Surrender: Immortal Protectors, Book 2

by H. M. McQueen

  Wendy was perched on top of him. Her auburn hair was a bit longer, just touching her shoulders. Her full lips parted, her eyes hooded and dreamy as they met his. She smiled and leaned over closer to his face. “Hi.”

  Happiness filled him and he laughed. “Hello.”

  She ran her finger down the bridge of his nose. “I missed you so much.”

  “How did you get here?” Kieran asked not able to stop his hands as they moved up to her slim waist up to cup her breasts. “I missed you, too.”

  Wendy did not reply. Instead, she reached between his legs, hastily shoving his boxers down past his hips, her fingers curled around his hardness. “Can’t talk right now. I need you inside me.”

  She lifted and guided him to enter her. Their gazes locked as she lowered herself excruciatingly slowly, allowing him to slide into her one inch at a time. She was so hot and wet that he could barely stop himself from coming.

  When he was finally fully sheathed in her, she threw her head back. “Oh, God, Kieran, how I have missed this…you!” and began to slide up and down on him.

  His thoughts vanished, consumed by the moment. He held her hips and helped her pump him, harder and faster. It only took a few strokes before they both came. Wendy cried out as she went over the top, her muscles contracting around him.

  Kieran yelled as he gushed into her.

  Then, Wendy screamed. This time, it was not out of release. She was upset and reaching for him as she disappeared.

  In shock, Kieran jerked up to a sitting position. His blankets were strewn onto the floor. He was on the bed by himself.

  The only evidence of what had just occurred was his dripping and now flaccid member. His boxers were pushed down.

  A wet dream? Had it all been just that? But it was so real.

  He yanked his boxers up and fell back onto the bed, dejected. He could still smell her fragrance. He rolled, pushing his face into the pillow.

  Were you here? Wendy?

  One more day and he’d be married.

  # # #

  Today was Kieran’s wedding day. The day he was supposed to marry a woman he’d never met.

  And never planned to meet.

  Wendy, if only it were you.

  Kieran shoved bags into the backseat of his Jeep. The back area was already loaded with weapons and camping gear. He was leaving, not sure where to yet, but when Julian showed up with his bride, he wouldn’t be around.

  He looked around for Albert and whistled. Albert came running, excited at the prospect of going for a ride. He opened the door, and the dog jumped into the passenger seat, his tail wagging furiously. Kieran patted his head. Fallon was not particularly fond of the beast, so Kieran couldn’t leave him behind.

  The snap of a twig caught him off guard. Who the hell could approach without alerting him?

  “Were you leaving?” Cyn’s words vibrated, full of anger.

  He turned to face his brother and stopped short. Roderick stood beside Cyn. Both Protectors’ stances predatory, they waited for him to move so that they could pounce on him. He made sure to stand very still, making sure that he did not provoke them. The last thing he wanted was to fight them right now.

  He met Cyn’s angry gaze. “Brother, there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind. I’m not getting married today. When Julian arrives with that woman, I will not be here.” Both men stared at each other without moving, the air heavy between them.

  Cyn started to speak. Kieran held his hand up. “Until I met Wendy, I only existed. Not even realizing it. Moving through each day, not caring whether I lived or died. Without feelings or emotions.”

  When Cyn didn’t respond, he continued. “I feel alive, Cyn. Be glad for me. For the first time in hundreds of years, I feel alive. I feel. Even if it’s heartache.” The last words turned hoarse as he saw tears flowing unchecked down Cyn’s face.

  He was saying a final good-bye, and they both knew it. Resolve alone held him back from agreeing to the arranged marriage if only to stop the pain etched on his brother’s face.

  “We’ll talk to Julian. Convince him to cancel this marriage. Give Roderick and me an opportunity to meet with him.” Cyn’s resolve was also strong.

  Gravel flew, some bouncing off Kieran’s Jeep as Fallon’s silver jaguar careened to a stop next to it. The Brit jumped from the car and stalked toward them.

  Fallon’s gaze went from face to face, no doubt reading emotions and thoughts before he finally spoke. “Kieran, you owe us that much. Bloody hell, let us speak to Julian.”

  “We all know that he won’t change his mind. He can’t set that precedent, and I understand and respect him for it. Just like I know he will have to set an example and order my execution. It’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

  No one spoke, knowing Kieran was right.

  Kieran forced himself to smile at the group and blinked to focus his suddenly blurry vision. His brothers, all three of them, they were his family. Blue, Emma, and Roderick’s wife and son, too, he was part of a large family. Funny he hadn’t noticed or fully appreciated it before.

  How fortunate he’d been all along.

  It was an ironic moment, gaining so much, only to walk away from it.

  He walked up to Cyn and placed his hand on the side of his brother’s face. “I love you, Cyn. I’m sorry to hurt you this way. Please, let me have this time, even if it’s only a couple of days before the hunters come for me. It will be a couple of days that I will be able to finally live in freedom. I can’t marry, not this way, without love. Not again. It would be like death for me.”

  Cyn embraced him hard then, and Kieran allowed the tears that he’d fought to keep in check to finally descend.

  “Funny shit, love, isn’t it? When it’s good, it’s amazing. But when it’s bad, it hurts like a mother fucker,” Cyn told him, a sad smile on his wet face as he pushed away, wiping his face with his forearm.

  Glancing at Roderick, he noted the Spartan’s subtle nod. He’d make sure Cyn was all right.

  Stepping away from his brother, he met Fallon’s steady stare for a couple of seconds. For once, the Lord was speechless. Bowing his head, Fallon turned away but didn’t leave. Kieran allowed him the rebuff, suspecting that Fallon didn’t want him to see him tear up.

  Albert whined, his tail no longer wagging.

  When he got into the Jeep, he met his brother’s gaze one last time and then pulled off.

  “Kieran!” His heart shattered upon hearing Cyn’s hoarse cry echo into the darkness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Gerard leaned back onto his plush padded headboard and surveyed the room. Nude except for a satin sheet pulled across his lap, he didn’t bother moving when someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in, Carlo,” he called out. His first’s essence was strong and easy for him to sense. He loathed the power that emanated from the younger high-level demon, who entered and stopped short, taking in the scene.

  A naked woman lay on the floor at the foot of the bed; another was curled up next to Gerard. She was either passed out or asleep. Across the foot of the bed, a nude male lay sprawled on his stomach.

  Carlo’s dark gaze hesitated only briefly on the women before scanning over the male’s body at a more leisurely pace. His attraction very evident.

  Gerard had to agree that the male was extraordinary. Well-muscled, tall, and without an ounce of fat, his body was enticing even for him, although he preferred women on most occasions.

  “You can have him,” Gerard told Carlo in a bored tone. “I have to warn you, he did not participate voluntarily and fought pretty valiantly before my guards were able to subdue him.”

  Carlo leaned closer, felt for a pulse on the male’s throat and frowned. “He’s pretty weak. You took too much blood.” His eyes narrowed, he studied Gerard. “You look well. I find it interesting that you have spent so much time locked up with humans lately.”

  Knowing what Carlo was insinuating, Gerard felt the scorching heat of fury be
gin to course through his veins. He could not afford this. Not now. As it was, it took more and more human blood to keep his powers up, yet he couldn’t allow any speculation of weakness to spread.

  Reluctantly, he mustered all the power he’d just stored up and threw an energy bolt at Carlo, flinging the large male across the room. Carlo hit the wall with so much force that the plaster crumbled. The demon landed on the floor with a loud thump. He didn’t rise quickly, and Gerard knew he’d made his point.

  “My apologies, Sire,” Carlo spoke, not looking directly at him, after he got to his feet. He moved closer but with more caution. “I didn’t mean to imply anything.”

  Of course he did. The demon would kill him instantly if he suspected Gerard was weaker than him. It was their nature to seek power, kill the weak, and Gerard couldn’t begrudge him that. “Get the guards to come get these things out of my room.” He waved his hand, motioning toward the humans.

  Once again, Carlo’s gaze fell upon the male, who began to moan, waking. “Who is he?”

  “I believe he’s a professional player of some sort. I picked him up at Inferno. I enchanted him into believing he was going to a millionaire’s party at a mansion.” Gerard hesitated and stroked his chin in thought. “I think his name is Michael, or is it Micah? What the hell does it matter? He won’t be cooperative when he wakes.” Gerard clapped his hands, and two guards appeared.

  “Take the women to a chamber and let them recover. I want them back tonight. And take the male, too,” he hesitated, seeing the hunger in Carlo’s eyes. “Take him to Carlo’s chamber and feed him well.” He gave Carlo a long stare, his gaze going to the male’s swollen crotch. “I would allow him time to recover, perhaps two days. You’ll have to restrain him.” Carlo shifted. It would be hard for him to wait two days. Good. He would be distracted.

  The guards carried the humans out of the room. It had been exciting to have so much control over them. The male had given him a lot of power; his blood was rich and full of life. He’d hoped to have him another night. But it was best to not let Carlo suspect that he was getting weaker and needed humans daily now just to keep a semblance of his strength up.

  “Sire, I am here about the woman Gwendolyn. She’s been spotted in Ireland.”

  “Send word to Marlon. He’ll look into it. Not one word about the key” Gerard replied, referring to a Master demon who lived in Scotland.

  After Carlo left, Gerard asked the guards to bring him another woman, one of the followers that lived there voluntarily. He’d get enough blood and energy from her to sustain him for now.

  Afterward, he had to check on his future host.

  The Protector was proving harder to turn than he expected. He smiled grimly; the harder to turn, the more powerful the vessel.

  Fallon arrived home and stumbled over the doorway. A pile of mail was strewn all over the floor. He froze and surveyed the hallway. Hector, his butler, would never leave the mail on the floor. He inhaled and scanned the house, trying to sense any unwelcome presence but found none.

  Sword drawn, he made his way to the library. Hector sat in his chair, behind his desk. The butler looked up at him with a relieved look but said nothing. That was when Fallon noticed the demon standing in the corner of the room watching him.

  “What the hell do you want?” Fallon asked with more calmness than he felt. He took in Hector’s appearance. His butler was tied to the chair. Other than mussed up hair, it looked like the man was not injured.

  The demon was a Master, so powerful that he was able to mask himself from Fallon’s ability to sense him and from his security system Fallon frowned.

  The demon seemed familiar.

  “That is because we’ve met before,” the demon read his thoughts. “And soon we’ll be very well acquainted.” The demon didn’t move, but somehow, he came closer, and Fallon instinctively took a step back.

  The clang of metal on the floor was the only sign that the demon had immobilized him and he’d dropped his sword. Fallon shook with the effort to free himself of the demon’s invisible hold on him. A snarl erupted from his throat as the demon neared, but no matter how much he strained, he couldn’t break free.

  Without seeming to be in motion, the demon was suddenly so close that his breath fanned across his face. “I am Gerard. You, Fallon Trent, will be my host,” the demon smiled. A smile that promised death.

  At over six feet three, Fallon was a tall man, but the demon was taller. Dressed in black from head to toe, he was lean but well built with long black hair and even darker eyes. The Master demon looked every bit the part of a dark soul.

  He ran a long fingernail along Fallon’s face and down his jaw. With a seductive curve to his lips, he leaned close until their lips almost touched, Fallon let out another snarl. The demon’s eyes locked onto his. “Such strength. You will serve me well. I will return soon. You are not quite ready yet.”

  Then, he vanished, and Fallon fell against the wall.

  What in the bloody hell was that all about?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Wendy woke to the sound of traffic outside. The room was bright, indicating that it must be late in the day. She surveyed the room. She was in Patrick’s bedroom. He must have moved her to the bedroom after she’d fallen asleep. Memories flooded her, and she recalled the amazing encounter with Kieran. Dread filled her as she lifted the blankets; she was nude. Oh, God, what did I do? Did I have sex with Patrick and think it was Kieran?

  Guilt filled her, and she reminded herself that she was going to marry Patrick. It was only a matter of time before they would have made love anyway.

  Her clothes were on the floor next to the bed, she reached for them and shrugged them on under the blankets, afraid Patrick would walk in. Once dressed, she went to find him. She had to know.

  The living area was empty. There was a note on the table informing her that Patrick had gone to pick up something to eat. She poured coffee and sat down to wait.

  Moments later, Patrick returned. His face was flushed from the cold outside. His eyes met hers for a beat, his face blank, and then he looked away without speaking as he placed his parcels on the table.

  “I woke up in your bed. I don’t remember getting up,” Wendy told him, watching him take a couple of containers out of a sack.

  He scooped baked beans and bacon on a plate, followed by toast. “I carried you in there after you fell asleep. You didn’t stir all night. I woke up, and you were still fast asleep, so I went to get breakfast.” He shoved a plate toward her.

  Confused, Wendy looked down at her plate. He was not acting like they’d been intimate. She ate everything on her plate. Irish breakfast was more like an American lunch to her, but it was delicious. Patrick ate, all the while his gaze on her. “What troubles you?”

  “Did anything happen between us last night?”

  “No, I would not take advantage of you. We slept. That’s all.”

  He spoke the truth. He was an honorable man. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I had a strange dream. Forget I mentioned anything.”

  Patrick frowned but didn’t reply. Then, he startled her. “We are to meet with the Queen later today. She’ll marry us.”

  Wendy’s heart stopped. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that somehow she and Kieran had connected. She’d been with him. He’d been alone in his bed. Or was it just a wonderful dream and wishful thinking on her part?

  She studied Patrick as he ate. All the while, he avoided her eyes. Seeing the uncertainty on his handsome face made her soften. He didn’t deserve a woman that didn’t love him. If she married him, she’d do her best by him and to learn to love him. But could she?

  She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. His gaze locked on their hands, and he smiled.

  It was a sad smile.

  “Do Fae have special abilities?” Wendy asked as she bit into her toast.

  “Some do,” Patrick replied, and then his face brightened. “I can teleport to any location I visualize.”
r />   “No way!” Wendy exclaimed, her eyes widening, then she narrowed them. “Prove it.”

  His brows rose at her disbelief, “How?”

  She tapped her chin, “Go back to the place you went earlier and bring me back another slice of this yummy bread.”

  Gasping at his sudden disappearance, only to shriek when he reappeared with the slice of bread, her mouth fell open. “Wow, that is a great trick.”

  “How far can you go?”

  Patrick preened at her being impressed by his ability. “I can go as far as I want, even to Russia, although it would take me a bit longer to get there and return.” He looked at her expectantly.

  “Hmm,” she tapped her chin in thought. “How about you flash over to Russia and get me some of those cute nesting dolls. You know the ones that as you open them, they get smaller and smaller.”

  He nodded while taking a long swallow of coffee. “If I do this, you must be ready to go as soon as I return. We’re going to the Queen’s.”

  Wendy nodded, eyeing his toast, “Are you going to eat that?”

  He vanished.

  Wendy grabbed his toast, his car keys, and her knapsack and ran out the front door.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Wendy felt terrible about tricking Patrick, but she’d seen the look in his eyes. He deserved a chance at love.

  Her hand shook as she shoved the one of the keys she’d taken from the table into the ignition of Patrick’s car. Once the car rumbled to life, she slammed it into drive and peeled away from the curb and away from his home. She headed north, toward Scotland.

  Keeping a constant eye on the rearview mirror, she kept expecting someone to appear behind her, but the streets were busy, and even if someone was following her, she wouldn’t know until it was too late. She drove for an hour and then turned down a side road and stopped the car.

  She pulled out a map from her backpack and studied it, scanning it as fast as she could; she figured she could be in Glasgow in about six hours.