Cian and Arin: Beginning: Secret Defenders, #0.5
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Teenage boys are disappearing from once-peaceful Irish villages and rumors abound of unnatural beasts prowling the streets. When Arin Clevenger's sister is kidnapped, Arin fears the beasts have taken her, too. Even though Arin is blind, she won't let anything stop her from finding her sister.
Cian Conn hates hiding what he really is — a young gray gryphon, destined to protect the helpless — but the grays' ancient rules of secrecy force him to live under cover. When a new sect of gryphons arise, declaring their independence, Cian longs for the same freedom, but he's leery of risking such change. For their feathers have turned black, and so have their souls.
With war looming between the gryphon clans, it seems neither humans nor grays can stand against the blacks' growing power and savagery. A blind girl in the middle of that war… might be the hope Cian yearns for, and the key to victory.
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Cian and Arin: Beginning: Secret Defenders, #0.5 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Key: Secret Defenders, #1 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Mara's Secret: Secret Defenders, #2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsIceas' Victory: Secret Defenders, #3 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
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Cian and Arin - Felicia Rogers
CIAN AND ARIN: BEGINNING
Copyright © 2019 by Felicia Rogers
Published in the United States of America
Dingbat Publishing
Humble, Texas
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this e-book can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are entirely the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual locations, events, or organizations is coincidental.
No matter how well you think you know a person’s history, there is no substitute for the real story...
Prologue
Unnamed Irish Village, winter, 1880
Cian tightened his arms around his wife, and Arin buried her head against his chest. Sobs racked her tiny body and tears soaked his thin muslin shirt. Today... today was difficult. Dougal Lachlan, the young gentleman so much like himself, was sauntering away, leaving the village, leaving their assistance. They had tried to help him. Cian had tried harder at that task than any other in his life, but it hadn’t been enough.
There had been no argument. No disagreement. Harsh words hadn’t been spoken. There was only one reason for Dougal’s departure — the youngster was determined to be an outcast.
Heart heavy, Cian lowered his chin to Arin’s soft hair and drew in a long, shuddering breath. A hint of honey filled his nostrils, as if she had bathed in the sweet peas she grew around their cottage. In the late daylight hours of summer, when he should have been snuggling with Arin in bed, he would sometimes lean against the window casing and stare at her garden, where red, orange, and yellow flowers cascaded to the plush grass. The pleasant aroma of the colorful blooms had always seemed to match his well-kept home. Arin was a wonderful homemaker, despite her special circumstances.
But today it was hard to take pleasure in those simple things.
Why must life be so hard?
Arin mumbled, the unrestrained tears coming through in her defeated tone.
He smoothed his hand over her reddish hair hair, increasing her sweet fragrance. His throat clogged with emotion; he cleared it. It has been worse.
Aye, it has.
Still she didn’t move away, and he tightened his hold again.
Down the lane, Dougal disappeared around a neatly trimmed hedgerow. Fortunately, Arin couldn’t see his final departure. That would have broken her heart even more. It was certainly breaking his.
If Cian had thought for one moment he would see the boy again, it might help. But he knew that would never happen. He’d witnessed such determination before. The desire to be alone, to push everyone aside as if no love had ever been offered... The results had been devastating.
Cian placed his hand on Arin’s lower back to guide her. Winter chill had settled in around the village. The colorful blooms normally decorating their happy cottage had perished with the season. Now a light snow coated the ground and lay like lace across the top of the hedge and the dying grass. With the slightest pressure, the front door squeaked open. Inside, logs snapped and crackled in the hearth. The fire had warmed the two-room cottage to a comfortable level. Too much so for him, but he was always hot, unnaturally so.
He settled Arin in the rocking chair before the fire and covered her legs with a homemade quilt. The squares had been randomly placed, creating a cornucopia of colors. She massaged her rounded belly, and his lips twitched into a smile; however, his happiness was brief. Sorrow followed all too quickly.
Tears still trickling down her cheeks, Arin rocked and hummed, while he moved to the window. Frost had pooled and gathered in the panes’ corners, creating something akin to a web. He closed his eyes and breathed. Village noises that he shouldn’t have been able to hear reached him. Children laughing and playing. Women beating rugs in the chill afternoon air. Men chopping wood and humming under their breath. Normalcy. That had been all he’d longed for, and now he had it. He had a home. He had a wife. A wife with child. They were finally creating a family. If only Dougal had been able to join them. He had no idea what he was getting into out there in the world, but Cian knew the truth. His life was good now, but as he’d said, things had been worse.
Aye, things had definitely been worse...
Chapter One
Two years earlier, autumn
Cian Conn leaned against the wooden wall of the small one-room hut and crossed his feet at the ankles. The windows had fogged and the air grew staler by the minute. If the elders took much longer to start the meeting, he would go outside and catch his breath. Sometimes the stench of his brothers was too much to bear.
Tomas, the eldest council member, had summoned the tribal heads to discuss a growing threat; however, most of the elders didn’t seem particularly worried as they filtered in slowly, one by one, heads held high and shoulders thrust back. A single leader from each tribe of twelve was required to attend, but others in influential families came out of curiosity. Some had traveled from Portrush, while others had come from Irish villages further away. Cian was such a curiosity seeker himself. He had attended meetings before, but this was the largest. Despite the council members’ confidence, the problem had to be greater than rumors had implied, or so many wouldn’t have come.
Cian wiggled. The coat fit snugly across his broad shoulders. The thighs of his pants were stretched taut. His big toe poked through the opening in the top of his leather shoes. Perhaps it was time to order a new pair. Perhaps it was time to purchase a good many things. His employment was now secure and he could afford new clothing.
Again the door creaked open. Cian watched the new arrival with anticipation as smoke drifted toward a hole in the reed ceiling. The last council member settled around the glowing fire pit.
A solemn hush fell over the room as Tomas lifted his hands. My fellow gryphon brothers, welcome. As always, I wish we could gather under better circumstances. But this time, that was not to be. Before we begin, per tradition, we will read the historical documents.
He turned to his left. Oscar, proceed.
Oscar stood and nodded in the direction of the elders. Thank you, Elder Tomas.
Tomas repositioned himself on a cushioned seat, and Oscar began. For hundreds of years, the gray gryphons lived in peace amongst the Jotunn. We were their protectors. Then, without warning, one of our own decided to leave the fold, and a third of us followed. Even though it was our purpose to protect the Jotunn, the elders decided to allow the dissension. Then the band of misfits attacked the Jotunn!
Oscar became animated, and even though they knew the story, those in the room leaned forward. "We were unprepared and left powerless to assist. Only a few of us escaped, and the Jotunn faired much worse. They were all but