Bound by Forever (True Immortality 3)

The buildings themselves were old and run-down. Some were covered in graffiti. Washing hung out of the windows of apartments on the upper floors while plywood had been nailed across windows on the lower floors.

It was the exact kind of place he’d choose to hide out if he’d, say, kidnapped a fae woman or was planning on hurting someone. What was Niamh doing? His gut knotted.

“This car might not sit here too long,” Kiyo observed grimly, trying to hide his anxiety.

“Aye.” Conall shot Kiyo an equally grim look. “This is a side of Paris I’ve never seen before.”

“Every city has places like this. No matter how beautiful the rest of it is.”

“Even the Highlands has places like this,” Conall agreed as he pushed open the driver’s-side door. “If the world existed as a wolf pack does, wealth would be distributed equally, and no place on earth would look or feel like this.”

If he wasn’t so concerned about tracking down Niamh, Kiyo might have smirked at the wolf’s idealism. Conall had apparently inherited it from his grandfather who could wax lyrical for hours on the advantages of pack life. And Kiyo had to admit, one of the things he’d admired most about Clan MacLennan and its chief was that everyone within the pack was provided with a pack stipend. No one would ever go without in their pack.

Following Conall out onto the sidewalk, Kiyo caught sight of two men farther down the street, leaning against an apartment building, staring at them. Or at the car.

He stared defiantly back, emitting as much alpha energy as he could and watched in satisfaction as the two men not only averted their gaze but hurried away in the opposite direction.

“You’d make quite the leader if you ever fancied creating your own pack,” Conall said.

He turned to find Conall watching him with a glint of admiration. Kiyo cocked an eyebrow.

“Your energy,” Conall explained. “I didn’t expect it, and it almost took me to my knees.”

“But didn’t.”

The Scot grinned. “Not once I fought it off with my own.”

He gave him a distracted nod. “Where is Niamh?”

Conall’s smile disappeared. He lifted his chin toward the building behind him. The one with the mattresses and other used shit spilled out on its “lawn.” They hurried toward it and found the entrance system broken. The building door swung open easily.

“Up here,” Conall said in a low voice.

Kiyo had to admit, he was envious of Conall’s tracking ability. It guided them to an apartment door on the third floor. Kiyo knew it was accurate because he could smell Niamh. He smelled that spicy-sweet scent of hers in the tight, graffiti-covered stairwell, and it grew stronger the closer they got to the apartment.

Something like nervousness twisted his gut, which made as much sense as his anxiousness. Kiyo was never nervous or anxious.

What the hell was happening to him?

And what the hell was happening to Niamh?

His urgency and worry overpowered that twist in his gut, and he grabbed the door handle and yanked until it broke. He and Conall moved into the apartment at speed and came to an abrupt halt at what they found in the small space.

Kiyo stared at Niamh, vaguely aware of Conall closing the apartment door behind them.

Niamh was huddled in the corner of the sparsely furnished room, her arms tight around her knees. Her cheeks were pale and tear streaked, her eyes huge in her face and filled with the kind of grief and pain that cut through Kiyo like a katana.

“Kiyo.” Conall’s voice stopped him just before he moved to go to her.

He glanced back at the alpha. Conall gestured to the wall adjacent.

Kiyo followed his gaze and found a small blond woman. Her back was pressed against the wall, her own face saturated with fear. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the gold rings that encircled the blond’s wrists and ankles. He’d never seen anything like it. The rings were made from light. Golden light.

Fae magic.

His eyes flew to Niamh. “Who is she?”

Niamh shook her head in despair.

He took a tentative step toward her. “Did you do that? The magical restraints?”

She nodded slowly.

Kiyo looked back at Conall who stayed where he was, guarding the exit. “Have you seen anything like that?”

“The restraints? No.” He shook his head, his attention moving to Niamh. “My mate had no idea what she was, had barely tapped into her potential before the change. It seems Niamh has had more practice.”

Niamh looked at Conall but immediately refocused on Kiyo.

He took another step toward her. “Who is the woman?”

Her haunted eyes filled with fresh tears, and Kiyo was done. He hurried across the room and lowered himself in front of her.

“Niamh,” he said, his voice soft, coaxing. “Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”

“She”—the word croaked and cracked, causing Niamh to swallow hard and try again—“Meghan … Her coven killed my brother.”