by Britt Bury
“Okay. So even if she’s held on, there is still no guarantee. What I’m telling you is an old myth.” Ryo spoke with deliberate skepticism, but no matter how many times she repeated the words “myth” and “if,” she didn’t feel any less guilty, and the Pookah didn’t look any more deterred. “Kelvin, if you want my honest, professional opinion, conjuring of this kind is impossible without magic present in the soul. Izel was a mortal. She didn’t fully come into her powers—”
“You said ‘feed’?” Kelvin asked, as if not hearing a word she’d just said. Ryo nodded. The Pookah was going to do this, no matter what she advised. May as well tell him.
“She’s going to need blood from a live source, a strong source.” She expected him to at least question this aspect. When dealing with blood, one’s thoughts typically turned toward vampirism, which was not favored in this realm.
“She will have mine. Anything else?”
She looked him in the eyes, seeing the pain as palpable. “Kelvin, this is not—”
“You’ve explained the odds already,” he snapped. “Is there anything else she’ll need?” He hovered and looked upon Izel’s lifeless body.
“Give me some time to prepare her.” Before Kelvin could ask what that meant, she finished with, “I’m going to clean her.” That was only part of what she would do. She didn’t want to tell Kelvin she wanted a few moments alone to try to tap into Izel’s power. She continued feeling for the vibrations of life, her hand slowly moving over the top of Izel, but still felt nothing. If Ryo could concentrate without the Pookah hovering over her, she might be able to get a better read on the mortal.
“An hour?” Kelvin asked.
Ryo nodded.
Although it looked as if might kill him to leave, Kelvin turned, reluctantly heading for the door. Just before he slipped into the dark hallway, he stopped and looked over his shoulder at his mate. “She’s with child. Verra early stages, but I scented it. Will…” Ryo watched the muscles in his chest tense and heard him swallow back tears.
“I don’t know,” she whispered gently. “Magic is a powerful thing, rivaled only by love… anything is possible.”
Haze. Gray and bleak. All Kelvin could see and feel were muted colors of emptiness, interrupted by bouts of soul-shattering agony. His mate, his one true female, was dead.
Ryo had cleaned Izel’s skin of dirt and blood. She lay upon the witch’s bed dressed in a simple white sheath. He trailed a finger along her cheekbone. Her arms and legs were lifeless; her face gaunt, her chest still. The window was open and the crisp early morning breeze hit his neck. He wanted to scoop her up, grip her slight frame, and hug her close. The rising wind continued to howl through the room. She must be getting cold. He knew that any second, goose bumps would break over her pretty skin. He examined her chest, her shoulders. Yes, any moment she’d shiver.
An anguished growl sounded from somewhere. It took Kelvin several minutes before realizing that the tortured cries were actually coming from him. Moisture streaked down his face, but his eyes remained locked on her
“Kelvin?” Ian said from behind him.
“Shhh… she’s sleeping.” He studied his female’s face and smiled. She’d be awake soon, he told himself. She wasn’t dead… no… she was merely resting.
“Kelvin, why don’t ya come ta your chambers and get some rest—”
“I will no’ leave her! Get away from us!” He leaned forward and clutched her wee hand in his. He wouldn’t let go of her. He’d never let go. Instead, he lifted her arm and pressed a kiss into her palm.
“Come back ta me,” he whispered.
Total desperation and rage coursed over him. He was useless. Helpless. All he could do was wait.
Kelvin squinted and slowly lifted his heavy lids. The sun was setting. Orange rays beamed through the window and hit his face. The day was finally giving way to the ninth night.
The side of his face was pressed against the edge of the mattress. Blood poured from deep gashes in his forearms. He tightened his hold on the hilt of his dagger, willing his hot blood to flow more quickly.
He hadn’t left her side. For eight nights he had dragged his blade from wrist to elbow and drained his blood into a glass. Every eve he forced Izel’s lips open and slid his essence down her throat. Ryo had checked on them regularly, but like she’d said, this was beyond all of them. Izel was the one who held her own fate now.
Refusing food and sleep, he sat in a chair beside the bed—moving only to feed her. He didn’t feel the sharp blade sink into his skin. Didn’t feel the sting of the cut. The pain of life without her… the anguish of not being able to hear her heart beat or watch her cheeks flush. That was where his real misery lay.
The sun disappeared completely behind the horizon as he rose to stand dazedly, staring at the woman before him. His mind was little more than slop, but a dose of fear-riddled adrenaline coursed through him.
Come on, love… live.
He willed Izel to open her eyes, silently praying for a miracle. He would do anything, give anything, if it meant his female would awaken.
His gaze didn’t leave her. Moisture began to line his eyes. With every second that passed, his pulse quickened. His body began to lightly shake. He clenched his jaw. Hope was slipping away. He was losing her all over again.
“Kelvin!” A voice from the distance called, followed by hammering footfalls. Ian.
“Thompson and several Fionns have breached our walls. They’re heading this way and they want Izel!”
Chapter 32
Kelvin clutched his dagger, forearms still bleeding. He stepped in front of his woman’s body as Andrew and several Campbell Fionns entered the chamber.
“I gave you time. I’ve no intention to bring ill will against your house. I merely seek to return our chief to her rightful resting place.”
Several of Kelvin’s Pookah men came in behind the tromping Fionns. Kelvin could kill them all. But Thompson hadn’t made a threat. And like it or not, he was of his mate’s clan.
The moon shone bright, the beams slicing through the windowpane, catching the metal swords and flickering shards of light on the ground. Kelvin looked at his men, ready to engage.
He glanced to his right, then left. Although all immortals held swords in hand, none were drawn. All stood at the edge of the bed that housed his female. Kelvin looked over his shoulder and, for a long moment, couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight of her, still lifeless. It was the ninth night, and Izel still lay without breath. She was lost to another realm. She would not return to him. Not this night or any other. Still he would not let her go.
Heat pumped in Kelvin’s veins. He raised his bloody dagger over his head.
Everyone went still. He looked at Andrew. He would not allow him to take Izel.
Andrew’s knuckles went white around the hilt of his sword. Whatever he saw on Kelvin’s face made him tense for an attack. “Ready to end this, Kerr?” He raised his blade.
“I’m ready ta end you.”
Both clans, the Fionns and Pookahs, watched, waiting for an order, as the two Battle Chiefs clutched their weapons and slowly began circling each other.
“I told you we’d come for her body.”
“Go near her and I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth,” Kelvin snapped, operating only on adrenaline.
And hatred.
Izel, with her kind soul and humanity, had been prophesized to be powerful, to bring peace. But she didn’t. She’d never had that chance. Kelvin’s mere existence had made sure of that, hadn’t it? Christ, how he wanted to die. He just had one last thing to kill before he could end himself. And the little gray-eyed fuck was right before him.
Thompson swung his sword, but Kelvin caught the blade with the hilt of his dagger and kicked out at Andrew’s knee.
Both Fionns and Pookahs rushed. “No!” both Kelvin and Andrew yelled in unison. This was between them. The other warriors backed up, allowing for more space inside the already enormous room.
Thompson was remarkably fast and recovered from Kelvin’s kick. He spun, landing a blow on Kelvin’s calf.
Kelvin roared and mule-kicked Thompson square in the sternum, sending him flying backward. Trudging toward him, he watched Andrew rise to his feet and take an attack stance. Kelvin barely registered his movements. Vaguely aware that he was swinging his dagger at the Fionn, he only saw red. Felt only emptiness.
“That Mystic!” Slice. “This is his fault! Your fault!” Jab. Kelvin’s screams grew louder with each swipe he made at Andrew. “You knew! You knew of the curse and you let her die!” He roared to the sky, and with all his strength jammed his blade into the Fionn’s kidney.
Then an odd sound, like ripping leather, rang in Kelvin’s ears, and pressure engulfed his lower body. He looked down and found Thompson’s knife lodged into his stomach, all the way to the hilt.
“She was my chief, my responsibility. Izel was the last Campbell, and I would have died for her,” Andrew spat, sinking the blade deeper into Kelvin’s gut. “Look at you,” he said in a disgusted tone, but Kelvin hardly heard him. Searing pain was rippling through him. Hot blood poured from his body, rushing over the end of Thompson’s diamond-encrusted dagger like a riptide.
He stood, refusing to give in to the pain and blood loss. So badly he wanted to kill the Fionn before him. But he welcomed death. Was ready for it. This life, his life, was a curse. If he didn’t have his female, he didn’t want to live.
Kelvin felt cold steel rest against his neck. The final blow.
“I will put you out of your misery once and for all, Pookah.”
“Don’t you touch him!”
Kelvin craned his head around at the sound of—
“Izel!”
She stood, glowing like a polished opal. Heat radiated from her. Her lips were cherry red and power emanated from every pore.
Beautiful.
All of the warriors went still and stared in disbelief at the beauty before them. Kelvin thrust his elbow up into Thompson’s throat, causing him to stumble back, dislodging the knife from his torso. Swallowing down the pain, he staggered headlong to his female.
The wound, the blood, nothing could slow him. Could this be happening? Could she be real? Just when he was certain he was dreaming, the oddest thing happened. She moved toward him, and though she walked, she appeared to be floating.
“Kelvin!” she screamed, throwing her arms around him. He caught her in his embrace and lifted her off the ground. “No! No!” she yelled, and wriggled from his grip. Of course… he couldn’t expect her to want him. He’d betrayed her.
“Please, God, no,” she chanted around tears. Tears? Why was she crying? Her small hands clamped over the wound on his stomach. “Please be okay.” Her gaze shot over his body, her soft palms brushing and looking over his forearms.
“I’m all right, lass. I’ll heal,” he said dazedly, still unconvinced this was really happening. His female, touching him. Worrying about him.
He cupped her cheeks in his hands and stared at her lovely face. “Please let this be real,” he said before slanting his mouth over hers. The feel of her lush lips against his, her taste. He didn’t deserve such a gift. He gripped her shoulders and held her away, examining her intently.
She smiled at him, green eyes shining bright. Her olive skin so lustrous he could set it as a fair jewel amongst platinum. An aura of power surrounded her. “Do you see me, Kel?” Her words were laced with magic, and Kelvin felt each syllable coax him to answer.
“Yes.” And by God he did. Yanking her into him once more, he felt her arms wrap around his waist, hugging him. “You saved me,” she whispered against him.
He cupped the back of her head in his palm. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Was she really okay? Alive? He had seen faint white marks run from her collarbone, disappearing down her chest, beneath her dress. Scars where she’d been clawed to death. His embrace tightened.
“How? Ryo said your powers had gone,” he rasped.
She leaned back, gripping his shirt in her hand, and looked up at him. “I held on, Kel.”
A shaky breath left his lungs. She had heard him. Heard him fall to his knees and beg her not to leave him.
She moved to rest her whole palm over the wound at his stomach. “Heal,” she whispered. Kelvin felt himself instantly mend. The fibers of his gash wove together like fabric. “My grandfather was right. I only had to reach out.”
Kelvin stared, awestruck. She traced his jaw with a fingertip before stepping in front of him and looking at the slew of bewildered immortal warriors. Pride soared through him when he watched his woman raise her chin and address Fionns and Pookahs as if it was her right to order them.
“I am Izel Campbell, and I am one of you,” she looked over them, “all of you.” Her bright eyes shot to Kelvin quickly before returning to the men. “I am here to bring peace, and so I have.” She rested her hands over her belly. No… Kelvin couldn’t be that blessed… dare he hope that not only Izel had survived?
“The blood of the mighty Fionn and the essence of the fierce Pookah flow within me. But it is the spirit and magic of the Aztec blood I harbor that ignited it. We are all bound. No longer enemies, but allies. You’ve all pledged your loyalty, your lives, to protect and defend the Kerr and Campbell bloodline.” Kelvin noticed that the palms on her stomach gently moved. “So protect the child within me. The child who is not only Campbell, nor only Kerr… but both.”
Kelvin fell to his knees. Before his woman, his army, and his enemies, he wrapped his arms around his mate’s small waist and kissed her belly. A single bead of moisture escaped from his tightly closed eyes as he clutched the material at her back.
Her soft fingers sifted his hair and she hugged him to her. He could feel the magic of the Mystic radiate from her. Could hear the voice of a Poet in her words. Saw the strength of the Warrior in her pride. His woman truly was all three casts of Fionn. Somehow, she had come into her powers… powers that could defy the realms.
He felt her now, just like he felt her the first time after she’d shed the glamour. They were destined. A fated pair. Not death, not even the presence of a powerful curse could part them. The two of them had been ordained for each other from the beginning. For only with each other could they fully thrive.
He rose, and he cupped her face in his palms. “My love… my Izel.” He kissed her. In front of his clan, her clan, it didn’t matter. They were one. She truly had brought peace.
She drew away, and as if reading his mind whispered, “It was you, Kel. You brought me back. Your blood, your sacrifice. That is what sparked me to rise and come back to you. You completed me.” She led his hand to her stomach. “A single encounter with you did change my course of fate.” She brushed a kiss against his mouth. “And thank God for that.”
He rested his forehead against hers and inhaled deeply, breathing in her scent. His whole world was within his grasp, and never would he lose her again. He turned to face the still stunned men.
“This feud is settled. The Kerr Pookahs and the Campbell Fionns are now and for all time at peace. Kneel and pledge your fealty or leave.”
Every single Pookah went to his knees, heads bowing. Did Kelvin expect everyone to be happy and instantly get along? No, but it was a start.
The Fionns stood, all eyes landing on Andrew Thompson. Kelvin clenched his jaw and moved to step in front of Izel.
“No, Kel.”
She placed her small hand in his and stood proudly next to him. Kelvin knew right then what his female was doing. The display of equality, commitment, love, was unmistakable. And from this moment on, Kelvin would only step before her to shield her from danger, not from the truth.
“I stand before you, the last Campbell, and ask for your loyalty.”
Kelvin watched his woman as she spoke and realized that her sharp gaze never looked away from Thompson. The Fionn’s gray eyes seemed to ignite beneath his glare. But he gave a curt nod and there, on Kerr territory, Andrew Thompson
knelt. It was then that every last Fionn met the floor with their knees.
After everyone had dispersed, Kelvin still stood, holding Izel, gazing upon his woman… his world.
“I don’t know exactly what I am, Kelvin.” She looked up at him, her delicate brows drawn together.
“You’re an anomaly, a fighter. Unique to all the world.” He wanted to shout with relief. She could heal, could defy death. Finally his wish had been granted. His mate was immortal. He would get more than a few decades with her; he would get an eternity.
The knot that had been in the center of his chest untangled. He felt the tension leave his muscles and joy enveloped him. He didn’t know how, exactly, all this magic worked, and he had no clue why he deserved such rapture, but there he was, clutching his life source, vowing to never let go.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
With that, he scooped up his female and strode toward his chambers. He held her, the reason for his existence, within his arms, and nothing had ever felt so right.
Epilogue
The last few weeks had been the best of Kelvin’s life. His woman was safe, his offspring grew rapidly within her. He had dubbed Izel his powerful little “humortal.”
He had told her that just because she possessed all three casts of Fionn and had power that could defy the laws of the realms didn’t mean hers would be an easy venture. Although her skills and magics were still in need of practice and harness, she was adapting well.
“Kel,” Izel groaned, leaning back against his chest. He dabbed her brow with a cool cloth.
“Yes, love?”
She swiped the back of her hand across her lips. She had been getting sick every morning like clockwork.
“This kind of sucks.”
He chuckled. Although he felt for her sickness and the little bit of misery in it, there, sitting on the floor of the bathroom with her cradled in his arms, he couldn’t have been happier.
“I know, love, but it will get better,” he said, and kissed her forehead while resting a palm on her slightly swollen belly.
