Had she guessed that she was different?
So many questions, Fionn mused.
He pulled out his phone and called Bran. As soon as the vamp answered, Fionn informed him, “It was the bartender. Someone put a spell on her to repress her abilities and energy. I don’t know how big that energy blasting off her was, but it would be enough to alert any nearby supernaturals. I need you to check for movement from the Blackwoods or anyone else of interest.”
“Jesus Christ, only a bloody powerful and ruthless witch or warlock could do that.”
“I’m aware. Any headway with the birth parents?”
“Well, I was just about to go to bed, but I’ll get on it right away.”
“You do that.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Discover how much she knows. I’m hoping it’s less than zero.”
“And then?”
“I’ll convince her she needs me. Once I have her trust, it should be easy enough to lure her to Ireland. Call me if you see movement and when you find something of use.” He hung up and stared down at Rose again.
She was a pig to the slaughter, he thought dispassionately.
Unfair for her, true, but what was one small woman against a two-thousand-year-old vendetta?
Fionn reached beneath her and lifted her into his arms with ease. Even if he didn’t have supernatural strength, she would have felt slight in his arms. A growl burrowed out of him as he heard bone slipping back into place.
She was healing from that neck break.
The vampire had deserved a drawn-out death because a broken neck couldn’t kill fae, but it could hurt like fuck.
Rose would wake soon.
There was no time to dawdle. Curious supernaturals might already be on their way.
5
As Rose’s mind swam up out of a bizarre dream, she grew aware of the mattress beneath her and realized she was in bed. Yet, as she tried to let go of images of bloodied fangs and glowing golden lights, it occurred to her that the mattress in her crappy apartment was lumpy and didn’t feel like a cloud of softness. The one beneath her did.
Her eyes flew open. Confusion and panic instantly hit her.
She was in a room she’d never been in before.
Rose sat up, surprised her head didn’t swim with the movement.
The room was warmly lit by table lamps with pale shades. The light bounced up latte-colored striped walls. Matching silk curtains covered the windows. And Rose was in a huge bed. The comfiest bed she’d been in, in a long time. Everything about the room said luxury hotel.
Throwing her legs off the side of the bed, she abruptly stopped.
Her limbs felt … weird.
Flexing a hand, she stared at it, trying to figure out—
Visions of a vampire attacking her, followed by a light exploding from her body, filled her mind again.
No.
No way.
She stood, expecting her legs to tremble, but they didn’t. Power coursed through her limbs but as she crossed to a doorway adjacent to the bed, her whole body felt lighter somehow.
Strangely lighter—but stronger.
The doorway led into a small sitting room that matched the décor of the bedroom.
Yup, she was definitely in a hotel suite.
It smelled strongly of orange blossom but there was a slight trace of fresh cologne.
How the hell could she smell that?
She turned back into the bedroom and hurried across the room to the adjoining bathroom. A large mirror hung on the wall behind the marble sink, and Rose leaned toward it, pushing her dark hair off her neck.
There were no wounds.
No vampires.
It was just … just a dream, right? But then why was she here? In this strange room? Who had brought her here? And why did she feel like she was walking around in a new body?
As her panic built, so did her fear. She watched in disbelief as bright gold bled through the blue of her irises.
“Fuck!” She scrambled back from the mirror, slapping her hands over her eyes.
Her breasts heaved with choppy breaths as she tried to calm down. Unsuccessfully.
Rose lowered her hands and opened her eyes.
Yeah, they were still bright gold!
Unnatural.
Remembering the way her wounds from the vampire’s fangs had healed over, Rose moved closer to the mirror again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The fight had been real. The vampire had been real. But what … what did that make her? Was she a vampire too? His eyes had been silver in the light. Why were hers gold?
Vampires.
Strange powers …
A door opened beyond the bedroom and it sounded like it had opened right next to her. She grew aware of the sound of voices in the room next door. A couple were discussing whether they wanted to get room service or dine in the hotel restaurant for breakfast. The man didn’t care. His priority was sex.
Okay, then. Suffice it to say Rose’s hearing was way better than it was yesterday. As was her sense of smell.
Huh.
Rose flinched back from the mirror, heart pounding. Was she turning into a vampire too?
“Rose?” an unfamiliar voice called her name.
Who was that?
What had happened in that alleyway? She’d sensed this unimaginable power in her limbs and faced the vampire to fight, but then everything went dark. The next thing she remembered was waking up in this room.
Not one to hide in fear and confusion, despite how afraid she was, Rose threw back her shoulders and strode out of the bathroom only to come to an immediate halt.
Standing in the doorway between the bedroom and sitting room was the man from the club. Not the vampire. The other one. The mammoth, well-dressed one who had moved through the crowd with a preternatural grace. The one she’d felt inexplicably drawn to. This close to him, she could see she’d been wrong about his height. He was taller than the six and a half feet she’d guessed. Rose swallowed hard as he ambled toward her.
“No need for golden eyes, Rose Kelly,” he said in a deep rumble of a voice. “I’m here to help, not to hurt.”
Rose stared up at him in awe. The only guy taller she’d ever met in real life was Patrick King, a basketball player at UPenn who went on to play for the NBA.
“Who are you?”
Piercing eyes the color of spring green stared back at her, mesmerizing. She’d thought they were contacts in the club. Now she realized the lasers had made them look eerier than they were. In fact, she’d never seen eyes so stunning. Other than when hers bled gold in the bathroom mirror.
The stranger waited patiently before her. Like the previous night, he wore a three-piece suit. His stylish, well-tailored attire was a sharp contrast to his massive shoulders, his blunt, rugged features, unshaven face, and unkempt, longish, dark blond hair. He reminded her of a caged tiger—the suit was an illusion of safety between you and an animal that could tear you to shreds with a simple swipe of his paw.
“Who are you?” she repeated.
The man cocked his head, frowning. “I can hear your heart racing. That’s unnecessary.”
“Are you a vampire?”
“No.” He retreated and gestured toward the doorway. “I brought some food up from the kitchen. Tea too.” He turned his back on her and walked out of the room. Rose gawked not only at the breadth of his shoulders but at the way he had to duck under the door frame.
Holy shit.
Think, Rose, think.
Taking a slow,
calming breath, she gave her body a chance to catch up with her mind. As insane as it was, she still felt that weird pull toward the stranger. What she didn’t feel was fear toward him. Her fear stemmed from the unknown. From the bizarre new things happening to her body.
Exhaling, Rose strode after the stranger and found him shrugging out of his jacket. She watched as he draped it over an armchair. His waistcoat and shirt were a perfect fit, as were the tailored trousers that cupped an ass that was clearly rock hard with muscle.
Attraction zinged through her as she watched him turn to sit.
Yeah, really not the time, she chastised herself.
“Good, the gold is gone.” His tone was as warm and fuzzy as a prison warden’s.
Rose touched the corner of her eye. “What does it mean?”
“Sit.” He gestured to the sofa. A tray sat on the coffee table before it.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Then don’t eat.”
His response irritated her, but Rose lowered herself onto the sofa anyway. “Are you Irish?” It was hard to tell. His accent was a little muddled, but there was a definite lilt to his words that reminded her of her parents’ accents.
“I am. My name is Fionn Mór. And you’re Rose Kelly.”
“How do you know that?” She leaned toward him. “I saw you the other night at the club. And then … was I …?” She raised a hand to her neck.
“Attacked an hour ago by a vampire.”
“How is this real?” Rose whispered to herself.
Perhaps she was still dreaming.
He studied her intently. “How much do you know about supernaturals?”
“Supernaturals?”
“Vampires, werewolves, and the like.”
Rose gaped at him. “Werewolves are real too?”
She thought she detected a slight curl at the corner of his lips. An almost smile. But then he glared at her so Rose must have imagined it. “You know nothing of the supernatural underworld?”
She swallowed hard. “If I hadn’t just been attacked by a vampire and watched my eyes change to liquid gold … I’d think you were a crazy man for even suggesting it a reality.”