“I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll explain everything once we’re inside. But first … apologies for doing this to you again.”
He was American.
At the venue she’d watched him approach the girl and could only make out a tall, well-built man with dark hair tied back into a top knot.
Her skin had tingled in awareness, the hair rising on her arms, and she’d realized he was supernatural. Watching him lead the girl through the crowd, she’d gotten the impression of broad shoulders, large, dark eyes, and a brooding expression.
It was only when she’d stepped through the exit door and sensed him behind her that she’d caught his base scent. Earthy, heady, like the soil after a rainstorm.
Werewolf.
The bastard had broken her neck. She’d healed quickly, waking up to discover she was not only in the back of the werewolf’s car and that she was the one he was after, not the girl, but that he’d done something to weaken her. Her limbs felt heavy and lethargic and as much as she tried to travel back to her hotel room, her magic wouldn’t work.
Then he’d had the audacity to tell her he wasn’t going to hurt her right before he broke her fecking goddamn neck. Again!
Niamh tried to twitch a hand, tried to focus on traveling from where she was, but it was even worse than it had been in the car. Her body felt so heavy and weak. She’d never experienced anything like it.
Realizing she couldn’t put off the inevitable forever, Niamh opened her eyes and found herself staring up at a cracked ceiling. There was a single light fixture in the middle but it wasn’t on. Yet warm light filled the room from various points. Lowering her gaze, she saw a doorway that led into a grubby-looking bathroom. Next to the doorway was, possibly, the world’s smallest kitchenette. Along from—
Her breath caught in her throat when she registered the walls.
Nailed to almost every inch were sheets of a silvery-gray metal.
Pure iron.
Feeling his eyes on her, Niamh’s flew to the right.
The werewolf sat, legs sprawled, arms relaxed on a worn armchair that might have been red once but was now a muddy brown.
He stared expressionlessly at her.
If it weren’t for his worryingly blank countenance and the fact that he’d kidnapped her, Niamh would think he was quite possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. And that was saying something.
With his gorgeous fawn skin, large black eyes, broad nose, high cheekbones, thick black hair, and full-lipped mouth, it was hard to look away.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“My name is Kiyonari. You may call me Kiyo,” he replied casually, as if they’d met under normal circumstances.
With a name like Kiyonari, Niamh would guess he was Japanese. Japanese American if his accent was anything to go by.
“I reckon you already know who I am.” Her gaze flew to her hands. They were locked together with leather handcuffs but they weighed a ton.
Beneath the leather, those handcuffs were made of pure iron.
The wolf wanted to incapacitate her but apparently didn’t want to do any permanent damage. That should have been more of a relief than it was.
She’d had no vision of this man. It made no sense. Anytime she was in danger or someone she loved was, she’d always gotten a vision before it happened. Why not this time?
Who was he really?
With a smirk that belied her fear, Niamh pushed herself up into a sitting position with great effort. She had to rest against the wall behind the old mattress she lay on. Thankfully, it was the only patch of wall not covered in iron.
“You’re Niamh Farren.”
“So …” To her shock, she felt sweat bead on her forehead. The iron really did weaken her kind. It was her first experience with it. “Iron handcuffs, iron walls … Are you working for The Garm or the Blackwoods?”
“Neither.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. Niamh found herself held captive by his dark eyes. “I work for Fionn Mór.”
An image of the huge six-foot-six, suit-wearing Irish warrior king filled her mind.
But if he worked for Fionn, why had this bastard kidnapped her? “I don’t understand.”
“I know what you are. I know the whole story. I’m an old acquaintance of Fionn’s. When you started lighting up all over the map, playing Superwoman, he and Rose tracked me down. Fionn is paying me to act as your bodyguard and, more importantly, convince you to stop bringing attention to yourself.” His expression was mildly disapproving. “You do realize the Blackwoods think you killed their heir and his two sisters?”
Indignation stung. “What? I didn’t.”
“No. Fionn and Rose did. The Blackwoods kidnapped Rose against their father’s orders. Death was the consequence. But the Blackwoods were under the impression Layton and his sisters were tracking you. And since they died in Ireland, they’ve put two and two together and come up with you.”