Page 9 of The Dark Will Fall (Twilight Lake #5)

Maeve Cruinn

Night came unlike any I’d seen at the Twilight Lake.

Unable to bring himself to say much more after his grand declaration, Cormac and I started building the shelter on the treeline.

We gathered logs and rested them against trees to form walls, tying them in place with vines from the forest.

Neither of us wanted to venture too far into the darkness between the trees. Though the beach was paradise, what lay beyond the lagoon was not.

Seeing the waters beyond the cliffs had left me feeling vaguely sick, and venturing deeper into the forest had made it even worse. Every hair on my body lifted, every sense screaming.

Cormac seemed unaffected, or at the very least, he didn’t mention the uneasy feeling.

The night was balmy, the moon fat and full, bathing the lagoon in a pleasant, glittering light.

My body ached with hunger, churning my stomach, but it was easier to ignore as Cormac and I worked next to each other to finish the shelter.

“What was it like, growing up in Tarsainn?” I wondered.

Cormac chuffed a laugh, brushing his hands together to clean them of bark. “I was the insolent Prince. Feckless and mischievous.” He told me, shaking his head as if condemning himself. “I had one friend. Nohel. I’m fairly certain he was paid to keep me out of trouble.”

A smile stretched the corners of my mouth. “That bad?”

Cormac rolled his eyes, nudging my knee with his as we sat together on the sand.

“King Ullurick and Lady Bloodtide had already lived an age before I was even born.” He told me.

“One of my first memories was being held close by one of the maids, being rocked to sleep, as she gossiped about how my parents shouldn’t have bothered with a child until they’d lived a few more centuries. ”

My eyes rounded. “The Mer live that long?”

Cormac rubbed his chin. “It seems that this war did more than kill most of the older fae in the lake. Younglings have forgotten that Sídhe are long-lived, almost immortal, until something actively kills them.”

“I knew that.” I shifted uncomfortably.

Cormac continued. “Tarsainn’s inner court was most upset that the King and Queen had decided to have a child. They believed it would divide their attention.”

My brows arched, but I said nothing.

“My grandmother spent the most time with me.” He added. “Urma.”

“Have the Illfinn’s always ruled Tarsainn?” I asked.

“It was said that Belisama once lived in the Twilight Lake.” Cormac lifted his chin, and the moon reflected in his gaze. “That Dagda’s footprint scarred the ground, and her tears filled it.”

“I know the stories.” I rubbed my arms, though it wasn’t cold. “Her cries drew all of the lonely souls from the depths of the Aos Sí. Those that needed a home.”

“The Mer, the Undine, the Kelpies, Selkies, and Nymphs.” Cormac listed. “Each creed has suffered its own persecution, at one time or another. Belisama offered us a home. Those that walked on two legs on the sand. Each step was as painful as walking on the blade of a knife.”

“My family name came from Belisama’s grace.

” He explained. “Injured and sick, she brought my great-great-grandfather to the lake. She allowed them to build a home there, in exchange for their fealty. I once asked my father why he pledged his loyalty to the Mad Queen. He laughed and told me that it was by her grace that we lived. I thought it meant that he was frightened of her.”

“Do you think your father knew she was Belisama?” I wondered.

Cormac pressed his lips together. “No way of knowing.” He waved a hand dismissively. “What King Ullurick knew, died with him, I suppose.”

“Do you think he’s here? In the Tuatha Dé Danann?”

“Perhaps.” Cormac shuddered. “I don’t think we should go far from each other again.”

“Why not?” I asked, glancing at the cliffs.

“Can’t you feel it?” Cormac glanced at me, his emerald eyes harboring a bone-deep terror. “Something is protecting this lagoon. And something very much wants to break through that protection.”

“You can feel that?”

He nodded solemnly. “I don’t think I’m meant to be here. I think I’m meant to be out there.”

I squashed the horrid feeling in my stomach that told me he might be right. “You’re meant to be where I am.” I declared, leaving no room for argument.

A funny look crossed his face, one I hadn’t seen before. Cormac’s hand snapped out, and he grabbed me by the back of my neck, dragging my lips to his. I squeaked but made no move to escape as he pressed his lips hard against mine.

I yielded, soft and pliable in the face of an enemy—though perhaps, I could no longer call him that.

When I thought of Shíorghrá, I thought of the brightly colored markings of the Undine. Something snagged deep inside my mind. The feeling that I was forgetting something fundamental. As if I’d walked into a room and forgotten why I was there.

I was meant to be somewhere. Doing something. Unfinished business.

Cormac lifted his hand to my face, his callused fingers tracing the soft skin of my cheek. All thoughts and worries fled, leaving me with only one thing on my mind: his touch.

“You hate me,” I told him.

Cormac threw his head back, laughing enough to jostle his entire body.

“Do you want to feel how much I hate you, Princess?” He ground his hips against mine as we both lay in the sand.

I bit my lip—my entire body shuddering at the sensation of his hard cock, straining the fabric of his trousers.

I reached out, gripping the back of his head, fingers tangled in his golden hair, as I brought his lips back to mine.

His tongue brushed against mine, dancing together, as we both sank into the warm, fluffy sand.

I was so hungry, for touch, for life, and Cormac was a bright, brilliant spark. His body was warm, where mine was cold.

Cormac Illfinn.

My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. My hands grabbed at his skin, desperate to touch every part of him. His throat, his shoulders, the long hair that fell down and formed a curtain over both of our faces. A hidden veil, where our lips met.

I had always wondered what it was like to have a Mer, though I would have never voiced the obnoxious thought out loud. Cormac would have pounced on it like a shark and mocked me to no end. But a spark raced through me at the idea of something different, something entirely new.

It seemed that Cormac had never been with someone with two legs before.

Both of us were determined to journey into unknown waters.

Cormac’s fingers brushed over my waist, his callused fingers dancing over the soft skin of my stomach as they traveled down my body. His hand paused when he reached lower, fingers spasming as if encountering the unexpected.

Though I wanted to ask what he was expecting, to make jokes—our love language—but I decided not to. The moment felt too important. Cormac had offered something of himself, a vulnerability.

Our lips broke apart. Chests heaving as we shared a single breath.

He licked his lips. “I don’t know how to do this.” He admitted.

“Because I have two legs?” I chuckled as I lay back in the sand.

Cormac rolled his eyes. He circled my belly button with a single finger as he placed a delicate kiss on my stomach. “Laugh it up, Princess.” His voice was muffled by my skin.

“Would you like me to teach you?” I asked, my gaze softening, as I sat back on my elbows.

His lips twitched with a smile. “Teach me what you like.” He urged as he sat up and rubbed my thigh. “I want to please you.”

I shuddered, my legs clenching as he said the words in his low, husky voice. I cleared my throat and closed my eyes. “Put your hips between my legs,” I said, my voice cracked.

Cormac sat back on his knees, and I allowed my legs to fall between his body.

He climbed up my body again, hesitant to lay his weight on my stomach.

I reached up and pulled his face toward mine again.

My knees bent, I caged his hips and pressed him toward me.

My core was damp, and the fabric of my leggings clung to me—and I felt every inch of him as he pressed against me.

Our lips met again, and his hips rocked without meaning to, small, hesitant movements that brushed my core and stoked my lust.

“You need to touch me,” I whispered, eyes closed, as I spoke against his lips.

He smiled against my mouth, reaching up and brushing his fingers against the side of my breast. “Like this?”

I shook my head, eyes still closed. “Between my legs.”

Cormac’s hum rumbled through my body as he slid his hand down my body once more. He rested his callused fingers where they had stopped before, and waited, sat back on his haunches for direction.

Cormac Illfinn. The King of Tarsainn. A Mer with more pride than sense.

Who would never be kind if there was an insult to be had.

A male with all the bravado and bluster that came with the title—waited for instruction.

His eyes were dark with lust, and his desire to please me so fervent that it vibrated through every inch of his golden, muscular body.

My chest was too full. Lust or love, I couldn’t tell. It took every inch of my willpower not to pull him toward me and fuck him right then.

I reached down, hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my leggings. Cormac saw my actions and took over, throwing the leggings into the sand.

Legs spread, with Cormac between them. I felt exposed. I waited for some joke. Perhaps a proclamation of disgust—he was a Mer after all, with little experience of two-legged fae.

Instead, Cormac reached out, pressing a single finger to my opening.

I whimpered.

“Inside, like this?” He leaned down between my legs.

I bit my lip. “There is a bump at the top of the opening—”

“Like this?”

I yelped. “Circle it, gently.”

He did as I bade.

“So obedient.” I cooed, breathless.

Cormac took his other hand and pressed his thumb to my opening, as his other finger made delicate circles around my clitoris. I felt his breath against my wet core, so close, as he watched his fingers fucking me.