Kiss of Vengeance (True Immortality 2)

“Why don’t you go to her, like you came to me? Tell her to go home. Be safe.”

“Because you needed me more.”

Affection warmed Rose. “And who do you need, Niamh?”

“I need to make sure my pseudosiblings are safe or equipped to fight and win this battle. It’s over for Thea—once she buggers off and gets on with her life like she’s meant to—but it’ll never be over for you and me. We’ll always be running, Rose.”

Ignoring what that meant, Rose asked, “And the other fae? Have you seen visions of her?”

“Him,” Niamh corrected. “I’ve seen him but nothing that tells me what road I should help put him on. There’s a pattern to my visions. An order. I can’t move on to him until I know you will be okay.”

“Will I be, if I’m always going to be running? I mean, I could stay with you and help you find the other fae.” Rose opened her backpack and pulled out the silver box.

Niamh gawked at it. “Is that what I think it is?”

“An Breitheamh.”

“I’ve seen it in my visions of Fionn.”

“Yeah, that’s because, unlike the others, he needs to use this dagger to kill one of us at the gate to Faerie to open it. He wants to take revenge against Aine for turning him fae, for all that came after. That’s what he was doing with me.” There was something about Niamh, something that caused Rose’s emotions to spill over. Tears burned in her eyes and throat. “He lied to me.” She blinked up at her new companion, a salty, hot tear scoring down her cheek. “I thought his purpose was what your actual mission is—to protect the fae-borne and protect the gate.”

Niamh reached out and peeled one of Rose’s hands from the silver box to clasp it in hers. There was something sweet and soothing in her expression. “Rose, do you remember what I said to you at the club when you thought I was a crazy person?”

Rose shook her head. She couldn’t remember. Too much had happened.

“I said, ‘You have to trust him, Rose. Even when he makes it impossible. Don’t let us down now.’”

It all came flooding back. How Niamh had seemed frantic at first until the vision she’d had in the staff room.

“Your vision. It was about me and Fionn?”

“They come at me like soundless images, yet somehow I hear words in the pictures,” she said. “Never in order. A jumbled mess. But over the years, I’ve gotten the knack of sorting them out. Getting the gist of them. Trusting the emotion I feel in them. That night I knew—just as I knew Conall was Thea’s mate and he would save her from the eternity she didn’t want—that you would change Fionn. For weeks, I’d been getting visions of you with the Blackwoods. In them, you help them open the gate.”

“What?” Rose stood. “I would never!”

“You don’t know that. Not if they got to you first and lied to you.”

Irritated by the notion, Rose began to pace. “So, what changed?”

“All I know was I had to get to you. But when I did, there was a bloody spell on you and you had no idea what you were. Then that vision came. He was there, the warrior fae who was stalking the life out of me,” she huffed, exasperated. “I thought my visions of him opening the gate were about him finding me, that somehow, he’d best me. I know now I was meant to lead him to you. He was following me that night, but he found you—and it changed the future.”

“But how?” Rose asked impatiently.

Niamh gave her a commiserating smile. “Because a fae would never hurt his mate.”

Shock rooted Rose to the spot.

Mate.

“He might have thought his intentions were wicked, but the moment he met you, he could never hurt you.” Niamh stood, her expression determined. “And I know he’s broken your heart and you think you hate him, but the world kind of needs you to get over it … because as his mate, only you can convince him to give up his revenge. For if you don’t, he will succeed in opening that gate, and the world as we know it will be over.”

As Niamh’s words sank in, Rose learned something else in that moment.

An extremely stressed-out fae reacted as a human might.

Her blood pressure bottomed out and everything went black.

24

Fionn’s rugged face hovered over hers. Agony, guilt, and remorse shone out of his beautiful eyes. “I’m so sorry, mo chroí.”

Rose’s eyes flew open, and she threw herself onto her feet like a cat.

“Jesus Christ,” Ronan said. “She’s even more agile than you, Nee.”

Gasping, Rose glanced around and saw Ronan at the kitchen island of the apartment in Munich and Niamh on the couch where Rose had been lying.

From having fainted.

Groaning, she covered her face with her hand. The last time she’d passed out was the day her parents had told her she was adopted.

“Are you okay, Rose? I’m sorry I told you like that. I would have been gentler if I thought—”

“You’d pass out like a wuss,” Ronan finished.

“Ronan,” Niamh snapped.

Embarrassed, Rose scowled at him. “Yeah, Ronan, keep in mind I could end your life in two seconds.”

He glared but smartly kept his mouth shut.

Rose stumbled back to the couch. “This is not happening.” She eyed Niamh plaintively. “Please tell me you have it wrong.”

She grimaced sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Rose.”

Burying her head in her hands, Rose contemplated what this meant. Going back to Fionn. Convincing him to give up his revenge. How could she do that when she still wanted to throttle him for planning to betray her?

“As his mate, only you can convince him to give up his revenge. For if you don’t, he will succeed in opening that gate, and the world as we know it will be over.”

“We barely know each other,” Rose whispered.

“It would explain why you felt so connected to him so quickly.”

Rose glared at Niamh. “How did you know that?”

She shrugged. “It’s the way of mates. Two souls recognizing their missing piece.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, this can’t be happening.” Rose slammed back against the couch. “This is a guy who was planning to kill me! Maybe I could get over the insanity of that if he hadn’t pretended to be my friend—and then almost had sex with me before the tiny bit of conscience he had left stopped him.”

Niamh blushed. “Well … you being his mate, I’d think it would be difficult for him to control his attraction to you.”

“Don’t make excuses for him.”

“I’m so sorry, mo chroí.”

Hearing his voice from her dreams, she glowered at the ceiling. “What … what does ‘muh kree’ mean?”

“Mo chroí? It means ‘my heart,’” Ronan answered.

Jesus. A horrible ached flared inside her. “And ‘muh graw’?”

Niamh and Ronan shared a look and then Niamh replied, “Mo grá means ‘my love.’”

He’d called Aoibhinn his love and Rose his heart. “Is there a difference? He called me the first and his wife the second.”

Niamh shrugged. “It’s the one answer I don’t have.”

“I’m sure it’s interchangeable for a lot of people,” Ronan said, strolling toward them. “But I’ve never been in love and I’ve called plenty of women the latter.” He sat down on the coffee table in front of Rose. “I’ve never called a woman mo chroí.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re just saying what you think I need to hear so I’ll go back to Fionn and convince him to give up his revenge plans.”

“You’re not wrong,” he admitted. “But I’m also not lying.”

Exhaling heavily, Rose thrust her hands into her hair and bowed her head, staring at the silver box that contained An Breitheamh. “Even if I found the strength to go back to the bastard, I’ll never convince him. He told me before I left that he couldn’t kill me. I didn’t believe him at the time, but now I do. Problem is, I know in my gut that he hasn’t give

n up. He’ll come for you again, Niamh. Or the other fae-borne. Have you had a vision of your own future?”

“Magic is a strange thing … I’ve never had a vision about myself. It’s like magic has a sense of morality or rules or something. Knowing my own future would be cheating, I guess.”

“Then how do you know your fate is to be immortal?”

“That I feel in my gut.” Grief pinched her expression as she looked at Ronan. “I’m destined to outlive those I love.”

Ronan’s expression hardened and he looked away, staring out the window, apparently unwilling to discuss a life where they were no longer together. There was a tension between the siblings Rose didn’t quite understand. It was clear Ronan was protective of Niamh, but something like resentment bubbled between them.