Kiss of Vengeance: A True Immortality Novel

by S. Young

  Following Kiyo, they fell into step. The supes around them started to buzz with renewed energy. Those who knew of Kiyo and Fionn knew they were about to witness something different. They noted the swords in their hands, and the murmurs of anticipation grew.

  “She’s the reason you’re here,” Kiyo said. Again, not a question.

  Fionn grunted in answer.

  “Why not fuck her instead? I’d choose sex over a fight.”

  They stopped to face one another as the crowds encircled them, giving them enough room to battle. Kiyo offered the sword to Fionn to hold as he drew his shoulder-length black hair into a topknot.

  “I have another, more important purpose for her.” He held out the swords to Kiyo. The wolf waited patiently as Fionn drew his shirt over his head, threw the expensive material to the dirt, and then tied his own hair back out of his face. The shorter strands fell across his cheekbone, but there was nothing to be done about that.

  Bloody hair would not get in his way.

  “Can’t you use her for both?” The wolf held out the hilt of Fionn’s sword.

  Images of Rose filled his mind: lying on her back beneath him; straddling him; on her knees, sweetly curved arse in his hands. His knuckles cut into the sword’s pommel.

  Kiyo raised an eyebrow. “Your eyes.”

  Fuck.

  Rarely did Fionn allow his emotions to so overcome him that his eyes bled gold.

  “That’s new.”

  Fionn glowered. “You’ll forget you ever saw that.”

  The wolf nodded. “Already forgotten.”

  “And in answer to your question, no, I cannot. Now, are we going to fight or sit down to fucking tea and gossip?”

  Kiyo’s answer was to attack.

  The roar of the crowd filled Fionn’s ears, mixing with the whoosh of blood as the fight cleared his mind, reducing him to a warrior facing a worthy opponent. There was nothing but the swing of blades, the clang of steel hitting steel, packed dirt beneath them, and quick feet following the orders of quicker minds.

  The cacophony of supernatural crowds was something else. Rose held her breath as the men and women, vampires and werewolves jeered and rallied and shouted their support for whatever opponent they’d chosen to back.

  She had never seen anything like the spectacle before her.

  Kiyo was spectacular to look at, even without the mad sword skills. Although shorter than Fionn (who wasn’t?), he was probably around six two. Rose had been a little preoccupied with his shirtless torso when he first approached because the guy had fantastic broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and pecs and abs to die for. His jeans hung low on his hips, showing off his incredible V-cut obliques. This masculine gorgeousness was all wrapped up in smooth, fawn skin, except for a long scar across his belly that Rose posited must have come from a silver weapon. It made him look even more badass than he already was.

  Rose was not ashamed to say she was internally drooling even before she got to the beauty of his face. The werewolf was rude, intimidating as hell, and as warm as a swim in the Arctic, but there was no denying he was beautiful.

  There was no other word for it.

  Large eyes so dark they were a shiny black in the low-lit warehouse, a broad nose, high cheekbones, thick, black hair that was now pulled into a very attractive man bun, and a full-lipped mouth with a very defined, prominent cupid’s bow. A person could stare at it for hours.

  It was a wonder, then, that as swords slashed through the air, feet moved faster than a human’s ever could, and muscles rippled under the aluminum lighting, Rose couldn’t tear her attention from Fionn.

  The wolf, Kiyo, held his own against her companion, considering Fionn towered over him by a good five inches and pounds of thick muscle, but the fae was a force to be reckoned with.

  Her mouth was dry as she watched him, hugging his overcoat to her chin, his cologne tickling her senses. When he’d whipped off his shirt and tied back his hair before the fight, a vamp next to her made a crude, sexual comment that had her hissing like a jealous wife.

  She never got jealous or territorial, but it was happening with alarming frequency around Fionn.

  To her surprise and smugness, the guy who’d made the comment took one look at her and warily moved away through the crowds.

  It occurred to Rose that she perhaps was giving off some badass supernatural vibes of her own. And she was okay with that.

  Minutes ticked by as the well-matched opponents fought.

  Rose didn’t know how long the battle had been going when Fionn’s blade caught Kiyo’s forearm. The sight and smell of blood made the crowd surge.

  Kiyo’s lips parted in a growl, baring unnaturally long canines. Two hands gripped on the hilt of his sword, he spun into a jump, a blur of elegant movement, and brought his blade crashing down against Fionn’s with such force, the fae stumbled.

  Rose let out a little gasp, instinctually stepping toward him, and to her utter surprise, Fionn’s concerned gaze flew to hers in the crowd.

  He’d heard her gasp.

  His expression pinched in pain as Kiyo took advantage of his distraction and cut a slice through Fionn’s pants at the thigh.

  With a growl of aggression, he returned his focus to the werewolf while Rose was thankful the cut was covered by his suit pants so the supes wouldn’t see it heal unnaturally fast.

  Kiyo’s was no longer dripping blood, but it was healing at a slower rate than hers or Fionn’s would.

  How had Fionn escaped questions about this in his previous fights? Unless Kiyo was the first to make a mark on him?

  So many questions. She always had so many questions, even she was exhausted by the continual onslaught.

  A little while later, an awed female voice said, “They’ve been fighting for an hour.”

  Rose blinked. She’d been so lost watching the fight, she hadn’t realized that much time had passed. She cast a look over her shoulder at the speaker and saw it was a short, curvy blond. Her hand was held in the tight grip of a stocky redheaded male. Just looking at them, at any of the supes in the crowd, Rose didn’t know what they were. She wondered if there was a way to tell a vamp from a werewolf when they weren’t flashing their fangs …

  Another question for Fionn.

  If this fight ever ended.

  It was then she heard what sounded like a sniff.

  Sniff, sniff, sniff at her neck.

  A prickling sensation followed; her heart began to race and a weird sense of dread filled her belly.

  She knew that sensation.

  “The racing heart, the dread in the gut … they’re warning signs. Of coming danger. You feel those things, you get ready to fight or to flee.”

  Holy crap.

  Rose glanced over her shoulder and saw the blond and the redhead were now eyeing her with their silver gazes. Vampires.

  The blond sniffed the air in front of Rose and hunger flashed in those strange eyes. “What are you?”

  Uneasy but determined not to show it, Rose sneered. “None of your fucking business.” Proud her voice had remained strong, she pushed through the crowd, away from the vampire couple, hoping they’d lose interest.

  Unfortunately, the telltale feelings weren’t easing up.

  Worry filled Rose. She wasn’t afraid she couldn’t take on two vampires; she was afraid she didn’t have enough control over her powers to hide what she was in a room filled with supernaturals.

  A strong hand wrapped around her wrist and Rose spun, ready to fight.

  Fionn stared down at her, anger etched in his expression.

  His face shiny and his torso slick with sweat, he examined her body, clinically, like he was checking for harm. The crowds had melted away from her, murmuring quietly.

  Then Fionn cocked his head, like he’d scented something. He whipped his head around, sword soaring up to just scrape the chin of the redheaded vamp.

  His bloodsucking companion stood stiff and wide-eyed at his side.

  “Take one more ste
p and I’ll cut off your fucking head,” Fionn warned, his Irish accent pronounced.

  The redhead raised his arms defensively. “We just wanted to know what she is. No harm meant.”

  “You were hunting her. I saw.” He pressed the tip of the sword deeper, blood seeping out.

  “Like I said, no harm meant.” The vamp licked his lips nervously, his eyes no longer silver but still hungry as they moved to Rose. “She smells good. What is she?”

  A shift moved through the crowd, and Rose’s heart pounded faster, harder as she felt the change in the air. All focus was on her. They were curious. That, mixed with the bloodlust in the air, began a frenzy of murmurings.

  They all wanted to know what she was.

  Fionn turned toward them, putting Rose at his back. “She’s mine!” His voice rang through the room.

  Kiyo appeared at Fionn’s side, sword at the ready. His statement was clear.

  The smart supernaturals nodded at the warning and moved off, joining the crowds around the two supes that were fighting on the other side of the warehouse.

  A small group stayed behind, their curious, avaricious, silver eyes on Rose.

  Vampires.

  Rose remembered the vampire who attacked her. The delirious, amazed hunger in his eyes after he’d tasted her. What are you? he’d asked. Apparently, a fae’s blood smelled and tasted a little nicer than human blood.

  Great.

  Someone moved. Rose wasn’t sure whom.

  But she never even got a chance to join the fight.

  Fionn and Kiyo sliced their swords through seven heads in seconds.

  Actual seconds.

  Ash danced in the air like dust, floating down to create seven piles on the packed dirt floor.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  She’d never seen anything like it.

  It had been like some violent, brutal dance watching the werewolf and fae deftly avoid fists and fangs and legs as they whipped, spun, and sliced through the group of vamps.

  Holy shit.

  “Rose.” A touch on her chin stole her gaze from the piles of ash to Fionn’s face. “You with me?”

  “What just happened?” She gestured to the deceased.

  “She is new, isn’t she,” Kiyo murmured at Fionn’s side.

  Rose touched her throat. “Can that happen to us?”

  Fionn flicked a look at Kiyo before turning to her. His voice was low, so as not to be overheard. “No, we heal too fast. The sword would get pushed out by our healing abilities.”

  Holy shit. Looking beyond him, she noted none of the other supes seemed to care that seven vampires had just been killed.

  As always, her companion seemed to read her mind. “There are rules, Rose. You don’t feed on unwilling victims at an underground fight. I made a claim on you, they ignored it. No one cares if they’re dead. Do you?”

  Remembering how painful a vampire bite could be, she shook her head and then let out a slow exhale as she looked back at Fionn and Kiyo. “But you could’ve at least given me a chance to join in.”

  Fionn closed his eyes and gave a slow shake of his head, but she saw the slight tremble in his lips. He was trying not to laugh.

  Good.

  He’d been so serious all day.

  Kiyo held out the sword to Fionn. “There’s a big fight in Romania in two months. Bucharest. Only the very strongest are invited. Will I see you there?”

  Ooh, Romania. It had been on Rose’s European bucket list but she’d never made it.

  The question caused Fionn’s expression to flatten. “No.” He waved off the sword. “Keep it.”

  Something like surprise flashed across Kiyo’s face as he held on to the weapon. “Change your mind. I need the challenge.” Then, without a backward glance at either of them, the beautiful Japanese werewolf strode out of the warehouse.

  “We should go.”

  Rose nodded, handing Fionn his coat. Her mind was no longer on the amazing display of warriorship from her companion and his werewolf buddy. It was on the grimness of Fionn’s expression. He’d gone somewhere hellish and dark in his mind, and she had no idea what had triggered the unsettling change.

  20

  The fight with Kiyo had burned energy.

  Unfortunately, it had not burned his aggression, self-loathing, or frustration.

  It might have, had he not felt his heart race mid fight, felt a tingle down his spine and that telling dread in his gut that warned him of danger. Fionn had known instantly that it wasn’t his own danger, and he’d looked out to the crowds to see two fucking vampires hunting Rose as she tried to push swiftly through the baying supes around her.

  Kiyo had known to withdraw without a word as Fionn was a blur across the room to put himself between Rose and her pursuers.

  His protective instincts weren’t anything noble. It was territorialism. Fionn could lie all he liked and tell himself he wanted nothing to happen to Rose before he got the chance to open the gate. That wasn’t true. They’d already be in Ireland if it were.

  This was a different territorialism.

  This was something primal and ancient.

  Something that terrified him.

  Nothing had terrified Fionn in a long time. In centuries.

  Until now.

  Because even if what he was feeling was what he thought it was, it changed nothing. Rose still had to die for his revenge. If he chose her, she’d only betray him. The death of the Faerie Queen was too important. Fuck fate, if that was what this was.

  Sensing his volatility, Rose had remained silent as they found a private place to travel back to the rented apartment. Fionn regretted not asking Bran to make sure they stayed at a hotel. Separate rooms.

  They had separate bedrooms here, but it was still a shared space.

  “Get some sleep,” he practically snarled before turning to leave the open-plan living area.

  Rose appeared in the doorway, blocking his path.

  Two could play at that game.

  He traveled into his bedroom.

  She appeared at the foot of his bed.

  Fuck. “Get out, Rose.”

  “No.” Her expression was defiant as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  Will of fucking steel.

  “Rose,” Fionn warned, the tenuous grip he had on his control slipping by the second.

  “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

  He zeroed in on her luscious little upside-down mouth.

  “Is it because I interrupted your fight? Drew attention to myself?”

  “No,” he grunted, catching a whiff of her musk in the air.

  Fionn had smelled her during his fight.

  Knew she was growing aroused watching him.

  Don’t do it.

  “Is it because I noticed the hotness of Kiyo?”

  Don’t do it.

  “Because that’s nothing. Just appreciation—”

  He sped across the room, lifted her up under her arms, her feet off the floor, and crushed her mouth beneath his.

  She kissed him back.

  Immediately.

  Rose’s lips were hot and searching, a little feminine moan vibrating from her throat.

  Her scent enveloped him.

  Fuck, he wanted to touch her everywhere—his hands didn’t know which part of her to caress first.

  With a gasp of unadulterated need, Rose broke the kiss but only to encircle his waist with her legs, to cling to his shoulders, and in doing so free his hands to move. This time she took his mouth.

  Fionn’s rational thinking malfunctioned.

  Sliding inside Rose Kelly became the most important thing in the world.

  They fell to the bed, Fionn of enough mind to brace one hand on the mattress to hold his weight off her. His other hand slipped under her shirt, fingers pushing beneath the lacy material of her bra so he could cup her sweet breast in his hand.

  She was a perfect handful, her nipple hard against his thumb as he strummed it. />
  Rose arched beneath him, her soft hands caressing his skin, pushing down into the waistband of his trousers to feel his arse. She undulated beneath him, trying to push into his arousal as their tongues tangled in a wet, deep, uncontrolled kiss that was driving him mad with want.

  As he squeezed her perfect breast in one hand, his other slid down her stomach and began unbuttoning her jeans. She arched into him, encouraging him, groaning into his mouth as his fingers slipped beneath her lacy knickers. At the feel of her hot wetness, her clit beneath his thumb, Fionn nearly lost his mind. His kisses ravaged as his thumb circled her while two thick fingers pushed into her tight, slick heat.

  Fuck, she felt like heaven.

  “Fionn,” Rose moaned his name as she pulled her lips from his. Her hands were now on the buttons of his trousers, fumbling to release him. “Come inside me. I need you. I’ve never needed anyone like I need you.”

  The words penetrated the better half of him and with great reluctance, he opened his eyes.

  Rose panted beneath him, her shirt askew, her long hair cascading over his pillows, her throbbing heat clutching his fingers.

  Small, feminine, strong.

  Silk and steel.

  She stared up at him with affection … and trust.

  That, more than anything, tugged on the last bit of decency within him.

  “Fionn?”

  With a hard smile of regret, he reluctantly removed his hand from her sweet breast and placed his fingers gently over Rose’s carotid.

  Sleep.

  Those stunning blue eyes of hers fluttered shut. Her dark lashes weren’t long but there were lots of them. A thick frame around her eyes, now a curtain shielding her from light.

  From him.

  Her body relaxed into the bed and with a groan of unfulfilled need, Fionn fell to his back beside her. His hand rested at his side, touching Rose’s. Her scent filled his nose, torturing him. Afraid to wake her, he didn’t reach for her, but he felt a stab of something in his chest when he noted how small her hand was compared to his.

  Pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, Fionn willed his body to cool and his arousal to fade. It was difficult with her scent on his fingers.

  He’d eventually done the right thing but he wouldn’t pat himself on the fucking back for it.