Tempted By Fae

by Midnight Coven

  And into her open mouth.

  Rose coughed in disgust. “Blech, ugh. Fuck, fuck!” She wretched, turning onto her side to spit him out. “Oh my God, that was traumatizing.”

  “That’s what you get for luring a vampire into a fight.”

  Groaning at the deep rumble of her mate’s voice, Rose lifted her head as Fionn strode down the alley toward her. He reached down and hauled her to her feet as if she weighed nothing. His green gaze took in her attire, now covered in vamp ashes, and he shook his head in exasperation.

  While she undoubtedly was a mess, he looked delicious as always in a three-piece suit and wool overcoat.

  “You’re late,” Rose snapped, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

  “And that constitutes hunting a vampire?”

  “Hey, I was minding my own business when he tried to hunt me.” She grimaced. “Now I have dead vampire on my tongue.”

  Fionn’s mouth twitched. “Well, since I’m so late, I’d suggest grabbing a midnight snack, but it seems you’ve already had one.”

  “Oh, har har,” Rose guffawed in irritation as they strolled out of the alley.

  “You’re wearing heels and a dress.”

  “Yes, Mr. Obvious, I am wearing heels and a dress.” She brushed off the vamp dust as best she could. They walked in the direction of their hotel. “See, I was promised a date.”

  “Rose.” His tone was placating and he reached for her hand to draw her to a stop.

  Traitorous butterflies fluttered in her belly as he pulled her against him. He was so tall, she had to tilt her head to meet his striking gaze. The urge to wrap her arms around his neck like she’d normally do was real, but Rose was still pissed.

  “I’m sorry I got embroiled in business. It was unforgivably rude to leave you alone, mo chroí.”

  It was hard to stay mad at him whenever he used the Irish endearment for “my heart,” but he wasn’t getting away with it so easily tonight.

  “Don’t ever stand me up again.”

  Fionn’s expression turned serious. “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Fine.” She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her.

  “Rose, don’t stay mad at me. You know I hate it.”

  “Which is why I should stay mad at you … but you know I have no patience for huffiness. So, we’re going back to the hotel, and I don’t care how tired you are, you’re going to help me work off this excess adrenaline.” She slapped his chest. “I’m talking multiple orgasms, mister.”

  His teeth flashed white in the dark. “Not exactly a punishment for me.”

  “Ha, that’s where you’re wrong because I’m not going to brush my teeth before you kiss me. That’s right. Your midnight snack”—she gestured to herself—“comes with dead-vamp ash tongue on the side.” She tugged from his hold and marched toward the hotel.

  Fionn’s laughter rang out across the street, drawing people’s gaze, and suddenly, she was flying back into his side as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Rose rolled her eyes and burrowed into the heat and strength of him.

  When he laughed like that, it made it really hard to stay mad at him.

  Chapter Two

  Considering their enemies hadn’t given up on finding Rose, Fionn paid the extra expense for private flights first to Moldova, and then to Romania. They used one of his many aliases to stay off radar.

  During the short flight from Chișinău to Bucharest, Rose had sat opposite him, napping. He’d felt smug about why. He was a man who accepted a challenge and then took it into the next stratosphere. Fionn extorted so many orgasms out of his mate after her fight with that vampire, she’d passed out, only for him to wake her an hour later to tell her they had a flight to catch.

  Through the desire that never faded, and Fionn doubted ever would, his concern lived and breathed in constant residence in his gut. As much as he was determined to make sure Niamh, his descendant, his blood, was protected, taking Rose anywhere near the other fae-borne was dangerous. While he and Rose were harder to keep track of, and a more intimidating proposal since there were two of them, Niamh was lighting up all over the map. It was like she wanted to get caught.

  And if he knew where she was and what she was doing, there was no doubt in his mind that their greatest enemy, the Blackwood Coven, was already after her. The Blackwoods were an American coven of witches and warlocks whose aim it was to open the gates to Faerie in Ireland so they could live amongst the fae. The naive morons had no idea the devastation the fae would unleash on the world. They had no respect for humans, or the werewolves and vampires created by their magic.

  As the plane landed in the private airport just outside the city, Rose stirred. Her eyelashes fluttered; her eyes opened and came to rest on him. He stared into her striking, light blue eyes and felt at peace, despite his worries over her safety.

  She gave him a small smirk. “Why do you look unfairly handsome and sexy after no sleep, while I undoubtedly look like hell?”

  “You look beautiful, mo chroí.” Fionn never lied.

  In answer, she slipped off her seatbelt and crossed the small distance between their seats. Fionn raised an eyebrow as his mate straddled him, running her fingertips along the scruff on his cheeks. He gripped her petite but gorgeous arse in his hands and murmured, “We’ve landed. There’s no time for this.”

  Rose grinned that wicked, flirtatious smile of hers that he fucking adored. “There’s always time for this.”

  “Did I not satisfy you last night?” he murmured against her mouth.

  “You always satisfy me.” She crushed her mouth down on his and ground her body against him.

  Blood rushed hot and thick and southward as he kissed her, part hungry and part annoyed that she’d started something they couldn’t finish. He nipped at her mouth as he broke the kiss and squeezed her arse. “Mo chroí, we need to stop, or you’ll find yourself being thoroughly fucked in front of a private airline crew.”

  “Just trying to take your mind off stuff.” She pressed a sweet kiss to his nose and then jumped off his lap. “You were looking pensive.”

  Before he could respond, the flight attendant appeared to help them disembark.

  “You know, private jets are bad for the environment,” Rose repeated a lecture she’d given when they departed Ireland. “A private jet traveler produces ten times—”

  “As much greenhouse gas as an economy class traveler on a commercial flight.” He took her hand as they crossed the airstrip to where a car waited for them. “I know, Rose. But your safety is my priority.”

  “Climate change should be everyone’s priority.”

  He couldn’t exactly argue with her, but what the hell did she want him to do? “You wanted to get to this fight as quickly as possible. We can’t travel by commercial flight because it’s too dangerous. You’re trapped up there with nowhere to go if an enemy is on the same flight. If we travel by train, it takes ages and gives an enemy more chances to find you.”

  “We flew commercially before.”

  “Before I got my head out of my arse and realized you were the most important thing in the world to me. I won’t chance it now. If we were going anywhere else but to a fight, an event the Blackwoods will be tracking because of me, we could. But we can’t take any chances.”

  Rose sighed as they reached the car. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to piss you off.”

  “Yes, you are. You love pissing me off.” He reached out to shake the hand of the driver and introduce himself.

  Once they were settled in the back seat, Rose scooted over and cuddled into Fionn’s side. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d not only have a mate but one who loved to touch him all the time and that he’d be thrilled about the touching, Fionn would have laughed in their face.

  “Fancy hotel or low-key hotel?” she asked.

  Knowing she referred to the fact that he stayed in all manner of hotels depending on how visible they wanted to be, he replied, “Sorry, mo chroí,
low-key hotel while we’re in Bucharest.”

  “You know I’m okay with that.”

  She was. Although his mate seemed to enjoy the pleasures afforded by his wealth, she was used to working hard and living in the kind of apartments he wouldn’t put an employee up in. Fionn was once an Iron Age king. His roundhouse had been the finest in the kingship. He liked the finer things in life, and he saw no point in pretending otherwise. To have those things, he’d worked hard to build his wealth over the centuries to acquire them.

  Still, he liked Rose’s practical and easygoing nature, and how she still continued to be surprised by the things his money brought into her life.

  They’d just entered the city limits when his phone rang. Seeing it was Bran, Fionn frowned. That could only mean one thing. “Bran,” he answered gruffly, putting the vampire on speaker.

  Rose lifted her head from Fionn’s shoulder. “Hey, Bran.”

  “Hey, Rose,” Bran answered in his thick Dublin accent. “I saw you just landed. Heads up, I’ve flagged Blackwood activity in Bucharest. Four members arrived at the airport this morning. They won’t know for definite you’re there, but they’ll have sent some people in the off chance you’d turn up for the fight.”

  Fionn bit back a curse. “I knew I should have left you at home,” he said to Rose, but didn’t really mean it. In a perfect world, Rose would have agreed to remain at his castle in Ireland, which was protected by a powerful spell that made it invisible to the outside world.

  But his Rose was an adventurer, an explorer, a wanderer. He was lucky to get her to agree to spend a few months a year at the castle.

  She narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to forget you said that.”

  He grunted and turned back to the phone. “Who is organizing this fight? We need to contact them, let them know there’s Blackwood activity, and have them ban any witch or warlock from entering this fight.” A witch or warlock could fight, but they weren’t allowed to use their magic, so not many ever attended.

  “I can do that now. I’ll let you know when it’s done. But keep a low profile. They’ll still be waiting outside the fight grounds.”

  The fight was taking place in Crevedia, thirty minutes northwest of their small hotel in the Sector 1 area of Bucharest. The warehouse was isolated, free from inquisitive human interference. Fionn parked the nondescript rental car a few blocks from the building. Using their fae magic to cloak themselves, he and Rose approached on foot.

  “You stay by my side the entire time,” he said as the warehouse came into view.

  “You stay by my side the entire time, gorgeous.”

  Fionn’s lips twitched. “This is serious, mo chroí.”

  “I know. You know how I know? You’re wearing your sexy, serious face, and to be frank, it’s pissing me off. Your sexy, serious face is very distracting.” She grinned up at him. “Makes me want to kiss the serious right out of you.”

  “Focus, Rose. By that, I mean stop flirting with me.”

  She chuckled instead, which usually meant she intended to flirt with him until he shut her up the only way she liked.

  The sight of supernaturals making their way into the building caused his amusement to flee. “Uncloak. We’re vamps, remember.”

  Rose nodded and released the shadows that masked her figure as she walked. They slithered back to whence they came, along with Fionn’s. Serious now, Rose’s eyes darted around surreptitiously. “I don’t feel anything.”

  She referred to their fae ability to sense danger. Fionn couldn’t sense anything either. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t on their way. Let’s get inside and find the wolf.”

  He wanted this over with.

  Gesturing for Rose to walk ahead of him, Fionn was prepared for anything or anyone who might come at them. The guards stopped them at the gate. They were wolves and sensed something off about Fionn and Rose. Other supernaturals always did.

  Fionn and his mate cast spells over themselves so they appeared to have fangs, and when the light hit their eyes, they flashed silver.

  When he and Rose bared their teeth a little at the wolves, the two alpha males relaxed and gestured for them to go on ahead into the building.

  “Déjà vu,” Rose muttered under her breath as they entered the warehouse. She referred to the fact that it looked exactly like the underground fight they’d attended in France over a few months ago.

  Two large circles had formed in the massive space. Two fights. Supernaturals circling each, fists above their heads, baying for blood.

  At the warehouse in Orléans, Fionn had been itching to fight. The whole purpose of them attending it had been to expel the pent-up sexual frustration he’d felt toward Rose. At the time, he’d been planning to use Rose despicably in his revenge against the Fae Queen. It didn’t even bear thinking about now.

  Fionn had fought Kiyo, the only supernatural who proved a challenging opponent, and the wolf had suggested Fionn have sex with Rose instead.

  The wolf would be pleased to know Fionn eventually took his advice.

  Having just made love to Rose a few hours ago, Fionn didn’t need to fight. He was in no mood to fight. He wanted to find the werewolf, enlist his services, and get Rose the fuck out of Romania.

  “Do you see him?” Rose asked, searching the fighters.

  “Looking for me?”

  The familiar American accent caused a ripple of annoyance. Fionn sighed. It both pissed him off and baffled him that the werewolf could approach undetected like that.

  He and his mate turned to face the wolf. The half-Japanese, half-American Kiyo stood before them, ready for battle. His dark, chin-length hair was already tied into a knot on his head. His powerful body was on display as he wore only dark jeans, torso and feet bare.

  Kiyo gripped a katana in hand. The sword was encased in a scabbard. He scowled at Fionn.

  Fionn shot a look at his mate to make sure she wasn’t ogling the wolf. She’d made it clear that she found the broody bastard attractive.

  Rose studied Kiyo’s face, and there was no small amount of wariness in her eyes. She wasn’t sure the werewolf was the best candidate to protect Niamh. But Fionn could think of no other supernatural who would do. Kiyonari was almost as strong and fast as Fionn himself.

  “I came with a proposition for you.”

  The wolf raised an eyebrow. “Proposition?” His gaze flicked to Rose. “Does it involve your mate?”

  Fionn tensed. How the hell did the bastard know Rose was his mate?

  Kiyo tapped his nose. “I can smell it. Your scents are now as one.”

  Rose shot Fionn a look as if to say, “You really trust this guy?”

  He did.

  At least more than he trusted most.

  “Can we talk?”

  Kiyo shook his head. “First, we fight.”

  “I’m not here to fight.”

  “Well, that’s a shame.” Kiyo moved toward him but sidestepped at the last minute. He stopped at Fionn’s shoulder. At six foot seven, Fionn had a good five inches on the wolf, but that didn’t seem to bother the immortal. “I came here to fight, and no one is a real challenge but you. Give me a good fight … and I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. That’s the deal.”

  Frustration burned in Fionn’s throat. “I don’t have time. Enemies of ours could be on their way to the warehouse now.”

  “Not my problem.”

  Rose tried to push by him to get to the wolf. “Listen, asshole, we’ve got—”

  Fionn grabbed her by the elbow to haul her back. She cut him a dirty look. He glared at her. Insulting the werewolf would not get them anywhere. Rose understood his silent message and huffed in irritation. “Fine.”

  Releasing her, Fionn shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her. While no one was looking, he conjured a katana beneath the folds of the coat and looked over at Kiyo. Satisfaction gleamed in his dark eyes.

  While Rose held the katana, Fionn took off his shirt and waistcoat. Her eyes devoured the sight of him just
before he bent down to press a kiss to her lips. “Stay close,” he said.

  “Kick his ass, handsome.”

  He winked at her in promise and felt her follow him as Kiyo led them to a fight. They only had to wait a few minutes before it ended, and Kiyo strode into the center of the circle to claim the next battle. When the crowd saw Fionn join him, excitement filled the circle. Both Kiyo and Fionn were familiar opponents, and everyone knew they were in for some good entertainment.

  This time, however, Fionn was a begrudging opponent, and he was going to take it out of the werewolf’s hide.

  He flicked a quick look at Rose to make sure she was safe. She stood, holding his things clutched to her chest, her light eyes blazing with a mingle of agitation and utter belief in his abilities.

  Fionn’s chest swelled. That ancient, male-human part of him that required him to prove his physical prowess in front of the woman he loved reared its animalistic head.

  Oh yeah, Kiyo was going to get the arse-kicking of a lifetime.

  Chapter Three

  Watching Fionn and Kiyo fight wasn’t exactly a hardship. Her mate was mammoth and muscled and moved with a grace that belied his powerful physique and height. He wore the fierce, concentrated, “in battle mode” face that was too sexy for words.

  As for Kiyo, there was no denying the wolf was fun to look at—fantastic broad shoulders, narrow waist, and pecs and abs to die for. His jeans hung low on his hips, showing off his incredible V-cut obliques. This masculine gorgeousness was all wrapped up in smooth, fawn skin, except for a long, white scar across his belly that Rose remembered seeing the last time he and Fionn fought. Only silver could permanently scar a werewolf, so someone who knew what he was had come after him.

  When she looked at Fionn’s battle expression, she got all the flutters in her belly. When she looked at Kiyo, those flutters died. With his large black eyes, broad nose, high cheekbones, thick black hair tied into a man bun, and full-lipped mouth with a very defined, prominent cupid’s bow, the wolf had the kind of face a photographer would fall in love with. However, the expression on his face was arctic. The guy was rude, intimidating, and cold.