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

by A. S. Green

  Cormac stared at him for a second, then he jerked his chin in confirmation; they would protect their family, protect the clans, and if necessary, tear the enemy limb from limb. For now, however, all he wanted was to focus on the feel of the body in his arms. He felt each degree as her blood slowly warmed, and her aroma filled his nose with the scent of satisfaction.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  CORMAC

  Two Days Later

  Cormac walked into the dining room, which his brothers had long ago turned into a game room, and stopped dead in his tracks. He was nearly bowled over by the strange sense of déjà vu. Meghan was on her hands and knees, her back to him, shapely ass poised in the air. Her hands worked to build a triangular formation of crumpled newspaper and kindling in the fireplace.

  The rush of wind still filled his ears whenever his anamchara was near, but it didn’t overwhelm him like it used to. Now it just gave him a warm feeling of rightness. It also brought his father to mind, and he liked that as well. How he wished his parents could have met Meghan and seen how well everything turned out.

  “Hey, cailín,” he said, still remembering the first time he saw her on that wretched hilltop. Back then, he’d warned her that she shouldn’t be here. Now he couldn’t imagine her anywhere else.

  At the sound of his voice, Meghan turned over her shoulder, and the smile she shot him made his heart lunge for his throat.

  “Catch,” he said, and he tossed her a box of matches.

  She half turned, half fell on her ass, but she caught the box. She looked down at it, questioning and so adorable it made him laugh out loud.

  “I’m hungry. I’ve seen ye try to build a fire without matches before. We don’t have that kind of time.”

  “Smart ass,” she grumbled, but he knew she wasn’t really offended, and soon she had the fire lit and burning.

  “Here ye go,” said Aiden as he came in with a box of graham crackers, marshmallows, and a bag of individually wrapped peanut butter cups.

  “Your mother’s recipe?” Meghan asked, viewing the ingredients.

  Cormac was again flooded with memories, and gratitude that she’d remembered his story. “Ye haven’t lived until you’ve tried it her way.”

  Declan came into the doorway, an apple in his hand. “He’s telling ye the truth, Curly. Don’t knock it ’til ye try it.”

  “Are you both staying?” she asked, addressing the brothers who, for some reason, continued to hover in the doorway instead of coming all the way into the room.

  “No,” Aiden said. “We’ll let you two be alone.”

  “All good?” Cormac asked Declan, and his meaning was clear.

  “Good enough,” he said.

  The events at the falls had taken a toll on Declan’s health, and he’d had a rough couple of days, his body lethargic and weak but unable to sleep.

  Unbeknownst to Cormac, Declan had been under doctor’s order not to transform, and hadn’t done so in over six years. With his abstinence and monthly injections, he’d been on the mend. Cormac’s impromptu decision to bail on the hiker-ruse and race out of the woods like hellhounds on fire had forced Declan into an energy spend his body wasn’t prepared to pay.

  This would have been good information for Cormac to have had at the time; though, he secretly doubted he would have been able to control himself enough to play it any differently.

  Rowan McNeely, Declan’s nurse, had not been pleased to see the decline in her patient’s progress, and she was even less pleased to hear about the cause. Suffice it to say, at the moment, Cormac was not her favorite person.

  “I assume your nurse has left?” Cormac asked hopefully.

  Declan’s eyes sparked, but he didn’t respond. Instead, a woman’s voice came from right behind Declan’s shoulder. “Not quite.”

  Declan moved to the side, revealing Rowan, who was standing there and frowning at Cormac.

  “Don’t mind her,” Declan told him. “She doesn’t like me either.”

  This statement made Rowan blush so hard her cheeks nearly matched her hair. “I was just leaving,” she said, “but I was wondering, Meghan, if I could make more copies of these.” She held up one of the “wanted” posters Meghan had created.

  At the top were the words: “CAUTION” and “EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.” Below them was a sketch Meghan had done of her aunt. It was a remarkable likeness.

  “Declan gave me a couple dozen to post around town,” Rowan explained, “but I have a sister in Babbitt. I thought maybe I could bring more over there? An informed sídhe is a breathing sídhe, right?” She gave Meghan a small smile and Declan made a hmph noise that sounded a bit like a laugh.

  “Of course,” Meghan said. “Make as many as you want.”

  “All right,” Aiden said, “if everyone’s got what they need now, we’ll leave ye be.” He slowly closed the French doors on the game room, and Declan and Rowan backed out of the way.

  As soon as Cormac and Meghan were alone, Cormac got in front of his anamchara and pulled her to her feet. Then he backed her up until her legs hit the couch. The feel of her in his arms—just like always—had his hound leaping and yelping for joy.

  With one thumb, he stroked the firm plumpness of her lower lip, then looked into her eyes, which heated with loosely held control. Yes, the euphoria he felt was definitely there in her own eyes, as well.

  “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

  Her delicate eyebrows came together, then relaxed, and her gray-green eyes emanated a warmth he felt even in his overheated heart. He saw the moment of realization come over her as his meaning became clear, and it struck him deep.

  Then he got even closer. His hands slid down Meghan’s shoulders over her arms. He held her elbows for a second, then moved one hand to the curve of her hip. With his other, he lifted her wrist to his nose and inhaled deeply.

  “Why do you always do that?” she whispered, her warm breath tickling across his arm.

  “Confirming that you’re mine.”

  “You thought you might have made a mistake?” she asked.

  He smiled, hearing the concern in her voice, then he assured her. “Not a chance.”

  Cormac bowed his head toward his anamchara and took her face in his hands. He kissed her in a way meant to deliver a serious message. It was hot, wet. Lots of tongue. And it left both of them panting and begging for more.

  “What’s that sound?” she asked.

  “What sound?” He listened. His ears, always so sharp, heard nothing but the crackling of the fire and the sound of his own heart pounding.

  “It’s like my ears are full of wind,” she said.

  Cormac sucked in a breath, and he looked down at her with so much love he thought he’d burst. He was amazed that he’d found her, surprised that she’d followed him, and grateful for it all.

  “I love ye, Meghan,” he said. “Know it. Believe it.”

  “Aye,” she said, mirroring his accent. “And I love ye, too, Mack.”

  Then Cormac MacConall made love to his anamchara, bringing it all home, until there was nothing for either of them, but the sound of a strong rushing wind.

  * * *

  Want more of the MacConall brothers?

  Continue reading to enjoy an extended preview of Hell Hound’s Redemption, the next book in the Fae of the North Shore series!

  A hell hound and a fae “princess” were never meant to be. Their love was forbidden.

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  DECLAN

  Declan MacConall sat on the examining table in Doc O’Se’s office, the only medical clinic that served the sídhe community in northern Minnesota. It seemed he’d been sitting there forever, but there was no clock in the room to test his theory. Its absence was likely intentional. He wondered how long he should wait, and if maybe Doc had forgotten him.

  The paper crinkled under his bare ass, and he considered walking that bare ass out into the hallway to ask about the hold up.

  Hi
s anxiety kicked up a notch when he wondered if it had been even longer than he thought, and that perhaps it was after five o’clock. Could the clinic have closed? Had everyone gone home, leaving him to sit there?

  Doc wouldn’t do that, would he?

  Why not? Your brother Cormac may be home now, but he left ye for fifty years. He didn’t even look back.

  The air conditioning unit hummed in hyperdrive, creating enough cold air to raise the golden hairs on his arms. “It’s bloody November,” he yelled at the ceiling.

  There was a click and a soft chuckling behind him as Doc walked in. Doc was daoine sídhe—the faerie clan that had adapted best to the human world. All of his staff members were daoine, as well. If you couldn’t tell from their lavender eyes, their formal manners were always a good tip-off.

  “I’ll tell Mary to turn off the A/C. She must have glanced at your chart and thought you’d run on the warm side.”

  Declan’s body relaxed. He couldn’t blame the new receptionist for the mistake. It was actually quite considerate, but it had been years since his body temperature had run as warm as the rest of his clan. Salvia had a way of messing up a whole lot of things for a cú sídhe—more so than it did for humans. Trying to beat his addiction was a full-time job, making his internal thermostat the least of his worries.

  “Now, I’ve reviewed your test results, and—”

  Whatever Doc was saying was lost on Declan because someone else had entered the room. He didn’t have to look. It was Rowan McNeely. Nurse Rowan McNeely.Not only did Declan know her scent, but every time she was near, his head filled with so much noise he could barely think, let alone hear. It was like being caught in a tornado, or sticking his head in a washing machine on spin cycle.

  He quickly glamoured a paper gown to cover his nakedness. As a rule, daoine females were sheltered and naive, but Rowan was different. She was a nurse, so obviously she’d seen a lot. Covering up was, therefore, much less for her modesty and more about his own vanity.

  For the last two years, Doc had been sending Rowan to Declan’s house to give him his monthly injections. Every time she showed, Declan layered on the clothing. Though he’d put some weight back on in recent months, he hated for her to see how thin he still was.

  It was too late now, though. She’d surely got a good look at his back when she came in the room, and the paper gown didn’t add much bulk.

  “Son?” Doc asked.

  Declan jerked his head up. “What?”

  “Did you hear anything I said?”

  “I’m sorry. I must have spaced out for a second.” He did that a lot when it came to Rowan. He didn’t know if it was the way her hair reminded him of the sunrise, or the regal way she carried her height, or the slender grace of her pale neck. When she conducted her house calls, he found himself staring at her neck a lot.

  Doc furrowed his brow and asked Declan to remove his glasses. When he did, Doc pulled up Declan’s eyelid and flashed a small intense light at his pupil. It was so bright, Declan jerked his head away.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Doc asked, this time a little more loudly.

  “Other than being blinded? Yeah. Stupendous.”

  Doc frowned and put the little flashlight back in his pocket. “What I was saying was that I’d like to start weaning you off the opiate antagonists and intensify your treatment in terms of counseling, lifestyle changes, and the like. I don’t want you to trade one addiction for another. You need to start thinking about your future.”

  Declan repressed the low growl that struggled to break free from his chest. Ever since his parents were slaughtered in their own kitchen, he’d lost faith in the future. What he needed was for everyone to stop fussing over him. If he relapsed, so what? They were all going to die anyway. Why delay the inevitable?

  “We can start this weekend,” Doc said. “Trial run. You’ll need to talk to your brothers about it because I’ll want someone to be monitoring you closely, around the clock.”

  Declan slipped his glasses back on his face. “My brothers will be gone this weekend.”

  Doc leaned back in surprise. “Both of them?”

  “Cormac’s getting married.”

  “I see!” Doc exclaimed, his whole face brightening. “Wonderful news! I hadn’t heard. You’ll want to attend, of course.”

  “I wasn’t gonna go.” He had his reasons. The least of them being that it all seemed so pointless. Cormac and Meghan had both been nearly killed two short months ago. Losing a partner would have been bad enough. Why put yourself through the pain of losing a spouse?

  “What are you talking about?” Rowan asked, taking two steps closer to the examination table.

  At the sound of her voice, Declan’s gaze, which had been intentionally focused on the floor, jerked up to her face. As a rule, he was pretty good at reading faces.

  Rowan McNeely had the same pale lavender eyes as all the daoine sídhe, but unlike the typical cool arrogance of their clan, her eyes always carried an intelligent warmth. Except for now. Right now, they flashed at him with disapproval.

  “Are you insane?” she asked. “You can’t miss your own brother’s wedding.”

  Declan looked back at the floor. “Cormac’s okay with it. Meghan, too. It’s not going to be anything big, and they only need one witness.”

  “But should you be home alone?” Rowan asked, and her voice shot through him like an arrow. He hated how she worried about him. It wasn’t natural. He should be the one to worry over her. “I mean…” she added hesitantly. “Is it safe?”

  He forced himself to look up at her again, and he gave her a wry smile. “Now, love, when was safe ever fun?”

  Her face flushed a lovely shade of pink, and he saw her work to swallow.

  “Rowan makes a good point,” Doc said. “And I would like you to start as soon as possible. If Aiden is willing to loan out his room for the weekend, how about I arrange for some in-home care to monitor your progress in their absence?”

  “Whatever.” Declan honestly didn’t care. It was easier not to, and he needed to speed this up. The room was small and Rowan’s presence was starting to fuck with his equilibrium. It would not be cool to suddenly keel over.

  “Ms. McNeely?” Doc asked turning toward her suggestively. “Is your schedule open this weekend?”

  What? Declan thought, realizing too late that his amenability had been a massive mistake.

  “NO!” Both Declan and Rowan simultaneously blurted out their refusal, then they jerked their heads to look at each other in surprise. Declan’s face flashed with heat, and he watched as Rowan’s cheeks flooded with color.

  “Um. What I meant,” Rowan said apologetically and tugging at her pale green scrubs, “was that my father expects me home on the weekends.”

  Declan tried not to snort in derision. The male daoine were, as a rule, strict and overbearing. He’d heard stories that Rowan’s father was worse than most, and he resented the fact that fathers like hers survived while his lay moldering in the ground.

  “I can wait until my brothers get back to start the weaning,” Declan said, sounding—he hoped—more rational than frantic, because being alone in his house with Rowan McNeely… He couldn’t think of anything more agonizing.

  Doc looked at him like he was being ridiculous. “Are you sure? I’ve got other options.” Then he started thinking out loud, running through his potential staff alternatives. “Fiona has small children at home. I couldn’t ask her to leave them for a weekend. Ciera hasn’t had a day off this week, but then again… Maybe she wouldn’t mind the overtime…”

  “Ciera would be fine,” Declan said, grateful to have dodged the Rowan-shaped bullet. “I wouldn’t want to burden Ms. McNeely if she has family issues. Ask Ciera to come.”

  “Wait!” Rowan said abruptly. “I can do it. It’s no burden.”

  Declan and Doc both blinked in surprise at her sudden change of course.

  “It’ll be fine,” she continued, as if trying to convince herself. “I�
�m perfectly capable. I’ll figure something out with my father.”

  Declan had no doubts whatsoever about Rowan’s nursing capabilities. Out of all of Doc’s nurses, she had the best touch. She never had to poke him twice to hit the vein. It was everything else that tied him in knots.

  “Good,” Doc said, sounding relieved. “You were already scheduled to give him his injection tomorrow.” Then he turned toward Declan. “Let’s have her stay a few days… See how you do without the treatment… If it turns out you’re not ready, she’ll be there to see you through, and we can reassess. If things go well, she’ll be there to manage your diet and note your vitals so she can report back to me next week.”

  Doc smiled broadly—nearly triumphantly—as he added, “I’m glad we got that settled.”

  Settled? What a joke. Declan was feeling a whole lot of things at the moment. Settled didn’t even make the list. As much as the thought of Rowan spending the night in his house made his blood sing, the last thing he needed was for her to witness him screaming and curled up in a corner when the anticipated injection didn’t come.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ROWAN

  Thursday Evening

  Rowan McNeely sat in her Mini Cooper outside the clinic and turned up the heat. A trickle of adrenaline that was half fear, half anticipation was seeping through her veins, making her whole body tremble. She curled her hands around the steering wheel for support. What a colossal disaster her life was turning out to be!

  She blamed Doc for this latest debacle. Ciera, too. The way Rowan figured it, she wouldn’t be in this predicament if Doc hadn’t suggested Ciera as the alternative for Declan MacConall’s weekend care.

  This was because, two months ago, when Rowan had been out with Ciera and Fiona at Delizioso, Declan had walked in with his brothers. It was the night the bean sídhe had shown up—which should have been the moment that made the deepest impact. Instead, what Rowan remembered most clearly was Ciera’s commentary on the MacConalls’ entrance. “Mmmm, honey. All three of those brothers make my cunny quiver, but that middle one… By Danu, he could take me allll the way home, if you know what I mean.”