But it happened.
And when the Fae Queen, Aine, learned that a werewolf bite could turn fae from immortal into a powerful but very mortal werewolf so long as the pair were mated, she decided that connection between the once-human supernaturals and the fae-borne was too dangerous to allow to continue. She’d banished the supernaturals from Faerie, sending them back to the human world.
All except Fionn.
Instead, she’d defied her own laws to turn him into the thing he hated most so she could keep him.
But he’d outwitted her and used Eirik to return.
To go home … to Aoibhinn.
The pain that had once been so intense it was crippling was now just a flicker in his gut.
“We’re considering killing her anyway,” Layton had said, pulling Fionn from his memories.
He had flicked a glance at Liza and Lori, Layton’s sisters. They’d shared a displeased look.
Clearly Layton was being a little too liberal with the contraction “we’re.”
“Killing her for what?” Fionn had asked blandly. “You were mistaken. She’s a wolf. A mated one at that.”
“But was she always a wolf? The pack says so. They say Conall sensed his mate in Europe and went off to find her and bring her into their fold,” he’d sneered. “But evidence suggests otherwise. A wolf couldn’t kill Eirik Mortensen.” Layton had leaned toward him. “If you’d just confirm whether Jerrik’s writings were true, we’d know if she was lying.”
Layton referred to Eirik’s brother, Jerrik. Where Eirik left Faerie over two thousand years ago, as enraged by their behavior and interference in the human world as Fionn had been, Jerrik was mated to a fae. Not just any fae—the equivalent of a fucking princess. He wanted back into Faerie for his mate. Eirik wanted to make sure that gate never opened again.
That’s where his and Fionn’s path had diverged.
But considering Eirik had killed Jerrik to protect the human world, Fionn had been very cautious about starting anything but a cold war with the vampire.
It was thanks to Jerrik’s tales of Faerie that the Blackwoods started investigating the druid legends surrounding Fionn’s curse. From there, they’d worked tirelessly to free Fionn. That resented gratitude was the only thing that had stayed his hand against the coven for almost three centuries. But Layton Blackwood could push an immortal’s patience to its limits. That was quite a feat.
Fionn had stared dispassionately at the Blackwood son. Layton was young. Hotheaded. Unlike his father, Nate, who was intelligent and patient. Nate Blackwood had declared Thea MacLennan off-limits now that she was mated to the alpha and no longer viable as a key to Faerie.
“If you kill Thea, you start a war with Conall MacLennan,” Fionn had told the boy. This should’ve been obvious.
“We’re the most powerful coven in the world.” Layton had shrugged arrogantly. “We can take out one alpha.”
Jesus Christ, the boy was a moron. Fionn had flicked a look at his sisters who stared at their brother in open distaste. It was a pity they were younger than Layton. The hierarchy within the coven was age and power. Layton, unfortunately, was the eldest, and the most powerful among his siblings.
But he was a political ticking time bomb.
“If you kill Conall, you start a war with his pack. And did you not just tell me he’s forged an alliance with Pack Silverton?” Pack Silverton was the largest North American pack, led by Alpha Peter Canid. An important ally for MacLennan. “MacLennan is one of the most powerful alphas in the world. Wolves came from all over to take control of his pack upon his father’s death.” Every supernatural who knew anything about the politics of their world knew of Conall. Pack MacLennan was small, but they owned several businesses, including a lucrative whisky distillery, and were wealthy. Conall had famously taken down every wolf that had challenged him. “Packs around the world practically revere the wolf. You take him out with no acceptable reason, you’ll find yourselves at war with nearly every pack in the fucking world, boy.”
Layton stiffened. “I’m not a boy.”
“Then stop acting like one. You lost, Blackwood. Accept it and move on.” Fionn had stood. “As I will.”
“You refuse to help us at every turn. I don’t know why my father allows you to live.”
Uncaring of the humans who sat at the bar with their backs to them, Fionn had used a source of magic only fae could. Travel. One moment he stood on the other side of the table, the next he had Layton by the throat, pinned to the adjacent wall.
Magic had sparked at his back as his sisters prepared to fight.
Fionn had snarled in Layton’s horrified face. “Your father does not allow me to live.” He had leaned in as Layton gasped for breath. “I allow your coven to exist because I owe that debt. But do not think you can push me, boy.”
The magic at his back amplified and without even looking at the sisters, he concentrated on a pressure point on their necks. The carotid sinus. He sent out strong fingers of energy that hit both sisters there; it caused them to pass out instantly.
Layton had wheezed in outrage.
“They’re still alive,” Fionn had assured him, lowering him to the ground. “That was merely a warning … that you need a lesson in diplomacy.”
Fionn still felt agitated every time he thought on the encounter. It bothered him not just a little that the dangerous fucker would one day be head of the coven.
“The Blackwoods wouldn’t dare interfere with Thea MacLennan after our encounter in Inverness,” Fionn said to Bran.
“No, it’s not the Blackwoods. But you asked me to let you know if there was any unusual activity there. Thea and Conall have left on a honeymoon.”
A honeymoon.
Wolves didn’t celebrate honeymoons.
“Where did they go?”
“They got on a flight to Paris yesterday.”
“Connect the dots for me, Bran. It’s what I pay you for.”
“Already done it. Eirik was killed in Norway at the home of Vik Balstad. It took me a while but I hacked Balstad’s computer. The man is a fucking genius and I want to meet him because only the best, i.e., myself, could get past the security measures on his system. I mean, he had this—”
“Point, Bran. Get there.”
“Right. Okay, well, I found a few of his aliases. One of them popped up in Paris. He’s renting an apartment there.”
Fionn suspected Vik Balstad, a vampire with known affiliations with Eirik’s movement to stop the gate opening, had led Eirik to Thea and Conall. “Could be a coincidence. Or … revenge.”
Fuck. Why couldn’t the woman and her mate settle down in Scotland like normal wolves and stay out of this damn business?
“It’s not our problem,” Fionn huffed. “If they want to fuck up their lives with this shit, let them, as long as they stay out of my way. Anything else?”
“Nothing for now. Whichmeansyou’regoingtohanguponmebeforeIcansaygood—”
Fionn hung up on him.
He slumped back against the sofa. Wide awake but weary.
Not physically weary.
Although he grew tired after days of no sleep, he was never weary in his muscles and bones like he had been centuries ago after days of battle.
He missed that sensation.
He almost forgot what it felt like to lie his exhausted body down in furs after the physical exertion of war.
Yet Fionn was weary in the mind. He’d been planning for this moment for almost three centuries.
Now he was more than ready for it to be done.