Surrender: Immortal Protectors, Book 2

by H. M. McQueen

  Logan picked up his guitar and studied it for scratches. “You’re lucky.” He gave Kieran a narrowed glare. “This is my true love, picked her up at a little shop in Austin.” He put the instrument aside and grabbed a small table to sit on. Kieran smirked.

  He couldn’t wait for Fallon to walk in. He always enjoyed making the Brit angry. It was their thing, pissing each other off. Or maybe it was just his thing.

  “He’s changed, you know?” Logan seemed to be following Kieran’s train of thought. “Something’s different about Fallon. I can’t put my finger on it. He fights alone now, refuses a partner.” Logan’s eyes flickered toward the backyard before he continued. “I saw something. Not sure what I saw, not sure I should even mention it.”

  Kieran pressed his lips together, trying to decide whether to trust the newest Protector. In the end, he spoke. “I noticed something, too. He’s restless, angry. I’ll speak to him. What did you see?”

  “I saw him fighting the other night. I heard over the radio that some low-levels attacked a group of co-ed’s in Fallon’s sector. I headed over, figuring he’d need help clearing all their minds once he killed the demons.

  “When I got there, he was still fighting. He was moving so fast I could barely see him. I’m surprised the demons lasted as long as they did. When he killed all of them, he barely glanced at the screaming women. He walked past them without even a glance, but I could tell he’d erased their memories because as soon as he turned the corner, they began babbling, as if they were trying to figure out how they got out there.”

  Logan absently strummed his fingers across the guitar strings and stopped. “I ran across the street to catch up with him, and when I turned the corner, Fallon was poised to cut down a human. I’m not sure if he saw me or not, but he moved away and began to run. Out of curiosity, I followed him. He ran for miles before finally stopping. Last I caught sight of him, he was going into an apartment with a woman. He seemed less aggravated, so I left. Hopefully, she helped him take the edge off. He seemed alright when he got back here.”

  Kieran frowned. He’d have to talk to his partner when he arrived, hopefully catch Fallon before he saw the damage to the patio.

  “What in the bloody hell have you assholes done to my house?” Fallon’s British accented words were laced with barely contained fury.

  Too late.

  Both looked up at the Brit and then at each other and exchanged silent “Oh, shits.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Logan stood up, his guitar in one hand, sword in the other. “Sorry, but I had to defend myself. The Scot attacked me. If you wanna be pissed, be pissed at him.” He motioned toward Kieran with his head.

  “Yeah, be mad at me. What the hell.” Kieran didn’t make a move and remained seated, hoping he wouldn’t have to fight the Brit. He shook his head at the cowboy. “Logan, the lie was for my brother, dumbass.”

  “Oh,” Logan replied. “Okay. Fallon, yeah, we owe you for the furniture. If you want, I’ll fix it.”

  Fallon lifted an aristocratic brow. “I doubt your rudimentary carpentry skills will suffice.”

  “Yeah, well, fuck you, too,” Logan retorted, storming from the room.

  “You’re such an asshole,” Kieran told Fallon, studying his partner, not sure what he was looking for exactly. “The guy offered to fix your gaudy shit.”

  “My ‘gaudy shit,’” Fallon sneered, “was handcrafted by a master in France. In 1850.” At that, he turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Kieran replied, purposely keeping his voice flat. “Logan made this chair.” He stood from the chair he’d been sitting on. They both studied it.

  The piece was intricately carved, with sturdy legs. The elegant work of art had a slightly arched backrest that allowed for full support. Unlike the other furniture, it gleamed not from years of polish but from careful workmanship.

  Fallon rolled his eyes. “Logan did not make that. I’m sure it was here before he arrived.”

  “Nah, I saw him working on it one day out at the stable. He’s got a pretty nice workshop set up out there. He told me that woodworking helps him relax,” Kieran told the Brit, noting the appreciation in Fallon’s eyes as he walked over to the chair and ran a hand over the back of it.

  “Regardless, some of my pieces are beyond repair.” Fallon looked around the room, then, without warning, kicked a piece of furniture so hard, it broke through the screen and landed out into the backyard. It was followed by several other pieces until Fallon caught Kieran’s astonished look. He went to leave the room, but Kieran blocked his way.

  Fallon’s eyes were red-rimmed. The Protector wasn’t just mad. He’d lost control.

  “What the hell’s gotten into you lately? There’s something different about you.”

  Fallon would not look him in the eyes, instead he shifted his gaze past his shoulder. It was not like the Brit not to make eye contact.

  Fallon pushed him aside and went into the kitchen. For a few beats, Kieran didn’t think his partner would answer, but Fallon stopped. His back still to Kieran, he spoke slowly, as if it pained him. “I don’t know. Something is not right, but I can control it.”

  Kieran walked around so that he could see Fallon’s expression. Fallon’s eyes were squeezed shut, his fists curled at his sides. “I am constantly full of rage. I want to be out there killing...”

  Kieran noticed he didn’t say “demons” but left the word dangling. “We should call Julian.”

  Fallon’s eyes popped open, the red rim around his irises larger. “No!” he spat before turning on his heel and storming from the room.

  Demons hated Julian. Demons had red-rimmed irises. But Fallon wasn’t a demon.

  This was Fallon.

  His partner.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  If it wasn’t for the circumstances, the nondescript house would have made Wendy laugh. The two-story walk-up was lodged between two almost identical houses on the upper side of town.

  It didn’t stand out in any sense, and perhaps that made it the perfect place for the queen of the Fae to reside.

  Guiles and her parents flanked Wendy as they made their way to the front door.

  Julian was noticeably absent this morning. She wondered if he’d left but was too tired to ask. She hadn’t spoken more than a few words since getting up that morning. Tea and some toast had been brought to her bedroom when she hadn’t gone downstairs for breakfast.

  She drank two cups of tea but couldn’t eat anything solid. Not sure of what awaited, she was strung too tight.

  The night before, in the darkness, she’d lain in bed and come up with a plan.

  Today, she’d go along with whatever they proposed and play the part of the overwhelmed girl, which was not really a stretch at this point. At dark, she’d escape and return to Atlanta. There, she’d find Fallon and ask him to marry her. He would not be able to resist. She’d use every ounce of fairy allure she could summon, something she still had to figure out.

  She’d live in Atlanta where she could be close to Emma and the life she knew. As an added bonus, Fallon could protect her from demons, his house was secure enough to keep them out.

  It might upset her parents, but for the first time in days, she felt in control of her life.

  The sound of the knocker brought her back to the present. Her startled look lent credence to her act of being in shock. The door opened before they could knock a second time. A gangly woman, with hair pulled back so tightly that it gave her hook-nose no choice but to stand out more, waved them in. The group followed the angular woman down the hallway, past a library, and into a cheery sitting room. Wendy couldn’t help but look around with curiosity, certain she’d been there before. The room was familiar.

  “Welcome, family.” Her grandmother’s sister strolled into the room. Her graceful walk made it seem as if she glided across the carpeted room. Queen Aine looked so much like her grandmother that Wendy had to blink back tears.

  The memories flooded her mind.
She’d been here with her grandmother when she was a small child.

  The Queen gave a barely perceptible nod, and everyone sat, except Wendy. Dumbstruck, she stood gawking at her grandaunt. Someone tugged her back onto a soft couch. Three Fae males stood behind the Queen. Julian walked into the room and stood beside them. He fit right in with his austere persona. The man seemed way more royal than a commoner, unlike her.

  Queen Aine sat down and waited without speaking while two young women poured tea. Wendy caught one of them flicking a look toward one of the Queen’s guards. The female’s gaze lingered on a handsome muscular red-haired male just long enough to let Wendy know that he meant something to her. He did his best to not look directly at the girl, but Wendy caught his eyes sliding in the girl’s direction when he thought no one was looking.

  “Come closer, Gwendolyn.” The queen gestured to a chair next to her. “I must talk to you.”

  Wendy was nudged, probably by her mother, and reluctantly went forward to sit next to the Queen. “Well, you are certainly a beauty.” The queen’s gentle eyes surveyed her face. “I know this is all coming to you rather abruptly.” She looked at her parents pointedly. “I still don’t understand their decision to raise you away from us, but that’s neither here nor there right now. What is important is that you remain here and learn as much as you can. You are a very important member of our people, Gwendolyn. As the Keeper of the Key, on your shoulders rests the responsibility of guarding one of the strongest weapons of protection that exists.”

  Never had she heard such a melodious voice. She leaned toward it, not wanting the Queen to stop talking. It didn’t matter at the moment what was said, as long as she kept speaking. For the first time in days, she felt soothed.

  The Queen continued. “Patrick, step forward and meet your mate.”

  So much for being soothed. Wendy went rod straight and jerked around to see the red-haired guard approach.

  His face was passive. He showed no emotion or expression other than a slight curve at the corner of his lips before leaning forward. “It’s my honor to be bound to you, Gwendolyn.” His Irish accent was strong, and his voice was deep. He held his hand out.

  Not wanting to offend the Queen or Patrick, she took his hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Not seeming to take her silence as an affront, he dropped her hand and went back to stand behind her.

  She looked at her parents, whose faces glowed with pride, as if they were witnessing something marvelous. She bit back the urge to scream, to tell everyone in the room to shove all this Fae crap up their collective asses.

  A prideful smile curved the Queen’s lips as well, and she patted Wendy’s shoulder. “Patrick has been trained by Julian, along with others of our Fae males, as a warrior, to fight. He will be a good protector for you.”

  The Queen looked to Julian, who nodded in return. “Thank you, Julian, for what you are doing for my people. We owe you and your Protectors much.”

  Wendy sat numbly while everyone in the room discussed the marriage ceremony, which was planned for two days hence.

  They moved on to talk about Guiles’ impending departure to begin training more Fae warriors for battle. Wendy stole a glance at Patrick. The male stood away from everyone and observed the room, still without emotion. She wondered what being married to him would be like. There was no denying that he was very handsome. He was fair-skinned with lush red hair that flowed to his wide shoulders. He was broader than Kieran but not taller. And Kieran was definitely way better looking. Her heart constricted at the comparison, and she pushed the thoughts away.

  What of the female that had served tea earlier? Was it possible he was in love with her? Was he also being forced into this? He must have felt her gaze because he looked at her, his hazel eyes locking on hers only for a short beat before she looked away. A warm blush crept up her face, and she cringed.

  She couldn’t imagine being married to Patrick. He was a stranger, and no matter how handsome he was, she would never allow another man into her heart, not until she chose not only the man but also the where, when, and how.

  After what seemed like an eternity, they finally bid their farewells to return home. In the car, she leaned into Guiles, and he put his arm around her. He spoke into her ear so that only she could hear him. “I’ll always be there for you, Sis. I will ensure you are not harmed. I’ve spoken to Patrick, and he’ll be a good husband to you. It’s a new life for us, Wendy. Accept it. It’s who we were born to be.”

  Wendy blinked back tears. “Help me leave, Guiles. I can’t do it. I won’t marry someone I barely know. I don’t give a damn about the stupid key. I don’t know why Mom can’t take it.” Guiles didn’t meet her eyes. His body tensed, and she knew he wouldn’t help her. And that it all hurt him as much as it did her. This she knew by the single tear that slid down his cheek.

  She kissed it away, instantly feeling bad. “It’s okay, little brother. Don’t worry. I’m just being a baby.”

  “I’m only a couple minutes younger than you,” he jested back, reminding her of happier days.

  Later that evening, Wendy inhaled deeply as she stared out of the bedroom window of her parents’ home in Ireland. The scene before her was beautiful. The sun was setting behind plush green hills. The light drizzle had stopped, but the dampness remained, giving the cobblestone drive a sparkly affect. Her eyes followed an elderly man who walked past the house. He whistled, and two mix-breed dogs hurried to catch up, their wagging tails telling of their glee in being outdoors.

  Would she ever feel that carefree again?

  A knock on the door was followed by it opening slowly, and Guiles entered the room. He regarded her with concern and then forced a smile. Standing next to her, he looked out the same window, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Neither had to speak to know what the other twin felt. Right now, Guiles was concerned about her. She nudged him with her shoulder. “When did you become so tall and pretty?”

  Guiles nudged back but didn’t reply. His worried eyes locked with hers. “Are you going to be alright?”

  “Yes.” No. “You’ve come to say good-bye.” Her brother wouldn’t leave if he wasn’t assured that she was well. They’d always been there for each other and that it hadn’t changed was an assurance in itself.

  “Guiles, I’m so proud of you.” Wendy smiled up at him. “You have an important calling. I want you to go train those fairy guys to kick some serious demon ass.” She was surprised at how strong her voice sounded.

  A smile curved her brother’s lips. “Fairy guys. I like that. It beats Tinkerbells.” Wendy let out a relieved sigh when he seemed to relax and turned to hug her good-bye. “If Patrick gives you any grief, let me know. This fairy guy will kick his ass.” The fierceness in his voice gave Wendy no doubt that he would.

  As soon as Guiles left, she allowed the tears to flow freely. Julian’s limo glided out of sight, taking her brother from her. “Godspeed, Guiles.” She put her hand up to the window, allowing the coolness of the glass to seep into her fingers.

  A few hours later, Wendy slipped her arms through the backpack straps and pulled at them to ensure it was secure enough that it wouldn’t dislodge if she had to run.

  After she propped a note for her parents on her nightstand, Wendy gingerly made her way out of the room. Without a sound, she rushed down the hallway and down the stairs. Once reaching the kitchen, she waited for a few seconds to make sure no one stirred.

  There was only silence.

  She opened the back door and slipped out into the darkness and began to jog past the open field behind her family’s estate.

  The bright moon gave her enough visibility that she moved along the path easily. Her only concern was her ankle, but she’d wrapped it tight, and so far, it held.

  The way was familiar since she’d run the route many times during her visits here. There was a small village three miles away where she’d be able to catch a bus at sunrise into Dublin.

  O
nce in Dublin, she’d lose herself until she could get a ticket back to Georgia.

  To find Fallon.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The darkness of the night didn’t scare Wendy. Plus, she had a small flashlight attached to her wrist. It gave her enough light to keep from stumbling but hopefully not so much to attract unwanted attention. The night sounds, however, made her run faster. She wasn’t sure what type of wildlife she’d run into here in Ireland, but after her experiences with demons, an errant sheep might cause her to scream hysterically.

  A giggle bubbled out of her at the thought, but she quickly lost her humor when the once-distant sound of rustling leaves grew closer.

  She dove under some bushes and turned her flashlight off, her heart pounding against her chest.

  After a few moments, voices became clear.

  “Are you sure you saw something, Lare?” The rough voice cut through the night. The man was not happy. “Ye got an imagination, especially when ye be drinkin’.”

  The other voice slurred slightly. “'Tis a fairy, I tell ya. We won’t catch it now that you opened yer big mouth. Let’s go. Forget it. I want a warm bed.”

  Wendy held her breath as the two men stumbled past her. Thankfully, they cut across the path and headed away from the village. They must have been returning from there and saw her flashlight.

  She gave them enough time so they would not be able to hear her before scrambling up and continuing her jaunt to the village again. This time, she didn’t use the flashlight. It slowed her progress a bit, but she didn’t want to take the chance that someone else would spot her. Forcing herself to a quick walk made for slower progress than jogging. Better safe than sorry. A broken leg would not be a good thing right now. Her ankle was aching some, so slower was better in more ways than one at the moment.

  Hours later, Wendy exited a small grocery, where she’d bought coffee and a few snacks, and then boarded a bus bound for Dublin. It wasn’t until the bus was rumbling down the road that she began to believe she’d actually gotten away.