Bound by Forever: A True Immortality Novel

by Young, S.

  Thank goodness.

  Memories of her new vision, the one with the standing stones, came at her, causing her heart to pound.

  Niamh couldn’t believe what she’d seen was true.

  “People will have witnessed the plane come down. The authorities will be all over this beach soon.”

  Niamh looked at Kiyo. He’d said this to her over his shoulder as he led the way up the rock face. He didn’t offer her help but she assumed that was because she didn’t need it. She had the balance of a tightrope walker. Better, even.

  “We’ll need transport,” she replied.

  “I would call Bran to see if he has any contacts here, but everything we had was on that plane, including my cell.”

  Including all her cash. “We’ll need to steal a car.”

  She could tell by the tension in his shoulders he didn’t like that idea. The wolf was a contradiction. He was quite willing to kill if necessary and had probably been hired to do just that many times. But he thought stealing beneath him.

  When you lived your life on the run, sometimes you had to sacrifice what little honor you had. Grimacing at the reminder of all the immoral crap she’d pulled over the years, Niamh followed the werewolf up onto solid ground and gaped.

  Stretching before them was a frost-covered plain and beyond that, trees. Lots and lots of trees.

  “Where the hell are we?”

  Kiyo scowled and scanned their surroundings. His eyes narrowed on something in the distance to their right. He pointed. “That’s a road.” His finger followed the flash of bright concrete in amongst the frost-dulled green. “And it goes right into those woods.” He turned to her. “We follow that road but keep to the trees.”

  “And you think this is definitely Sweden?”

  He nodded. “When I checked the map on the flight, we were heading toward the south of the Baltic Sea.”

  “But doesn’t that mean we could be in any one of the countries with coasts along the southern end of the Baltic Sea?”

  “No. We traveled west.”

  Niamh frowned. “How do you know that?”

  His expression was shuttered as he strode toward the road in the distance. “I have an excellent sense of direction.”

  “Is that a wolf thing?”

  He shrugged. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  That now-familiar burn of irritation flared in Niamh’s chest. She knew Kiyo could be like Conall, an extraordinarily powerful alpha with his own quirky gift. But her gut instinct told her there was something more here. How did he and Fionn know one another? And why was Fionn so sure that Kiyo was the one supernatural on earth powerful enough to protect a fae? Niamh was stronger, faster, and almost unkillable. Yes, she could be overpowered by too many people at once and was absolutely screwed if they used iron on her, just as Kiyo had proved. Strength in numbers helped.

  But that didn’t explain why Fionn chose this guy of all supes to send as her bodyguard.

  And it was bugging the crap out of her that she’d received a wishy-washy vision about him that told her nothing except that Tokyo was important.

  She thought of that moment on the plane, when he’d wanted her to share her recent vision and Niamh had held his hand. She’d allowed herself to be vulnerable because, for a moment, she’d felt an inexplicable connection with him.

  Kiyo had rejected her. Niamh reckoned he’d tried to be as nice as someone like him could be, but he’d still rejected her need for comfort. And in the end, he hadn’t been very nice about it at all.

  “Who are you really, Kiyo?”

  He stopped mid stride and turned to look back at her. His expression had been blank until his gaze dropped down her body and his eyes narrowed.

  Frowning, Niamh glanced down. Her white T-shirt was plastered to her skin, leaving very little to the imagination. And now that she was aware of it, her skinny jeans were soaked through and rasping like sandpaper against her legs.

  Kiyo was in much the same condition. His T-shirt delineated the powerful muscle she’d seen in the woods back in Moscow. She remembered his nakedness and the scar on his belly. At one point someone had come at him with silver.

  She noted a slight tremor move through him. A shiver.

  The wolf was cold.

  It occurred to Niamh that it was February on a Swedish island, and they’d just been in a sea that was probably subzero. The ground beneath was crisp with frost and sparkled in the sunlight. Werewolves ran hot, but they still felt the chill.

  She walked toward him, and his whole body locked with tension. Niamh reached out a hand to touch him and his snapped up in reflex. He grabbed her wrist, holding her away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  A needle of hurt stung near her heart.

  He still didn’t trust her.

  Was it because he didn’t trust anyone … or because she was fae?

  “I was going to use my magic to dry your clothes.” Niamh tugged on his hold but his grip tightened. “Let me go.”

  His dark eyes searched hers, the suspicion fading to bemusement. Slowly Kiyo uncurled his hand from her wrist. “Fine.”

  Feeling less charitable toward him than she had been a minute ago, Niamh hesitated.

  The wolf cocked his head, contemplating her. “Did I hurt you?”

  For a moment, she panicked he could see right through her. Then she realized he meant her wrist. Niamh gave him a somewhat mocking smile. “It takes a lot to hurt me.” Reaching out, she placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and poured her energy into drying the clothes on his body and also into his skin to warm him up.

  “Why do I think that’s not true?” Kiyo’s question was almost a whisper.

  Her eyes lifted to his as her energy moved through him. “What?”

  “You said it takes a lot to hurt you. I doubt that somehow.”

  Seeing his clothes were now dry, she wrenched her hand away. “Because I’m soft, you mean? Soft and weak.” Refusing to meet his gaze, Niamh strode past him, her clothes drying as she used the same magic on herself. “I meant physically. It takes a lot to hurt me physically.”

  The werewolf moved to catch up with her. “I meant what I said on the plane. You’ll survive longer if you start thinking about your own survival over others. Emotion is weakness.”

  A pang of sympathy cut through her. “Oh, Kiyo, what happened to you to make you think such a thing?”

  His expression darkened at the sight of her pity. “Don’t condescend. I’m old enough to be—”

  Suspicion lit through Niamh at his abrupt silence. What had he been about to give away? “I don’t care if you’re older than me.” She skirted the now-intriguing subject of his age. “It doesn’t mean you know better. And if you think emotion makes a person weak, then you’re greatly mistaken. Emotion makes you strong.”

  “It causes you to think irrationally, to make mistakes.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed. “But it’s also what fires you. What is the point in any of this without emotion?” She gestured around them, indicating their very existence. “Whether it’s passion, lust, love, anger, vengeance, compassion, ambition, determination … emotion gives us reason to live. If you don’t have that, what’s the point?”

  “Okay, I’ll concede to that. But there is such a thing as too much emotion. You care too much. You grieve for strangers and put yourself in danger for them without knowing if they’d ever do the same for you. And, news flash, ninety-nine percent of them wouldn’t.”

  She heard the angry edge in his voice and it soothed her. Kiyo might like to think he was emotionless, but he was an opinionated son of a bitch and he was genuinely irritated by her putting her life in danger for others. Because it made his job harder or because he cared what happened to her? Niamh would like to think it was the latter, but it was probably the former. After all, they’d known each other all of forty-eight hours.

  “It’s who I am.” She cut him an apologetic smile. “I care about people.”

  “Even when they d
on’t deserve it?”

  She considered this just as they reached the man-made road. It had two lanes and led right into the woods ahead. They walked along the side of it toward the trees. “Most people deserve to be cared about. The man back at the airport in Moscow … he didn’t. He was evil, in my book. Missing a conscience. It’s not his fault he was born that way, but it was his fault he gave into the darkness. So, no, people like him don’t deserve it.”

  “What about a drug dealer or a rapist?”

  His condescension rankled. “Stop trying to make this more complicated than it is.”

  “It is complicated,” he snapped. “There are levels of good and bad in all of us. Are you going to go through life weighing and judging, so you can decide if you care enough to help a person? That’s exhausting and ridiculous.”

  “So I just write everyone off like you do?” she snapped back.

  Kiyo shrugged. “I’m happier for it, aren’t I?”

  “You’re the unhappiest person I’ve ever met in my life.” She brushed past and marched ahead, using her supernatural speed to get away from him.

  Unfortunately, he was fast too. “I’m not unhappy. I’m not anything. That’s my point.”

  Jesus Christ, this wolf was delusional. “Oh, please. Beneath that stoic facade, there’s an army of emotions just waiting to burst out and wage war on the world.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.” His voice was like ice.

  “I imagine very few people do. That’s what happens when you don’t let anyone in.”

  “Who says I don’t? Because I don’t want to let you in? Has it occurred to you I just don’t like you or trust you very much?”

  Her heart, she realized, was racing. “Well, the feeling is mutual. And I like nearly everybody.”

  “And trust nearly everybody too. Something that will get you killed.”

  “I don’t trust nearly everybody, you bloody arse!” She halted and pushed at his chest.

  He didn’t even move. Just quirked an annoyingly patronizing eyebrow at her.

  “I have been on the run since I was twelve years old. I am one of only five beings left in this world with powers beyond anyone’s wildest imagination. I’m capable of things you couldn’t conceive of.” She stepped into him, forcing him to hold her gaze. “And out of all my incredible gifts, my soft emotions, as you call them, my kindness, my compassion, my love, are my greatest. Because without them, I am the darkest, most dangerous being you’ll ever meet.

  “Be grateful I am who I am, Kiyo. For everyone’s sake.”

  The werewolf studied her with his intense expression and then shocked the hell out of her by tipping his head in a slight nod of acknowledgment.

  She hesitated before she resumed walking again. Because what Kiyo didn’t realize was that she’d said it out loud not just to snap him out of his superior attitude but as a reminder to herself.

  There were days she crossed the line and let herself be pulled into the shadows.

  She had to fight harder to stop that from happening.

  They were silent as they strode side by side, but tension hummed between them. Tension that continued to make Niamh’s pulse race.

  As they hit the woodlands, the wolf gestured and they stepped inside the forest. The trees, though not snow dusted, were covered in frost, and the bracken snapped and cracked with an extra icy crunch beneath their feet.

  Niamh desperately wanted to prod Kiyo about himself. Who he was? Why was he different from other wolves? Because he was. Definitely. However, she didn’t want to get into another argument. The werewolf had the ability to prick her pride and irritate her more than most.

  “What do we do next?” she asked instead.

  She noted the way his eyes darted all around as they walked. He was constantly on guard, watching his surroundings. “You still think we need to be in Tokyo?”

  “Yeah.” Niamh was eager to learn more about her companion.

  “I think we should check in with Bran and Fionn. They might be able to help us map a safe route there.”

  “I’m surprised you’d rely on someone else for help.” She winced as soon as she said it. She had this annoying habit of needling him. “Sorry.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not wrong. But I trust only one person in the world, and it’s Fionn, and he trusts Bran.”

  “Why Fionn?”

  He cut her a look. “Because someone like Fionn doesn’t entrust the dire secrets of his very existence—and more importantly, those of his true mate’s—to someone unless he trusts him. He trusted me. Regardless of the unbreakable contract. He trusts me with Rose. I’ve always respected him, and by trusting me with Rose’s secrets, I’m honor bound to return his trust.”

  Niamh smiled at the uncharacteristically sweet words. Kiyo might not think he was being sweet, but he was. He and Fionn had a bromance. “I thought you scorned the true-mate bond?”

  “I do. That doesn’t mean it isn’t powerful. Rose is what matters the most to Fionn. Any fool can see that.”

  A twinge of something flared within her.

  She realized it was envy.

  “You can trust me,” she offered.

  He surprised her with a small smile. Okay, it was more of a smirk, but still … it was hot. “Do you trust me?”

  “You’re the reason I experienced pure iron for the first time, so I should really say no …”

  Kiyo gave a huff of disbelief. “But you’re beginning to anyway?”

  Niamh shrugged. She’d probably regret being vulnerable again, but she was who she was. “I want to trust you. There’s something about you … I don’t know.”

  A frown puckered between his brows. “You can trust I don’t want to break the contract with Fionn.”

  Silence fell anew between them and this time, Niamh let it. She’d never been the type to crush on a bad boy, and she didn’t want to start now. But she couldn’t deny she felt an electric awareness of the wolf or that he didn’t fascinate her. Niamh wished he didn’t. But he was a mass of intriguing contradictions, and she’d always loved a good puzzle.

  Feeling her cheeks heat at the thought of Kiyo discovering her crush on him, Niamh clamped her lips closed and decided it best not to speak for a while.

  Not long later, they strode out of the woodlands and saw a small cluster of houses in the distance. They were mostly surrounded by frost-speckled fields.

  But coming toward them from the direction of the houses, they spotted an SUV.

  Kiyo took hold of her arm to halt her, his expression granite hard.

  “It’s okay,” she reassured him.

  “We’re strangers out in the middle of nowhere, not exactly dressed for winter, and a plane just fell out of the sky,” he reminded her.

  “Trust me.”

  He still scowled, but he released his grip on her and they waited as the SUV slowed beside them. A man jumped out of the vehicle. He was probably in his late thirties, early forties, and he wore a suede jacket over a thick cable-knit sweater. His brown trousers were tucked into working boots.

  “Var kom du ifrån?”

  “Do you know any Swedish?” Kiyo muttered under his breath.

  “Do I look like I’m a master of languages?” Niamh stepped toward the stranger. “Sorry, sir, we don’t understand.”

  The man raised his eyebrows as he came to a stop before them. He gave Kiyo a wary look. “You’re English?”

  “Irish.”

  “You’re not survivors of that plane crash. It’s impossible.”

  “Plane crash? What plane crash?”

  “You didn’t see anything?” His English was perfect. “We just received a call that a plane went down in the sea.”

  “I’m sorry, we don’t know anything about that,” Niamh lied. She moved closer to the man and put her hand on his arm as their gazes locked. He immediately relaxed and began to drown in her eyes. “Where are we?”

  “Ottenby. On the island of Öland.”

  “How
far to the mainland?”

  “It’s just over an hour’s drive to Kalmar.”

  “We have an emergency to get to. It’s imperative we get there as quickly as possible. You’ll give us your vehicle, won’t you?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “And when anyone asks what happened to it, you’ll tell them you sold it to a young couple in need but you can’t remember what they looked like … and that’s what you’ll believe.”

  “I sold it,” he agreed.

  “Where do you live?”

  He turned and pointed back up the road he’d come.

  “Not far, then. We’ll drop you off as close as we can. Keys?”

  The man pulled them from his coat pocket and held them out.

  Niamh nodded to Kiyo who took them from the man’s hand. A wave of uneasiness moved through her, but she ignored it. All three of them got into the SUV, and Kiyo turned it around so they were headed back toward the houses.

  He stopped at a crossroad near the houses on the right and large buildings on their left.

  “You can get out now,” Niamh said. “And thank you.”

  The man got out of the SUV with that dazed expression on his face, and Kiyo pulled away, speeding out of the small town as he tapped the screen in the middle of the dashboard.

  “I’ll do that,” Niamh offered, moving to brush his hand away.

  He snapped it away before she could touch him.

  She sighed heavily as she touched the screen, searching for the GPS. The map appeared, and she entered the name of the mainland town the man had mentioned. Kalmar.

  The GPS lady spoke in Swedish. Niamh shot Kiyo a wry smile, but he was staring blankly ahead at the road. Water appeared on their left as they drove north up the west coast of the island. According to the maps, it was called the Kalmar Strait. “You don’t like it, do you?”

  “Like what?”

  “The mind-warp gift.”

  “Is it a gift?”

  She considered his question. “No,” she eventually said. “I suppose you’re right. It’s not.”

  “You’re messing with people’s free will.”

  “I know. But what else would you have me do?”

  His hands flexed around the steering wheel. “In this circumstance, we’re doing what we have to do to survive. But it seems to me that you use it whenever the hell you feel like it. To stay in fancy hotels. To fly where you need to fly.” He flicked her a look. “To rob banks.”