Tempted By Fae

by Midnight Coven

Taking us to safety.

  The next morning, we sat at the café in my hotel. At the small table, with our knees touching, and holding hands across the table, Sen started to speak.

  “This is rare, what is between us,” he said. He smiled at me; a smile filled with warmth. His eyes flashed, remembering last night.

  I knew he was thinking about it. I could feel it, through our bond.

  At the thought of last night, my face got hot. I’d never, ever, ever in all my life had sex like Sen and I had last night.

  His smile widened. I guessed if I could sense his thoughts, he could sense mine as well.

  He nodded. He was gorgeous, dressed all in black, with a button-down shirt that opened at the collar. His hair was pulled back again, although it had been free and around his face as we loved one another last night. That Sen was mine, as much as the Sen sitting across from me right now, clean and tidy and with no sign of what had happened last night.

  “This is a rare thing, this bond between us,” he said. “It’s old, and I’ve only heard of it happening once in my lifetime, and I am not young.”

  I laughed softly; my hand tracing designs along his fingers. “What? You can’t be more than four or five years older than me.”

  He looked down, shaking his head. “No, Calla, I only look your age.”

  I frowned. “How old are you?”

  “Four hundred and twelve,” Sen replied.

  I blinked. “How long do you live?”

  He shrugged. “Another thousand years or so.”

  “Another thousand?” I asked, my voice trailing away.

  “Give or take. But you don’t have to worry about that,” Sen said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “That’s not my life span, Sen,” I said. The thought of leaving him filled me with sorrow.

  “You have shared my blood. You share my life,” Sen said simply. “There’s one more thing,” he added.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “This blood bond, it’s so rare, and so complete, that I am your prisoner. I cannot leave you. There’s no one else for me, Calla. I feel like maybe you don’t want to leave me either, but this must be mutual.”

  A wave of feeling washed over me. It was exhilarating, and overwhelming, and all powerful. But it wasn’t all there. Sen was right. I had to accept it. I could feel that, as surely as I could feel him, and all the emotion he felt in sharing this with me.

  It felt surreal to be talking about the rest of my life and then some, over cups of coffee. “What’s next?” I asked.

  “Give in,” Sen said.

  “Give in to what?”

  He lifts my hand and brought it to his lips. Kissing my fingers, his eyes on mine, he said, “Give in to us. It’s only forever.”

  I looked into his eyes and saw the future. Beyond him, at the small church that was across the street, the bells were ringing. The doors opened, and people spilled out, laughing and talking. Then the newly married couple came out, and the spectators cheered and threw rose petals. The happiness and love was palpable, even across the street. I looked back to Sen, and I smiled at him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sen

  Sen

  Her gaze drifted, and then her eyes met mine. The lone dimple on the side of her face appeared, and it was as though a light had been lit from within her. Calla smiled at me and nodded.

  I eased from my chair in one motion to one knee in front of her. She knew what I asked, what her answer would agree to.

  “Please,” I said. “I cannot live without you.”

  Her smile broadened as the dimple deepened. “Yes,” she whispered, and she reached for me, her hands on my face, kissing me. Our bond allowed me to feel her happiness, her joy, her excitement, all of it.

  As I kissed her, it was the kiss to end all kisses. To begin all kisses.

  It was the first kiss of forever.

  The End

  From the author

  Lisa Manifold is a USA Today Bestselling Author of fantasy, paranormal, and romance stories. She moved to Colorado as an adult and has no plans of living anywhere else. She is a consummate reader, often running late because "Just one more page!" Lisa writes the things she does because she really, really wants to live in a world where these kinds of stories happen.

  She is a fan of all things Con, and has an entire room devoted to the costumes created for Cons. Because of that sort of imagination, Lisa is the author of various flavors of paranormal romance and urban fantasy series.

  She lives as close to the mountains as possible with her husband, children, and four attentive #reddogs.

  You can sign up for Lisa’s general newsletter here.

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  KISS OF ETERNITY

  A True Immortality Short Story

  By S. Young

  Copyright © 2020 Samantha Young

  * * *

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  This work is registered with and protected by Copyright House.

  * * *

  Edited by Jennifer Sommersby Young

  KISS OF ETERNITY is bonus short story that features the characters from KISS OF VENGEANCE. It is recommended to read KISS OF VENGEANCE before reading KISS OF ETERNITY.

  Chapter One

  Chișinău, Moldova

  * * *

  The restaurant bar had a sexy, relaxed atmosphere, which Rose liked. Black ceilings, wood-paneled walls, cozy banquette seating, and hardwood floors gave it a casual chic vibe that fitted how she’d been feeling when she’d departed the hotel dressed in a comfortable but sassy jersey dress paired with sexy heels. Fionn booked them a room in a luxury boutique hotel in the Telecentru district while the restaurant she’d chosen to meet at was in the pretty Rose Valley area of the capital.

  Spending the day as a tourist alone had not been ideal, but she’d loved the lakes and greenery that cut through the heart of the city.

  Any joy she’d gotten from Chișinău, however, was dying a rapid and furious death.

  She tapped her foot in agitation against the bar.

  This pit stop in Moldova was an annoyance for Rose from the start. Leaving Ireland was supposed to be about hunting down Kiyonari. Kiyo was a cursed immortal werewolf and an acquaintance of Fionn’s. He was also Fionn’s first choice to hunt down and protect Niamh Farren.

  Niamh was like Rose—one of the seven fae-borne children with the ability to open the gates to Faerie. There were only four of them left now. Technically three, since Thea MacLennan had been transformed into a werewolf by her alpha werewolf mate.

  Protecting the fae who were left felt like Rose’s calling. And Niamh was personal. Not only did Rose think of her as a sister but she was Fionn’s descendant. A little over two months ago, Rose, Niamh, and her brother Ronan were ambushed by Rose’s Irish relatives who just happened to be members of a powerful coven looking to protect the gates to Faerie.

  By protect, they meant to kill Rose.

  To Rose’s everlasting guilt, Ronan got caught in the crossfire and was killed instead.

  Niamh took off before Rose could stop her, and now there was evidence she was playing Superwoman, saving humans left, right, and center, and generally drawing attention to herself. She needed an intervention and protection. However, since putting Rose and Niamh in the same room together meant giving their enemies the chance to take them out in one
fell swoop, Fionn had come up with the plan to pay a cursed mercenary werewolf to play bodyguard until Niamh either saw sense or their enemies were finally neutralized.

  Considering the latter was near impossible at present, Rose thought it was a big ask of Kiyo. Who knew how long he’d be required to guard her sister fae? But Fionn was willing to pay whatever it took to protect Niamh in lieu of his absence from her life.

  Speaking of his absence … Rose shoved the empty plate of food away and sighed.

  She’d had to eat at the bar because her mate couldn’t be bothered to turn up for their date.

  Rose had put on a dress and heels for him, for God’s sake.

  Energy crackled at her fingertips, energy she was desperate to unleash and couldn’t without drawing attention from the humans around her.

  All Rose had wanted was to find Kiyo at the fight in Bucharest he’d mentioned he’d be attending. She’d met him when Fionn needed to blow off steam, which he apparently did at supernatural underground fights. They’d attended one in France. He’d fought the sexy werewolf who happened to be the only immortal werewolf in the world. Rose didn’t know how or why. Fionn wouldn’t tell her.

  “The wolf hasn’t told me exactly how it happened, so how can I tell you?”

  At the fight in France, Kiyo had asked Fionn if he would be at the big underground fight in Romania in two months. It was their only lead to tracking him down. But it meant Niamh had been on her own for over two months, and that was way too long for Rose’s liking.

  But Fionn insisted on stopping in Moldova to check on his wine company. Wine company! One of many businesses he kept track of with impressive mastery.

  Other than drinking the stuff, Rose was uninterested in wine, and Fionn had suggested she stay in the city while he travel the twelve miles south to his vineyard and underground winery. It would be all boring business conversations. Very dull.

  So, despite not wanting to stop in Moldova in the first place, Rose was stuck, bored, alone, and antsy.

  To make it up to her, Fionn said he’d meet her at the restaurant of her choice, and they’d have a date night.

  A date night.

  It was a pretty big promise from an immortal fae ex-warrior Irish king who hadn’t dated anyone in the three centuries he’d spent above ground.

  Side note: He’d spent almost seventeen centuries buried alive and under a sleeping spell cast by druids. The big guy could be forgiven for being inexperienced when it came to dating. Truthfully, Rose wasn’t too concerned about date nights. Fionn was her mate. They shared a mating bond.

  To say she was satisfied by their relationship was the understatement of the century.

  However, when a guy promised you date night and then didn’t show up, he was asking to be fae-kicked in the balls.

  The bartender shot her another sympathetic smile, and Rose groaned under her breath. When Fionn didn’t show in time, they’d asked her to give up the table. Hungry, she decided to eat at the bar and wait to see if her mate decided to make an appearance.

  No such luck.

  The bastard hadn’t even texted—

  As if he’d read her mind, her phone buzzed from inside her clutch purse. Rose scoffed under her breath as she took out the phone. She was all dressed up sexy and he wasn’t even there to see it.

  Sorry, mo chroí, running late. Leaving the winery now.

  He hadn’t even left the winery yet!

  Rose threw back the glass of wine and tried not to slam it on the counter. With her strength, it would shatter. It hadn’t taken Rose long to grapple with her fae strength and powers, once the spell that had been blocking them broke. Fionn said she was a natural. However, now and then, mostly when she was pissed at something (or someone), she really had to think about it.

  A tingle skittered down Rose’s neck. Dread filled her gut. Her pulse raced.

  All her preternatural warning signs of danger.

  She tensed and looked into the mirror behind the bar. Her gaze zeroed in on the man striding across the restaurant, his eyes pinned to her back.

  An overhead light caught his face and for a brief second, his eyes flashed silver.

  Vampire.

  And if she felt danger, this was a vampire on the hunt.

  Shit.

  Rose exhaled inwardly. It had to be on a night she was wearing goddamn four-inch heels.

  “O doamnă drăguță nu ar trebui să bea niciodată singură.” The vampire slid onto the stool beside her, smiling a smile that would have been charming on a snake.

  Taking in his dark suit, black shirt, and slicked-back, oily hair, Rose despaired. This guy was just playing to stereotype.

  “I don’t speak Romanian,” she told him, trying not to sound bored.

  After all, if Fionn was running late, Rose needed a distraction. Killing a vampire on the hunt sounded like just the thing that would piss him off as much as he’d pissed her off. So, she had to act like she was interested in the vamp.

  Not all vampires were killers. In fact, most weren’t. Bran, Fionn’s right-hand tech guy, was one of the good ones. Still, Rose had been attacked by a vampire, and she couldn’t say she was a big fan. Bran was her exception.

  “I said, a pretty lady should never drink alone.” The vamp’s knees practically touched hers. “You’re American.”

  Rose knew the vampire had zeroed in on her because she “felt” different from the humans. Something a little extra. He didn’t know why. He probably thought her blood smelled better.

  But it was the fae in her. It attracted all manner of beasties.

  And she could sit there and flirt and seduce him out into the alley, but that would take more time and patience than she currently had.

  “Want to get out of here?” she asked instead, giving an air of insouciance she hoped he found appealing.

  He raised an eyebrow at her forwardness. “You don’t want me to buy you a drink?”

  Spinning around on her stool, Rose swung out her bare legs. She had it on good authority from her mate that she had legs that made a man think very, very sexy things. Like having them wrapped around him.

  Rose was thrilled when she’d heard that.

  She wasn’t so thrilled with the vamp ogling her bare skin like it was the first course. Covering her shudder, she jumped off the stool, feeling adrenaline course through her. Rose loved a good fight.

  “Well?”

  The vampire smirked and stood, placing a hand on her lower back. “Let’s go.”

  It was embarrassingly easy to lead the moron into the alley behind the restaurant.

  As soon as they were enveloped in the dark, far enough away from the opening where anyone might see or hear, he shoved her against the wall and pinned her there.

  He licked his lips. “I do love how easy you Americans are. I’m going to drink you dry and no one will know any better.”

  Rose narrowed her eyes, her skin flushing hot, heart racing as her power sparked to life, a hum across her skin. She really hated when people treated her like a cliché. Mostly, she hated misogynists who thought it was okay for them to screw around but somehow not okay for women to do the same.

  Also, he’d just given her permission to rip out his heart.

  The vamp tensed, his fingers tightening around her wrists.

  He’d felt her power.

  “What are you?”

  She grinned. “I thought I was just an easy American?” Rose threw her arms out, not only breaking his hold but sending him flying and crashing into the opposite wall. He came down hard onto some garbage cans, and she felt a moment of unease shift over her.

  The scene was too much like the night she was attacked. The night the vampire inadvertently knocked her head so hard, he broke the goddamn spell holding back her powers. Fionn, who had been following her for his own nefarious reasons, had killed the vamp and taken her back to his hotel.

  That’s not how this scene would end, though.

  The vamp flew at her, his feet lifting off the
ground in a panther-like lunge that would have impressed her had his incisors not been out, ready to inflict damage. Rose traveled (her ability to teleport) behind him and he smacked comically into the wall where she’d been standing.

  Her heel hit a crack in the ground as she took a step toward him and her ankle went over. Steadying her balance, she cursed the damn shoes and got herself together in time for the vamp as he came at her again. The asshole grabbed her by the throat and slammed her hard against the alley wall, the impact of which would have knocked out a human. Rose just glared in irritation at the vamp.

  The wall was damp and near the garbage. “I just bought this dress and now it’ll need to be dry cleaned before my mate even gets to see me in it.”

  He hissed at her, his grip tightening around her neck, and although uncomfortable, it didn’t elicit the fear he obviously wanted from her. Rose grabbed his wrist and twisted with all her might, the answering crack extremely satisfying. He yelled in outrage, letting go of her to clutch his broken wrist.

  “What the hell are you?” he demanded.

  Rose huffed, brushing the alley residue off the black dress.

  He came at her again. But she was ready.

  She slammed her stiletto heel down into his thigh, feeling it pop through flesh, and he fell to his knees in shock. With a jerk, she pulled it back out again and decided maybe heels weren’t such a bad idea in a fight, after all.

  “What am I?” Rose asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m death to scumbag supernaturals like—hey! Arrghh!” The vamp took her to the ground, her head smacking off the cold concrete. His incisors out, he lunged for her neck.

  His teeth didn’t even scrape her skin before she punched her fist through his chest, wrapped her hand around the wet, hot muscle of his heart, and wrenched it out of his body. It turned to dust in her hand as the rest of him exploded into ash.