Hell Hound's Revenge (Fae 0f The North Shore Book 1)

by A. S. Green

  The pounding footsteps got closer. They were moving fast. The door flew open, and a man’s body exploded into the room. Meghan took a deep breath, stepped away from the wall and swung for the head.

  The man jerked and dropped to the ground, but not from contact. His reflexes were too sharp, or she’d been too slow. Meanwhile the force of her swing knocked her off balance. The fireplace poker flew from her hand and thudded heavily against the floor.

  The man was already on his feet, his hands clutching her shoulders.

  She screamed bloody murder.

  “Sweet Danu,” he murmured. It was a familiar voice. Large hands slid from her shoulders and down around her arms. Then she was yanked against something solid and incredibly warm.

  “Mack?”

  His arms came around her so tightly she could barely breathe. “Sweet Danu,” he repeated.

  More feet raced down the hallway and then another voice came from the hallway, “Holy shit.”

  Someone flipped on the light.

  Declan bent to pick up the fireplace poker and deadpanned, “I see we’ve determined her weapon of choice.”

  “Ye okay, brother?” Aiden asked.

  “I am now. Christ. Meghan. What the fuck happened to ye?”

  She couldn’t answer him. All she could do was jump into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips. She clung to him as if he was a life preserver and she was lost at sea.

  “Meghan,” he said on an exhale. Then his mouth crashed down on hers. She opened for him on a sigh and vaguely heard the sound of his brothers’ amused retreat, followed by the soft click of his bedroom door closing behind them.

  Now alone, the kiss went wild, all mouths, tongues, teeth, hands. He bit her neck, and she returned the urgency of his lust with a nip at his ear.

  Cormac walked her across the room, to the wall with the windows. Her back came up against the surface, and he pressed into her. His fingers came to the edge of her leather skirt and inched it up over her thighs. Then, while his tongue did something sinful against her lips, his hands cupped her ass and lifted.

  She tightened her legs around his hips and caged him in.

  “Why did ye leave without us?” he asked, breaking the kiss.

  “I didn’t mean to,” she said, panting against his mouth.

  He tucked his head against her neck and nipped at her skin. “Was it because of what I said? Ye scared me. The Black Castle is in town.”

  “It’s my aunt.” She returned the bite, and reveled at the soft growl that rumbled through his chest. “Except… I don’t know why I keep calling her that. She’s not really my aunt.”

  “What?”

  Meghan opened her eyes and found him staring at her. His eyes were as heated as she felt. “She’s here. I didn’t have a choice. They tried to grab me, so I tilted.”

  Cormac’s eyes went hard. “And ye landed here?”

  “I knew…I knew I wasn’t ready to travel too far… “ She paused, and he ground himself against her to get her talking again. It wasn’t a good tactic, given it made it hard to breathe.

  “But there were only a couple places I could picture in my mind… It was either here, or the clothing store.”

  The corners of Cormac’s mouth curved up. He kissed her again then spoke against her lips. “You are amazing. But ye should have called me as soon as ye were safe.”

  “I threw my phone away,” she whispered, her lips moving against his.

  He nodded. “Right. Why?”

  “There’s a tracking device in it.”

  Cormac’s head jerked back, and Meghan felt her eyes go wide with regret. “I’m so sorry, Cormac. I told her you weren’t with me, that I’ve been traveling alone, but she must know where I’ve been. So she knows about this house. I shouldn’t have come back. As soon as I got here, I knew it was a mistake. They’ll be here soon.”

  Cormac reached between them, slipped his fingers into the gusset of her panties and tore them clean away. “She can’t find our house.”

  Meghan gasped as the feel of his shirt disappeared under her fingers, and she felt the blunt tip of him against her opening. “Cormac, she can.”

  “She can’t. Our house has a charm on it. It isn’t detectable by pádraigs.” He tweaked her nose. “Full blooded ones at least.”

  “A charm?” She blinked twice, and he smiled sadly at her.

  “Our father won it in a card game before he died. Unfortunately, it was delivered too late to help him.”

  “But she’s hunting for you.”

  “We knew they would be. This is not a surprise. Now hold still.”

  Without preamble, Cormac thrust upward, his thick cock stretching her pussy.

  “Oh my God.”

  “Meghan, look at me.”

  She did, and her heart stuttered at the sight of his eyes burning into hers. Something was happening. Something huge. He was confident she was his fated mate, his anamchara, but this was something else. If she had to guess, it was the sense of intent. He had no choice in who was meant for him, but now he was choosing her, making her his.

  He moved smoothly, in and out, building the friction, torturing her and soothing her with every stroke.

  “And something good has come of it,” he said.

  She was finding it difficult to concentrate on the conversation, but she knew everything that he was saying was important, so she did her best to follow along. “What are you talking about?”

  Cormac thrust in and ground against her clit. He put his nose to her neck and inhaled. “I can smell her on ye.”

  Oh, God. No. This was the last thing she wanted to hear. The very thought of her aunt being anywhere near Cormac made her stomach turn.

  She twisted in his arms and leaned to get away. “I need to take a bath.”

  His hands left her ass, and he pressed her against the wall as he pulled the two layers of T-shirts up and over her head. His finger traced the edge of the lace that cupped her breasts. “No, it’s good. Don’t ye see? I can track her now.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Ye won’t.”

  Cormac pressed his mouth against hers—she got the strong feeling it was to stop her argument before it began. She was irritated for only a second because his hips set up a merciless rhythm while his tongue traced her bottom lip.

  “Oh God.”

  “That’s it,” he said. “Show me how ye do it.”

  “Cormac, wait.”

  “I can wait. Get yourself there first.”

  “No, listen. I know what she looks like. My uncle, too. I can help you find them.”

  “Not this time, mo cuisle. You’ve done enough.”

  “I thought I was your anamchara.”

  “Ye are.”

  She slid her hands into his hair and curled her fingers to make her point. “Your partner.”

  “Meghan, this is something I have to do alone. For my family.”

  “You said this was my family now, too.”

  “It is but—”

  “Then your kill is mine. My kill is yours. It all counts. There are only two more to go for you to settle the score. That could be my so-called aunt and uncle.”

  Even as much as Meghan meant what she said, her words still left her feeling ugly inside. Her aunt and uncle’s work made her sick. But still, to casually speak of their deaths… It left her wondering, was she no better than them?

  Cormac’s gaze searched deep, and she knew he saw the conflict within her. That’s why she refused to blink. Despite those feelings, she was with him. One hundred percent.

  “It’s a plan, then?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer right away. She watched as the heat flooded into his eyes, and she felt that deep in her belly. Then she felt his cock graze along her clit before thrusting in again.

  “Cormac?”

  He pressed his lips to hers and whispered, “It’s a plan.”

  Then he reached between them and pressed his thumb agai
nst her clit, swirling in a tight circle. Meghan threw her head back against the wall. It didn’t take long before her uninhibited screams of pleasure nearly brought the house crashing down around them.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  MEGHAN

  Meghan was dreaming about her mother again, but this time it was different.

  This time, her mother didn’t stand on a blank canvas, or even at the foot of her bed. This time she was kneeling on a rock beside a river. Her back was still turned, but Meghan knew her mother was talking by the way her shoulders moved. Her words, however, were muffled by a terrible roaring sound.

  In the dream, Meghan moved closer. Desperate to see her mother’s face, to hear her words, she waded into the river—something she would never do awake, but it didn’t scare her now. She let the water lap at her ankles, then her knees; the cold spread over her thighs, then climbed to her waist. She turned to face the shore and look at her mother straight on.

  Meghan’s chest squeezed at the sight of her, still so young and beautiful. She’d forgotten how beautiful she was.

  Her mother opened her eyes, her lids slowly lifting, and she stared deeply into Meghan’s soul. Her lips parted to speak again and this time she had a lot to say. Meghan heard every word, especially the first two: “Find me.”

  Meghan’s eyes flew open and she gasped. Like a shot, she was out of bed and racing across the hall and into the library, where she knew she’d find paper and pen. She yanked out a drawer, then quickly wrote down all that she heard. If she wasted another second, her mother’s message would be gone, and it felt too important. Too real.

  She fumbled the pen in her shaking hand before righting it, then scribbled out all of the words she heard her mother say.

  Find me.

  I’m in eely blackness.

  Around you of the lea.

  Nancy you go took.

  Wish we fall.

  Sand and sea.

  Meghan stared down at the paper, then blinked. Hard. “Damn.”

  Hearing the words so clearly in her sleep felt momentous and important. Seeing them now, written out in front of her, proved the dream was meaningless.

  She walked back to Cormac’s room and realized—for the first time since waking—that he was already up. She looked to the window. It was still dark outside.

  With the rush of adrenaline now waning, Meghan wandered downstairs and into the kitchen. Declan was up, sitting at the table with his head in his hands and four pill bottles lined up like soldiers in front of him. Three of them had their caps off.

  Aiden was leaning against the ice box with a book tucked under his arm; he was watching his brother with a worried expression. When Meghan walked in, he looked up, his eyes widening. “Why are you up so early?”

  She made a hands-up shrugging gesture to say, No idea, then sat down across from Declan.

  “Well, ye look miserable.” Aiden poured her a cup of coffee, then he got a teasing glint in his eyes. “We thought, judging by all the ruckus last night, Cormac had helped ye work everything out.”

  Memories of last night flooded back in, and she looked up at him in utter mortification. She was going to have to ask Cormac about sound-proofing the walls.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, giving her that sexy half-grin. “At least somebody’s getting some.”

  “Glad I wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping,” Declan said in a half teasing, half misery-loves-company sort of way.

  Meghan noticed the darker yellow tinge to the skin around his eyes, and immediately felt an apology was in order. He needed his rest.

  “So,” Aiden prompted. “Why are you up?”

  “Oh.” She tore her gaze from Declan. “It’s nothing. I just had this weird dream about my mom. She was giving me a message, and I thought it might actually mean something, but it doesn’t.”

  “How do ye know?” Declan asked, cracking open the last plastic bottle and swallowing down an enormous yellow pill.

  “Because she’s dead, and the message turned out to be gibberish.”

  She slid the paper toward him. “Here. Read it. I wrote it down.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got a splitting headache. You read it.”

  She took the paper back and glanced down at it. “Don’t laugh,” she said, then she read it out loud.

  From behind her, Aiden pulled in a breath and slid the coffee pot back into place. She turned to look at him and found his brows were drawn together in concentration. When she looked back at Declan, his expression was the same.

  “Read it again,” he said.

  Meghan tightened her mouth in irritation. “No.”

  “Read it.”

  “Why? It’s stupid.”

  “Meghan…” Aiden took her coffee away and said warningly, “Vee haf vays of makeen you talk.”

  She rolled her eyes while inhaling slowly through her nose. “Fine. But this is the last time.”

  Aiden rewarded her by returning her cup, and she cleared her throat. “Find me. I’m in eely blackness. Around you of the lea. Nancy you go took. Wish we fall. Sand and sea.”

  She slapped the paper down on the table to express her irritation. The more times she read it, the more ridiculous she felt.

  Declan stared at her for a second, glanced quickly at his brother, then back to her. “And ye don’t think that means something?”

  “All this means is that I had a scary night with the Black Castle, tilted way farther than I was ready for, thought I was being attacked in Cormac’s room, and then…um…well…” She let the sentence dangle; they’d unfortunately heard the rest of last night for themselves. “It all must have fucked with my subconscious.”

  Declan snapped his fingers at Aiden, who, somehow understanding, grabbed a pen and paper from a drawer and handed them over.

  “Okay, Curly,” Declan said. “Read it again.”

  “Oh, come on,” she complained, or more like whined. It was definitely a whining moment. She was tired, hungry, and now had a bad feeling they were making fun of her. She’d always wanted siblings who’d give her a nickname, but maybe having brothers wasn’t as great as she’d imagined.

  “Just do it,” Aiden said.

  “And go slow,” Declan added.

  “Fine. Whatever. Jesus.” She cleared her throat and read the words again. This time, Declan wrote them down as she spoke. When she finished, he turned his paper one hundred eighty degrees and slid it toward her.

  Find me.

  I’m in Ely.

  Blackness around you of the leannán sídhe.

  Go to Kawishiwi Falls and see.

  What? How did he do that? She looked at her paper again, but this time anew. “Kawishiwi Falls?”

  “They’re about fifteen, twenty miles west of here and just a bit east of Ely.”

  Meghan read her paper again, this time side-by-side with Declan’s. Was it possible?

  “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t know what—if anything—you’d find at the falls other than hikers, but ye were dressed all in black last night like the leannán sídhe. Whatever the dream means, if your mum is behind it, she thinks it’s time for ye to find out.”

  Meghan glanced up and her eyes went wet. “My mom is dead.”

  Declan shrugged, but Aiden moved closer and leaned one hand on the table. “Your mum was a leannán sídhe. They work through dreams. That’s their M.O.”

  “Yeah, but from the grave?” she asked.

  “I don’t know about that,” Aiden admitted.

  “There could be another leannán behind it,” Declan added. “Or it could just be a dream and mean nothing at all.”

  There was a thud in the back hall, and they all turned to look. Cormac came in, his hair wet, and his hands dirty. His eyes locked on hers, and his guilty expression made her nervous.

  “Where have you been?” she asked.

  Cormac’s mouth got tight, and he looked away. Without saying anything, he crossed the kitchen and grabbed a coffee mug.

/>   Meghan got to her feet, a sudden sense of alarm washing over her. “Where were you?”

  Still silence.

  “Declan,” Aiden said, “I think maybe we should go check the furnace.”

  “Time to change the filters,” he agreed, rising from his chair.

  “No,” Meghan said, sharply. “Sit.” Then she turned to Aiden. “Stay.”

  “Woof,” muttered Declan.

  Aiden slowly lowered his ass back onto a chair.

  “You were out all night, weren’t you,” Meghan said, wheeling on Cormac. “Hunting! You were looking for my so-called aunt and uncle!”

  He closed his eyes, exhaled, then turned to face her. “I’m not going to have those vile creatures prowling around my family.”

  “We talked about this. You agreed. We had a plan.”

  “I agreed that it was a plan. But it wasn’t the plan.”

  She blinked and felt the rage rising in her chest. “You’re arguing semantics?”

  “I’m not arguing anything. Ye need to let me handle this.” He turned his back on her and grabbed the coffee pot.

  “You wanted my help. Right from the beginning you wanted that from me.”

  He nodded and poured a cup. “And ye did help.”

  “You’re pissed about that. That’s what this is about, am I right? You’re pissed that I killed that guy, and didn’t let you do it.”

  “No!” Cormac set the cup down hard on the counter and the coffee sloshed over the side. He turned, his face looking as pained as it did just moments before he turned into the hound. “Aye… No….” He exhaled. “I’m not mad. There was no other way out of that situation.”

  Meghan threw her hands up. “I can’t believe this. I have to go to a completely different species for the perfect guy and it’s still the same old misogynistic bullshit.”

  “Don’t lay that on me. That’s not what this is about, and ye know it.”

  “Oh, do I?”

  “Fuck, Meghan. What do ye think would happen to me if something bad happened to you?”

  “Well we’re going to find out one way or another, Cormac. I’ve only got about sixty years left—that is if I don’t get in a car accident, or hit with cancer, or any other million things…”