Page 7 of The Dark Will Fall (Twilight Lake #5)

Maeve Cruinn

Time in the Tuatha Dé Danann passed like chewing a gristly piece of meat that wouldn’t break.

I traipsed from one end of the lagoon to the other. Pausing only to drink from the water and knead my hungry stomach.

Cormac’s figure on the pristine sand stood out in the distance as he went about his own business. Seemingly unbothered by my rejection.

After all, why would he care that I had denied him?

It was only for fun . He’d said. Something to stave off the boredom. He’d said.

Thinking about his hand on my skin made my teeth creak as I mashed them together. My fists clenched in anger, as if Cormac was in front of me, ready to be throttled.

Once I reached the curve of the lagoon, where the two cliffs faced each other, like cupped hands separating our water from an endless sea, I realized how vast the ocean beyond the lagoon was.

The mists were so thick that it was impossible to see the sky. The water was too choppy to swim or sail.

The forests at the edge of the beach sloped to the sharp point of the cliffs, and though I could see the mists through the gap, I needed a better view.

My feet ached, tiny cuts from rocks and twigs snapping under my steps. My fingers curled, frozen in position as I clawed my way to the very top of the cliff overlooking the lagoon. Its twin was a stone's throw across a sheer and dangerous drop.

Then I heard the screams.

At first, I thought it was the wind, until I saw the reaching hands from the dark water beyond the lagoon.

Had that been Cormac’s fate? I wondered. Lost at sea, drowning and clawing for air.

A punishment for water Fae and land Fae alike.

The sea beyond the lagoon wasn’t water at all, but a landscape of grasping hands. Endless lost souls, their color and life drained, the skin shed and decayed.

My ears throbbed against the sound, a drop of blood rolled down my earlobe, and dried on the side of my neck.

“Maeve,” Cormac said, my name like the toll of a bell, rippling under my skin and making me shiver.

“I’m making a shelter,” I told him, keeping my eyes and hands fixed on my task. I’d seen the storm on the other side of the cliffs. The lagoon may have been paradise, but what lay beyond was not.

“What did you see up there?” Cormac pressed, stepping closer to my back.

My spine grew rigid, and the heavy branch in my hands slid through my fingers. I cursed and let it drop, dancing out of the way so the branch did not fall on my toes.

I licked my lips and tried to find the words to describe the screaming souls.

“There... Is...” My voice died. “Nothing.”

Cormac leaned back, stretching his arms over his head, resting them on the back of his neck. “Nothing, Princess?”

I nodded, my eyes fixed forward.

Cormac exhaled a sigh when he sensed he wouldn’t get the answers he sought. “A shelter is a good idea. The weather can turn. We don’t know how long days last here.”

I glanced at him, my cheeks warm.

Cormac pressed his tongue against his canine tooth.

The gesture reminded me of something. Someone .

My brow pinched.

There was somewhere I had to be.

Somewhere I had to go.

Someone was missing.

More than one.

I shook my head to clear it, focusing on Cormac, though it took some effort.

“Maeve.” He repeated my name.

I’d been staring up at Cormac without seeing him. His face creased in worry.

“A storm,” I answered the question he didn’t ask. “Beyond the cliffs.”

Cormac reached out, throwing his arm around my shoulders. I startled at the familiarity of the action.

I’d seen Cormac act that way with someone before.

But who?

Their names slid off my tongue like ice.

A crawling sense of unease washed over me. I reached down and grabbed the heavy branch again, determined to do something.

Cormac stilled my hand. “Maeve. Sit down.”

I shook my head, my eyes fixed down.

Cormac exhaled a heavy breath. “ Please .”

We might have been in the Tuatha Dé Danann, but that word meant something to the fae—a bargain.

I stepped away from his hand. “Am I a joke to you?”

His brow pinched. “A joke?”

“This beach is large enough that we don’t need to spend every moment together.” I didn’t look at him as I spoke. My jaw was as stiff as my resolve. “I’d rather you just go away if you intend to mock me.”

“Mock you?” He echoed.

My nostrils flared with anger. I waved a hand between us, the motion sharp like the jaws of a moray eel.

“This. Us. You hate me. You always did. You call me Princess, as if that means something. A title that was never mine. You kiss me out of boredom. You prod, you pry, and make me feel as small as a shrimp on the sea floor. For what ?” My voice grew higher and more shrill.

My face was hot and my vision blurry with tears.

“We’re fucking dead, Cormac Illfinn. I know it’s my fault! ”

He stepped towards me, his body rigid like a man preparing to draw his blade. His hands snapped out, gripping my biceps. For a moment, I thought it was going to shake me.

I twisted against his grip, trying to escape. To knock his hands away, but they did not budge.

Then, he kissed me.

Cormac Illfinn kissed like a man at war with himself. He tasted like sweat, determination, and sun-kissed skin. He broke away, his chest heaving with exertion. Close enough to share a breath, he pressed his forehead to mine.

“Do you remember the day we met?” He whispered. Emerald eyes burning into mine.

I gritted my teeth. “The Frosted Sands?”

“King Irvine’s ascension to the throne.” His lip twitched. “You were younger. No less bolshy.”

“Bolshy?” I jerked back.

“A youngling, skulking the halls of the Undine Court. I called your mother ‘mad’ and you demanded I take it back.” Cormac chuckled. “I thought you were going to rip out my throat with your teeth.”

I arched a brow. As if I were capable of such a thing?

“I stabbed you in Cruinn,” Cormac stated. “I thought I killed you.”

My cheeks burned, and I wrenched myself back, stopping only because of his strong grip on my arms.

“I didn’t want to go to Shay Mac Eoin’s wedding.

But the moment I pulled myself from the beach, and saw you, it was as if a strange sickness that had lurked over me for months dissolved in moments.

” Cormac stated, exhaling shakily. “I told myself it was guilt, but I am going to be honest, I don’t think it was.

Ever since I was a child, I’ve been told I don’t feel emotions the right way. ”

I huffed a laugh. “I can relate to that. But if I stabbed someone, I’m sure I’d feel bad about it.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed knowing you existed, until I saw you again. I knew what your absence felt like, and I didn’t like it.” Cormac said.

“You hate me.”

“I can hate you and miss you at the same time.”

I jerked back. “You kissed me because you hate me?”

Cormac covered his mouth with his hand, pinching his lips in exasperation. “I don’t fecking hate you!”

I exhaled a puff of air from my nose, like a raging steed. “You have a strange way of showing it!”

His hand snapped out, wrapping around my throat. Forming a gentle necklace, as he forced my eyes to his. “I’ll fecking show you how much I don’t hate you.”

His lips crashed against mine again, and my knees buckled as I held onto his shoulders for dear life.

We slid to the ground, knees landing on the fluffy sand as his lips forced mine apart, his tongue sweeping my bottom lip and demanding entrance to my mouth.

Every inch of my body began to burn with a strange kind of desperation. Nothing else mattered except Cormac Illfinn, and his hands, his lips, and the warmth of his hard chest pressed against mine. His callused fingers still wrapped around my neck, holding me in place as he took his due.

I sank into him as he pressed forward until I lay in the sand.

Cormac settled between my legs, the hardness hidden in his trousers pressed against my core.

Throbbing, hot, hard, even through the fabric of our clothes.

I buckled my hips, legs spread, as I rocked against him, desperate for the sensation.

My body begged me to pull him closer, anticipating how he would feel inside of me, stretching me to my limit.

Cormac pulled back, his eyes closed in concentration. He muttered under his breath, his entire body rigid.

My brow furrowed. “Cormac?” I whispered, as the sting of rejection wormed its way up my throat. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, the movement sharp and imperceptible. He cleared his throat. “Just a moment. Please.”

I squirmed, uncomfortably, still pinned by his hips.

Cormac inhaled sharply. “Don’t move.” He begged.

“What’s going on?”

His eyes fluttered open, his pupils blown, highlighted by the tiniest sliver of emerald green. “I haven’t done this before.”

“This?” I echoed.

Cormac hissed and waved a hand towards our hips. “ This .”

Crude, crass, sexual Cormac Illfinn. The Mer-King with dreams of being surrounded by beautiful women in a harem—dreams I had personally seen when I’d saved his life—

Was a virgin ?

I watched him as if I’d discovered an entirely brand new species of animal.

“...You?”

“Yes, me.” He bit out.

“But you always—”

“I know.” Cormac snarled.

“But...” I choked on my tongue. “Why?”

“I was waiting.”

“For who?” I asked. “Or what?”

Cormac closed his eyes again. “My Shíorghrá.”

I knew that word. How did I know that word?

I sounded it out through numb lips.

“Shíorghrá?”

Cormac eyed me as if I were mad. “Mer do not have Shíorghrá as the Undine or the Kelpies do, with markings that glow unseen. We don’t have skins to gift. Or brands, like the Nymphs.”

“How do the Mer find their mates?” I asked, sinking lower into my own self-loathing every moment.

Was Cormac saving himself? Had I pushed, demanding intimacy, when it wasn’t wanted?

“Mer do not have fated mates. Not as the other creeds do.” His chest puffed up proudly. “We forge our bonds. When a female accepts the bond, her scales begin to change until they match their partner.” He told me. “My scales are red.”

An image flashed in front of my eyes. Of the pinkish hue of my scales, in the water. Once opalescent, changing to a subdued rose quartz.

My breath locked in my chest.

“I don’t hate you, Maeve Cruinn,” Cormac told me. “You’re my Shíorghrá.”