Dark Alpha's Lover

by Donna Grant

  “Do you think I’ll give you an honest answer?”

  The Dark smiled, approval in his eyes. “No.”

  “What is Taraeth’s lieutenant doing walking the streets of Galway?” Fintan asked.

  “No reason.”

  So, neither was going to give anything away. Perhaps Fintan had been wrong to think Balladyn might know something. It had been an impulsive move to show himself to the Dark, and impulsive Fintan was not.

  Just another way Cat had changed him.

  “You look like you have something on your mind,” Balladyn said.

  Fintan held back a snort. “You could say that.”

  “Does it have anything to do with the Halfling across the street?”

  “You know Catriona Hayes?” Fintan asked, surprised.

  Balladyn nodded and moved into the alley with Fintan. “A Fae can’t be in this city without knowing of her and the Hayes family.”

  “I only recently learned about her. What do you know?”

  The Dark stared at him for a long moment. “Do you want to be the fourth Fae who leaves a child with the family?”

  The impact of Balladyn’s words hit Fintan with the all the gentleness of a tsunami. A child. A child? There was certainly a possibility since he hadn’t thought about anything other than being inside Cat’s body while they were making love.

  He was the last person—or Fae—in any realm who would make a good father. He barely knew how to be a friend. He knew nothing of lovers, and even less about being a parent.

  “Easy there,” Balladyn said with a chuckle. “You’ve gone pale.”

  Fintan inwardly shook himself. “I don’t want children.”

  “You and me both, my friend. So why are you curious about Catriona?”

  “I want to know why every Fae around watches her.”

  Balladyn crossed his arms over his chest and turned his red eyes to Cat’s house. “I think most try to see if they’ll be here when she’s killed. It’s odd that across the realm, Halflings have been murdered left and right. There are Fae who say it’s the Reapers’ doing.”

  “You sound like you don’t believe that.”

  “I don’t.” Balladyn cut his eyes to him and shrugged. “Or maybe it is. Who knows?”

  Interesting. First Fintan had seen that Balladyn wasn’t helping Taraeth, and now the Dark had a different opinion about the Reapers than other Fae.

  Balladyn continued talking. “The fact is that Catriona doesn’t fit in our world or her own. Have you seen how the mortals treat her? They know she’s different. They keep their distance. They’re polite, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  He had been too wrapped up with trying to catch Bran, find Eoghan, and get Cat on his side to notice such things. When he looked toward the house again, he saw Cat standing in the kitchen, chopping garlic as she prepared to cook.

  “Do you feel sorry for her?” Fintan asked.

  Balladyn lifted one shoulder. “As a Light, I would’ve said yes. As a Dark, I don’t really care. So tell me, how do you know who I am?”

  “Everyone knows you,” Fintan said and met Balladyn’s gaze.

  “I don’t sense any fear in you. Most fear me.”

  “The only thing I fear is Death.”

  Balladyn laughed. “Everyone fears death.”

  Fintan let him think he was talking about the act and not the person. “Your position within the king’s court must give you access to a lot of people.”

  “Aye.” He turned to face Fintan then. “What is it you’re looking for?”

  “Information.”

  Balladyn cocked his head to the side. “I’m not in the habit of just giving away such things for free.”

  “What do you want in exchange?”

  “I want to see you. Drop the glamour.”

  Fintan hesitated. It had been a long time since he’d been in Taraeth’s court. So long, in fact, that few would remember him. But his coloring made him extremely memorable. And he didn’t want to be remembered.

  “So, you do fear me,” Balladyn said with a sly grin. “Otherwise, what do you have to hide?”

  Fintan dropped the glamour. He watched as Balladyn’s smile dropped and a frown formed. Fintan was used to people ogling him, and for the most part, he didn’t care. But it was the manner in which the Dark was staring—as if he recognized him.

  “I have an affinity for books,” Balladyn said. “I collect any and all. Once, long ago, I read about a white-haired Dark who was the most deadly assassin the Fae had ever encountered.”

  Fintan was shocked. Had someone actually written about him? He wasn’t sure how to respond to such a statement. “What happened to him?”

  “No one knows,” Balladyn said. “Some believe he’s still very much alive. Others think he went away. Still others believe Taraeth betrayed him to Usaeil, who ultimately killed him. Which is it?”

  “All of them. None of them. You asked me to reveal myself. I did. You said nothing about wanting to know my story.”

  “Something I regret greatly.” Balladyn blew out a breath and dropped his arms to his sides. “I promised you information. What is it you want?”

  Fintan glanced at Cat once more. “Do you have Dark disappearing?”

  Balladyn’s gaze intensified. “Yes. We can’t figure out where.”

  “Do you know anything about a Fae named Bran?”

  “Unfortunately not. Is he responsible for the Dark vanishing?”

  If Fintan gave this information, he wouldn’t be revealing anything about the Reapers. Not directly. In fact, Balladyn might very well be able to help in the capture of Bran. Fintan would love to return to the Reapers’ holding in Inchmickery with the news that Bran was dead.

  “Yes.”

  Balladyn smiled. “Tell me more.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The chiming of the clock as it struck the seventh hour of the morning echoed throughout the silence of the cottage. Cat sat at the kitchen table, her mind running through everything that had been said with Bran and her grandfather.

  She’d cooked dinner and managed to get a few bites down before she cleaned up her mess. That led her to doing laundry while scrubbing the bathroom and then moving on to cleaning the entire house. All the while, she attempted to find a way where she could get her grandfather back and help Fintan.

  Several times, she found herself turning toward him, only to realize he wasn’t there. In a very short time, she’d come to trust and depend on him. She hadn’t meant to, but he made it so easy.

  Now that he was gone—and it seemed for good—she missed him. He’d blown into her life unexpectedly, and touched her deeply. She’d seen his hurt and the indifference he showed the world.

  But then he opened himself up to her. Within his heart, she’d felt his suffering and sensed his capability. He’d overcome so much, and instead of those horrible events making him an alcoholic or druggie, he’d buried everything.

  It wasn’t exactly the healthiest thing to do, but it was the best of his options. He’d done what he needed to protect himself and move on with his life.

  Not that anyone who had been betrayed twice—first by his family, and then Taraeth—ever forgot. Now she was added to the list of betrayers. And it made her feel like the worst kind of person.

  As soon as the clock finished chiming, she rose and put on her coat before leaving the house. She couldn’t help but look around for Fintan as she walked to the sidewalk, hoping for some indication that he was still around.

  She thought she spotted him the alley across from her house and hurried there.

  “Fintan,” she whispered.

  She waited for several minutes, but he didn’t show himself—if he was even there. She’d made the right choice. Hadn’t she? All she had to do was get her grandfather free of Bran. Then she’d kill the bastard.

  For Fintan and herself.

  Regret was a painful, bitter pill to swallow. With one last look for Fintan, she turned and headed toward the Ga
rda station. Her path took her past her now burnt café. She paused and looked at the charred remains of the business that had been in her family for three generations.

  As she stood there, she became aware of the stares of others around her. It wasn’t as if she went out of her way to alienate people, but when her family had been murdered, and she waited to be next, the last thing she thought of was putting a smile on her face and waving to everyone she passed on the street.

  She was used to them staring at her oddly or whispering. There were so many rumors about her family circulating that she no longer paid attention to them.

  But this was different. There was malice in their eyes and their hearts. Somehow, she’d gone from a quirky local with a peculiar family to someone hated and despised. And she didn’t know how.

  It was impossible for her not to notice them now. When she happened to look someone in the eye, they hastily looked away. As if she would harm them somehow.

  Her attention shifted from the townsfolk when she saw Carmody walking inside the café. She hurried to him, stepping over ash and fallen boards.

  “Miss Hayes,” he said when he looked up to find her.

  She gave him a nod. “I was on my way to see you.”

  “Oh? And why is that?”

  “I want to know if the autopsy from my grandfather is back. I need to know if he was alive when he was burned.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but she couldn’t exactly tell him that she needed to make sure the body actually belonged to her grandfather.

  Carmody put his hands on his hips and kicked at a blackened board. “Are you sure you don’t know anyone who would want to hurt you?”

  “Yesterday, I would’ve said no one. Then I walked here this morning. By the looks everyone is giving me, I’m glad people aren’t hung for suspected witchcraft anymore.”

  There was a ghost of a smile on his face. “We Irish are a superstitious lot. There are many rumors circulating about your family.”

  “Always has been. Try growing up here. It could be a harsh environment for a girl who just wanted to be treated like everyone else.”

  “I can’t imagine,” he said. He scratched his chin. “The thing is, I need to know if any of the rumors are true.”

  It was the first time someone had outright asked her, and somehow, she wasn’t surprised that it was Carmody. She looked into his dark eyes and raised a brow. “There are so many. Do you have a specific one you’d like me to verify?”

  “Are you a witch?”

  She gave a shake of her head and put her hands in her coat pockets. “If I were, would I allow all these bad things to happen to me? My parents’ deaths in the accident, my siblings being murdered, my café burning, and now my grandfather.”

  “The theory sounded better in my head,” Carmody said and lowered his gaze, embarrassed. He blew out a breath. “What about the one that says you have Fae blood.”

  She could tell him the truth, but he wouldn’t understand, and would likely take it the wrong way. So she opted for another approach when she saw two Light Fae walking down the street. “Do you believe in the Fae?”

  Carmody lifted his gaze and stared at her a long moment before he ran his hands through his blond hair. “Maybe.”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Detective Sergeant. There are those who believe the Fae live among us, right here in Galway.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  She pointed to the two Light who were walking away. “They are here. It’s simply a matter of whether you want to believe or not.”

  “How do you know who is Fae and who isn’t?”

  “They’re almost too beautiful to believe.”

  He sniffed and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “I have a stack of unexplained disappearances and deaths.”

  “The Fae.”

  “How?” he asked.

  She’d already said too much, but he looked genuinely interested. Still, she wasn’t certain. “I don’t know.”

  “You do,” he said. “Tell me, and I’ll make sure the ruling on the café is completed by the end of the day.”

  Cat hated that she hadn’t seen that coming. “Do I have your word?”

  “Yes,” he said and held out his hand.

  They shook hands. Then she said, “There are two kinds of Fae. Light and Dark. They have their own realm, but a civil war brought them to ours. They chose Ireland as their home.”

  “How do you know this?” Carmody asked.

  She continued without answering. “The Light are relatively easy to spot. They love shiny, pretty things. Generally, they will shop, and occasionally, they’ll give in and mate with a human.”

  “Why do you make that sound like it’s a bad thing?”

  Cat walked around a heap of melted metal that was once a chair. “Because the Fae are sexual creatures. Humans are drawn to them, enamored by them. The Light are only allowed one night with each human because once we’ve had a taste of a Fae, no one else will ever be able to give us pleasure again.”

  The sad part was that, as a Halfling, none of that pertained to her. Yet, she knew deep down that she would never find any sort of ecstasy with anyone but Fintan.

  Carmody blinked several times. “And the Dark.”

  “The Dark you should stay away from at all costs. They walk among us, as well. Many use glamour to hide their red eyes and black and silver hair.”

  “You’re serious,” he said, his face going white. “I’ve seen ones with red eyes before. I thought it was some kind of new contact craze that had become popular.”

  “I’m afraid not. A Dark’s tastes run much nastier than a Light’s. The Dark care nothing for frivolities. They live for one thing only. Us.”

  “I don’t understand,” Carmody said with a shake of his head.

  “The sexual vibe I told you about? The Dark use it against us. They will lure someone to them and give them unimaginable pleasure. The human will crave more and actually beg the Fae. All the while, each time the Dark takes them, they drain a bit of their soul. You see, Detective Sergeant, we’re food to them.”

  He bent over at the waist and propped his hands on his knees. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Everyone should know of this,” he said as he straightened. “The public needs to be made aware.”

  She raised a brow at him. “Do you honestly believe the political figures don’t have connections to the Fae? You try and put out such a statement, and you’ll see how quickly it’s shut down.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The Fae live among us. It’s a fact. Nothing will change that. They take those who willingly go with them.”

  “But those humans don’t know they’re going to their deaths.”

  She shrugged. “No, they don’t. And if you tried to tell them, they wouldn’t listen. No one will. The majority of people don’t want to admit they already know of the Fae. They want to keep their heads down and go about their lives.”

  “How do you know so much about the Fae?”

  “From my family.”

  His eyes sharpened as he looked at her. “Have you been targeted because of what you know regarding the Fae?”

  “No.”

  “Do you believe it was a human who torched the café and killed your grandfather?”

  Cat hesitated, unsure of how much to tell him. Then again, she’d pretty much told him everything. “No.”

  “Do you know why a Fae would do these things to you?”

  “No.” And that was the truth. She had no idea what Bran wanted.

  Carmody sighed loudly. “I put a rush on your grandfather’s autopsy. The report should be in this morning. Come with me, and I’ll get it.”

  She followed him out of the café. They walked side by side to the Garda station, where he led her to his desk. It was impossible for her not to notice how everyone stared at her.

  “Yeah, um, you’ve become a fascination,” Carmody said as he looked around before h
e sat in his chair.

  Cat took the seat in front of his desk. “I’m used to it.”

  “It’s not directed at me, and it bothers me. I don’t know how you do it, Miss Hayes.”

  “We all do things in life we don’t like.”

  He nodded and cleared his throat. Then he stood and set aside some files. “Let me see if the report has come in.”

  She kept her eyes forward, reading motivational posters and the numerous missing person fliers posted on a corkboard. She tuned out the talk around the station and attempted to remain as patient as her outward appearance when she was anything but.

  The clock on the wall ticked by nearly twenty minutes before Carmody returned with a folder in his hand. He had a dazed expression on his face.

  He slowly sank into his chair and set the folder in the middle of his desk. Then his gaze lifted to hers.

  “What is it?” she asked at his glazed look. “What did you find?”

  He rubbed his thumb in a circle against his temple as deep lines formed in his forehead. “The body we found yesterday isn’t your grandfather.”

  Cat closed her eyes and silently screamed her joy. Bran hadn’t lied. He’d told her the truth. Which meant she had a decision to make.

  The joy she felt turned to acrid smoke, choking her. She was no less prepared for that now than she had been yesterday. In fact, the more she thought about things, the more convoluted they became.

  “Miss Hayes?”

  She focused on Carmody’s face. He was staring at her with concern. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she wasn’t sure if she’d missed a question. “Yes?”

  “This is good news.”

  “In part. Now I need to find my grandfather.”

  “Who has gone missing?” Carmody’s face tightened. “Shall I open an investigation?”

  She shook her head and stood. “Thank you for giving me the truth.”

  “You already suspected the body wasn’t your grandfather,” he stated as he got to his feet and leaned his hands on either side of the file. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

  “You wouldn’t have believed me.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “And you don’t want my help because it involves the F—”