Bound by Forever (True Immortality 3)

This was vengeance.

“I thought they were all dead.” Her grief-stricken gaze moved toward the woman behind him. “But that night at the hotel in Kalmar, I had a vision of her. Alive. Here in Paris.” She looked back at Kiyo, seeming to plead with him. “All those visions of bad people, all the justice I mete out. How could I ignore this one when it’s the most important?”

He lowered a knee to the floor and moved closer, his hand covering hers as it rested on her knee. “Then why is she still alive? And why are you balled up in a corner like this?”

“I’m taking my time,” she said in an almost comically petulant tone.

“You’re procrastinating.”

“I’m going to do it. Ronan deserves justice.”

His hand tightened over hers. “This isn’t justice, Niamh. This is vengeance. Trust me. I know the difference.”

“Whatever word you want to give it, I owe this to my brother.”

Kiyo recognized guilt when he saw it. “You’re not to blame for Ronan’s death.”

The surrounding air crackled dangerously.

“Kiyo,” Conall warned.

Niamh glared at him. “I never said I was.”

Denial.

Great.

“Niamh. Let the witch go, and you and I can get the hell out of this shithole.”

Her eyes lowered and she shook her head.

Frustration churned in his gut.

“Kiyo …” Conall’s voice came at him again.

And this time he understood why. The alpha’s words of wisdom regarding trust filtered through his mind. With a heavy sigh of discomfort, Kiyo moved to sit beside Niamh, his back pressed against the wall, the side of his body touching hers. He looked at her profile, taking in the pert nose that turned up a little at the end, the wide cheekbones, and the spiky, long lashes wet with tears.

Something tightened in his chest.

Agitation thrummed through him, but he called on the self-control he took much pride in and cleared his throat. He had a job to do and apparently making himself vulnerable was going to be part of that job.

“You don’t want to do this, Niamh. I told you before that deciding who lives and dies is too big a judgment to lay on your shoulders. It’s not up to you, and it shouldn’t be.”

She stiffened next to him but he pushed on. “It’s not who you are. There’s too much darkness in it. The line has been blurred between vengeance and justice in everything you’ve been doing these last few months. But this”—he gestured to the witch—“this is vengeance, pure and simple.”

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”

“Your soul matters,” he said gruffly.

Her head whipped toward him, her eyes wide with surprise.

“You told me I should be grateful that your greatest gift was your kindness, your compassion. What you really meant was that I should be grateful your humanity was your greatest gift.”

Niamh’s beautiful eyes glistened once more.

He wanted to reach out and catch the tear that escaped but instead, he clenched his hand into a fist and held back. “You were right about me,” he confessed. “I’m more than I seem. I’m …” He exhaled slowly, disbelieving he was going to say the words out loud when he never had before. “I’m immortal.”

She seemed surprised, but he didn’t know if it was the nature of the confession or the confession itself.

“I was born in Osaka in the winter of 1872.”

Her eyes searched his face, curiosity bright in them.

“I’ve lived a long time, Niamh, and I personally understand vengeance.” He ducked his head toward her, inhaling her scent, and his fist unfurled with a life of its own. He found himself cradling her face with his hand, sweeping his thumb down her cheek in a tender gesture he didn’t know he still had in him. “Trust me when I tell you that once you have your vengeance … there’s nothing but emptiness at the end of it. It took everything from me. I don’t want that for you.”

Fresh tears spilled down her freckled cheeks as she wrapped her hand around his wrist and squeezed gently. “Okay,” she whispered.

Relief moved through him. She capitulated so quickly that he knew she was just waiting for someone to talk her down. This wasn’t who she was. He stroked her cheek one last time and then moved to stand, pulling her up with him. He studied her as she seemed to gather herself, throwing her shoulders back as she turned to look at the witch.

Conall gave him a nod of respect, which he appreciated considering how goddamn exposed he felt right then.

Then Niamh flicked her wrist and the golden light encircling the witch’s wrists and ankles disappeared.

“It wasn’t me,” Meghan said, her eyes wild. “It wasn’t us. She made us do it.”

Ignoring the witch’s stressed babbling, Kiyo turned to Niamh. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“I don’t think I know what the right thing is anymore, and that scares me. It should scare everyone.”