Kiss of Vengeance (True Immortality 2)

But because something else was happening to her.

A golden shimmer danced across her vision as this weight, this unbelievably heavy weight that she hadn’t even been aware of, seemed to lift from her body.

“What the …” The vampire sat up, staring at her in confusion, her blood dripping from his chin.

That’s when Rose realized the golden shimmer was a light peeling away from her body. She sat up, lifting her hand, and watched the light mimic her movement. It was shaped like the outline of her, like a silhouette. The vampire scrambled off her to watch as the light moved as one toward the center of her chest until it amalgamated into one large, glowing ball.

“Oh my—”

It exploded, throwing Rose to the ground and the vampire into a nearby trash can.

Darkness fell over the alley again.

A tingling sensation brought Rose’s hand to her neck.

“Holy fuck,” she whimpered, feeling her flesh knit together.

Shaking, she touched the vampire’s other wound.

Blood smeared her fingers … but the wounds were gone.

And the alley was no longer pitch-black. It was gray, and she could see the trash cans clearly … she could see the vampire clearly, his silver eyes as bright.

Night vision.

As Rose sat up, her limbs felt strange, like for years there had been a heaviness in them, and now, only lightness and strength.

The vampire stood, staring at her in disbelief. Rose laughed at the thought, the sound disconcerting in the dark.

A vampire stared at her in disbelief.

“What the hell are you?” he asked.

Touching her neck, finding the worst wound healed over, her earlier fear melted away. Confusion remained, but there was also power flowing through her body. Inexplicable, incredible power that crackled from her skin.

Power that made her feel less afraid of him.

The vampire.

A goddamn vampire.

She lifted her chin in defiance. “I think I might be hard to kill.”

Rose spoke too soon.

She realized that milliseconds later as the blur of his body shot toward her and she felt his powerful hands grip hold of her nape.

The last thing she heard was the resounding crack of her neck breaking.

4

At first Fionn was dismayed when he encountered the vampire at the club. Watching the dark-haired bloodsucker as he moved through the crowds, Fionn had suspected right away that this man was the killer Bran had warned him about.

Vampires didn’t stalk humans. They socialized with them, drank from them only what they needed, leaving behind questionable wounds that only perpetuated human fascination with vampire mythology.

This vampire, however, was hunting.

Fionn, unfortunately, was too preoccupied with the bartender to deal with the vampire and his would-be victim. His psychic wasn’t at the club, which meant she probably knew he was and was staying away. Could the bartender be that important, then? Was she even the reason the psychic had been there in the first place, or was Fionn reaching?

Earlier that day, he’d broken into the club and logged onto the office computer. He’d found the employee records, which included helpful photographs of each of them.

He found Rose. The bartender.

Rose Kelly.

That was an Irish name if ever there was one, Fionn had mused. She was Irish American. Twenty-five years old and her résumé belonged to that of a vagabond. The girl had been wandering for the last three years. First Australia, then numerous cities around Europe. Why? What was she running from?

Retrieving her Social Security number, Fionn had sent the information to Bran. So far all they’d discovered was that Rose Kelly was the adopted daughter of Anna and Bill Kelly. They adopted her when she was a little over a year old. Anna and Bill lived in Maryland in the United States but were both originally from Cork in Ireland. Anna was an artist and Bill was a website developer. Rose had graduated from the University of Pennsylvania with a degree in marketing.

From there she’d become a nomad.

Why?

Bran was working on gathering more information while Fionn followed Rose. He’d become aware of the vampire’s presence, stalking Rose, as soon as she’d taken two steps away from the club.

At first Fionn was pissed he’d have to deal with the vampire for interfering in his business, but then he’d realized a vampire attack might give him some insight into Rose’s abilities, or lack thereof.

He’d watched from the rooftops as the vampire pulled Rose into the alleyway and tore into her neck. To Fionn’s surprise, he’d had to stop himself from getting involved. Watching Rose’s attack was unnerving. Disconcerting. A strange feeling of guilt pricked him for letting the vamp get within touching distance of her.

It made no sense.

Unless his instincts were telling him she was important.

That she did have something to do with the fae children after all.

Still, he held himself back and was glad for it as he watched her push off the vampire with unnatural strength.

“Bingo,” he murmured, leaning over the roof to see what would happen next.

It wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting.

After the vampire knocked Rose to the ground with a sickening thud of her head, Fionn was sure she was supernatural.

That kind of hit would’ve crushed a human’s skull.

When the golden light began to peel away from her body, anticipation curled in Fionn’s gut.

He knew what that light meant.

Someone had put a spell on Rose Kelly.

That light gathered into a ball above her chest and then exploded, throwing the vampire back against the wall and Rose to the ground. Her energy blasted out of her and rolled over Fionn in wave after glorious wave. With it came her scent.

Floral and earthy, like summer in Ireland, tinged with a heady sweetness like caramelized sugar.

The hair on his neck rose.

Fae.

She was goddamn fae.

He watched as she slowly stood to face the vampire.

Someone had put a blocking spell on Rose Kelly to suppress her fae powers.

Fionn needed Bran to find out who her birth parents were and how they knew she needed to be protected. Because that was the purpose for the spell.

A spell his clever little psychic had seen through.

Standing to his feet, Fionn decided it was time to end this interlude with the vampire. Rose had proven herself brave and strong, but her confusion was clear. Fionn needed to determine how much or how little she knew. He was hoping she knew little.

It would be so much easier to manipulate her if she was clueless.

“What the hell are you?” the vampire asked from below.

“I think I might be hard to kill,” Rose answered.

Fionn smirked at that.

Oh, she had no idea.

Not even a second later, his smirk melted as the vampire broke Rose’s neck. She crumpled, not dead, but out for the count.

Possessive fury roared through Fionn as he stepped off the rooftop. Rose Kelly was now his to kill at the right moment. No other fucker would dare touch her until then.

The vampire whirled around as Fionn dropped to the ground on light feet. The blood drinker bared his fangs, hackles raised.

Fionn lifted a finger and waggled it at the vampire. “We mustn’t touch what isn’t ours.”

The vampire lunged and Fionn used the force against him, punching his fist through the vamp’s chest, feeling the warm, wet muscle of his heart pulsing in his hands.

Then he tore it out.

The vampire’s body burst into ash that floated in the still night air. The wet muscle in Fionn’s hand disintegrated into dust too.

Fionn stepped around the cloud of dead vampire and kneeled in the alley to brush away Rose’s dark hair from her face. She was beautiful in a subtle way. All Aine’s fae were at

tractive. It was part of their weaponry.

He perused her body. She wasn’t short, but she wasn’t tall. She had a gentle feminine flare to her hips. Still, she was lean and strong, like an athlete because she had been. Bran discovered articles on her. She’d been a gymnast in high school, en route to the US Olympic team, until she’d mysteriously walked away from the sport.

Despite the spell, she’d been stronger than the average human.