Hidden Jewel (Heartfire Series) (52 page)

That elicited a laugh from Micah, as well, though it was tinged with a sudden case of nerves. He'd very nearly slept with the lovely Janie when Ailill had left them for a two month stint. The only thing that had stopped him was not his feelings for Abby, but the girl's belly, nicely rounded with her first pregnancy. He'd worried that he might hurt the baby, and didn't care to take such a chance. He shook his head. "Abby may have the foulest mouth I ever heard when she's angry, and she may enjoy spending time with us, away from the troubles of the world, but she ain't a snob, far from it. If she was meant to be with us, like Janie has said, then I say screw all those girls, who needs 'em? Besides y'all, of course; I know I sure as hell never did."

Quirking a somewhat shy grin at the purposeful barb, Micah leaned away from Jacob's half-hearted swipe toward his dark head. Jacob leaned closer, peering into his twin's face. "What'd she say about us?" he whispered anxiously. "She doesn't really believe that we're...hmm...well, you know. Does she?"

Glancing around, almost sure he smelled Ailill's sweet scent on the breeze, Micah nodded, wide-eyed when he looked back at his other half. "She does, I asked her straight." Jacob blinked in disbelief. "She believes we've
been
together, and she thinks a lot of other stuff, too. It was enough to make me fair sick, hearing her say it. I doubt I've ever felt so disgusted with my own self, and it ain't even true; not even half of what she said was right!"

Eyes narrowed, Jacob colored darkly. "Well, did y'all tell her that? Did you defend us?" he demanded, his tone one of extreme agitation.

Micah shrugged. "I dunno, man. To be honest, I can't really remember it all that well. It was like she was killin' me; like I was suffocating under her words. And she was crying like you wouldn't believe. I ain't never seen her so upset, Jacob. She was carrying on so bad I had to literally shut her up." His hand came up, fingers curling around Jacob's lips in example. "Then, when she stopped talking and crying, I think she wanted to do it!"

His look was amusing, but Jacob stared at him piercingly, his strong jaw clenching and unclenching with the ideas swirling through his own mind. "Did y'all say anything about McKell, Micah?" A quick shake of the head was Micah's answer and Jacob sighed heavily, displeased. From where she was standing, Ailill could literally feel the tension between the two men. She wondered uneasily what exactly their daughter had to do with any of it, but there was no way to ask. Yet. Not without revealing herself.

"Y'all said not to say a thing about us, Jacob. So I haven't." Micah's tone was wary, his gaze steady on Jacob's stern face. "Maybe it'd be better if we told her, everything. At least she'd have more to go on for why we are the way we are."

Jacob's gaze bore into his for a few beats before sliding away. He had the unsettling impression that they were being watched, though even when he looked behind them, there seemed to be no one there. He looked thoughtful for awhile, sure that Ailill was somewhere close by, and turned suddenly to Micah with a darkly decisive look. "I think she's here. Watching us."

He did not whisper the words, nor say them aloud, yet Micah stiffened, hearing them as clearly as if Jacob had bellowed them for all to hear. He had been feeling her presence, as well, and he eyed his twin uneasily, seeing the way Jacob was looking at him, a familiar gleam in his eye; a golden ember. He had last seen that look months before, when he was still wounded from the cougar attack. "No way, Jacob. It ain't the right time and you know it." Micah's own voice answered, though he looked around one more time, hoping that Ailill had not come back yet, because he knew what Jacob was going to do and it wouldn't be pretty; because he knew that he would not stop him, as he had the last time... as he had the last so many times.

Jacob's perfectly chiseled face moved closer, full, sensual lips parted ever so slightly, as if, in his excitement, he could not take in enough air. When his lips lit on the soft flesh of Micah's jaw, hovering there, Jacob hissed softly, a low rumble emanating from deep within, as if he were a lion preparing to feed. Almost willing to answer the call this time, on the cusp of giving in to his own strange need, Micah's head fell back on his neck, the movement almost in slow motion, and closed his eyes, heart thumping madly at the feel of razor sharp canines sinking deeply into his flesh. Jacob was making soft suckling noises, growling with growing contentment, the wish to show Ailill the plain truth of the matter easily becoming a memory as he sat back, sated in a most non-sexual way, his own throat instantly bared to Micah's uncommon voracity, the man's fingers digging deep into the thick muscles of Jacob's arms as he gulped hungrily, his own animal sounds far more intense than Jacob's had been, far more demanding. It had been a very long time since he had allowed himself such luxury, though he gave in to his twin's demands on occasion. Far too long he had gone this time, close on a year, and the proof of his own self-denial came in the form of Jacob struggling to move away as Micah drained more than usual, unable to force himself to stop. There was an urgency in him that Jacob could not understand. But Ailill could.

Jacob gasped, lightheaded almost to the point of passing out, when Ailill suddenly appeared and knelt before them. His dark eyes pleaded for help, for understanding, and, giving a hard yank to Micah's long hair, she released him, holding the front of Jacob's shirt with one hand to keep him from falling backward off the couch, holding Micah's raven locks in what should have been a tear-jerking stranglehold with the other, though it did not have such a fortuitous effect. Her eyes widened when he hissed at her, the feral beast which he so closely resembled at times suddenly inches from her face, from her throat. Boldly, as she had with the wolves in the Dead Wood, Ailill bared the slender column, unafraid of what he could do to her, of what it would most certainly mean for her. Jacob yanked her back with a suddenness that made her head swim.

"Don't, Ailill. It ain't time for you yet." Jacob's voice was husky, tired; abnormally commanding.

The tone drew her eyes to him briefly and she noticed that his other arm was holding Micah back, away from her, until he took on his own look of normalcy once again. Micah's eyes glittered when they met hers, an odd golden shimmer in the rainbow hued orbs clearly giving the woman any proof she had wished for in regards to the twin's inherent legacy. Her gaze swept over Jacob, noting the same proof, the same odd change to his own features. His face was a rather pallid shade of gray, though she could see that it was turning slowly to a dusty rose as his body compensated for the unusual loss of his blood. The reason why, the plain truth of the matter, struck her at last; a tight knot formed in the pit of her stomach as Ailill watched the men watch her.

"You're bloodsuckers..." The whispered words made her head fill with too many questions, too many answers she had wished to learn. It made her shudder, momentarily, and ease back, away from the men who had become her best friends; her mates, in the mingling of their blood with hers, their lifeforces a part of her very own now. Disbelief crossed over her face, widened her eyes, followed quickly by denial, and, at last, apprehensive acceptance. She leaned forward.

"You're bloodsuckers?" Ailill demanded calmly. The dark heads of each man nodded in unison, their eyes still an unusual mix of colors brought on by the addition of one another's blood coursing through their veins, their magnificent bodies. "How...I mean, mphmm, since when?" Her eyes glided smoothly from one to the other and back again, renewed disbelief evident in the blue depths.

"Since birth." Jacob shrugged dismissively, not troubled by her reaction. He, personally, had seen much worse than the slight grimace, the denial, which Ailill was trying very hard to quell, much to her credit. "It's why we heal so fast; why we are still alive and our siblings are not. Kiah would not allow them to enrich themselves."

The explanation was simple enough. Even now there were a few clans in the Isles, close-knit folk who were, by most accounts, self-driven to the point of rabid inbreeding, though Ailill knew many of them from a nearby village in the Highlands, and they had always seemed a normal bunch; a few were her own kin, in fact, hailing from far back in the histories. It seemed highly unlikely that the two young men were from the same bloodlines, however, given the fact that their real father was not one of that particular branch, and their own mother...

"Your mother," Ailill said quietly, watching Micah intently. "Who is she? Which clan? Do you even know?"

"Mackenzie, I think, why?" Jacob sat up, interest in what the tiny woman might be getting at burning brightly in his eyes. Ailill visibly balked, shaking her head in denial. He was right, though. Ainsley had been a Mackenzie, as well as a Morna. But they couldn't possibly know that, unless they knew who their true sire was. Could they?

"Nay, I will not make suppositions in regards to yon raven Lady. Not without researching everything to the fullest." Her piercing gaze settled on Jacob's flushed, handsome face. "This does put a new twist on things, most definitely. I will have to consult with a few people back in Scotland over this."

"And? When will that be?" Jacob hid a smile at the severity of her expression. "It's just about time, ain't it? Only a few hours?"

"You said we're going with you," Micah reminded evenly; the first words he'd said since nearly attacking her came out sounding gruff. Ailill eyed him closely. The spot on his neck was nearly invisible, like a very pale hickey. There were no puncture wounds at all now, though there had been. She had seen them clearly when she yanked him from his twin's bared throat, sure that Jacob would die if Micah had kept on; four tiny holes, the beads of blood deep scarlet against the bronze skin of his throat, the pale blue lifeline pumping steadily on just beneath the surface.

"Aye, I did. When the time is right, which it is not. I explained all that, Micah," she warned. Her tone sounded suddenly uncertain. "But I can't take you at all if it means that my people might possibly be in danger. We have been very particular, for the most part, in whom will be accepted in the tribal branches. Our blood is very important to us, ye ken?" There was a smile hidden behind her eyes.

"So's ours," Jacob argued. "We stick together for a reason, Ailill. Besides, it ain't like you didn't know. We've both tasted you, now ain't we?"

"Aye, a wee nip here and there. Naught such as the beasts which you become with each other, though. Dangerous, is that."

"Hey, we don't force ourselves on anyone. Including you." Micah held her gaze for a long, intense moment. "Unless a person wants us to, we don't... partake of anyone besides each other. It is our one and only rule; we follow it very strictly. And you thought we were committing incest."

Glowering, Ailill sat up straighter, a defensive posture that both men had come to know well in the past few months. "Aye, Micah, and I still believe it. I saw the proof of what the
feeding
did to you with my own eyes." Her gaze rolled lazily over the still slightly tented front of his kilt, her face breaking out in a lopsided grin when he flushed darkly. "You see, if ye wished me to believe otherwise, you would have found a better way to tell me whom ye are. Instead, I watched what went on here, and it gave me the right to form my own conclusions on the matter."

Quickly becoming angry with her teasing, Micah purposely turned away. "Y'all don't get it, Abby," he muttered through clenched teeth. His gaze swept around to her questioning face. "I ain't used to doing that. It's been a year or so. I don't like that part of me. I never have and I never will. And you, all by yourself, you make me want to bring you into the fold every time I love you." His expression fierce, Micah reached out, grasping her hands hard between thumb and index fingers so that her palms were visible.

"
This
," he hissed softly, urging Ailill's gaze downward, to the scars on her hands, the older ones standing out in silvery relief against the pink flesh, beneath the more recent, not quite healed cuts of their own making, an oddly shaped X in the palm of each tiny hand. "This is what I understand. The need to mark you as my own; to claim you in a visible way, as Tiernan MacDuff has already done. I understand the feeling behind it, Abby. I
had
to give in to Jacob's request this time, I had to do it. It was all I could do to stop myself from opening you earlier, back in the wood, from draining every last drop of your own enchanted blood, and still the need is upon me.
Ican't help it!
"

"Aye, I understand what you mean, Micah, only," hesitating as she searched for the proper words to say, Ailill scowled, coming up vexingly blank. She shook her head, glancing surreptitiously at the lengthening shadows. Micah let go her hands with obvious reluctance and stood, reaching a large tanned hand down to her. Ailill blinked up at him in surprise.

"Come,
a leannan
. We will bathe together, and heal our hurts. Questions can wait until we have more time for discussion. I don't think you want to meet with your kin, or your
Druid informant
, in such a state of mind, or of body."