Kiss of Vengeance (True Immortality 2)

“One day when she was summoned to the palace on royal business, I got word that a Samhradh c

ourtier the princess had spurned was intent on taking from the child what he couldn’t take from her.”

Rose’s stomach lurched. “Oh my God.”

“I was still human. I knew there wasn’t a lot I could do in a fight, so instead I took the child before he could get to her, and I hid her. The princess learned at court what was happening and returned to protect the child only to discover I’d already seen to her protection. From that point on, she felt she owed me a debt.

“Days before an annual festival was to be held in Solas, the capital city of Samhradh, the Queen’s Seer had a vision. Humans had discovered fae blood healed them and, as you know, humans are obsessed with the idea of immortality. We were on the brink of a war that would decimate the humans. Aine was afraid. I could see it in her eyes, and I’d never seen her afraid before. She was afraid for Earth but more than that, she was afraid that during the war, she’d lose her own people to the humans. Not through death, but through allegiance.”

“What do you mean?”

“Humans talk of soul mates,” Fionn said, his green gaze blazing, “but it’s just a romantic notion. On Faerie, it isn’t. They are literally destined for one other fae. Not all meet their soul mate, but when they do, the bond that connects them is something … cosmic. Something that cannot be broken. Something beyond any fae, even the queen. Once they meet and know each other, they love forever.”

Rose frowned. She’d never met anyone she’d want to be with forever and as such, the idea was a foreign one. “That sounds … nice?”

“It makes them fools,” he muttered. “Anyway, something had happened that no one saw coming, not even Aine. Something that could not be explained. The mating bond began to forge between supernaturals and fae. Vampires and fae, werewolves and fae, druids, and fae … soul mates. The problem with that was there were supernaturals who still clung to their human past. Like Eirik.”

The name was familiar. Rose scanned the overwhelming information Fionn had provided over the last few hours. “The vampire who was the leader of the Garm? The group who are hunting the fae kids?”

“The very one. His brother Jerrik and he were made vampires, and Jerrik loved the fae. He had a mating bond with a fae princess. Eirik, on the other hand, despised the fae for what they were doing to humans. He also fancied me.”

“Unsurprising,” she answered honestly. There was no point hiding the fact she thought he was attractive. He had to know how hot he was. “But why is it relevant?”

“It’s relevant because when Aine’s seer told her about the coming war with the humans, Aine began to plan. Being the slave she was most … fond of … I was privy to those plans.” He exhaled. “She would close the gate. Permanently. Before she did, she would send back all the humans and supernaturals to Earth, even those who’d mated to the fae. But she liked her games. She wasn’t wicked enough to wish the decimation of an entire world, but she was just cruel enough to want to imagine them twisting themselves into knots, warring with one another over the centuries, for a shot at eternity.

“So she announced her plans at the festival. Without giving the supernaturals a chance to process it, she told them she was sending them back to Earth and she told them why. But she also told them she’d cast a spell. I remember every word: ‘As I close the gates, I will cast a spell out into the human world. In time, that spell will come to fruition in the form of seven children, born to human parents, but fae-borne. Seven children and with them the ability to open the gate.’

“Whoever used the children’s blood to open the gate would be welcomed into Faerie where they could live among them forever.”

Rose let go of the breath she’d been holding. Strangely, tears burned her eyes. “That’s what I am? Part of a spell?”

“Yes. That’s what you are.”

“And you … how are you fae?”

“Because the queen was not above flexing the rules to suit herself. Aine is queen for a reason, Rose. There’s another continent on Faerie where truly dark creatures are said to live. A millennium before we even knew of Faerie, they fought a war there and Aine rose to incredible power because she could wield magic like no other. There were no limits for her. And she used it to expel the dark creatures, to banish them to another part of their world. She became queen and has remained queen because of that power. Power she used to turn me fae.”

Why? Why would she turn Fionn fae? Unless … “My God, was she in love with you?”

He gave a huff of dark laughter, surprising the heck out of Rose. His laugh was a deep, delicious rumble of wickedness. “Aine doesn’t know what love is. Not really. She is … possessive. She turned me fae so she could keep me, yes, but also because I’d never shown her true subservience. To punish me for it, she made me the thing I despised the most.”

Rose ached for him. “Fionn …”

For the first time, Rose saw him smile, and although it was wicked, it made her breath catch. Attraction enveloped her completely. Rose knew she’d never felt this aware of anyone before … and of course, it would have to be with the most unattainable being on the planet.

His smile disappeared, a muscle flexing in his strong jaw. “I was smarter than she thought. I’d made alliances where she did not know. I was too late to avoid the spell that made me fae, but I wasn’t too late to get the hell out of there and back to my people. The Queen’s Seer was second in line when it came to power. There was rivalry between her and the queen, although she technically worked for Aine. I used that against Aine. I became the seer’s lover behind Aine’s back.”

Lucky faerie. Rose felt more than a flicker of envy toward the seer.

“I convinced the seer to tell me what I’d need to do to get the hell out of Faerie. She never imagined I’d be able to leave undetected, so she told me. All I needed was to attach myself to someone who had feelings for me and hated the fae. That level of emotion would be powerful enough to bind us when Aine sent that person back.”

“Eirik?” Rose guessed.

“I don’t fancy men, but that never stopped him from admiring me from afar. And I knew he hated the fae. So, I went to the princess who owed me a favor, and although she was frightened, she cast an illusion spell over me. It allowed Eirik to see through it while others didn’t. When Aine cast her spell to send us back to Earth, he let me hold on to him.”

“And that was it. You were home?”

“She sent them all where they’d come from. Eirik and Jerrik belonged to a Germanic tribe near what is now Denmark. As fae, however, it didn’t take me long to get back to Éireann.”

Rose considered the glimpses of bitterness that had slipped past his stoic demeanor. “I sense this story doesn’t have a happy ending.”

His tone was as bland as ever. “My people despised what I’d become, but out of loyalty for what I’d once been, they didn’t kill me. Druids from all over Britannia had come to Éireann to fight the fae, and they gathered now to cast a powerful spell over me. They put me into a dreamless sleep and buried me in the earth.”

Horror suffused Rose and the agitation she felt over this, over what they had done to him, a man who was practically a stranger, seemed out of proportion. “Death would have been kinder,” she bit out.

Fionn shot her a curious look. “Are you angry for me, Rose?”

“Of course! Treacherous bastards.”

“Aye. That they were.”

“What happened? Obviously, you woke up.”

“The Blackwood Coven. They found druid stones with my story carved into them in old Gaelic. Our language then was cruder, but they eventually worked out that the legends passed down through the centuries about an Irish warrior king turned fae were true.

“They knew about the gate from a journal written by Jerrik. They wanted to reopen it. So they spent decades trying to find me. Finally, in 1726, they unearthed me. Two years after that, they broke the spell and woke me up.”

“You’ve been awake for nearly three centuries?”

“That I have.”

His expression was too deadpan for someone who had suffered through what he had. Rose had never met anyone with such control over their emotions, but it had to be bullshit. There had to be a well of simmering resentment and hurt and betrayal buried beneath his cool facade. Otherwise, he was the most well-adjusted being in history. Somehow, Rose doubted it.

“The first five years I spent learning all I could about the history of the world, from my burial to my awakening. That was the most unsettling part. Playing catch-up and seeing how far the world had progressed in my absence. Learning new languages, coming to terms with my powers, and honing them. The next three centuries of progress leapt ahead at an alarming rate.”

Rose was quiet a moment. “If the Blackwood Coven saved you, why aren’t you working with them?”

“Because they intend to open the gate, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“Then why aren’t you trying to kill me?”

He frowned at her. “Because I know what it’s like to be something that was forced upon you. Why should you die for that? And there’s only two things that can kill you, Rose, and a bastard needs to get close enough to do either. So, I will teach you how to protect yourself because once you know what you’re fully capable of, no one will get close enough to put iron through your heart.”

11

As Fionn’s vow echoed across the table between them, he almost wished it were true. He had a low tolerance for most people—a misanthropist made, not born—but Rose was surprisingly likable. She’d handled her new reality with amazing strength, with an open mind, and with humor. Moreover, she could sit with him in comfortable silence without feeling the need to fill it. Fionn liked this about her.

He liked too much about her.

In fact, it was a damn shame it had to be her.

“I don’t know what’s weirder …,” Rose said. “The fairy tale you just told me or the fact that I believe it. I might not have believed it if I hadn’t discovered my powers … or if I hadn’t seen those warlocks die.”

Fionn nodded, refusing to feel guilty for the O’Connors’ deaths. Regret was no longer in his vocabulary.