Kiss of Vengeance: A True Immortality Novel

by S. Young

  “I’m here.”

  “Why are you being so quiet?”

  “I don’t want to wake Rose.”

  “She’s asleep? It’s only eight thirty in the evening.” Bran sucked in a breath. “You slept together, didn’t you?”

  “None of your business.” Fionn sat on the couch, flicking a hand at the nearest fire to light it. “Talk.”

  “Heavy Blackwood activity in Ireland,” Bran informed him somberly. “They’ve met with the O’Connors … the coven is gone, Fionn.”

  Fionn tensed. “Gone? The Blackwoods wiped them out?”

  “Yes. Layton and his sisters came to Ireland as representatives of the North American Council, and they were supposedly accompanied by representatives of the European High Council. Their version of events is that they issued a suspension of all magical activities pending investigation into the disturbance in Munich. This was apparently met with aggression from the O’Connor Coven, who all just happened to be in the same house, wouldn’t you know it, and a magical shoot-out ensued. The house was caught in an explosion started by one of the O’Connor witches. The Blackwoods and the reps from the European High Council were the lone survivors.”

  “Will anyone believe that shite?”

  “There will be those who call for an investigation but do you care, Fionn? Blackwood getting rid of those who seek to hurt Rose means she’s got one less thing to worry about.”

  He sighed, slumping back against the couch. “Somehow I get the feeling we’re not off the hook yet.”

  “Well, you’re right because I’m tracking the Blackwoods, hacked into Layton’s cell. They’re in Galway.”

  “Surprise, surprise,” Fionn grouched, sounding calmer than he felt.

  “I know they can’t find An Caomhnóir but they can still find their way onto your land … and they know where the gate is.”

  “How could they know I’m at home?”

  “The only way to track you was through the private plane company you hired.”

  “I hired it under a pseudonym.”

  “Then I’m afraid it’s time to retire that name. They must think the best way to track Rose is to track you. Plus, they saw you with An Breitheamh. They still think they need that dagger to open the gate. Killing Rose isn’t on the agenda but her blood is still required in the spell.”

  The thought of Layton Blackwood anywhere near Rose caused a rumble of noise at the base of Fionn’s throat.

  “Guessing that terrifying noise means the mating bond is well and truly snapped into place, so I’ll take this moment to remind you that the Blackwoods have kept their distance from you, Fionn. They haven’t wanted to start a war with you … but if you kill one of them, diplomacy will be over.”

  “Bran,” Fionn replied as patiently as he could, which wasn’t very, “if anyone touches a hair on Rose’s head, I’ll rip their fucking throat out with my teeth. I don’t care if it starts World War III.”

  Bran released a heavy sigh. “So noted.”

  “I’ll deal with this in the morning. Find some way to get the Blackwoods off my land. But as long as Rose is within the castle grounds, they can’t touch her. Still no news of Niamh?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  That was concerning. “Fine. Call me if anything important happens. But if it doesn’t, leave me be, Bran. I go to Faerie soon. Let me enjoy my mate in peace while I can.” He hung up, thinking how calm those words sounded coming out of his mouth, considering they now lingered in the frosty air like sharp-toothed monsters.

  Fionn took long strides back upstairs to his bedroom. Rose had turned onto her side, one of her arms sprawled out across his pillow.

  The thought of the Blackwoods out beyond his castle walls had pissed him off, but one look at Rose, warm and delicious in his bed, distracted him immediately. As he slid in beside her, lifting her arm out of the way, Rose rolled sleepily against him and then frowned with her eyes closed. The top of her foot slid up and down his now-naked calf. “Cold,” she murmured.

  Grinning, Fionn spilled her onto her back and caressed her belly, slipping his hand between her sweet thighs. “I can warm you, mo chroí.”

  Rose’s eyes fluttered open and stared up at him, already flushed from his touch. “Again?”

  He chuckled at her disbelieving tone. “Unless you’re too sore.”

  Challenge glittered in her sleepy gaze and then she lifted a hand to wave it. “Faerie,” she said, reminding him of the night he’d said and done the same outside La Sagrada Familia.

  His laughter was swallowed in her hungry kiss as she pushed against his shoulders, rolling him to his back, apparently not so tired after all.

  As she moved on him, her slim hips cupped in his hands, her sultry blue eyes burning into his, Fionn felt the world as he knew it crumbling around him. He slid one hand up to cup one of her small but perfectly formed breasts in his hand, caressing and gently squeezing it as she rode him. He wanted this forever.

  Fionn wanted to wake to Rose Kelly every morning, to make love to her, to fuck her, to drown in her. To protect her. Yet to do that, he’d have to give up his revenge against Aine. Hundreds of years of single-minded focus was obliterated by this slip of woman.

  Bliss built and built inside him as Rose pressed her small hands to his chest for leverage as her rocking increased. Her features were harsh with passion, her beautiful upside down mouth parted as pants of pleasure escaped from it.

  “Fionn, fionn,” she whispered, her voice hoarse as she covered his hand over her breast, forcing him to squeeze harder. Rose took his hand from her hip and slipped it between her legs where they were joined. Understanding what she needed, Fionn pressed his thumb to her clit and began to circle it as her pace quickened.

  Rose let out a cry, her face flushed with desire, and Fionn lost control at the sight. He flipped her to her back, gripped her slim thighs in his hands and positioned her legs up and over his shoulders. Her breathing stuttered at the new angle, her arms sprawled above her head on the pillows.

  His.

  She was his.

  Thrusting into her, hard, deep, fast, Fionn’s heart beat wildly as Rose came around him. The tugs on his cock almost threw him over the deep end, but Fionn was determined to shatter her. To give her so much pleasure Rose would never forget him.

  Never want to leave him.

  Muscles straining to stop himself from climaxing, Fionn tightened his grip on her thighs, spreading her wider, and pumped inside her, rough and true.

  It didn’t take long.

  Eyes round with disbelief and awe and lust, Rose screamed as another orgasm ripped through her. Finally, Fionn let go, shuddering against her with a hoarse shout as he came long and hard inside her.

  Falling against her, his forehead to her throat, he slid his hands up her waist and reveled in the feel of her pulsing and throbbing around his cock. She wrapped her legs around his back, letting out a breathy, stuttered sigh as she arched into him. It was as if she was desperate to milk every last drop from him.

  Fionn groaned, his fingers biting in her ribs with need as he ground against her.

  He never wanted to let go.

  He was fucked.

  Literally and figuratively.

  Because Fionn realized now that he wanted Rose Kelly more than he wanted revenge. He wanted to lose himself inside her for eternity. Lifting his head from her throat, Fionn stared down at his mate’s passion-flushed face. A dazed, sexy sleepiness filled her expression.

  Gods but she was beautiful. Her voracious thirst for life poured out of her, shining, stunning and addictive.

  She was his new obsession.

  She was everything.

  A vital, imperative piece of him, and Fionn Mór realized that if he gave her up, he’d not only destroy the one person that meant most to him, he’d destroy himself, too.

  And in doing so, the Faerie Queen would win.

  When Rose woke again, the last embers of the fire were dying and the purple sky outside Fionn’s wi
ndows told her the sun was on the rise.

  Turning her head on the pillow, her hair rustling in her ears with the movement, Rose found Fionn asleep by her side. She smiled as she took in his sleeping face, his eyelashes fluttering as he dreamed.

  Although they’d slept by each other’s side, Rose was glad to know she hadn’t dream-walked him. At least she assumed she hadn’t since she couldn’t remember it. It was a worry, a concern. She wanted him to have as much privacy as possible despite their bond.

  Control would have to be learned … if it became an issue between them.

  If.

  Even with the bond between them before all the sex, Rose had never felt closeness with a person like she felt with Fionn. It was incredible. Like they really were two halves of one whole and all that cheesy romantic stuff just happened to be true.

  So how could he still cling to his vengeance? When they could have this … forever?

  Rose was weary of the hurt. Not just that he would choose his revenge over her but that he would force her to grieve him. Ultimately, she knew she could tell him what Niamh had seen of the future if he opened that gate; however, Rose also knew she’d never be sure if he stayed because he loved her as much as she loved him, or because the world was at risk.

  And Rose was in love with him.

  Noble, wicked, selfish, loyal, stubborn, caring, protective, brutal, powerful, vengeful, loving, strong, fallible, vital Fionn Mór.

  Rose loved him.

  Impatient for her ending, happy or not, she decided in that moment there was no time like the morning after the greatest sex-a-thon EVER to force the subject.

  Not wanting to wake him, Rose traveled to her bedroom and concentrated on An Breitheamh and where she’d buried it.

  Though she could feel the tingle of it at the edge of her mind, it was like it was blocked from coming to her.

  What?

  Rose huffed, shivering and naked in her cold bedroom, and tried again.

  Nothing.

  Hadn’t Fionn told her she could just conjure it?

  Unless … she couldn’t travel beyond the castle grounds because of the boundary spell. Maybe Fionn didn’t realize it blocked her from conjuring items from outside the castle too. Either that or she just wasn’t practiced enough at it yet.

  Or someone had found her hiding spot and she was trying to conjure it from the wrong location.

  The thought caused Rose’s breath to catch.

  Oh God. That couldn’t be true.

  There was only one sure way to know. Rose would have to leave An Caomhnóir and try to conjure the dagger once she was past the boundary spell. She was sure she’d be able to tell where the boundary ended, being so hyperaware of magic as she was. Still, she’d have to move quickly. The last thing she wanted was Fionn waking up while she was gone and getting the wrong idea.

  After all, she was bringing the dagger to him.

  Rose would offer it to him.

  And hope like hell Fionn made the right choice.

  November was creeping toward December, evident in the cold morning air. Rose rubbed her hands together as she hurried across the bridge outside the castle walls and headed into the woods. Hoping she knew what she was doing, Rose used her magic to blow away the soggy leaves on the ground, grateful that her suspicions about a path underneath were true. The path led her to the fallen tree Fionn had helped her over and about ten minutes from there, it forked.

  One fork pointed toward where Fionn had led her west to the faerie pools; the other continued north through the woods. Going with her gut, Rose moved north, picking up speed.

  What should have been a thirty-minute walk, she completed in five minutes. The trees rustled lightly in the morning wind, waving her off as she stepped out into a field. A steep incline led to a low, old-fashioned stone wall, and beyond that rolling hills that eventually met the sky.

  As soon as Rose climbed over the wall, she felt a shivery tingle of magic. The sensation disappeared completely as she lifted her hand off it.

  The boundary wall of the spell was an actual wall.

  Her lips parted as she looked back and faced a view of the ocean instead of the forest. From this side of the wall, it appeared as if it acted as a cliff-top barrier, the land falling away to the ocean below.

  That was so Fionn.

  She blamed her lovesick distraction and the boundary spell on the fact that she felt the warning signs too late.

  That prickle down her neck.

  The racing heart.

  The dread in the gut.

  Rose whipped around, ready to face danger, and stumbled back at the mammoth male who bared his canines at her.

  His harsh-hewn face was the last thing she saw before he grabbed hold of her neck and gave it a brutal twist.

  Pain, excruciating, debilitating pain woke Rose out of unconsciousness almost immediately. Her eyes flew open as fire burned down her arms. She watched as the two witches and the warlock she’d encountered in Barcelona retreated to study her impassively.

  A scream tried to burrow out of her throat but she stubbornly choked it down, tears of agony scoring her cheeks as she gazed up at her arms, suspended above her with thick chains attached to the ceiling, manacles clamped tightly around her wrists.

  Manacles made of pure iron.

  Her knees gave way, her wrists tugging excruciatingly against the manacles, and the scream burst out of her before she could stop it.

  “You bastards!” a female voice yelled from somewhere in the room as Rose sagged and shuddered against the fire tearing at her limbs. “Is that necessary?”

  The growl in the words, plus the American accent, brought Rose’s head up. She took in her surroundings.

  She was in a warehouse, or maybe a basement. No windows. Concrete floors.

  And other than the Blackwoods, there was a woman manacled to the corner of the room. Rose tried to focus, her vision clearing. Her eyes connected with the stranger and the woman’s brows puckered with worry and strain. That’s when Rose scented the blood.

  The stranger was wounded.

  “Rose.” Layton Blackwood, the sleazy warlock Fionn hated, lowered himself in front of her. “We’ll release you as soon as you tell us where the dagger is. Does Fionn have it?”

  Fionn.

  She shook her head.

  “Do you?”

  Rose nodded.

  “Good. Now all you have to do is tell us where it is, and we’ll let you go.”

  Oh yeah, sure. It wasn’t like they thought they needed both her and the dagger to complete the ritual to open the gate.

  Not caring it would hurt even worse, Rose pulled against the shackles and used the chains to swing her closer to Layton. She snapped at his throat like an animal; he fell back on his ass.

  Despite the pain, it was so fucking worth it.

  The stranger laughed from the corner.

  “Bitch,” Layton huffed, getting to his feet. “I ought to teach you a lesson.”

  Rose let her head loll back. “Yeah? I wonder if you’d say that to me if I wasn’t chained up right now.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  She pictured herself wrapping the chain of her manacles around his neck and snapping it. “I’d be afraid of me if I were you.”

  “Yeah, it takes a big man to shoot off his mouth around a trapped fae,” the stranger said dryly.

  She knew what Rose was.

  Huh.

  “That’s enough or I’ll put another silver bullet in you,” Layton warned casually.

  “Rose.” The shorter of the sisters stepped forward. Liza, if Rose remembered correctly. “We’re sorry it has to be this way. But we will release you as soon as you give up An Breitheamh. I don’t know what nonsense Fionn Mór has filled your he—”

  “Let me stop you right there.” Rose took a breath. Forcing words out past the agony was difficult. “I know who you are and what you really want. I will not be swayed. And I will never give you that dagger.”

 
; “She needs more time,” Lori Blackwood offered quietly. “A day in those iron cuffs should be enough to convince her to change her mind.”

  “And if not?” Layton asked.

  “Then two days. If not that, then three. But she won’t be able to take it much longer than that.”

  “What if he comes for her?” Liza queried, sounding almost worried.

  “He won’t risk it.” Layton shook his head. “The other two are still out there. He won’t waste time on one who’s lost to him.”

  Oh, how wrong you are, you stupid little prick.

  “I still say it was moronic bringing the wolf,” Liza snapped.

  “She was once fae. None of us know how this spell works exactly, but the same blood runs through her veins as it did before that son of a bitch bit her. She’s insurance.”

  “She’s also a declaration of war with the packs.”

  “Liza, the packs won’t go to war over one little bitch. Fionn was just trying to scare us into playing nice. The problem with playing nice is that you end up chasing what you want for fucking years—and getting nowhere.” Layton strode toward a door to Rose’s left. “We’re not our father, sitting idly by. Our coven has been working on opening that gate for centuries. When we do it, we won’t have to worry about the packs. We’ll be living like gods.”

  Oh, great, so she was dealing with a totally sane person, then.

  Rose whimpered as soon as the door closed behind the siblings.

  “Hey, hang in there, okay?”

  It took great effort, but she lifted her head to look at the corner of the room. The woman wore a sympathetic expression, despite the strain on her pretty features. No, not pretty. Beautiful. The brunette was stunning, even in pain.

  And she was in pain.

  Rose could see the bloody hole in her pale green sweater. “Are you okay?”

  The woman stretched out her long jeans-clad legs and winced as the movement jarred her wounded shoulder. “The bastards shot me with a silver bullet.” She wrenched at the short manacles that kept her from reaching above her waist. “If I don’t get to it soon …”

  Shit.

  “Who are you?”

  “Thea MacLennan.”