was a taunt. The man who’d kidnapped him was sitting on a chair, arms draped across its back as he looked down at Aislinn, wearing Kian’s face. If Keith’s theory was correct, this would be Tynan, but something didn’t quite fit. Appearance was easier to fake than a voice.

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“Tynan?” Aislinn asked in uncertainty, voice hoarse. Tynan looked like Kian, sounded like Kian, but couldn’t be. Kian was dead. Aislinn’s head told him so, as he’d seen Kian’s body all those years ago. His heart told him Kian had been reincarnated as Keith, but his eyes and ears were giving him a different message, and Aislinn wanted some kind of confirmation that he wasn’t losing his mind. His captor smiled, tilting his head to the side like a curious child. “My, my, looks like someone’s been busy. It’s nice of you to finally learn my name.” “Why are you doing this?” Aislinn asked. Tynan shrugged. “Why does anyone do anything? Boredom, power, passion, love—there is an endless list to choose from.” “If I wanted to choose from an endless list, I wouldn’t have asked you,” Aislinn said, moving to sit up only to lose his balance, his arms and legs bound to keep him in place. “What do you have to gain by wearing Kian’s face?” “Kian’s face?” Surprise crossed Tynan’s features, quickly followed by amusement. “You figured out my name, but you haven’t figured out who I am? I am wearing no one’s face but my own. Why don’t you ponder that while we move this conversation along?” Tynan stood and walked over to Aislinn’s side. “I have better things to discuss.” He raised a red velvet pouch and dangled it from one of his fingers. Aislinn recognized the pouch. It was the one Brigid had given him when he was in prison, waiting for his trial. He’d completely forgotten about it, growing accustomed to its continued presence around his neck. He hadn’t missed it when he came to, yet strangely still managed to feel naked now that Tynan was dangling it before him. “You really are hopeless, aren’t you? Was this meant to be for me? Or should I say Kian?” Tynan opened the pouch and tipped it, spilling the contents to the floor with a soft clang. Sunlight reflected off three colors—red, silver, and gold—to reveal six rings of metal lying 165

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on the floor, two of each color. Aislinn recognized that particular set of bands as those he’d kept locked in his desk drawer. Last time he’d seen them, though, they’d been stored in a silver velvet box. “Don’t you think rings are a little cliché?” “What do you have against rings?” Aislinn asked, longing to pick the bands up. Those bands were special. Aislinn had had them custom made, and he couldn’t bear to see them lying on the ground. Tynan dropped the bag down beside the rings, returning to his seat. “They aren’t very original. Just about everyone wants to use rings to declare undying love.” Aislinn shifted once more, this time taking the ropes binding him into account. He tucked his feet beneath his body and used them as leverage, sitting up and leaning against one of the desks. “Most will recognize their meaning upon seeing them. Isn’t that what makes them special?” “Like I said”—Tynan paused, straddling his chair—“hopeless.” Aislinn shook his head. “I’d prefer to be hopeless than jaded and bitter. How can you live like that?” His words resonated in the air, taking him back to a time when he’d been the one receiving instead of giving this same piece of advice. Brigid had been right. He had forgotten how to live. “You’re very different from Kian. His glass was always half-full, not half-empty. I can’t believe I didn’t see the difference.” “You saw what you wanted to see, blinded by your so-called love. See where your half-full glass got you? Kian died, and you were left all alone, living a hollow, burned out existence.” “Kian didn’t die.” The flame of anger ignited Aislinn’s temper. “You killed him. How could you do that? How could you murder him in cold blood? He was your….” Aislinn hesitated, afraid to give voice to the truth he could now see. He still didn’t want to believe it, struggling to understand why he hadn’t known. “My what?” Tynan whispered, mocking Aislinn’s reluctance. 166

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“Come on. Say it. It’s not that hard. How could I do this to my…?” Tynan fell silent, waiting for Aislinn to complete the sentence. Aislinn swallowed and licked dry lips, the tension in the room building with each moment he delayed the inevitable. When he could take it no more, he parted his lips, took a deep breath, and prepared to speak, but someone else beat him to it. “Twin brother.” The two words drew Aislinn’s attention to the voice that uttered them like a moth to flame. The fear within him coiled and settled deep in his stomach, threatening to make him sick, his worst nightmare becoming a reality before him. What was Keith doing there? “Looks like I found him, Ty.” Clap clap clap. The applause was slow and exaggerated, both a mockery and a taunt. “Congratulations, little brother.” Tynan stood and took a step toward Keith, drawing both of his identical blades. “Now we can start the second game.” He took another step closer flipping one of the blades around to hold it out to Keith. “I was starting to get bored.” He took two more steps forward and then paused, waiting for Keith to take the blade. When Keith made no move to comply, he took a fifth step forward, leaving him close enough to touch Keith’s chest. “Go on. Take it. I’m offering you a fighting chance. Don’t you want to protect your lover over there? I won’t offer again.” Keith glanced at Aislinn, a silent question in his eyes. He wanted to know if Aislinn was all right. Aislinn nodded, providing what little comfort he could. The small smile Keith offered in return warmed him, but the feeling didn’t last. It was replaced by icy fingers of dread when Keith reached for the blade. “Keith… no.” Aislinn whispered too softly for anyone to hear, knowing it was already too late. The challenge had been accepted. “And so it begins.” Time slowed as Tynan raised his blade and swung it down, the sharp steel moving ever closer to vulnerable flesh. Keith ducked right, away from the blade, and Aislinn could do nothing

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but watch and hope it would be enough. The blade connected with the wall, a loud clang reverberating throughout the classroom, ironically symbolizing life, because it meant it had missed its intended target. Keith ran to the back of the classroom, gingerly balancing the blade Tynan had given him. His grasp was awkward and uncertain, and it was clear he didn’t know what to do with it. Tynan didn’t seem to care. Climbing onto the desks, he followed after Keith and swung his blade once more. Keith kicked a desk over and rolled out of the way, resulting in a repetition of the encounter he’d just fled from, Tynan’s blade connecting with wood instead of mortar. And so the pace was set. Keith ran and Tynan followed, prey and hunter locked in a game that could only end in death, a game Keith had no hope of winning. Aislinn hated it, hated how powerless he was to stop it and how he was drawn to watch the battle to its inevitable conclusion. Keith was beginning to tire. Each blow that missed came closer to its intended target, and with it the death of Aislinn’s soul. The one-sided battle wouldn’t last much longer, and Aislinn began to lose what little hope he still had when the clang of steel upon steel drew his attention. Keith had raised his blade to ward off a blow he couldn’t dodge. Something in Keith’s stance shifted, the subtle change in body language apparent to Aislinn only because he’d been watching Keith, learning every nuance of movement. His feet were more grounded, and his grip on the blade was no longer unsure as he became every inch a warrior in control of the weapon he held. Keith twisted his wrist and slid his blade across Tynan’s to break the lock, and in that moment, the nature of the battle changed. The blade became a part of Keith, an extension of his body, and Keith was no longer prey on the run. He’d become every bit a hunter, a deadly weapon in his own right as he twisted and parried, now attacking in return. Every movement was a work of art, graceful, dangerous and precise, a give and take between two masters locked in a deadly dance, and it was beautiful to watch, filling Aislinn with a new sense of awe for who Kian had been and who he had become.

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Steel embraced steel, the twin blades complementing each other with every movement their bearers made, kissing, biting, and clashing, the duel every bit as intimate as a lover embrace or a sexual act as the two blades were thrust forward to meet in a sensual slide with each block that was executed correctly. Each strike became part of a greater picture, a choreography of life and death, awaiting but a single mistake. The mistake, unfortunately, was made by Keith. A single misstep resulted in a loss of balance, creating an opening Tynan could take advantage of, and he did so without pause or regret. Tynan swept his blade in beneath Keith’s guard and disarmed him with a mere flick of his wrist. The long, slim blade he’d lent to Keith arched through the air and landed with a sharp clatter. “Game over, and it looks like I win,” Tynan said, holding his blade at Keith’s throat, the tip drawing a trickle of blood. He gestured toward Aislinn with his head. “Why don’t you join your lover over there so we can talk? I’m sure you’re dying to know why you’re still alive.” Keith hesitated and glanced at the blade he’d been using, now lying uselessly at his side. He was clearly attempting to weigh his options, and from what Aislinn could see, they weren’t all that good. His suspicion was confirmed when Tynan removed the twin blade from against Keith’s throat, casually sheathing it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tynan warned, revealing a small detonator in his grasp. “You’re forgetting I haven’t played my whole hand yet. Look.” Tynan pointed outside, to a group of children sitting beneath a tree. “The early birds have already arrived, and they’re even all nicely bunched together for me.” Laughter trickled in from outside, the light banter of children engaged in conversation adding unnecessary weight to Tynan’s threat, for it was already clear what was at stake. “You’re bluffing,” Keith said, but he obeyed Tynan’s order regardless. He made his way to Aislinn’s side, seating himself when Tynan pointed down at the floor. “You can’t push that trigger. You’ll incriminate yourself if you do, and you don’t have anyone here to manipulate into doing it for you. You’d 169

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only be digging your own grave if you’re the one who triggers their cause of death.” “I see your memories have returned. Or at least in part.” Tynan picked up and sheathed his second blade and then straddled the chair once more, resuming the position he’d been in before Keith had walked in. “Some things never change. You always were a stickler for the rules, always telling me what I could and couldn’t do, only this time you don’t have all the facts. I no longer have anything to lose.” “What do you mean you don’t have anything to lose? You could lose everything that defines you—your position, your life, and perhaps even your very existence,” Keith exclaimed, leaning in touch Aislinn. “Ty, please think about what you’re doing.” “I’ve already thought about it,” Tynan said, playing with the small switch. “And I always come to the same conclusion. My soul is already lost. You see, your so-called lover has already told Brigid I’m the one who killed you all those years ago. She’s currently sharing this information with Faelan, and it’s only a matter of time before he comes for me. I have time for but one last play before I am faced with all the consequences you have just listed.” “If that’s true, why are we still alive?” Keith whispered, the tension in his body transferring through to Aislinn. “Why indeed.” Tynan placed the detonator down onto a desk with a dull thud, making sure to keep it close. “Because, dearest brother of mine, you’re my ticket to freedom. You’re going to take the blame for my crimes.”

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Power

TAP tap tap. Firm footsteps echoed throughout an empty hallway, their bearer itching for a confrontation. Kian was both hurt and angry and wanted nothing more than to give vent to the negative emotions simmering deep within. He couldn’t believe he’d been betrayed by both Tynan and Aislinn, all in one fell swoop. He’d already confronted one-half of the equation. It had been one of the most difficult confrontations he ever had to deal with, and he doubted he’d ever be able to forget the look on Aislinn’s face. Aislinn had looked stricken, desolate, and lost, and for a moment, Kian had wondered if he had torn Aislinn’s heart out, but it couldn’t be. It wasn’t Aislinn’s heart that had been trampled by betrayal; it had been his own, and he refused to regret confronting Aislinn about it. He wouldn’t take it back when it was Aislinn who had always gone on about loyalty, about finding the right one, and about soul mates. Keith found it bitterly ironic that it was Aislinn who cheated on him. With one confrontation over, he had one more left. He needed to confront his twin brother. Tynan knew what Aislinn meant to him. He knew Aislinn was Kian’s soul mate, yet he’d still chosen to sleep with him. The act of betrayal had been made worse by the fact that Tynan seemed to enjoy every minute of it, even going so far as to use his mental link with Kian to show him what he was doing. Kian had been

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subjected to a play-by-play, the only audience member to a movie reel running through his mind. He had been unable to close his eyes and unable to look away, too distraught by what was playing out before him to gather the control needed to shut Tynan out of his mind. Kian didn’t really appreciate the free show his brother had gifted him with and was currently on his way to give Tynan a piece of his mind. Their link was supposed to be special, a way for the two of them to communicate in one of the most intimate ways possible, and Tynan had defiled it by using it to hurt Kian. If he could, Kian would gladly rid himself entirely of the gift lest it happen again. He paused by a wooden door and ran his fingers over the black panther painted on it. It was a mystical symbol meant to represent courage, valor, and power, and was used only by the Togairlan. The symbol was meant to be earned, paid for in blood, sweat, and tears, and was considered to be the highest honor, for no Togairlan could even hope to lead without it. Tynan had earned his only two years ago, a full thirty years after Kian had gotten his. Setting reminiscence aside, Kian pushed the door open and stepped into Tynan’s office without bothering to knock, launching into speech even before he’d completed his first step. He intended to catch Tynan by surprise. “What were you thinking? You know what Aislinn means to me. How could you just go and….” Kian’s tirade died when he was met with an empty room. Tynan wasn’t there. Bitter disappointment flashed through him, the entire build-up to a confrontation that was clearly not about to happen a waste of his time and energy, adding another chink to his armor. He’d been looking forward to the confrontation, burning to vent and rage at the person who was the true source of his anger and pain, and being denied the opportunity seemed to be the universe’s way of laughing at him. Defeated, Kian turned to leave, only to pause when a few pages of parchment lying scattered across Tynan’s desk caught his attention. Not usually one to pry, he was drawn to the seemingly innocent mess by a dark sense of premonition. 172

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Leaning over the desk, Kian began to scan the contents of each document. Written on each piece was a list of names, all written in Tynan’s handwriting. It was a list of those who were meant to die at the battle of Troy. There was nothing unusual about that. Kian knew Tynan was in charge of their current mission and it was his job to make sure everyone got a copy of the list, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not quite right. Careful not to shuffle the papers around too much, Kian began to look for the original list. No one knew exactly how the list came to be. Some said it was the hand of fate that inscribed the names upon the parchment, while others speculated that it was the work of someone they all knew, their identity shrouded in secret so that none might interfere with its creation. In the end it didn’t really matter. The important thing was that it did exist and that the names upon it were those of mortal souls reaching the end of their lives. Each time a major disaster or battle approached, the head of the Togairlan would retrieve the list of those destined to die from Arawn’s library. The list, sealed so it might not be tampered with, would then be delivered to the Togairlan in charge of a specific mission, whereupon it would be opened, copied, and handed out to all those involved. Each mission was furthermore headed by a different Togairlan, the responsibility to lead shared among all the seniors equally. Thus the system ensured that power never fell into the hands of but one person, but even the best planned systems had weaknesses. Kian silently prayed that Tynan wasn’t one of them. Kian’s shuffling grew more frantic with each page he turned, his eyes seeking the black wax seal bearing the insignia of a panther, proof of the document’s legitimacy. Seeing no sign of it, he began to panic, time weighing heavily upon him. Each minute he spent in Tynan’s office was a minute he came closer to being caught, and something told him he wanted to avoid that at all costs. Dejection shot through him when he turned the last page and found nothing. The black wax seal remained elusive as ever, and the

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original document was nowhere to be found. Standing, Kian scanned the room, biting his lip absently in thought as he tried to put himself in his brother’s shoes. Now where would he hide a document as important as… that…. He paused by the bookcase, something about the alignment of the books bothering him. He stepped away from the desk and approached the bookshelf, stopping to run his fingers over the spines. He stopped when his finger reached a dark red book that wasn’t quite aligned with the others, its spine still sticking partially out, making it appear as if it had been haphazardly shelved by someone who didn’t have time to pack it properly. Dread thick in his throat, Kian pulled it out and opened it. He was disappointed but not surprised when he discovered a folded piece of parchment pressed into the hinge. Lifting it, he flipped it over, the black panther seal confirming his suspicion. Kian had just found the original list. Turning, he headed back to the desk. He absently placed the book down and unfolded the parchment, running his fingers over the creases to straighten it, using the action to delay actually reading what was written on it. When he could procrastinate no longer, he began to scan the names, comparing them to the names on the parchments Tynan had left scattered about on his desk. Nothing appeared to be amiss. Thirty names into the list, he was about to attribute his premonition to paranoia and call it a day when something caught his eyes. A single name had been changed. “It’s just a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.” The whisper echoed through the empty room, sounding hollow even to his own ears, for Kian knew he didn’t really believe it. If he did, he wouldn’t have continued to read further. Finding a second name that did not match, he began to silently count the changes that had been made, each additional difference he found incriminating Tynan even further. When he reached the end of the list, a single name caught his attention, emphasized on the original list yet completely removed from the new one: Ulysses. 174

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Ulysses’ soul was a flame brighter than any other that had the potential to change the very definition of the world, but he was destined to die at the battle of Troy. By removing his name from the list, Tynan was changing the very course of history. Not about to let Tynan make such a grave mistake, Kian began to fold the original list, intending to take it along. He would gather the souls of those who had been removed himself. He was just about to pocket the list when the door to Tynan’s office swung open. Consumed by fear, Kian glanced up to meet icy blue eyes framed by silver hair: Cathaoir. “Kian? What are you doing here?” Cathaoir demanded, walking into the office. He’d always been able to tell Kian and Tynan apart with ease. Kian began to shuffle the papers on Tynan’s desk around, gathering the lists Tynan had made into a single pile while trying to hide the original. “Tynan asked me to fetch the lists so he can distribute them in our meeting,” he lied, desperately hoping it would be enough. “That’s strange.” Cathaoir approached the desk and reached for the papers Kian was stacking together. “He just asked me to do the same thing.” “Guess I was taking too long.” Kian faked a sheepish expression. “Guess you were,” Cathaoir agreed, taking the stack of parchment away from Kian. Turning, he left the office without another word, the original list unfortunately hidden somewhere among the stack Cathaoir had just taken with him, leaving Kian with no proof of Tynan’s transgression. “Why did you do it?” Keith gave voice to the question that had been bothering him since his encounter with Tynan earlier that morning. After Tynan had left his mind, he realized the block that had crumbled during the encounter had released Kian’s memories into his 175

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mind. That discovery had led to an exploration of the knowledge he now had access to. He saw everything in a whole new light, and for a change, the events in his life actually began to make sense. Tynan wanted Kian dead to prevent Kian from revealing the truth. “Why did you change the names on the list?” Tynan smiled, but the humor did not reach his eyes. “So you do remember. I was beginning to wonder. I spent over three thousand years hiding from your lover. I didn’t want him to see me and make the connection. It was more amusing to let him think you’d lost your mind just before you died, but somehow he knew my name when he spoke to Brigid early this morning. He knew I killed you, and I figured he must have gotten that information from you. The only way that could happen was if your memories had returned, but he made no mention of the list, so I began to wonder how much you really did remember. Guess this answers that question.” Keith reached behind Aislinn as Tynan spoke, aiming for the ropes that bound his wrists. “You still haven’t told me why you did it,” he pointed out, hoping to keep Tynan talking. Tynan complied. “Tell me something, Kian. Didn’t you ever get bored following the list to the letter? We are meant to be Togairlan, choosers of the slain, yet we don’t really get the chance to choose who dies, do we? We follow a list that magically appears in a library only one person is allowed to enter. Where’s the fun in that? We don’t even know who makes that list, yet we blindly follow it and pretend we have power, when in fact we are nothing more but puppets.” “It is who we chose to become, Ty.” Keith picked at the rope binding Aislinn, carefully pulling a single strand loose from the knot. “No one forced us to become Togairlan.” “We chose to become Togairlan because we thought it would give us the power to choose who lives and who dies.” Tynan’s voice rose in anger. First thread loose, Keith traced the knot once more, seeking

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another thread to pick free. “No, Ty, we chose to become Togairlan because we wanted to be warriors. When did having power over others lives become a part of it?” “When did having power over others’ lives become a part of it? Life is all about power.” Tynan stood and began to pace, detonator lying forgotten upon the desk. “Those who have it rule those who don’t, thus defining their very existence.” “No amount of power can govern existence itself, Ty, because we are never truly powerless. Every soul is born with free will, and that is a form of power no one can take away—the power to make our own choices.” A flicker of relief made its presence known when the knot Keith was working on gave way beneath his fingertips, the rope falling silently to the ground. Hopeful, Keith then ran his fingers over Aislinn’s hands, taking in the texture of his skin, the simple touch comforting him. Tynan walked over to the desk he’d left the detonator on and lifted it, waving it in Keith’s face. “Really? We have the power to make our own choices? I always knew you were naive, but I didn’t think you were that naive. What about death? Those with the power to take life have the power to steal every choice you may have simply by threatening to kill you or those close to you. For example, Faelan has power over my life, and I have power of yours. I will be executed if it ever comes to light that I chose to make deals with mortals, and you, your lover, and all these children you love so much will die if you don’t agree to tell Faelan you were the one who changed that list all those years ago. Where is your power to choose now?” “No choice comes without consequence.” Keith wove his fingers into Aislinn’s, squeezing his hand, silently seeking support for a decision he knew he would soon be forced to face. Even with Aislinn’s hands free, their chances of escape were slim, and the hope within him began to change to resignation as he was faced with that harsh reality. “Death is but one of them. Sometimes it is better to make the honorable choice that leads to death than it is to make one that leads to betrayal,

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lies, and more pain.” “Is that what you’re going to do?” Tynan bent down onto his haunches so he was face to face with Keith. “Are you going to choose death just to avoid lying? Just so you can corner me into taking socalled responsibility for my actions when you can avoid the entire situation altogether? All you need to do is admit to changing the list of names for the battle of Troy, and I will set you, your lover, and your students free. That way I can claim that I was merely executing you for your crimes when it comes to light that I killed you. You’re already dead, trapped into living a mere mortal existence. They can’t execute you again. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Is your socalled honorable choice really worth the price you will have to pay to make it?” Silence descended on the room when Tynan stopped speaking, the choice Keith had to make hanging heavy in the air. Keith was torn. Tynan had already taken innocent lives at Troy and in doing so had changed the course of history. He was threatening to do it again, using the innocent lives of children to get Keith to take the blame, and something told Keith these were not isolated events. He’d probably taken other lives since and would take many more if Keith let him get away with it, so he was faced with an age-old dilemma. Should he save the few lives he knew and loved or those countless ones that had not yet been threatened? Faced with the hardest decision he’d ever had to make, he swallowed the fear down and made his choice. “Perhaps it is.” It was about time Tynan faced the consequences of his actions. “So be it.” Tynan stood and raised the detonator.

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Passion

CLICK. The soft sound of the detonator button being pressed echoed through the classroom, situation and perception increasing the volume of the sound. Time slowed on its axis once more, and Aislinn was able to embrace Keith and brace for death even before the sound faded into oblivion. An echo, a breath, a heartbeat passed. Time rushed back in when the soft click was followed by nothing more than silence, the lack of explosion filling the room with its abstract presence. “Looking for this?” Aislinn turned to face the door to see Faelan standing there, holding a small package of explosives in his hands, but couldn’t believe his eyes. None of it seemed real, stress and fear still thick in his blood. “You’re not the only one who knows how to play with mortal toys, Tynan.” Faelan took a step into the room, and the sheer force of his presence forced Tynan to take an involuntary step back, but as expected, his retreat didn’t last all that long. Drawing his twin blades, Tynan did what any cornered animal would do: he launched himself at Faelan in one last desperate bid to escape. Faelan dodged the deadly steel with ease, using the action to place the explosives down before drawing his own broadsword. Turning, Faelan then blocked Tynan’s next blow, the ring of steel filling the classroom for the second time that morning. Not about to 179

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give up, Tynan attacked again. He swung one of his twin blades up over his head and moved the other down toward Faelan’s gut, intending to use the fact that he had two blades against Faelan’s one to his advantage. Unfazed, Faelan deflected the low blow and then moved to block the high one, turning his sword to lock the two blades together. He then reached beneath Tynan’s guard and grabbed his wrist before Tynan could recover its use, effectively preventing Tynan from using the second blade against him. Sliding his broadsword across the slim blade in Tynan’s free hand, Faelan twisted his wrist, forcing Tynan to drop it, disarming him without pause. All of it passed Aislinn by in a daze, and the battle was over even before it had begun. “I wouldn’t have tried that if I were you,” Faelan said, calmly twisting the other wrist to force Tynan to drop the remaining weapon. “You’re forgetting my position is earned, not inherited.” With Tynan disarmed, Faelan took a step back, moving the tip of his sword to Tynan’s neck. “I hereby place you under arrest for treason. Sinead.” Aislinn recognized the slim, dark-haired woman who entered the room. She was the Togairlan who had executed his sentence, bringing him to the mortal world. That’s when it became clear just how close he really had been to death. Now that Aislinn thought about it, he realized it had been Cathaoir who had originally stepped up to take him away at his trial. “Well, son of a gun, he knew Cathaoir was involved all along.” “What?” Aislinn’s whispered exclamation drew Keith’s attention to him. “Faelan knew Cathaoir was killing souls he wasn’t meant to be executing. Cathaoir wanted to be the one who executed my sentence, but Faelan stopped him. He asked Sinead”—Aislinn pointed to Sinead, who was currently binding Tynan’s hands behind his back—“to do it instead. Cathaoir didn’t look too impressed. I think he wanted to find a way to kill me before I found you. Tynan knows our souls are bound by fate and must have been scared I’d trigger Kian’s memories if I

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managed to find you in the mortal world.” Keith blinked in surprise before glancing toward Tynan, Faelan, and Sinead. Upon noticing that Sinead was leading Tynan out, he turned back to face Aislinn and reached for the rope binding Aislinn’s ankles, moving freely now that the threat appeared to be taken care of. “Don’t you think they were being a little paranoid? There are billions of people on this earth. What are the chances that two souls torn apart by death, time, and circumstance will actually ever meet?” Aislinn reached down to help, his fingers bumping into Keith’s. “Pretty high. I met you during my second week as a mortal.” Keith hesitated and looked up to meet Aislinn’s gaze, silent awe apparent on his face. “Then I guess we have someone watching over us.” “Yes we do. Brigid.” “Brigid?” Keith asked in surprise. Aislinn nodded, looking back down at the rope. “I think she had all of this planned from the beginning. She delivered the special request that led to me spinning myself into your tapestry, organized me a job and a place to live here, dragged me over to your place after our disastrous first date, stole your sister away—several times, I might add—and flooded my apartment. If that’s not an obvious form of interference, I don’t know what is. She’s not even supposed to be talking to me now that I’m mortal, never mind interfering with my life.” “She flooded your apartment?” Aislinn sighed, glancing up. “Well, technically I can’t prove that, but she was there, holding a bag with everything I’d need for a few days at your place, and all of it was dry. What are the chances?” “Now that you mention it….” Keith paused, and his brow furrowed in thought. The expression was one Aislinn had seen often on his face, and Aislinn loved it. It formed an integral part of Keith’s

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personality, as Keith fought to make sense of everything. “A lot of things have been awfully handy lately. The day she dragged you over to my place, she took Sarah out and left you stranded at my place because my phone was conveniently not working when I tried to call you a cab.” Giving up on the knot, Aislinn reached up and traced the lines the frown of concentration drew upon Keith’s face. “My point exactly.” The frown vanished beneath Aislinn’s touch, replaced by a softer expression as Keith resumed work on the knot. “So what happened to fate?” Keith teased lightly. “Obviously Brigid is of the opinion fate needs a helping hand,” Aislinn responded drily, reaching down to help Keith once more, only his help appeared to be more of a hindrance than anything else as the knot was going absolutely nowhere. “How the hell did he tie this one?” Aislinn snapped, suddenly irritated. Keith caught and stilled his hands. “It’s tighter than the one that bound your hands, but we’ll get it loose. We just need a little time and patience,” he said in an attempt to soothe Aislinn’s agitation. “Or a better tool,” Faelan interjected, cutting the rope with a slim blade. “Hmm, I can see why you and your brother use these. They’re really light.” Faelan raised the blade he’d just used, inspecting it briefly. Sheathing it, he then dropped it into Keith’s lap, adding a second sheathed blade to the first a mere moment later. “I think these are yours.” Keith reached for the blades and held them back up to Faelan, shaking his head in denial. “You take them. I don’t want Tynan’s blades.” Faelan reached down and closed Keith’s fingers around the blades. “You misunderstand me, Kian,” Faelan said softly, gently pushing the blades back down into Keith’s lap. “These are not Tynan’s blades. These are yours. I thought it was about time they returned to the hands of their owner. Taking into account the fact that the current body 182

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you wear is untrained, that was a good fight you put up against Tynan. You always were and always will be a good warrior, and I think it’s about time you reclaimed your heritage.” With that said, Faelan left. “It seems some things do transcend the mortal-immortal line, after all,” Aislinn whispered, breaking the stunned silence that had followed Faelan’s declaration. He recalled a time when Keith did not believe that to be true. Receiving no response to his remark, Aislinn watched as Keith pulled one of the blades out of its sheath to reveal scripting. “Ni ceart go cur le chiele.” Keith read the text aloud as each word was revealed, the simple sentence a powerful message that echoed through Aislinn’s heart. “There is no strength without unity,” Aislinn translated softly, sealing the power of the moment by dropping a light kiss onto Keith’s lips.

AISLINN nervously ran his hands over the red pouch, now returned to its rightful place around his neck, as they approached Keith’s apartment. He’d managed to retrieve both the pouch and its contents while Keith was distracted by a certain pair of twin blades, giving Aislinn a blow-by-blow account of how they differed from those Tynan used. Apparently Keith’s were shorter, the grips were bound with leather instead of covered in silver, and the balance of the blade was completely different. The engraving was also a key difference, being a custom addition Kian had done. Aislinn didn’t really follow all of it, but the conversation seemed to be keeping Keith entertained, so he’d simply let it flow. The school bell had rung not long thereafter, and the classroom had been taken over by a swarm of students rushing toward their desks. The moment the students spotted Keith, they began to bombard him with questions, some about the swords he held, others about Aislinn, 183

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and others about the injuries he still sported after the bus accident the day prior. Fortunately, a teacher passing by had peered in to see what all the commotion was about, and upon spotting Keith’s injuries had arranged for him to go home to recover, thus saving Keith from actually having to answer any of those questions. Until he returned from sick leave, that is. It was a fortunate turn of events, because something told Aislinn that Keith really needed to talk. Keith had grown quiet on the way back to the apartment, but there wasn’t any real peace to the silence. Now that the shock was wearing off, Keith appeared to be fuming, every line in his body radiating displeasure, and Aislinn was beginning to suspect it had something to do with him. Following Keith up the stairs, he made his way into Keith’s apartment and was unsurprised when Keith turned to face him the moment the front door clicked shut. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” Even though Aislinn had been expecting it, Keith’s explosion still managed to throw him off-kilter. “Doing?” he asked dumbly, still not sure what had Keith so upset. “Yes, doing!” Aislinn took an instinctive step back when Keith stepped forward. “You. Left. Me. Behind.” Keith emphasized each word with a pause and a poke to Aislinn’s chest. “We were supposed to be in this together. You had no right to sneak out behind my back, and don’t you dare give me that bullshit about protecting me! Risking your life does not contribute to protecting mine, because I’ll follow you into the pits of hell and beyond!” “I….” Aislinn gaped, temporarily at a loss for words. That one hadn’t even made the list Aislinn had been mentally trying to construct of all the reason’s Keith or Kian might have had to be mad at him, and it took him some time to catch up. “Is that a confession?” “No, it’s not a confession! It’s a promise!” Keith yelled, filled with fury and indignation.

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Keith’s eyes were alight, his chest was rising rapidly with each labored breath he took, and every line in his body was filled with fury and passion. It was the most beautiful, awe-inspiring, and arousing sight Aislinn had ever seen, and Aislinn couldn’t help but react to it. “So be it.” Aislinn cupped Keith’s cheeks and sealed his lips, effectively silencing the rest of Keith’s reprimand.

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Love

“SO

BE it.” That was how Aislinn gave new meaning to the eerie

words Tynan had uttered earlier that morning. One minute Keith was preparing a comeback, and the next he was speechless, Aislinn’s lips claiming his in an aggressive kiss that consumed every last corner of his mouth. The touch woke a hunger deep within him and filled him with a burning desire to be joined to Aislinn once more. Urged on by impatience, Keith ran his hands down Aislinn’s body, his fingers taking care of buttons along the way. Reaching his destination, he grasped the zip and pulled it down, sliding his hands beneath Aislinn’s underwear the moment he had space. Aislinn hissed, and the muscles in his abdomen trembled beneath Keith’s touch, a clear indication of just how much power Keith had over his body. Keith was just about to take advantage of it when Aislinn turned the tables on him. Grabbing him, Aislinn turned, switching places with Keith so he could press Keith up against the door, fervently kissing and biting his way down Keith’s neck. A soft moan escaped Keith’s lips, and he dropped his head back against the door, willingly submitting to Aislinn’s domination. Aislinn’s hands ran over his body, discarding cloth to touch, pinch, and rub exposed skin. Aislinn set every nerve alight, burning Keith from the inside out, and when he slipped two saliva-slicked fingers into Keith’s ass, Keith all but fell apart, want and need extinguishing all reason.

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Craving more, he keened and raised a leg to hook it around Aislinn’s waist, thrusting against Aislinn’s abdomen when he encountered nothing but glorious naked flesh. Each stroke moved Aislinn’s finger deeper into his body, but still it left him empty. “Ashes.” The plea escaped Keith on a heated breath, and he nipped Aislinn’s earlobe to emphasize the hunger that only Aislinn could satisfy. He didn’t care that Aislinn had only managed to slide two fingers into his body, didn’t care that he possibly needed to be stretched farther, and didn’t care that they didn’t have any lube. He wanted, needed to be filled and could wait no longer, the desire driven by far more than simple physical pleasure. Giving in to Keith’s desperation, Aislinn removed his fingers and plunged deep into Keith’s body, for once not hesitating or giving Keith time to adjust. Keith cried out, the sound a mixed expression of pleasure and pain. The sudden invasion burned, the sensation demanding that he give expression to the discomfort coursing through him, but he welcomed it with every fiber of his being because it meant he was still alive to feel it. After facing death, he felt more alive than ever, and he wanted to bask in the sheer freedom of it. He needed to touch, to taste, and to feel everything he’d never paused to appreciate, but it was more than that. It was about confirmation of love, life and existence itself, filling his mind, his heart, and his soul even as Aislinn filled his body with flesh, heat, and friction. He needed it, knew Aislinn needed it, and realized that they would never be the same again, their two souls now forever joined as one.

A GENTLE touch trailed over his back, tickling his skin and sending shivers of pleasure and goose bumps all the way down his spine. Keith wiggled, torn between wanting to move toward and away from the touch, and the rustle his movement caused was accompanied by the light, warm rumble of Aislinn’s laughter. 187

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After their heated encounter by his front door, they’d moved into the bedroom, where Aislinn had proceeded to take him again in the comfort of his bed. The second time was a lot less rushed, each touch sensual and filled with care as Aislinn used them to silently tell Keith with actions that spoke louder than any words that he wanted him, needed him, and loved him. Keith had soaked it in. He’d been denied true love far too long and had returned every caress, giving as much as he received. He’d traced every line on Aislinn’s body, his examination slow and comprehensive, confident that he had all the time in the world, and when their bodies had joined once more, it had been every bit as slow and sensual as the foreplay that had come before, the give and take but an extension of the exploration. It had added a new facet to the intimacy he and Aislinn shared. Keith had fallen asleep not long thereafter only to wake to the soft, teasing touch that was currently wreaking havoc on his body. Deciding to take action, he turned to face Aislinn. “Either touch me properly or don’t touch me at all.” He softened the reprimand by running a hand over Aislinn’s chest, pausing to run a finger over the red velvet pouch he wore. Aislinn chuckled again, his warm breath trickling over Keith’s lips. “A little impatient, aren’t you?” Keith shrugged and lifted the velvet pouch, playing with the silk string that held it closed. “I’m ticklish.” Aislinn hummed and dropped a kiss onto Keith’s nose, adding a lick for good measure. “And curious, I see. You can stop trying to open the pouch.” Aislinn sat up, forcing Keith to drop the small velvet bag. “I only want a little peek. I want to see what’s inside.” Keith stretched, yawning sleepily. “I think it’s ridiculous that you have to wait for some unspecified right time just to open it. Aren’t you even remotely curious?”

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Aislinn shook his head, smiling as he reached to remove the velvet pouch from around his neck. “No, I’m not curious.” He said, pulling it open to tip the contents into his hand. He closed his fist to hide them from Keith a little while longer. “Brigid gave it to me just before my trial, and I have to admit I tried to peek into it the moment she left. I got interrupted before I could. I didn’t really think about it much afterwards, and before I knew it, the idea of finding the right time to open it kind of grew on me.” He held out his hand toward Keith and slowly opened it before adding in a whisper. “It was worth it.” Keith sat up and reached for a single ring, lifting the silvercolored one only to have one gold and one copper ring following in its wake, the three bands intricately linked to one another. “It’s—” “A Celtic puzzle ring.” Keith interrupted Aislinn, running his fingers over the bands. He twisted and tested each one, already engrossed in solving the puzzle Aislinn had handed to him. He tried every combination he could think of, turning the bands right, left, up, down, around, and through as he sought the secret that would bring it all together. When logic could not provide him with the answer, he closed his eyes and relied on intuition instead. The metal was cool beneath his fingertips, and each intricately carved band yielded to his touch, shifting, conforming, and finally clipping into place. Half-convinced he must be imagining things, Keith opened his eyes once more and examined the result, the three bands now joined to form a single ring. “I don’t know how Brigid managed to find them. I had them made from white, red, and yellow gold.” Aislinn traced the completed puzzle ring in Keith’s grasp. “A long time ago. I was going to give it to you the day you died, but—” “I stormed out before you could,” Keith finished, his heart aching for the pain he’d put Aislinn through. “Aislinn, I….” He paused, taking a shaky breath in an attempt to gather enough courage to apologize for

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the grave wrong he’d committed so very long ago, only Aislinn silenced him with a finger to his lips. Aislinn shook his head. “Leave the past where it belongs, Keith. I don’t want to live in what could have been. I want to live in the here and now, where we have been given the chance for a new beginning. I also had the rings engraved, and what’s written on them remains as true today as it did way back then.” Aislinn turned Keith’s hand, revealing fine text even as he recited it softly into Keith’s ear. “Mo anam cara.” My soul mate. And that was all Keith needed to hear.

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Fate

A week later

“YOU know, everyone’s been asking me if I’m engaged.” Aislinn looked up as Keith returned home, dropping his bag beside the door before making his way to Aislinn’s side. “My ring has managed to draw all attention from my wounds, and no one even cares that I’m still covered in scratches. All they want to know is when did I get engaged, who to, how long have I known her, is she hot, and so the list goes on.” “You should tell them it’s a sexy redhead with an addiction to red heels,” Aislinn said, returning to the spaghetti Bolognese he was busy cooking for supper. “That ought to give Brigid second thoughts about interfering with our lives.” Keith chuckled and embraced Aislinn from behind. “What? You don’t appreciate the gifts she left us?” He nipped Aislinn’s ear playfully, sending a shiver all throughout Aislinn’s body. “The food left on the kitchen table was greatly appreciated. The remainder of my belongings stacked in your living room, based on an assumption that I was moving in with you, I appreciated a little less, but I could live with that. The box of condoms, however, was a going step too far.” Aislinn threw a pinch of garlic into the sauce before turning around to embrace Keith properly. He buried his nose in

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Keith’s hair and took a deep breath, savoring the unique scent that belonged to him along with every single delectable inch of the body that carried it. “I missed you.” “I’ve only been back at work a day, and you’re already missing me? A little soon, don’t you think?” Keith teased, poking Aislinn in the side. Aislinn moved to the side to avoid the finger. “Not true. I’ve been at work for most of the time you’ve been off sick, so I’ve had plenty of time to miss you. You just didn’t notice.” “Really?” Keith stepped back to stare at Aislinn incredulously. “You miss me every single day? But you know you’ll see me when you get home, right? So there’s no need to miss me.” “I lost you once,” Aislinn said softly. Keith remained silent, lost in thought as he weighed the impact of Aislinn’s statement before smiling softly. “But we found each other again. It’s fate.” Aislinn shook his head and returned to his pots, turning them all down to simmer. “I thought we already covered this. It was all Brigid’s work. Fate had nothing to do with it.” “Oh I don’t know. I think—” Clack clack clack. The familiar sound of heels echoing through the hallway interrupted Keith’s response. The two of them glanced toward each other, both thinking the same thing yet neither giving voice to it. Speak of the devil, and…. Knock knock knock. The firm knock echoed throughout the apartment, and it was some time before either of them could even think to react. Aislinn made his way to the front door just as the second knock sounded, pulling it quickly open. “Brigid, I really think you should stop—” 192

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“Hi.” Sarah smiled up at him, eyes sparkling in mirth. “I’m on my way home and thought I’d stop by one last time to visit my brother and new brother-in-law. I bumped into Brigid along the way, and she asked me to give you this.” Sarah handed Aislinn a roll of folded cloth before stepping into the apartment. “She also gave me these heels.” She showed off a closed pair of red heels tied off with a bright red ribbon. “Don’t you think they’re fantastic? They’re designer made. Would you believe Brigid and I wear the same size? It’s quite a coincidence, actually, because— Oh, hello, Keith.” Sarah interrupted herself, running forward to embrace her brother. “I’m so glad you finally found someone. Now you can get some real sex, which is so much better than that ribbed, vibrating plastic dildo of yours, don’t you think?” “Sarah!” Keith exclaimed, silencing her by placing a hand over her mouth. “Try to keep the conversation appropriate to the situation at hand.” Sarah reached up and pulled Keith’s hand away from her mouth. “I thought I was being appropriate. Aislinn is you lover, isn’t he?” “Well, technically, yes, but….” He trailed away, turning to share a long-suffering look with Aislinn. Sighing in defeat, he shook his head and hastily changed the subject instead. “Why don’t we look at what Brigid sent us this time? It looks like it might actually be interesting.” “It feels like a tapestry,” Aislinn said, heading to the living room. Moving the sofa to make space, he knelt down to unroll it, treating the fabric with care. His breath hitched as the movement revealed an alltoo-familiar image. Two lovers sat on a bright red sofa, leaning towards each other with playful intimacy. One was wearing nothing more than a pair of pajama bottoms while the other was fully clothed, wearing denim pants paired together with a white shirt, cradling a glass of wine in his hand, but it was not what they wore or carried that was key. It was who and where they were. The image was of Aislinn and Keith, locked forever in an intimate moment in the very room the tapestry was now lying in. “It’s beautiful,” Sarah breathed, for once in her life actually 193

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speechless, left with no rush of speech to follow the simple statement. “Is this the tapestry you told me about?” Keith asked softly, kneeling down to join Aislinn on the carpet. Reaching out, he ran his fingers over the weave, absorbing the detail and intricacy of the image before him. “You never told me you were this good. Sarah is right. It’s beautiful. Can I hang it on the wall?” Aislinn glanced up, astounded by the question. “It’s the tapestry that started it all and threw your entire life, everything you thought you knew into chaos, and you want to hang it on the wall?” he asked in disbelief. “It brought me you.” That simple statement was the confirmation Aislinn had needed all along, the silent message clear. Keith loved him. “All right.” Aislinn stood and began to gather the tapestry into his arms, only to pause in shock when a second, much older tapestry was revealed beneath it. “I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed softly, the sheer force of his shock attracting both Keith’s and Sarah’s attention. Approaching him, they peered over his shoulder and inspected the second image. The second tapestry also portrayed a pair of lovers seated before a hearth, only this time they were seated on a single burgundy seat with only enough space for one. The person seated in the seat was wearing a loose, flowing shirt, his long black hair tied high into a ponytail, the end of which was draped across his shoulder, and seated on his lap with arms wrapped around his neck was his lover, chocolate brown hair tied up into a warrior’s knot, a warrior’s band upon his right upper arm. The two were about to kiss. “What’s going on here? That’s Aislinn.” Sarah pointed at the figure seated upon the burgundy seat. “But that’s not you, Keith.” She moved to point to the other figure. Keith shook his head and leaned up to rest his chin on Aislinn’s shoulder. “That’s where you’re wrong, Sarah,” he said with a soft, knowing smile on his lips. “That is me from a long time ago. That’s 194

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how I look in my dreams.” “Really?” Sarah squealed, jumping up and down. “Then I was right. Your dreams were memories from a previous reincarnation. That’s so cool! I have to tell Danny.” With that she turned and ran out the room, heading toward Keith’s phone. “Danny is her husband,” Keith said, responding to the questioning look Aislinn sent in his direction. Reaching up, Keith flicked Aislinn’s nose, the fond smile on his face warming Aislinn’s heart. “It would appear that I was right and you were wrong. Fate played a larger part in our lives than you realized. That tapestry”—Keith pointed to the second image—“looks really old, and something tells me you’re not the one who made it.” Aislinn shook his head, fully aware of the fact that he was proving Keith’s point with his reply, but he didn’t mind one bit, because Keith was right. “No, I didn’t make this tapestry. It must have been made by another dream spinner, a master, because only a master is allowed to spin a dream for an immortal, and it was done before you died.” Aislinn paused, leaning forward to place the tapestry he was holding back down before turning back to Keith. “It seems I really did forget the most valuable lesson I try to teach to my students—let your heart and soul guide your fingers when you spin a tapestry, and fate will take care of the rest.” “That’s all right,” Keith said, stepping forward to embrace Aislinn. “You had good reason to, but that’s in the past now. We have no reason to dwell there anymore. We have today.” Aislinn reached out to cup Keith’s face, running his fingers over the skin on Keith’s cheeks, taking in its texture, his heart filled with love. “You’re forgetting something, Keith. We’re both mortal now. We’ll have to face death sooner or later. What are you going to do when the time comes?” “I’ll die with dignity knowing you will find me again in my next lifetime,” Keith whispered, his breath trickling over Aislinn’s earlobe.

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“And if I die before you?” Aislinn whispered in return, leaning down to drop a featherlight kiss onto Keith’s lips. “I will be waiting for you.”

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RAYNE AUSTER always had a passion for writing. However, growing up, she didn’t have the patience to finish what she started. Most of her projects died before even seeing the light of day. While studying for a master’s degree in computer science, she decided to post what she wrote online. That is when she discovered the joy of sharing the stories in her head. Unable to bear the thought of leaving her readers hanging, she finished her first piece of fiction. The satisfaction of actually completing a story quickly led to further inspiration, and she hasn’t looked back since. Visit her web site at https://sites.google.com/site/rayneauster/.

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