by Donna Grant
She looked to the cottage, but there was no sign of Bran. She and Fintan were the only two people on the beach. The battle was over, and yet her heart wouldn’t stop pounding, and her grip on the dagger didn’t ease.
Fintan got to his feet and walked to her. His shirt was in tatters, barely hanging on to his body. His pants were ripped and burned from the magic.
She feasted upon the glimpses of skin and rippling muscle she was allowed to see. She’d sensed there was power beneath the clothes, power that had nothing to do with magic. Her gaze ran back up his body to his face.
There was something in his eyes, something that made the bloodlust turn to hunger. She took a step toward him and then another until they were within inches of each other.
She lifted her face, waiting for his kiss. Yearning for it. Something in her had changed. She didn’t know when or how, but it had. And she welcomed it.
His large hand came around to her lower back, holding her as he took her mouth in a kiss that stole her breath as much as it made her burn.
She wound her arms around his neck and parted her lips. His tongue swept in. The taste of him made her shiver. Her sex clenched as desire pulsed.
As quickly as the kiss had begun, it ended. He released her and took a step back. She fought to remain upright after such an incredible, astonishing kiss that was entirely too short.
His white eyes burned with palpable hunger. She wanted him, too. So why was he putting up walls between them?
“I saw Bran,” he said.
She nodded, the words lodged in her throat.
“He didn’t take you.”
Cat blinked and looked down at her arms. They were covered in blood. That’s when she realized that she had blood splattered all over her.
“Odd,” Fintan continued. “Searlas spoke to you. What did he say?”
She lifted her eyes to Fintan. His gaze was clear, calm. Had she imagined the desire? The kiss?
The need?
“He wanted me to take Bran’s offer,” she finally said.
Fintan frowned deeply. “What offer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you seen Bran before today?”
She shook her head and walked past him toward the cottage.
“Think carefully,” he said as he fell into step behind her. “He could’ve disguised himself. Have you gotten any type of offers lately?”
“No. He held out his hand to me, and I went to help you.”
Fintan made a sound at the back of his throat. “Bran could’ve killed you right then. I don’t believe he made a mistake. He wants you for something.”
She whirled around and held up the dagger so that the point touched his chest. “My only thought was to help you.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Yes,” she said and looked pointedly at the burns on his body that were even now healing. “I’ll remember that next time. Trust me, I won’t think twice about wanting to help you again.”
As she went to turn around, he grabbed her arm, causing the point of the dagger to pierce his skin. A bead of blood appeared and rolled down his chest.
She followed the bright red droplet as it made its way over the thick sinew of his pecs to his chiseled abs. Her lips tingled from their kiss while her body ached to feel him against her once more.
“When did you get the blade?” he demanded.
She lifted her chin as she looked into his white eyes. “I don’t know. I saw Bran and wished I had it so I could use it on him. Next thing I knew, it was in my hand. Perhaps I should’ve gone after him and let you get an orb to the face.”
Their gazes remained locked together for several tense minutes before he loosened his grip. “You did good today.”
With her anger cooling, she glanced down at the weapon. Confusion marred her visage as she kept trying to figure out how it had ended up in her hand. “Then why don’t I feel better about any of this?”
“Because you recognize what’s at stake.”
She pulled her arm from his grip and lowered the dagger. “Do I?” She wasn’t so sure about that.
Without another word, she pivoted and made her way to the cottage. It had been a sanctuary for her once. A place where she could be surrounded by love and happiness—and safety.
Now, it would stand as a monument to the last member of her family.
She stood at the doorway of the house, but she didn’t go inside. How could she now without her grandfather? Always wise, forever full of kindness. There would never be another like him.
In the distance, she could hear the sirens of approaching authorities. Someone else had finally seen the smoke. Her world as she knew it was over.
Now, she was moving into one of battle and blood. One of magic and betrayal. She was ill-prepared for such a role. She had no battle training, nor any magic.
She might end up a liability, but she was going to give it everything she had. For her family.
For herself.
She didn’t need to turn around to know that Fintan was behind her. She could sense his presence. “If they see you, it’ll raise questions.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Turning, she held out the dagger for him. “Hold this for me.”
“Cat—”
“This is human business now,” she interrupted him. “I need to take care of this.”
With a nod, he disappeared. She was sure he’d simply veiled himself because she could still sense him near. Oddly, that gave her the courage to face what came next.
Then she remembered the blood she had on her. No one could see her like this. As she lifted her hands, her mind racing for how to fix her clothes, there was a sizzle along her skin.
It was soft, soothing even. As she looked, the blood vanished from her skin and clothes.
“Thank you,” she whispered to Fintan as the first of the cars arrived.
Chapter Nine
Grief dulled Cat’s eyes as she dealt with the authorities for over two hours, answering endless questions. Fintan was veiled and never more than five feet from her during it all.
Through everything, Cat stood strong. Her gaze often turned to the cottage, and he could guess that memories of the past haunted her.
Fintan wasn’t surprised by Bran’s move against the old man. What worried him was this so-called offer from Bran to Cat. No matter how Fintan wracked his brain, he couldn’t discern what Bran might want with Cat.
And that only magnified his anxiety.
He didn’t want to bring other Reapers into this, but he may not have a choice. Once more, Bran had changed tactics. Instead of trying to kill the Halfling, he had a proposition for her instead.
If only Fintan could learn what that was, then he might be able to help Cat. Until he discovered Bran’s motives, they were once more fighting blind.
For eons, no one had come close to the Reapers in power and strength. Now, one stood in their way that disrupted everything. Fintan didn’t fear for himself. He’d lived and died once before—and was prepared to do so again.
No, his thoughts were on his brethren.
And Cat.
Already, one of his brothers was lost. Eoghan could be dead, or he could be suffering horribly while they fought to end Bran. All the while, Bran continually changed his attacks and intentions, leaving the Reapers guessing.
Fintan’s plan to lure Bran and capture him had been flawless. It should’ve worked. Instead, it had backfired. Cat had lost her business and her grandfather in the span of an hour.
But Bran hadn’t tried to kill her.
Fintan ran a hand down his face. In his other hand was the dagger he’d given her. He still didn’t know how she’d managed to call it to her.
For someone who supposedly didn’t have magic, she had used a magical ability.
There was something at work here that he couldn’t decipher, something that prevented him from seeing a clear picture of things.
If he knew Cat would go into the cot
tage and remain, Fintan would travel to Inchmickery. But he knew to leave her would be folly.
“Cael,” he whispered.
As a rule, the Reapers always veiled themselves when they teleported. So it was easy for him to spot Cael as soon as he arrived. The leader of the Reapers made his way over, weaving among the humans.
Cael stopped beside him, crossing his arms over his chest as they watched the scene. “What happened?”
“Bran attacked Cat’s grandfather after they burned her café this morning.”
One black brow rose. “So your plan worked. How close are you to killing him?”
“Not as close as I’d like.”
“Meaning?”
Fintan blew out a breath as they took several steps back so the humans wouldn’t overhear them. “Bran changed his tactics. I fought Searlas and two others. During that, Bran showed up.”
“Did he approach Cat?”
“No.”
Cael’s frowned deepened as he waited for the rest.
“Searlas told Cat to take Bran’s offer,” Fintan said.
Cael’s head jerked his way. “Offer?” he asked, interests piqued. “What offer?”
“I don’t know. Neither does Cat. She said she’s not had anyone approach her with any kind of proposition.”
With his gaze lowered to the sand, Cael asked, “What is the bastard about now?”
“Bran had the opportunity to kill Cat today, but he didn’t. He wants her for something.”
“That can’t be good.”
“I’m not leaving Cat’s side until we figure this out.”
Cael’s gaze lifted to meet his. Then he gave a slow nod as he dropped his arms to his sides. “Agreed. What do you need from me?”
“See if there are any other Halflings who Bran hasn’t killed. There could be a pattern.”
“Or this could be about Cat in particular.”
Fintan glanced at her, shaking his head. “She has no magic.”
“You said that with more conviction yesterday. What happened?”
He looked at the blade now clean of blood. “I gave this weapon to Cat this morning. Yesterday, she asked for something to protect herself since she has no magic.”
“And the problem?”
“She said she’s the only one in her family to ever be born without magic. She’s convinced of it. I also don’t sense any magic within her.”
Cael’s gaze narrowed. “But?”
“I’d just given her the dagger when the call came in about the fire at the café. Once we returned to her cottage, she saw the smoke here. I teleported us to save time.”
“So the weapon was left behind.”
“Precisely,” Fintan said with a nod.
Cael raised a brow. “By your look, I take it you didn’t return for it?”
“Cat used it to kill one of the Dark I was fighting.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Cael glanced at Cat before turning his head back to Fintan. “If she left it, how did it get here?”
Fintan lowered the weapon against his leg. “She told me when she saw Bran, she wished she had it, and then it was in her hand.”
“Any way you look at it, that’s magic.”
“I know.” Fintan blew out a breath.
Cael dropped his arms. “I understand your dilemma. It worries me because I don’t sense magic within her either. If that’s the case, what could she offer Bran?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out.”
“I’ll get the others working to see what we can find,” Cael said.
“What about Eoghan? Anything?” he asked before Cael could teleport away.
Cael sighed, his chin dropping to his chest. “Still nothing. It’s like he never was.”
“Only Death could do something like that. I knew Bran was powerful, but I didn’t think his magic had reached that magnitude.”
“Neither did I.” Cael ran a hand through his long, black hair and raised his head. “We won’t stop looking. Ever. If Eoghan is out there, we will find him.”
“Will he be the same?”
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now, we’ve our regular duties on top of stopping Bran, finding Eoghan, and now looking for more Halflings.”
Fintan knew how overworked everyone was. “How are the girls?”
The girls being Jordyn, River, and Neve, who had joined the ranks of the Reapers—though Neve was the only true Reaper of the three.
She’d joined her mate, Talin, as a team. In the short time that she’d been with them, she’d become a great asset. In truth, Fintan had doubted any of the girls could help. He was happy to be proven wrong.
“They’re all doing their parts,” Cael said. “Kyran is adjusting to River’s mood swings as the baby grows in her womb.”
Fintan grunted at the news. One of the most feared Dark, Kyran now doted on the half-Fae that was his mate and mother of his child.
“I never saw us on this path,” Fintan said.
Cael shook his head. “Neither did I. Though you won’t have to worry about me falling in love.”
“My stand goes without saying. What about Daire?”
“I think he’s falling for Rhi.”
The legendary Light Fae who’d once had a torrid affair with a Dragon King was now Death’s focus. Erith had sent Daire to follow Rhi everywhere.
“That won’t end well,” Fintan said. “Everyone knows Rhi is still in love with her Dragon King.”
“Hopefully, Daire is smarter than that—knows better than to give his heart to her.”
“And if he’s not?”
Cael shrugged. “I no longer see the road before us. It’s crumbled and overrun.”
“We’ll prevail. We have Death on our side.”
When Cael didn’t respond, Fintan looked closely at him. There was something his leader wasn’t telling them. He’d allow Cael his secrets—for now.
There would come a time soon enough when everything would come out in the open. And though Cael was always quiet when it came to them discussing Death, there was an added layer there now. Fintan could sense it.
It was as if Cael were intentionally clamming up and hoping no one would notice. Could this have something to do with Bran escaping the Netherworld? After all, Death had made the doorway to the prison.
That doorway should have only been visible to her. Yet Seamus had found it. The Dark Fae had then opened it and allowed Bran to flee.
Either Seamus had as much magic as Death—which was highly unlikely—or there was something wrong with Erith. Fintan was leaning toward the latter.
Whatever it was, Cael was dealing with it. When—and if—their leader needed them, Cael would let them know. Until then, Fintan knew he could shoulder whatever it was. Otherwise, Cael wouldn’t be leading them.
“What else have you learned about Cat?” Cael asked.
Fintan’s gaze found her standing next to the body of her grandfather that was now in a black bag being rolled away to a van. “She’s strong-willed. She has an amazing amount of courage despite what she’s facing and everything she’s lost.”
“Do you trust her?”
“You mean, do I think she’s playing me? Nay, I don’t. I think she fears for her life, but she’s prepared to do whatever it takes to get revenge on Bran for what he’s done.”
“Good.”
“I told her about us.” Death already knew since she stayed apprised of her Reapers, so he didn’t feel the need to keep it from Cael.
Cael blew out a breath. “The rules have changed for us. I’m not sure what Death will do. Right now, keep Cat alive.”
“That goes without saying.”
Cael’s head leaned to the side as he stared at him. “There’s something different about you.”
“Nay.”
“Aye,” he argued. “It’s in your eyes. It’s as if you’re worried.”
Fintan looked away from Cael’s prying gaze. “You know I have no emotions.”
&nb
sp; “Of course.”
He didn’t release his breath until Cael was gone. It shook him that Cael could see the concern that had been growing within him since Eoghan had disappeared in that vortex of magic.
Allowing that little bit of emotion in had opened him up to much more. Cat was a prime example. There was no denying the desire he felt for her.
Something within made him wonder at lust ruling him in such a way. Or could it be something . . . more?
It ate at him, gnawing at his control day and night. The kiss had been a terrible, amazing mistake. Now he knew just how wonderful she tasted, how hot her passion burned.
Giving in to that lust had been the worst thing he could have done because now the essence of her was in him. It added to his longing, making it impossible for him to keep his emotions firmly locked away.
He ached to hold her against him again, to feel her soft body in his arms. Even now, he could hear the way she moaned into his mouth at the first brush of his tongue against hers.
She was a temptation he dared not allow himself to have. Yet, he yearned for everything she had to offer.
With an iron will forged during his time as the Dark King’s right hand, Fintan slowly turned off any and all emotion. It was the only way he would be able to get through what was coming with Cat.
Already, he’d begun to feel something for her, and in this war, that was dangerous. For her sake—and his—he would do what was needed.
There could never be anything between them. He was a Reaper, who would always go by the original rules Death had put in place for them. A Reaper couldn’t do his job if his heart belonged to someone.
And Fintan was a Reaper—nothing more, nothing less. His role meant everything to him. He wouldn’t allow anything to destroy what he now had.
Not even a Halfling as beautiful as Catriona Hayes.
Chapter Ten
Cat wasn’t sure why she remained at the beach. Perhaps it was to see if Bran would come for her. Or maybe it was because she couldn’t bear to leave yet.
Her family may not have been large, but never had she thought she would be the only surviving member. She felt like a tiny speck of dust, and the Earth seemed as large as the universe.
Though Fintan was near, he hadn’t shown himself or spoken since the authorities arrived. She was glad since she wasn’t in the mood to carry on a conversation. Her grief was just too great. It weighed her down, crushing her.