She was all alone.
“What about the frequency of the visions?” Kiyo caught up to her, grabbing her elbow to stop her. “Niamh, that can’t be good.”
No, it wasn’t. “That’s not your problem. You guard me as we follow the clues.”
“It would be easier to do that”—his grip tightened almost painfully—“if I understood the clues.”
Niamh lifted her chin in an air of studied arrogance. “You’ll understand what I allow you to understand.”
Kiyo released her. He searched her face in suspicion. “What just happened? What did you sense in that vision that I’m not getting?”
He was too perceptive for his own good.
Niamh looked away and continued onward more slowly toward the lounge. All she knew was that the game had changed because the players had changed.
Astra was alive.
How she’d tricked Eirik, Niamh didn’t know.
But the fae-borne was alive.
And if she was still alive … the future was more uncertain than ever.* * *Niamh was quietly panicked that she’d endured one vision after another. Something wasn’t right. She could feel the wrongness of it. And she didn’t understand why, which was worrying in its own right.
Never mind that when her emotions were particularly high, she seemed to be unwittingly transferring these visions to Kiyo when he was holding her.
She knew he was frustrated and angry with her about not explaining the vision, but she might have eventually done so if he hadn’t pushed. Part of her wondered if she’d hurt his feelings by not trusting him after he’d taken that iron blade for her.
Guilt niggled at Niamh.
But then she couldn’t think of Kiyo having feelings that could be hurt. She had to remind herself that Fionn was paying Kiyo to protect her. These warm, fuzzy feelings she had toward him ever since he’d taken a dagger to the heart for her had to be quelled immediately. It was bad enough she had a crush on the wolf. Letting those feelings develop into anything deeper for a man who had inexplicably been alive for nearly one hundred and fifty years and had few bonds of friendship to show for it would be a gigantic mistake.
As a bit of an expert brooder, Kiyo seemed only too happy to let the silence fall between them. They ate quietly in the airport lounge as Niamh stewed over her concerns. The latest vision hadn’t shown her anything new from the last one. She still only had Tokyo to go on.
And Kiyo.
Somehow he was a part of this new future. She didn’t understand why.
But running away from him again wasn’t an option. She shouldn’t have in the first place.
The thought of Ronan and Meghan made her nauseated, so she threw it from her mind for now to focus on the present. By the time they boarded the plane, Niamh was mentally exhausted. Gratitude toward Bran filled her as a flight attendant led them to the first-class cabin at the front of the plane. They each had a suite in the middle aisle with a connecting window between them. Niamh was surprised Kiyo didn’t press the button to close the window to shut her out.
Once they were settled in, a man stopped by her suite to personally introduce himself as the senior flight attendant and welcome her on board. She tried not to blush or flinch when he called her “Ms. Wainwright,” the name from the passport Bran had supplied.
She waited until the flight attendant made his way around the cabin, stunned when one man impatiently waved the attendant off and bit out, “Go. Away.” That burn in her chest flared as the flight attendant quickly stood and apologized for bothering him.
Knowing how impatient and brooding Kiyo was right now, Niamh tensed when the attendant finally crouched down at Kiyo’s side, referring to him as “Mr. Kaneshiro” as he gave him the same speech he’d given her. While not friendly, Kiyo was polite and gave the man his attention. He even thanked him.
She relaxed and decided she really must stop assuming horrible things about him.
Not long later, another attendant appeared to offer them a choice of champagne, orange juice, water, or a mimosa. Niamh gladly accepted a mimosa, ignoring Kiyo’s inquiring gaze.
Of course, he took water.
She wondered if he ever indulged in anything ever. Other than sarcasm and fighting.
Determined not to spend the entire flight overly aware of the werewolf, her attention moved to the man who had been rude to the senior flight attendant. Who the bloody hell did he think he was?
Watching him sip his champagne, Niamh gave a flick of her fingers and stifled her laughter as the glass jerked sharply in his hand, causing the champagne to splash all over his face.
A prickling sensation shivered down her neck as she felt a warm breath at her ear. “I saw that,” Kiyo’s voice rumbled.
She turned her head slightly to find him leaning into her suite.