by Britt Bury
“Would you want to talk about such a thing?”
“No,” he replied instantly. “But I hear it helps.”
She looked at him for a long moment. Then he glanced her way, took another swallow of liquor, and said, “I lost my female. I will no’ say more than that.”
Somehow Ramsey’s admission made her feel better.
“He, ah…” She shook her head. “No. It was me… I was stupid.”
Ramsey tilted his head, as if recognizing the wounded look she knew she was wearing.
“I actually believed him,” she whispered. “I thought he wanted me. That we were…”
In love, but she couldn’t say it out loud.
“Sometimes males make mistakes.” He stared down into his empty glass. “You’re raised with expectations. Duty and honor is all that matters.” He shrugged. “You fight, you win, or you fail. And when something comes along that takes us outside our routine, our code, we do no’ always know how ta adapt.”
Such sorrow laced his voice. Perhaps he understood her feelings better than she thought. “It sounds like you’re sticking up for him… a Pookah enemy.”
Ramsey just shook his head. “Our clans have been rivals for centuries. We’ve both taken lives from each. Yet it never ceases, the count is never settled.” He exhaled loudly. “Enough of my babble. The Pookah is an ass. You deserve better than what he did ta you. But lass.” He looked her straight in the eye. “It’s you who has ta choose how ta deal with that.”
She gazed at her lap. She had no idea if she ever could deal with what had happened. The unfeeling Izel from a couple weeks ago was gone.
“You belong ta yourself,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “Do no’ allow another ta bring ya pain.”
A rush of terror crashed through her. What if she didn’t belong to herself? She had given everything she was to Kelvin.
“Careful, lass,” Ramsey warned, as if seeing her inner thoughts written on her face. “Either you find your way with him, or without him. If you can’t do that, then you’ll be doomed ta live like a hollow shell.”
Her eyes shot wide. This whole time Izel had been sure she wasn’t Kelvin’s mate. But what if she was? If she’d bound him to her, a mortal, she put him at risk.
“I’m not his mate.” She would have known. “He would have come for me by now if I was. There’s nothing I can—”
Ramsey laughed and the loud boom of his voice startled her. “Oh, lass, I’d bet my balls that the Pookah is coming for ya.”
She frowned. “How could you say that? You were there; you saw what happened. One doesn’t typically lie and let their female go.”
“And what do you know of that, hmm?” His voice had grown a touch rough. “Never underestimate what a man will do to, or for, his woman.”
Izel gulped, her head buzzing from the alcohol. “If he does come, it will be for the Wolverine, not for me.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Ramsey’s demeanor was relaxed again. “I forgot ta tell ya, the high prince escaped.”
“What?”
“Aye, a little Poet released him while we were out looking for you.”
Great. Now Kelvin really wasn’t coming. Not that she had been expecting that in the first place.
“Well, it’s getting late. I got ta go strategize with the boys.” He rose from the bed. “And you, lass, need ta take a shower because”—he leaned in and sniffed—“you smell like a backwoods pub.”
She glared at his teasing remark, and he jutted his chin. “And ya got a mean case of bed head there.”
She play-punched his shoulder. He laughed and strode to the door. “I’ll have some food sent up. You’re gonna want it after a full belly of this.” He held up the empty liquor bottle. Opening the door to leave, he called over his shoulder. “Get some rest, lass. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
She gave a small wave and slunk back against the headboard. Turning toward the window, she found the sun beginning to rise. How long had they chatted? Taking Ramsey’s advice, she jumped in the shower, letting the water slide down her body for a long time.
She was so grateful for her new friend. Although, like most Fionn Warriors, Ramsey was starkly beautiful, she felt no sexual attraction toward him whatsoever. Somewhere deep down, Izel knew she’d never lust after another man again.
Kelvin Kerr has utterly ruined me for other males.
It was only him, for her. She thought about the Fionn’s words. Somehow, she had to find a way to live, with or without Kelvin. The water sprayed her neck as she hung her head. Neither was an option for her. She couldn’t have him, but she couldn’t get over him. The Pookah had her heart, and she’d bet money that even if she somehow got it back, it’d never beat again.
She was doomed. Sentenced to a life of emptiness, loneliness. Fighting off the despair, she lifted her face to the spray of water. She could, and would, wallow secretly. No one else needed to know of her weakness, of her heartache.
It was time to woman-up.
Her human life would be short in comparison to the immortals around her and she would need to make the most of it. She would find Euan and make him proud, never letting another soul know she was, once again, emotionless.
If there was one thing she had practice in, it was in operating as a machine and not as a woman. It was time to go back to how she’d been before the glamour wore off. She would simply exist. Do what she needed for others to be happy. Prove her worth just enough to remain stagnant.
Toweling off and sliding into bed, she breathed deeply, snuggling beneath the large coverlet. The Pookah’s face flashed in her mind, the way his blue eyes bore into hers, the feel of his skin beneath her hands as he moved inside her… his thick hands cupping her jaw as he kissed all over her face, praising her beauty.
Christ, she still scented him.
She waited for the tears to come, but they didn’t. Eyes sliding shut, her last thought before she drifted into a deep sleep was I’m dead inside.
Chapter 24
The last two weeks had passed slowly, and Kelvin was chomping at the bit to see Izel. Or perhaps, more realistically, the Campbell dungeon. Except, he had to admit, Ian had been right. He’d needed time to right his mind, regain strength, and secure the Kerr army. Divvying out orders and commands to his highest-ranked officers, he had spent the majority of these last days preparing for a potentially lengthy absence. The truth was he had no idea what would become of him once he was under Campbell rule.
Upon awakening in the grass the morning Izel had been taken by the Fionns, Kelvin had scoured the tower, finding that all of her belongings were left behind. Standing in the doorway of their bedroom, he had about hit his knees at the sight before him.
The sheets had been rumpled, fresh signs of their recent lovemaking. And he had still scented her heat, her arousal. Sex and innocence wafted through his brain the moment he stepped foot inside. The evidence of his betrayal had been palpable.
Her things had been scattered. Purple sweater next to ripped bra and panties he’d torn from her skin. The candles had flickered out, and somehow the room where he had experienced the best moments of his long life had turned daunting.
He ran a palm over his neck. Now, in his chambers within the main castle, he dug in the pack for the journal. He replayed that amazing night over and over in his mind. Hated walking into the small room where he’d found salvation that now made him sick at the loss.
At least he had her things.
Pacing in front of the hearth, he skimmed through the small volume. Information was scattered throughout pages. Most of it he already knew.
Izel’s prophecy predicted by the Dryads… realm-defying powers… all three castes of Fionn inside her.
He stilled, eyes landing on something new. Kelvin read a passage the Mystic had scribbled twenty-five years ago:
Her path is set. She will harbor great magics, gifts that will cross all realms. But a single encounter with the Pookah beast will change her course of fate. Her mor
tality will hinder her, weaken her. Her own heart out of her own control. She will suffer. Death imminent. Her humanity ending swiftly. I was assured of this. The curse of the Kerr Pookah will kill her. She is meant to be great. To bring peace. I must not fail.
So shall the curse—so shall the salvation.
Kelvin stared in disbelief. Acid rose in his throat. He knelt and retched.
I have sentenced my mate to death.
“Ryo!” Kelvin bellowed as he stomped through the dark halls of the castle. After reading of the curse, the curse he set upon Izel, he’d thrown the journal across the room, immediately seeking out the witch.
“Ryo the Righteous! How can you be on retainer if you’re never sodding here?” he yelled again. Many species hired out warlocks, herbalists, and various magical breeds for their talents and caste specialties. Ryo had been with the Kerr clan only a short time, but her presence had proved to be invaluable. Her skills and foresight had assisted the Pookahs on more than one occasion.
“Jesus Christ, Kerr. It’s, like, five in the morning.” The sleepy witch leaned against the large oak door of her room. Her pale hair was a mess and the matching pink pajama set she wore was embroidered with little black bats. She scratched her head, yawning loudly. “You know this is considered overtime.”
The witch was already paid very well, not to mention having her own quarters. But Kelvin would happily give her whatever she wanted as long as she secured Izel’s life.
“We need ta speak,” he said gruffly.
Still yawning, she ushered him in. Per her request, Ryo’s chambers had been split up. A small vestibule had been sectioned off from the rest of her rooms. A single desk, housing a lamp and a quill, were all that occupied the small space.
She sat behind the desk, pulling out a piece of paper and grabbing the quill. Kelvin knew the drill. No magic without a contract. “Go ahead,” she said in a professional voice.
Arms crossed, he loomed over the other side of the desk. “I need ta undo a prophecy… a curse.”
“You’re talking about the mortal,” she stated. His eyes shot to her with confusion. “I talked to your brother a few weeks ago about all this.”
Kelvin gritted his teeth. “I do no’ need information about her, I need ta change her course o’ fate.”
The witch laughed and set her pen down. “I’m flattered you think me an all-powerful witch without compare—let’s face it, I am all those things. However, neither I, nor anyone else”—she looked him in the eye—“can undo, or redo, or change, or mess in any way with what the Dryads set into motion or speak as truth.” She shook her head. “It’s just not possible.”
He pounded his fist on the desk. “Damn it, witch! This has ta be undone!”
“Hey!” she yelled back. “This is an antique.” She smoothed her palms over the ivory desk. “You pigs need to learn some manners.”
“Ryo,” he growled in warning, his patience depleting.
“Pookah?” she mocked, rolling her eyes. Kelvin took a deep breath, reining in his rage and attempting to change tactics.
“She’s going ta die…” he whispered. The witch looked down, fingering her pen.
“And you care because you two are bonded now. You believe you’ll die alongside her?”
“O’ course I do no’! My life matters little. I want her to live.”
“Well,” she told him, “you will not share Izel’s fate and perish.”
Kelvin’s throat went dry. Did the witch not understand? It was Izel’s life he wanted to preserve, not his own. Wait. “What do ya mean, will we no’ share the same fate? We’re linked. When one of us dies—”
“I know the prophecy and have already said too much. I’m sorry, Kelvin. I really am, but I cannot change what the Dryads have foretold.”
“It’s all so vague—”
“Yes!” she pointed at him, as if he’d just answered correctly on a quiz. “I’ve looked into this, Kerr, and you, you naughty little beast, have single-handedly altered this chick’s destiny.”
He hung his head. He knew this already! By Christ, what would it take to get straight answers?
“Maybe we can fanoogle the logistics,” she chirped.
Fanoogle? Great. He was seeking answers from a twenty-eight-year-old witch that made up words. Bloody perfect.
“I can turn her into a toad and you can keep her in a jar,” she offered. Was she trying to enrage him? What kind of game was she playing?
“This is serious!” he yelled.
“Kerr, listen carefully. You have messed up her life. You are her mate and you are the one the curse is tied to.” She looked him in the eye. “She has a preordained path set, which means, wait for it… you do not mess with it.”
He growled, about to throttle the witch. “If her path is ta die then it does no good! Her fate, her powers—all that will die with her.”
“And you care about her power?” she asked with genuine interest.
“Of course I do no’! I care about her. I only want her.” He paced, stabbing fingers through his hair. There had to be something he could do.
“You’re just going to have to ride this out. Though you’re her curse, you’re also her salvation. Be patient.” Ryo’s eyes went distant, as if seeing beyond Kelvin. “Sometimes knowing the outcome only makes things worse.”
“I can no’ wait and let her die!” He would protect her. He would spend every second around her, sword drawn, defending her from anyone or anything that came near her. Ryo was of no help. When he glanced back at her, he saw she was glowing. Eerie creature.
And then it hit him. Izel had glowed like that a few times.
Bloody hell!
Perhaps he hadn’t imagined what he’d seen! Could she be coming into her powers? What he’d thought had been a figment of his imagination could have been her inner glow. Which meant… if Izel was in fact coming into power, she’d be unstoppable. Indestructible. Perhaps even immortal. There was hope. The prophecy might have been foretold, but it hadn’t been carried out. Kelvin thought he could fix this.
“You planned to leave tonight… that is wise.” She continued to stare into space. “I’ll have a solution when you return, problem in hand.”
Kelvin just shook his head and walked out. He didn’t understand what Ryo’s parting words meant. He had a problem right now! Slamming the door behind him, he thought he heard the witch begin to softly chant.
Bloody witches.
Ryo sat perfectly still in the darkness. Staring straight ahead, she breathed deep, a weighty force pushing into her like something heavier than gravity. She mumbled in a foreign tongue, and ancient lettering began to appear on the previously blank paper before her.
She felt her heartbeat pulse behind her eyes. Her breathing quickened. Faster… faster…
Gasping, she sucked in a strangled breath, her vision blurring. “Ah… God!” she yelled. Slapping a palm against her forehead, her eyes slowly refocused. “Friggin’ hate blacking out,” she muttered to herself.
She examined the scroll before her, which was now filled with black-inked symbols. Recognizing the dead language, she read the message the spirits had left behind. Her stomach twisted, eyes wide with shock. She looked at the door Kelvin had just exited through.
“The Pookah is gonna be piiiiisssssed!”
Chapter 25
Izel had spent the last couple of weeks learning the ropes of Campbell clan business. Although she was technically head chief, she let Andrew oversee things, especially matters involving the Campbell army.
Andrew didn���t say much to her. And honestly, that was just fine with Izel. Although everyone had been polite so far, she was treated more as a faulty time bomb, eyes constantly watching her as if at any moment she’d burst into flames. Well, everyone was just going to have to keep waiting. So far, there was no sign of her developing any realm-defying magics, nor any sign of Kelvin Kerr.
The only good thing she’d learned was that her grandfather was in fact inside th
e Cypher as a Sentry. His soul hadn’t been expunged; rather he was now a guardian of the realm. Only the most powerful immortals ever became guardians of the Cypher. Unfortunately, unless the attempt was made during the Court of Contention, it was exceedingly difficult to tap into the Cypher and speak with a Sentry, but she was working on a plan to do so.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Ramsey bellowed, bursting through the door. She sat up in bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes. Since the night of their drunken conversation, the Warrior Fionn had become Izel’s only friend. Every morning he came to escort her to the command room, where she met with the leaders of the Campbell operation.
“What will I be doing today?” she sighed, stretching.
He shrugged, sitting on the side of the mattress. “Eh, give some orders, wage some wars, you know, chief-y stuff.” He handed her a mug of hot coffee.
“Chief-y stuff. Right.” She rolled her eyes, raising the mug to her mouth.
“I’m sure Andrew has some things he wants ta go over with you.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he does,” she mumbled, brim to her lips. A buzzing noise sounded and Ramsey pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He flipped it open and looked at the screen. Probably a text message.
“Ah, one more thing here, chief.”
She eyed him, taking a deep swallow of java.
“Looks like your Pookah just showed up.”
Shock swept through her as she spit coffee all over Ramsey.
“Jesus, woman.” He laughed, surveying his shirt, which was now covered in dark liquid. She coughed and patted her chest.
“I’m so”—cough—“sorry.”
He rose and placed his cell phone back into his jeans pocket. “Well?” His brows raised, he looked seemingly unconcerned that he was covered with hot coffee. “Ya coming?”
Still catching her breath, her eyes went wide. “Coming where?”
“Ah, ta meet with Andrew and Lennox, o’ course. Unless you wanna leave the fate of Kelvin Kerr in their hands?”
