Page 12 of I Will Always Find You
For several weeks, he roamed the vibrant meadows, rolling hillsides, and shadowy forests of Éire, guided only bya feelingand the whispers of his ancestors, beckoning him forward toward an unknown location. Eventually, these mysterious murmurs culminated in a persuasive, raucous chorus that led him directly to the southern part of the Curragh, then to a small forest just beyond its border—and soon enough, to Aodhán.
Aodhán had been standing alone, naked, in serene contemplation within the crystalline waters of a small lake, not too far past the shoreline, when the Romani witch first laid eyes upon him. He was exactly as his ancestors had described him: a witch with long red hair braided down his strong back and possessing the kindest eyes the Romani witch had ever seen this side of Aeneas’ original orbs.
When Aodhán lazily turned his head to gaze back into the water, seemingly unaware of being watched, the Romani witch felt a pang of loss at being denied the beauty of those soulful eyes. He could not help but note that this man, this Celtae witch, was an exceptional embodiment of rugged virility; hisvery presence was powerful and commanding. Aodhán had a distinctly chiselled jawline and thick, muscular arms and legs that suggested a sinewy strength.
A fine dusting of reddish hair covered nearly his entire body, visible as the water only reached up to his knees. However, his wet hair and the water dripping from practically every part of him made it clear that he had recently been fully submerged. The fur on his firm buttocks and broad chest, which appeared so deliciously soft and pettable to the Romani witch, caught the light, accentuating his primal allure.
At this auspicious time, the air hung heavy with an uncanny stillness. The sounds of rustling leaves and woodland creatures faded into a sacred silence, as if a spell had been cast upon the forest. At the heart of it all stood the Romani witch, his dark eyes sparkling with unspoken yearning as they fixed upon the naked Celtae who bore the soul of his eternal beloved.
But he had worked no magic save that which flows naturally from a heart filled with true love. He wondered if Terra had paused in reverence to this momentous meeting between two souls soon to be made one. The Romani witch felt a deep, undeniable connection to Aodhán, a bond that transcended the need for even a cursory glance at the man’s aura to confirm anything.
With an air of calm confidence, showing no fear or trepidation, Aodhán slowly turned to face the Romani witch, a stranger to him. Moments earlier, he had deliberately faced away, returning to what appeared to be a deep meditative state, though he was acutely aware that someone was watching him. He did not want to engage with the one who had intruded upon his daily, private ritual until he could determine whether he posed a threat.
When a charge of palatable sensual energy surged through the air, hitting him soundly in his mind, heart, and groin—his connection to the world around him that refined—Aodhánhad instinctively extended his senses outward to inspect the unfamiliar man. This power, tosee without eyesthrough his mind’s eye, was a gift he attributed to having the Goddess’ favour.
It was an ability not all Celtae witches possessed.
From this cursory inspection, Aodhán believed, down to his core, that this stranger watching him posed no threat. He felt this unexpected situation promised secrets waiting to be uncovered, a blessed experience rather than danger lurking amid the trees. It was intriguing and exciting.
And the longer he stared at those dark and intense eyes that lingered hungrily on his exposed skin as if this beautiful stranger were entranced, Aodhán felt a growing sense of familiarity and something more he could not yet describe.
“I know you!” Aodhán exclaimed ardently. “You are a stranger to me, standing there in the shadows of the trees, watching me, thinking I did not catch your lustful eye, yet I feel I know you still. Like a brother, definitely a friend—perhaps more.
“While I cannot yet grasp the reason in my mind’s eye, the spirits tell me we were meant to meet today, but they will say no more. An odd thing. They have never held back from me before this moment. What a puzzle you are, handsome one.”
Aodhán stepped out of the lake and strode boldly toward the Romani witch. He did not bother to stop, dry off, and clothe himself. Water dripped from his ruddy skin like divine drops from a goblet fashioned for a god; the Romani witch wished his open mouth were under that shower of delectable moisture, for he was eager to imbibe.
“Come to me, stranger,” Aodhán beckoned seductively as he arrested his movement just a few paces away from the Romani witch. “Step out from the shadows and join me in the open, where we can meet without the barriers of tree, stone, or water between us. I mean you no harm, and I believe you intendnone toward me.” He extended his large hand in an amiable, welcoming gesture.
The Romani witch remained rooted to the spot, in awe before the naked, god-like man. It had been some time since a body housing Aeneas’ soul so closely resembled his original form. It was a breathtaking sight, yet the Romani witch’s profound desire for the man he loved became mixed with a deep sadness.
Despite the haunting visual similarity, he could not lie to himself: this was nothisAeneas. It was a mimicry, a damn good one, possessing the spirit of his eternal beloved.
But it was what it was for so long as the Wheel of Destiny controlled Aeneas’ eternal fate, all that the Romani witch was allowed to have. So he pushed aside his self-pity and embraced this chance to reunite with whatever incarnation of Aeneas he was presented with, as he did in every lifetime, and felt grateful for it.
Emerging from the shadows of the ancient forest, the Romani witch moved with surefootedness toward Aodhán, eager to connect.
And then, just two long strides away from embracing his beloved, he abruptly halted. His hesitation stemmed from a very tangible concern rather than an emotional one; he feared that the foul odour of his soiled clothes, unwashed hair, and sweat-soaked skin—resulting from his seafaring trip and the long trek across the country—would repulse this beautiful, freshly bathed man.
But his worry was all for naught, for the Celtae witch crossed those last few paces, grasped the Romani witch’s hand firmly, and pulled him into a tight embrace.
As always, a feeling of warmth and a spark of energy instantly pulsated between them the first time they connected physically in a new life cycle. Their souls were becoming reacquainted.
Pulling back from the embrace but remaining firm yet delicate in his hold of the Romani witch’s arms, the red-headed man smiled widely and said, “I am Aodhán. And your name, friend?” His deep, resonating voice was steady despite the emotions swirling within him for this stranger he felt instantly connected to, like heat to fire.
The Romani witch gave his name—and it sparked no immediate sign of recognition in his beloved.
Disappointed, considering Aodhán’s initial statement, but used to such a non-reaction, the Romani witch shrugged it off. Despite his lack of instant recall, he was still very heartened to see that the Celt was no less welcoming, so he felt no need to attempt any of his spells of remembrance. He would play it by ear.
“An interesting name, indeed,” Aodhán stated plainly. “Strong of sound yet sad in meaning, if my grasp of Latin has not failed me. Hollow? Are youempty, my new friend? Have you come to the Curragh seeking fulfillment from its deep mysteries and mysticism? Its beauty and grandeur? Has the Goddess directed you to me?
“I will do what I can for you, my new friend, for I see such longing in your eyes. It breaks my heart. And though I fear I am still quite in the dark about how we may know one another, for I believe we do, I understand nothing if I do not accept that the Goddess never lies, nor do the spirits of my ancestors. The fae-folk are the tricksters around here, but I have always been able to see through their ruses.
“Perhaps we knew each other in another life? I do not know if you believe in such things, but my coven does. My friend, the mysteries of the natural world are one thing, but those of the realms beyond our sight are infinite in their magnificence and perplexity. But listen to how I prattle on. Forgive me.”
With that, Aodhán pulled the Romani witch into another bear hug, laughing heartily as he did. This time, however, the Celt’s cock thickened at the intimacy and pressed hard against the soft leather of the Romani witch’s trousers.
Quieting his mirth, Aodhán took in a deep breath and grunted.
