Kiss of Vengeance (True Immortality 2)

Amusement flickered through him. He guessed that was her way of asking if he was concerned Kiyo might bite him. “We’re sword fighting, Rose. No teeth.”

She didn’t seem assured, but replied, “Got it. Go kick some ass.”

Following Kiyo, they fell into step. The supes around them started to buzz with renewed energy. Those who knew of Kiyo and Fionn knew they were about to witness something different. They noted the swords in their hands, and the murmurs of anticipation grew.

“She’s the reason you’re here,” Kiyo said. Again, not a question.

Fionn grunted in answer.

“Why not fuck her instead? I’d choose sex over a fight.”

They stopped to face one another as the crowds encircled them, giving them enough room to battle. Kiyo offered the sword to Fionn to hold as he drew his shoulder-length black hair into a topknot.

“I have another, more important purpose for her.” He held out the swords to Kiyo. The wolf waited patiently as Fionn drew his shirt over his head, threw the expensive material to the dirt, and then tied his own hair back out of his face. The shorter strands fell across his cheekbone, but there was nothing to be done about that.

Bloody hair would not get in his way.

“Can’t you use her for both?” The wolf held out the hilt of Fionn’s sword.

Images of Rose filled his mind: lying on her back beneath him; straddling him; on her knees, sweetly curved arse in his hands. His knuckles cut into the sword’s pommel.

Kiyo raised an eyebrow. “Your eyes.”

Fuck.

Rarely did Fionn allow his emotions to so overcome him that his eyes bled gold.

“That’s new.”

Fionn glowered. “You’ll forget you ever saw that.”

The wolf nodded. “Already forgotten.”

“And in answer to your question, no, I cannot. Now, are we going to fight or sit down to fucking tea and gossip?”

Kiyo’s answer was to attack.

The roar of the crowd filled Fionn’s ears, mixing with the whoosh of blood as the fight cleared his mind, reducing him to a warrior facing a worthy opponent. There was nothing but the swing of blades, the clang of steel hitting steel, packed dirt beneath them, and quick feet following the orders of quicker minds.

The cacophony of supernatural crowds was something else. Rose held her breath as the men and women, vampires and werewolves jeered and rallied and shouted their support for whatever opponent they’d chosen to back.

She had never seen anything like the spectacle before her.

Kiyo was spectacular to look at, even without the mad sword skills. Although shorter than Fionn (who wasn’t?), he was probably around six two. Rose had been a little preoccupied with his shirtless torso when he first approached because the guy had fantastic broad shoulders, a 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 scar across his belly that Rose posited must have come from a silver weapon. It made him look even more badass than he already was.

Rose was not ashamed to say she was internally drooling even before she got to the beauty of his face. The werewolf was rude, intimidating as hell, and as warm as a swim in the Arctic, but there was no denying he was beautiful.

There was no other word for it.

Large eyes so dark they were a shiny black in the low-lit warehouse, a broad nose, high cheekbones, thick, black hair that was now pulled into a very attractive man bun, and a full-lipped mouth with a very defined, prominent cupid’s bow. A person could stare at it for hours.

It was a wonder, then, that as swords slashed through the air, feet moved faster than a human’s ever could, and muscles rippled under the aluminum lighting, Rose couldn’t tear her attention from Fionn.

The wolf, Kiyo, held his own against her companion, considering Fionn towered over him by a good five inches and pounds of thick muscle, but the fae was a force to be reckoned with.

Her mouth was dry as she watched him, hugging his overcoat to her chin, his cologne tickling her senses. When he’d whipped off his shirt and tied back his hair before the fight, a vamp next to her made a crude, sexual comment that had her hissing like a jealous wife.

She never got jealous or territorial, but it was happening with alarming frequency around Fionn.

To her surprise and smugness, the guy who’d made the comment took one look at her and warily moved away through the crowds.

It occurred to Rose that she perhaps was giving off some badass supernatural vibes of her own. And she was okay with that.

Minutes ticked by as the well-matched opponents fought.

Rose didn’t know how long the battle had been going when Fionn’s blade caught Kiyo’s forearm. The sight and smell of blood made the crowd surge.

Kiyo’s lips parted in a growl, baring unnaturally long canines. Two hands gripped on the hilt of his sword, he spun into a jump, a blur of elegant movement, and brought his blade crashing down against Fionn’s with such force, the fae stumbled.

Rose let out a little gasp, instinctually stepping toward him, and to her utter surprise, Fionn’s concerned gaze flew to hers in the crowd.

He’d heard her gasp.

His expression pinched in pain as Kiyo took advantage of his distraction and cut a slice through Fionn’s pants at the thigh.

With a growl of aggression, he returned his focus to the werewolf while Rose was thankful the cut was covered by his suit pants so the supes wouldn’t see it heal unnaturally fast.

Kiyo’s was no longer dripping blood, but it was healing at a slower rate than hers or Fionn’s would.

How had Fionn escaped questions about this in his previous fights? Unless Kiyo was the first to make a mark on him?

So many questions. She always had so many questions, even she was exhausted by the continual onslaught.

A little while later, an awed female voice said, “They’ve been fighting for an hour.”

Rose blinked. She’d been so lost watching the fight, she hadn’t realized that much time had passed. She cast a look over her shoulder at the speaker and saw it was a short, curvy blond. Her hand was held in the tight grip of a stocky redheaded male. Just looking at them, at any of the supes in the crowd, Rose didn’t know what they were. She wondered if there was a way to tell a vamp from a werewolf when they weren’t flashing their fangs …

Another question for Fionn.

If this fight ever ended.

It was then she heard what sounded like a sniff.

Sniff, sniff, sniff at her neck.

A prickling sensation followed; her heart began to race and a weird sense of dread filled her belly.

She knew that sensation.

“The racing heart, the dread in the gut … they’re warning signs. Of coming danger. You feel those things, you get ready to fight or to flee.”

Holy crap.

Rose glanced over her shoulder and saw the blond and the redhead were now eyeing her with their silver gazes. Vampires.

The blond sniffed the air in front of Rose and hunger flashed in those strange eyes. “What are you?”

Uneasy but determined not to show it, Rose sneered. “None of your fucking business.” Proud her voice had remained strong, she pushed through the crowd, away from the vampire couple, hoping they’d lose interest.

Unfortunately, the telltale feelings weren’t easing up.

Worry filled Rose. She wasn’t afraid she couldn’t take on two vampires; she was afraid she didn’t have enough control over her powers to hide what she was in a room filled with supernaturals.

A strong hand wrapped around her wrist and Rose spun, ready to fight.

Fionn stared down at her, anger etched in his expression.

His face shiny and his torso slick with sweat, he examined her body, clinically, like he was checking for harm. The crowds had melted away from her, murmuring quietly.

Then Fi

onn cocked his head, like he’d scented something. He whipped his head around, sword soaring up to just scrape the chin of the redheaded vamp.

His bloodsucking companion stood stiff and wide-eyed at his side.

“Take one more step and I’ll cut off your fucking head,” Fionn warned, his Irish accent pronounced.

The redhead raised his arms defensively. “We just wanted to know what she is. No harm meant.”

“You were hunting her. I saw.” He pressed the tip of the sword deeper, blood seeping out.

“Like I said, no harm meant.” The vamp licked his lips nervously, his eyes no longer silver but still hungry as they moved to Rose. “She smells good. What is she?”

A shift moved through the crowd, and Rose’s heart pounded faster, harder as she felt the change in the air. All focus was on her. They were curious. That, mixed with the bloodlust in the air, began a frenzy of murmurings.

They all wanted to know what she was.

Fionn turned toward them, putting Rose at his back. “She’s mine!” His voice rang through the room.

Kiyo appeared at Fionn’s side, sword at the ready. His statement was clear.

The smart supernaturals nodded at the warning and moved off, joining the crowds around the two supes that were fighting on the other side of the warehouse.

A small group stayed behind, their curious, avaricious, silver eyes on Rose.

Vampires.

Rose remembered the vampire who attacked her. The delirious, amazed hunger in his eyes after he’d tasted her. What are you? he’d asked. Apparently, a fae’s blood smelled and tasted a little nicer than human blood.

Great.