Solstice Song (Pagan Passion Book 1) by Colleen Charles

Author:Colleen Charles [Charles, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Ronan

Caris has seriously flipped her lid this time, but I have to admit that my elder sibling is a master manipulator and resourceful to no end. In the space of a few minutes, she alerted the entire town to be on the lookout for any kind of unknown vehicle approaching Wintervale, and to stop it by any means necessary. Fallen logs, rocks on the road, whatever it took to turn it around. She even has the local law enforcement in her back pocket. The only thing necessary is one of her winsome smiles and some of her homemade food and Guinness, and men fall at her feet in puddles of rapt appreciation.

Would she go so far as to feed bad food to Savie’s driver? At least a wee bit?

Her duplicity doesn’t please me, but I also know there’s no stopping her once she’s set her mind to something.

And all because she thinks that vexing woman is my soul mate. Bollocks!

Her manipulations don’t end there. She wheedles it out of me, the one thing I’ve been stubbornly denying since yesterday, to myself as well as to her. I can’t take my eyes off Savie Starr. With all Caris’ blathering about the prophecy, images coalesce in my mind. The face I saw in the cauldron at Samhuin is Savie’s. The more I look, the more I’m convinced it’s true.

But that doesn’t fecking mean I accept it.

Her coal black hair, flashing green eyes, and voluptuous curves have pulled me in from the start. I honestly only meant to help her out—she’d seemed so terrified and alone on that bus. But deep down I know there are other forces at work. Forces of nature. And I’ve lived my whole life respecting those forces, along with generations of O’Farrells before me.

The ancient druids of County Meath never truly left. They live on in their descendants. My parents, Caris, and me. The entire village of Wintervale, in fact. We’ve chosen to live in isolation, and to carry on the traditional practices of druidry, away from prying eyes and the intrusion of technology and commercialism.

Well, for the most part. I glare at my sister again.

But with isolation comes loneliness, and a shrinking gene pool. Our beliefs might shield us from materialism and the politics of organized religion but can’t protect us from biological fact. As the leader of our grove, I have a double responsibility. What’s the point of practicing the old ways if there are no new people left to carry it on? I’m a practical man, and certainly not uninitiated in human sexuality, as many of our rituals involved symbolic sexual acts. But I want to choose for myself who will share my bed, my home, and my way of life. Who will bear my children if I am to be so blessed. I want to feel more than the natural urges of my body. I do really want a soul mate, as the Cailleach predicts.

But could my world ever mix with the blatantly crass and money-driven one of someone like Savie Starr? It’s not even possible.

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