Ten minutes later, Kylie wandered into the kitchen. “I thought you weren’t going to bite—”She stopped just inside the doorway.
“Surprise,” Grant said.
Tobak ran up and jumped on her.
“How?”
“I knew ye missed her, so I arranged to bring her here. Besides, I don’t think she likes Cianán too much.”
“And just how would you know that? She seemed to like him the evening he took me to dinner.”
“Let’s just say it’s a feeling I get.”
“I’m sure that makes you very happy.” She ruffled the fur around Tobak’s neck. “Hello my beautiful baby girl.”
“Of course it does, an’ she’ll let us know when he’s around.”
“I certainly hope your feelings are consistently correct.”
“Generally, aye.”
“And what about Grant, do you like him?”
Tobak answered Kylie with a soft bark.
“An’ what about Kylie, does she like Grant?”
Tobak looked at him and barked.
“You know the answer to that,” Kylie said.
“I had to ask,” he said with a smile.
She walked over to him and sat on his lap.
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
She reached for a piece of bacon.
He rubbed her thigh and inspected her neck.
“But I’m afraid to tell you what I have a taste for.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare say blood.”
“Fine, I won’t then,” she replied, and snapped off half the bacon with her teeth.
“I didn’t hurt ye, did I?”
She shook her head.
“Good. I was ‘fraid I’d get carried away.”
“It’s fine. I liked it, you know. You can do that to me anytime.”
He tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “I’ll remember that.”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t bite me?”
“I said I wouldn’t turn ye. The biting, I couldn’t help. I needed the nourishment an’ ye offered your neck. I finally gave in to your devilish ways.” He smirked. “I can bite ye without changin’ you. I just needed to be careful, especially since I hadn’t fed in several days.”
“Oh,” she replied with a touch of sarcasm he’d come to know so well. “I’d ask where the marks went to, but after seeing some of the things I saw last night, I don’t think I’ll go there.”
“Just a bit o’ magic, is all.”
“Right. Okay. What are we doing today?”
“I thought we’d go visit someone. I’d like ye to meet him.”
“Who?” She licked her lips and took another bite of bacon.
“An old friend o’ mine. He might be able to help us with a few things, answer some questions I have regardin’ what happens in the event o’ Cianán’s death.”
Silence filled the kitchen. Her shields rose, blocking him. He had no warning of the words about to fall out of her mouth.
“You should just turn me and get it over with. You’ll have to at some point.”
He shook his head. “We’ve already been over this.”
“I know, but I have to keep trying,” she said with a devilish grin. “Besides, I think I’m already on my way there. I went to pick up my bag to find something to wear and it didn’t seem to be as heavy as it was yesterday.”
He watched her for a moment, the way the sunlight basked upon her face and hair, and the beautiful colors appearing within the long locks. She almost looked like his painting of The Morrigan she loved so. Almost. And she definitely looked like his lost love.
“Why do ye want this so much?”
Fire blazed in her eyes. “Because I love you. I want to be with you, in your life, no matter what it may be. I’ll be vulnerable to Cianán this way . . . being human. If you change me, I might be able to help you better.”
“You didn’t hear a word I said last night, did ye? I told you I don’t know what’ll happen to ye if I do it.”
“And I think that’s your excuse to not torment me with a life you hate. But hey, I could be wrong.”
A low growl emanated in his throat.
She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t you growl at me in anger or frustration, ever!”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He cleared his throat. “It’s not an excuse, y’know.”
She held his chin and looked him in the eye. “Here’s my two cents: if you change me—you, not someone else—Cianán might not be able to use me in this sacrifice.”
He stared at her, completely stunned and pissed for not thinking of that. “We’ll ask Cearbhall. Go get ready. I’ll take Tobak out.”
She grabbed another piece of bacon and a biscuit before jumping off his lap and running through the kitchen door.
Thoughts tumbled through Grant’s mind and he stared at the table. They should be together forever. There was no reversal for him he knew of, no way for him to become mortal again. If there were a way, at least a quarter of the vampyres in this world would have used it.
He wished Kylie wasn’t the one Cianán searched for all these years. Grant hadn’t loved anyone like this in centuries, and he just happened to fall for the one woman in the world the man he hated most in the universe was after . . . again.
There was something seriously wrong with his love life.
Thinking back, he was fairly certain Siobhán wasn’t the Chosen One. She wouldn’t have been strong enough metaphysically for what Cianán intended her for. She bore the mark, but it was much more than that.
Grant never thought he could love another woman after Siobhán. He wondered if Kylie could survive this malevolence they were about to go up against, her being vulnerable as a mortal, after all. It worried him. He couldn’t fight Cianán when he was worried about her. She’d be defenseless against Cianán, with only the locket to protect her.
If he and Kylie could be a normal mortal couple, they wouldn’t have to deal with him. But that wasn’t going to happen and Grant knew it. Wishful thinking. He stared at the half-eaten plate of food in front of him before he looked up.
“Stop it,” he said.
Stop what?
Tryin’ to read my mind.
I wasn’t—
Aye, you were, don’t lie to me, he said sternly, trying not to laugh.
I have to practice, don’t I?
Not on me.
Why? Are there more deep dark secrets you haven’t told me about yet?
No, I think ye know just about everythin’ now, he said, laughing. “C’mon, girl, let’s go for a stroll.” He opened the kitchen door and Tobak bolted outside.
Grant walked Tobak out to the peaceful climate. She ran after the ball he threw for her. Waves crashed against the rocks beneath the cliffs. He listened to them and waited for the wolf to return. Instead, she jumped around in the tall green grass and pounced on the red ball. Playful little mutt.
Don’t call my wolf a mutt.
He walked toward Tobak, laughing. She saw him coming, picked up the ball, and growled playfully. She jumped to one side, then the other. When he got close enough to steal the ball, she turned tail and ran as fast as she could. He chased her, but was laughing too hard to catch up. He doubled over and feigned fatigue. Tobak stopped and turned around, panting heavily, her tongue hanging out of the side of her jowls. He motioned for her to come to him. She walked up to him and dropped the ball. Her tail wagged— a hopeful cue for him to pick up the ball and throw it again.
“Don’t tire easily, I see.”
He picked up the ball and teased Tobak with it. Kylie stepped outside, watching. Grant threw the ball her way, and Tobak ran to her, with him closely behind.
He ran up to Kylie, grabbed her, and swung her around. God damn, this woman—his woman—was beautiful. Grant set her down, took her head in his hands, and kissed her deeply.
When they killed Cianán, he might become mortal again, if that was his destiny. He wo
uldn’t change her, but if there were even a small chance for him to be mortal again, he’d do everything in his power to make it happen. Grant wanted to grow old and die with Kylie. He would gladly welcome death again if he knew she would be there waiting for him. Their souls would be together forever. That was what she wanted—to be with him—and he knew in the depths of his soul, it was what he wanted as well.
“What’s gotten into you?”
He looked into her eyes, shaking his head, and kissed her again. “I fuckin’ love you.”
She beamed. “Well, I fucking love you too.”
“Ky, I couldn’t bear to lose ye to a mortal life. Unable to grow old with ye, have children with ye. I can’t live without you, but I can’t make you like me. I won’t . . . not right now, not unless it’s crucial. We’ll see if Cearbhall knows. I have to be sure before goin’ up against Cianán. I have to know what I’m dealin’ with. Besides, we’re gonna need the help.”
“Okay, I can accept that . . . for now.”
“It’ll take us a couple of hours to get there—he lives in Southern Ireland—but we have some things to do first. C’mon.” He took her hand, led her back through the house with Tobak right at their heels.
Grant and Kylie walked up to the old, majestic building. Kylie stared at its architecture. It reminded her of an old cathedral, with its arches, peaks and stained glass, like something one would see in New York City or Boston. Creatures sat perfectly placed around the roof, their stone eyes watching them.
Gargoyles? She looked at Grant and he nodded, smiling at her. She didn’t remember seeing a cathedral with gargoyles on it, but she reminded herself the building wasn’t a cathedral; it was someone’s home. The gargoyles looked alive. The last remnants of the sun drifted across their stone faces, forming shadows in just the right areas, bringing them to life.
She was certain one of them moved.
It’d taken a couple of hours to drive there, nearly to the opposite end of Ireland, but it felt longer. She wished there’d been a faster way. Grant said he tried not to fly much. She’d like to see him fly. He probably didn’t fly during the day, though. Not to mention, he’d have had to carry her, if he could. She wondered if he changed into a bat or something. It was unlikely; he’d told her he couldn’t change his shape. So, maybe wings sprout out of his back? He never told her how he did it, but then again, she was fairly certain there were a lot of things he hadn’t told her yet.
Grant grabbed hold of the iron ring protruding from the knocker—a gargoyle with a mouth full of sharp teeth—and slammed it down once. The thunderous noise rang through the door.
Kylie shuddered; it hurt her ears.
They waited. An eerie silence encompassed them.
She couldn’t stand it. “How old is this place?”
“I’m not sure exactly. Fourteen, maybe fifteen hundred years—”
“Fifteen hundred? Are you serious?”
He smiled. “Aye. This island has been inhabited for thousands o’ years. Didn’t they teach ye that in history class?”
“They taught us about our country, not yours. If they did, I don’t remember; school was a long time ago.” She cocked an eyebrow. “And how old are you?”
He laughed and the door opened. An old man appeared in the doorway. Grant didn’t seem to recognize him.
“May I help you?” He thoroughly scrutinized the two of them, which made Kylie a little uncomfortable.
“We’re here to see Cearbhall. Is he in?”
“He is not awakened yet. Come back later.” He went to shut the door, but Grant stopped it with his hand.
“Wait,” Grant said. “It’s important. Tell ‘im Grantlund MacNessa is here to see him. It’s just about dusk, which means he’ll be up soon. I must speak with him urgently.”
The man, Kylie assumed he was the butler, stared at them. Finally, he stepped to the side, opening the door for them. He shut the door.
Kylie shuddered at the creepy creaking sound it made.
“I’ll wake him, but he’ll not be pleased,” the old man said and walked around them.
Grant nodded.
“Wait here.”
“Thank you,” Grant said.
Kylie watched the butler climb the stairs. When he was out of sight, Grant looked at Kylie, and she heard his voice inside her head. Don’t leave my side.
She looked at him, confused. Why?
Trust me.
She nodded and grabbed his hand.
And don’t speak to him, unless he speaks to you, though I doubt he will.
You don’t think he’ll like me? You said earlier—
It’s not that. You’re mortal. He doesn’t befriend mortals unless it suits his needs. He might be angry with me for bringin’ ye here without talkin’ to him about it first.
Angry? Why?
Showin’ a mortal where we live carries a severe punishment for us, an’ the mortal.
She stared at him. Maybe I shouldn’t have come with you.
Too late, he said. He’s comin’. Now, don’t be frightened. Remember they can smell your fear. I won’t let them harm ye.
“Them?” she said aloud.
He moved his finger to his lips. “Shh.”
Cearbhall descended the stairwell and stopped at its base. He was a stocky man and looked like he might have been a warrior at one time. Kylie saw it in the way he carried himself. She wondered how old he was. A scar marred his left cheek, and she wondered how it got there. He seemed older than Grant, however old that was. His hair was salt and pepper gray mixed with light brown. Very distinguishing, but she didn’t understand it, not if he was a vampyre. Perhaps he was transformed after his hair had started to go grey.
Really, must you keep putting me into these shockingly frightful situations?
You’re dealing with vampyres, Ky. How can that not be terrifyin’?
Cearbhall cleared his throat.
Grant listened to the thoughts racing through Kylie’s mind. He wanted to tell her she was correct about Cearbhall being a warrior, but he couldn’t at the moment, even telepathically. Others lay hidden in the shadows, and she wasn’t blocking her thoughts. That wasn’t good. If he could read her thoughts, others who had the ability could too. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Cearbhall, who hadn’t moved since he’d stepped off the stairwell and cleared his throat.
The others stepped out of hiding and into the foyer: two from the parlor and one—a petite blonde—out of the study, dangerously close to them. They can smell her. Just the smell of her blood woke them. The hunt is about to begin.
Some vampyres chose to hunt right around dusk; some waited until midnight. Others waited until the true witching hour. He tightened his grip on Kylie’s hand and quickly loosened his hold when he sensed her pain.
Sometimes he forgot how strong he was . . . .
“Is this your offerin’ to get back into my good graces, brother?” Cearbhall motioned to Kylie.
Offering? What the hell is he talking about?
Grant ignored her questions. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
The young woman near them reached out to touch Kylie. She gasped and abruptly jerked her arm away, glaring at the vampyre.
Grant growled and clawed at the small blonde. Bloody scratches welled up on her arm. She shrieked, jumped back, and looked at him dumbfounded. Her wounds healed within seconds.
“Don’t. Touch. Her.”
She hissed at him.
Grant pulled a stunned Kylie to his side and growled again, his lip curling up just enough to show her his fangs. His vision changed and she got a glimpse of the electric blue dance within his eyes. The vampyre backed off. Her head dropped, acknowledging he was much older and stronger than she was. Grant retracted his fangs and claws, and looked at the man they’d come to speak with—the man who was, at one time, his friend and brother.
“No, Cearbhall, she’s not for you,” he said as though nothing had happened.
Cearbhall’s eyes narrowe
d. “Then why did ye bring ‘er here?” His tone suggested he was less than thrilled about a strange mortal in his home. “She’s mortal. Ye know the laws.”
“Aye, I do, but ye don’t understand—”
“I understand ye have the audacity to show up here with a mortal after four centuries an’ you’re not even going to offer her to me after disturbin’ my rest.”
Grant turned his head to Kylie, and back to Cearbhall. “Well, if you’d shut up for a damn minute, I’d explain it to ye.”
Cearbhall’s eyes grew wide. At Grant’s side, Kylie gasped and quickly covered her mouth. He and Cearbhall glared at one another. Suddenly, Cearbhall burst into laughter, and confusion covered Kylie’s face.
“Oh, Grantlund.” Cearbhall clapped. “I see you’re still a pain in the arse.” He motioned for the others to go. Before leaving, the woman Grant lashed out at glared at Kylie.
Grant could feel the discomfort in Kylie, being so vulnerable around them in her frail human state. He started toward the vampyre. Cearbhall cleared his throat and she scattered out of the room.
“Come forward. Let me look at ye an’ the beautiful young woman you’ve brought with ye.”
Grant started walking over to him, but Kylie tugged on his arm. He turned and saw the frightened look on her face, stepped back, and stroked her arm.
“It’s okay, Kylie. He wants to meet ye.”
“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?”
Cearbhall laughed. “Well, she’s a feisty one, isn’t she? She must keep ye very busy.”
Grant smiled and turned to Kylie. Really, it’s okay. I told you to trust me.
Kylie stared into his eyes. I know, but—
I said I wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to ye.
She looked down at the floor, then to Cearbhall. He smiled at her and gave a short nod.
“Kylie, is it?”
She nodded.
“Well, Kylie” —he bowed with one arm tucked against his stomach and the other sweeping out—”ye have my word no harm shall come to ye in this house. I can see Grantlund cares for you deeply.”
Grant watched her cheeks turn to a rosy blush from the embarrassment. Maybe not quite embarrassment, but she was blushing just the same. Cearbhall couldn’t have been more right. He knew they’d come to the right place.
The Dracove (The Prophecy series) Page 21