by S. Young
“What the …” The vampire sat up, staring at her in confusion, her blood dripping from his chin.
That’s when Rose realized the golden shimmer was a light peeling away from her body. She sat up, lifting her hand, and watched the light mimic her movement. It was shaped like the outline of her, like a silhouette. The vampire scrambled off her to watch as the light moved as one toward the center of her chest until it amalgamated into one large, glowing ball.
“Oh my—”
It exploded, throwing Rose to the ground and the vampire into a nearby trash can.
Darkness fell over the alley again.
A tingling sensation brought Rose’s hand to her neck.
“Holy fuck,” she whimpered, feeling her flesh knit together.
Shaking, she touched the vampire’s other wound.
Blood smeared her fingers … but the wounds were gone.
And the alley was no longer pitch-black. It was gray, and she could see the trash cans clearly … she could see the vampire clearly, his silver eyes as bright.
Night vision.
As Rose sat up, her limbs felt strange, like for years there had been a heaviness in them, and now, only lightness and strength.
The vampire stood, staring at her in disbelief. Rose laughed at the thought, the sound disconcerting in the dark.
A vampire stared at her in disbelief.
“What the hell are you?” he asked.
Touching her neck, finding the worst wound healed over, her earlier fear melted away. Confusion remained, but there was also power flowing through her body. Inexplicable, incredible power that crackled from her skin.
Power that made her feel less afraid of him.
The vampire.
A goddamn vampire.
She lifted her chin in defiance. “I think I might be hard to kill.”
Rose spoke too soon.
She realized that milliseconds later as the blur of his body shot toward her and she felt his powerful hands grip hold of her nape.
The last thing she heard was the resounding crack of her neck breaking.
4
At first Fionn was dismayed when he encountered the vampire at the club. Watching the dark-haired bloodsucker as he moved through the crowds, Fionn had suspected right away that this man was the killer Bran had warned him about.
Vampires didn’t stalk humans. They socialized with them, drank from them only what they needed, leaving behind questionable wounds that only perpetuated human fascination with vampire mythology.
This vampire, however, was hunting.
Fionn, unfortunately, was too preoccupied with the bartender to deal with the vampire and his would-be victim. His psychic wasn’t at the club, which meant she probably knew he was and was staying away. Could the bartender be that important, then? Was she even the reason the psychic had been there in the first place, or was Fionn reaching?
Earlier that day, he’d broken into the club and logged onto the office computer. He’d found the employee records, which included helpful photographs of each of them.
He found Rose. The bartender.
Rose Kelly.
That was an Irish name if ever there was one, Fionn had mused. She was Irish American. Twenty-five years old and her résumé belonged to that of a vagabond. The girl had been wandering for the last three years. First Australia, then numerous cities around Europe. Why? What was she running from?
Retrieving her Social Security number, Fionn had sent the information to Bran. So far all they’d discovered was that Rose Kelly was the adopted daughter of Anna and Bill Kelly. They adopted her when she was a little over a year old. Anna and Bill lived in Maryland in the United States but were both originally from Cork in Ireland. Anna was an artist and Bill was a website developer. Rose had graduated from the University of Pennsylvania with a degree in marketing.
From there she’d become a nomad.
Why?
Bran was working on gathering more information while Fionn followed Rose. He’d become aware of the vampire’s presence, stalking Rose, as soon as she’d taken two steps away from the club.
At first Fionn was pissed he’d have to deal with the vampire for interfering in his business, but then he’d realized a vampire attack might give him some insight into Rose’s abilities, or lack thereof.
He’d watched from the rooftops as the vampire pulled Rose into the alleyway and tore into her neck. To Fionn’s surprise, he’d had to stop himself from getting involved. Watching Rose’s attack was unnerving. Disconcerting. A strange feeling of guilt pricked him for letting the vamp get within touching distance of her.
It made no sense.
Unless his instincts were telling him she was important.
That she did have something to do with the fae children after all.
Still, he held himself back and was glad for it as he watched her push off the vampire with unnatural strength.
“Bingo,” he murmured, leaning over the roof to see what would happen next.
It wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting.
After the vampire knocked Rose to the ground with a sickening thud of her head, Fionn was sure she was supernatural.
That kind of hit would’ve crushed a human’s skull.
When the golden light began to peel away from her body, anticipation curled in Fionn’s gut.
He knew what that light meant.
Someone had put a spell on Rose Kelly.
That light gathered into a ball above her chest and then exploded, throwing the vampire back against the wall and Rose to the ground. Her energy blasted out of her and rolled over Fionn in wave after glorious wave. With it came her scent.
Floral and earthy, like summer in Ireland, tinged with a heady sweetness like caramelized sugar.
The hair on his neck rose.
Fae.
She was goddamn fae.
He watched as she slowly stood to face the vampire.
Someone had put a blocking spell on Rose Kelly to suppress her fae powers.
Fionn needed Bran to find out who her birth parents were and how they knew she needed to be protected. Because that was the purpose for the spell.
A spell his clever little psychic had seen through.
Standing to his feet, Fionn decided it was time to end this interlude with the vampire. Rose had proven herself brave and strong, but her confusion was clear. Fionn needed to determine how much or how little she knew. He was hoping she knew little.
It would be so much easier to manipulate her if she was clueless.
“What the hell are you?” the vampire asked from below.
“I think I might be hard to kill,” Rose answered.
Fionn smirked at that.
Oh, she had no idea.
Not even a second later, his smirk melted as the vampire broke Rose’s neck. She crumpled, not dead, but out for the count.
Possessive fury roared through Fionn as he stepped off the rooftop. Rose Kelly was now his to kill at the right moment. No other fucker would dare touch her until then.
The vampire whirled around as Fionn dropped to the ground on light feet. The blood drinker bared his fangs, hackles raised.
Fionn lifted a finger and waggled it at the vampire. “We mustn’t touch what isn’t ours.”
The vampire lunged and Fionn used the force against him, punching his fist through the vamp’s chest, feeling the warm, wet muscle of his heart pulsing in his hands.
Then he tore it out.
The vampire’s body burst into ash that floated in the still night air. The wet muscle in Fionn’s hand disintegrated into dust too.
Fionn stepped around the cloud of dead vampire and kneeled in the alley to brush away Rose’s dark hair from her face. She was beautiful in a subtle way. All Aine’s fae were attractive. It was part of their weaponry.
He perused her body. She wasn’t short, but she wasn’t tall. She had a gentle feminine flare to her hips. Still, she was lean and strong, like an athlete because she had been. Bran
discovered articles on her. She’d been a gymnast in high school, en route to the US Olympic team, until she’d mysteriously walked away from the sport.
Despite the spell, she’d been stronger than the average human.
Had she guessed that she was different?
So many questions, Fionn mused.
He pulled out his phone and called Bran. As soon as the vamp answered, Fionn informed him, “It was the bartender. Someone put a spell on her to repress her abilities and energy. I don’t know how big that energy blasting off her was, but it would be enough to alert any nearby supernaturals. I need you to check for movement from the Blackwoods or anyone else of interest.”
“Jesus Christ, only a bloody powerful and ruthless witch or warlock could do that.”
“I’m aware. Any headway with the birth parents?”
“Well, I was just about to go to bed, but I’ll get on it right away.”
“You do that.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Discover how much she knows. I’m hoping it’s less than zero.”
“And then?”
“I’ll convince her she needs me. Once I have her trust, it should be easy enough to lure her to Ireland. Call me if you see movement and when you find something of use.” He hung up and stared down at Rose again.
She was a pig to the slaughter, he thought dispassionately.
Unfair for her, true, but what was one small woman against a two-thousand-year-old vendetta?
Fionn reached beneath her and lifted her into his arms with ease. Even if he didn’t have supernatural strength, she would have felt slight in his arms. A growl burrowed out of him as he heard bone slipping back into place.
She was healing from that neck break.
The vampire had deserved a drawn-out death because a broken neck couldn’t kill fae, but it could hurt like fuck.
Rose would wake soon.
There was no time to dawdle. Curious supernaturals might already be on their way.
5
As Rose’s mind swam up out of a bizarre dream, she grew aware of the mattress beneath her and realized she was in bed. Yet, as she tried to let go of images of bloodied fangs and glowing golden lights, it occurred to her that the mattress in her crappy apartment was lumpy and didn’t feel like a cloud of softness. The one beneath her did.
Her eyes flew open. Confusion and panic instantly hit her.
She was in a room she’d never been in before.
Rose sat up, surprised her head didn’t swim with the movement.
The room was warmly lit by table lamps with pale shades. The light bounced up latte-colored striped walls. Matching silk curtains covered the windows. And Rose was in a huge bed. The comfiest bed she’d been in, in a long time. Everything about the room said luxury hotel.
Throwing her legs off the side of the bed, she abruptly stopped.
Her limbs felt … weird.
Flexing a hand, she stared at it, trying to figure out—
Visions of a vampire attacking her, followed by a light exploding from her body, filled her mind again.
No.
No way.
She stood, expecting her legs to tremble, but they didn’t. Power coursed through her limbs but as she crossed to a doorway adjacent to the bed, her whole body felt lighter somehow.
Strangely lighter—but stronger.
The doorway led into a small sitting room that matched the décor of the bedroom.
Yup, she was definitely in a hotel suite.
It smelled strongly of orange blossom but there was a slight trace of fresh cologne.
How the hell could she smell that?
She turned back into the bedroom and hurried across the room to the adjoining bathroom. A large mirror hung on the wall behind the marble sink, and Rose leaned toward it, pushing her dark hair off her neck.
There were no wounds.
No vampires.
It was just … just a dream, right? But then why was she here? In this strange room? Who had brought her here? And why did she feel like she was walking around in a new body?
As her panic built, so did her fear. She watched in disbelief as bright gold bled through the blue of her irises.
“Fuck!” She scrambled back from the mirror, slapping her hands over her eyes.
Her breasts heaved with choppy breaths as she tried to calm down. Unsuccessfully.
Rose lowered her hands and opened her eyes.
Yeah, they were still bright gold!
Unnatural.
Remembering the way her wounds from the vampire’s fangs had healed over, Rose moved closer to the mirror again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The fight had been real. The vampire had been real. But what … what did that make her? Was she a vampire too? His eyes had been silver in the light. Why were hers gold?
Vampires.
Strange powers …
A door opened beyond the bedroom and it sounded like it had opened right next to her. She grew aware of the sound of voices in the room next door. A couple were discussing whether they wanted to get room service or dine in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. The man didn’t care. His priority was sex.
Okay, then. Suffice it to say Rose’s hearing was way better than it was yesterday. As was her sense of smell.
Huh.
Rose flinched back from the mirror, heart pounding. Was she turning into a vampire too?
“Rose?” an unfamiliar voice called her name.
Who was that?
What had happened in that alleyway? She’d sensed this unimaginable power in her limbs and faced the vampire to fight, but then everything went dark. The next thing she remembered was waking up in this room.
Not one to hide in fear and confusion, despite how afraid she was, Rose threw back her shoulders and strode out of the bathroom only to come to an immediate halt.
Standing in the doorway between the bedroom and sitting room was the man from the club. Not the vampire. The other one. The mammoth, well-dressed one who had moved through the crowd with a preternatural grace. The one she’d felt inexplicably drawn to. This close to him, she could see she’d been wrong about his height. He was taller than the six and a half feet she’d guessed. Rose swallowed hard as he ambled toward her.
“No need for golden eyes, Rose Kelly,” he said in a deep rumble of a voice. “I’m here to help, not to hurt.”
Rose stared up at him in awe. The only guy taller she’d ever met in real life was Patrick King, a basketball player at UPenn who went on to play for the NBA.
“Who are you?”
Piercing eyes the color of spring green stared back at her, mesmerizing. She’d thought they were contacts in the club. Now she realized the lasers had made them look eerier than they were. In fact, she’d never seen eyes so stunning. Other than when hers bled gold in the bathroom mirror.
The stranger waited patiently before her. Like the previous night, he wore a three-piece suit. His stylish, well-tailored attire was a sharp contrast to his massive shoulders, his blunt, rugged features, unshaven face, and unkempt, longish, dark blond hair. He reminded her of a caged tiger—the suit was an illusion of safety between you and an animal that could tear you to shreds with a simple swipe of his paw.
“Who are you?” she repeated.
The man cocked his head, frowning. “I can hear your heart racing. That’s unnecessary.”
“Are you a vampire?”
“No.” He retreated and gestured toward the doorway. “I brought some food up from the kitchen. Tea too.” He turned his back on her and walked out of the room. Rose gawked not only at the breadth of his shoulders but at the way he had to duck under the door frame.
Holy shit.
Think, Rose, think.
Taking a slow, calming breath, she gave her body a chance to catch up with her mind. As insane as it was, she still felt that weird pull toward the stranger. What she didn’t feel was fear toward him. Her fear stemmed from the unknown. From the bizarre new
things happening to her body.
Exhaling, Rose strode after the stranger and found him shrugging out of his jacket. She watched as he draped it over an armchair. His waistcoat and shirt were a perfect fit, as were the tailored trousers that cupped an ass that was clearly rock hard with muscle.
Attraction zinged through her as she watched him turn to sit.
Yeah, really not the time, she chastised herself.
“Good, the gold is gone.” His tone was as warm and fuzzy as a prison warden’s.
Rose touched the corner of her eye. “What does it mean?”
“Sit.” He gestured to the sofa. A tray sat on the coffee table before it.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Then don’t eat.”
His response irritated her, but Rose lowered herself onto the sofa anyway. “Are you Irish?” It was hard to tell. His accent was a little muddled, but there was a definite lilt to his words that reminded her of her parents’ accents.
“I am. My name is Fionn Mór. And you’re Rose Kelly.”
“How do you know that?” She leaned toward him. “I saw you the other night at the club. And then … was I …?” She raised a hand to her neck.
“Attacked an hour ago by a vampire.”
“How is this real?” Rose whispered to herself.
Perhaps she was still dreaming.
He studied her intently. “How much do you know about supernaturals?”
“Supernaturals?”
“Vampires, werewolves, and the like.”
Rose gaped at him. “Werewolves are real too?”
She thought she detected a slight curl at the corner of his lips. An almost smile. But then he glared at her so Rose must have imagined it. “You know nothing of the supernatural underworld?”
She swallowed hard. “If I hadn’t just been attacked by a vampire and watched my eyes change to liquid gold … I’d think you were a crazy man for even suggesting it a reality.”
“But you know I’m not crazy, don’t you, Rose? The sooner you come to terms with the fact that the supernatural world exists, the sooner you can come to terms with who you are.”
His matter-of-fact tone pissed her off. “That simple, huh?”
“I’m not here to baby you through this. I’m here to help you discover who you are and to control the incredible power that runs through your body.”