by Donna Grant
“Who is it? Is it the same one who began this whole mess?”
He gave a firm shake of his head. “Nay, but after I have a talk with them, their attacks on you and your family will end.”
Chapter Ten
Cael strode through the jungle of flowers. He didn’t carefully pick his way through as he usually did. This time he didn’t care if he pissed off Death—because he was too furious.
The white tower rose toward the clouds, the sunlight nearly blinding. Bees buzzed, birds chirped, the breeze rustled the leaves.
But he heard none of it.
He reached the tower and tried the metal handle. It didn’t budge. If Cael thought he could break through the oak door, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But it was fortified by Death’s magic. Nothing was getting through that Death didn’t want.
Cael took a few steps back and looked up. He saw the shutters open high above him. “You can’t keep me out forever.”
“Of course I can,” came the soft reply behind him.
He whirled around and came face-to-face with Death. One of the fiercest creatures in the universe only reached as high as his shoulders. Death wasn’t a skeleton or even a man.
Death was a woman.
She blinked at him with eyes a soft shade of lavender. Long, thick black lashes framed the unusual hue. Wide lips, full and alluring, didn’t tilt up in a smile—though that wasn’t out of the norm.
Hair as black as pitch fell past a slim waist to narrow hips. An onyx silk gown encased a figure that made his hands ache to touch. The skirt was full, as typical, with crimson edging the trim. It faded to black, mixing with the black.
He held Death’s gaze, waiting. It wouldn’t do any good to argue. Because Death never lost.
“Let me inside,” he said between clenched teeth.
Erith sighed. She turned her head to the side when a dragonfly circled her face, the sunlight glinting off its iridescent wings.
She held out her hand, and the dragonfly alit upon her palm. To his shock, Cael saw her lips tilt up in a smile. In all the thousands of years he’d known her, not once had he seen such.
As if she realized she wasn’t alone, the grin disappeared. A moment later, the dragonfly flew away. Erith slid her gaze to him. “I don’t want to beat the information out of Seamus, Cael. I want to flip him to our side.”
“He ventured into the Netherworld for Bran. Seamus isn’t going to switch sides so easily.”
Death’s head cocked to the side. “I can be very … persuasive … when needed.”
Without a doubt he knew that to be true. It only took one look for males of all species to want her. It was one of the reasons Erith kept to her own realm where no one dared to venture.
All across the universe, Death was feared. And she used it to her advantage.
“I need to see him.” The bastard needed to be gutted several times over for releasing Bran back into the world.
Death closed the distance between them and laid her palm on his chest. “Calm your anger.”
Cael stared down at her in shock. The only other time she touched him was when he became a Reaper. Erith always kept her distance from anyone and anything. Yet she was touching him now.
He could feel the warmth of her hand through his shirt, sinking into his skin. Though he couldn’t discern any magic being used, his anger began to fade.
She was so close he could see the dark purple encircling her irises. He could smell the scent of the flowers she loved so much clinging to her, as if they needed her almost as much as …
Cael didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t.
Erith lowered her gaze to the ground before she dropped her arm. She then stepped around him. The door of the tower opened as she approached.
He turned, watching her. He drank in every moment with her, because it might be a millennia before he saw her again. Seeing her, talking to her always affected him deeply. She had no idea how acutely he coveted every morsel of time with her.
Nor would she.
Cael’s gaze followed the flow of her hair down her back, itching to touch a lock. He kept his hands to himself and observed how the train of her gown floated upon the air, inches from the ground.
Cael took a deep breath and slowly released it. Erith then paused as she began to ascend the stairs. She looked over her shoulder at him and gave a nod.
He strode inside the tower, taking the stairs three at a time to catch her. Halfway up, the sound of the tower door closing reached him.
“Don’t say a word,” Erith ordered Cael when she reached the fourth landing.
Cael flashed her a smile. “I always behave myself.”
Her gaze cut him a baleful look before she touched the door with her palm. It swung open without a sound. Erith’s chin lifted as she proceeded into the chamber.
Cael peered inside, not at all sure what he might find. He’d seen Death’s mercy. He’d witnessed her anger. And he’d beheld her vengeance. The one thing he wasn’t ever sure of was Death’s mood.
He walked into the chamber to see it looked like a guest room one would find at a mortal’s home. Cael remained by the door as Erith moved to the window where Seamus sat with his back to Cael, staring out over the beautiful sea of flowers below.
There was more silver in the Dark’s hair than black, which told Cael how much evil Seamus had done in his lifetime. Seamus wasn’t tied to the chair or otherwise bound. He held a mug of tea in one hand, sipping at his leisure.
Just what was Death about?
“I’ve learned more about you, Seamus.” Erith stood beside the window, her gaze directed outside as well.
Cael raised a brow. Death already knew all there was about Seamus. It was her ability anytime someone came on her radar. With a mere word, she could have Seamus cowering upon the floor, begging for his life.
Erith must have a good reason for taking this approach. And Cael was curious to discover what it was.
Seamus shrugged. “Find anything interesting?”
“Actually, I did. As I told you before, I already know how you’ve made a name for yourself in the Dark world as a Fae who can procure anything. That takes a fair amount of skill.”
Though Cael hated to admit it, he was impressed. If Seamus managed such a feat, then he was someone who could help the Reapers. No wonder Erith was going to such extremes.
Which meant, the Dark had no idea he was speaking to Death. Because Erith was taking such precautions, she intended to let Seamus live—if he could serve them in some capacity.
Erith leaned a shoulder next to the window. A brush of wind blew back strands of her hair. Cael stood entranced as sunlight fell upon the contours of her face. She looked wistful and frail in that instant. So much so, for that brief space in time, Cael forgot who she was and the power she commanded.
He had to stop himself from going to her and taking her in his arms. Cael needed to remember that Erith was acting for Seamus’s benefit and nothing more. If there was one thing Death was not, it was vulnerable.
Seamus turned his head to Erith and watched her for a long moment. “I was pulled out of my home, which, I might add, should never have happened. There are dozens of spells not even Taraeth could break through to reach me.”
“Only a man who has something to fear locks himself inside his home,” Erith said, her gaze remaining out the window.
Seamus snorted. “Or a man who values his life. There are those who would gladly kill me.”
“As I said, fear.”
Cael was listening to the exchange with interest. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall.
“You call it fear, I call it taking action,” Seamus said. “A man in my position must take precautions. By helping one Fae, I alienate others.”
“What a lonely life.”
Death’s words caused a pang within Cael’s chest. Lonely. The word hung in his brain, tolling through his mind like a bell.
He’d never thought himself lonely until Bayl
on found Jordyn. Seeing how happy the two of them were brought it all home. The fact Erith changed the rules for the Reapers so the two could be together was huge. Only he and Eoghan knew just how much.
“It’s how I prefer it,” Seamus said.
Erith finally turned her head to look at him. Her lavender gaze was focused solely on the Dark. “I don’t believe you.”
Seamus merely shrugged in answer.
Death walked to the other side of the window. “You have questions. As do I. How about we make a trade? I’ll answer one of yours for one of mine.”
“All right,” the Dark said. He took a drink from the mug, his eyes never leaving Erith’s face. “Who took me from my home?”
“I did.”
Cael was surprised she gave Seamus the truth. The Dark’s next question could very well be to ask who Erith really was.
Seamus nodded. “Your turn.”
“Who contacted you about helping Bran from the Netherworld?”
At that question, Seamus’s entire attitude changed. He stilled instantly. “How do you know of that?”
“We had a deal. Answer the question,” Erith commanded.
Cael dropped his arms to his sides. Tension filled the room, all of it coming from Seamus.
“You can’t know of that,” the Dark said, fear filling his voice. “No one was supposed to know.”
Erith lifted a single black brow. “We’re Fae. We eventually discover the truth.”
Seamus set down the mug beside him on the floor, then ran a hand down his face. “I received a message.”
“From who?” Erith urged.
The Dark shrugged, shaking his head. “It wasn’t signed. It simply stated that if I wanted to never have to fear for my life again that I should find the doorway to the Netherworld.”
Erith’s gaze met Cael’s before she returned her attention to Seamus. “When did you receive the message?”
“I’ve already answered two in a row. It’s your turn to answer a question. How do you know of Bran and my helping him?”
Erith waved her hand and a chair materialized behind her. She gracefully lowered herself down. “Bran was never to leave the Netherworld. It came to my attention he somehow escaped, and it didn’t take me long to discover who helped him. Now, when did you receive the message?”
“Thousands of years ago. It’s taken me this long to find a way into the Netherworld. I thought the message was a joke at first, but I was curious. The more I looked into the superstition of the Netherworld, the more I discovered was fact.”
Cael saw the tightening of Erith’s hands that rested in her lap. The news disturbed her, but she was doing her best to hide it. Though there wasn’t much about Death that escaped him.
“Who are you?” Seamus asked.
Erith released a deep breath. “Right now, Seamus, you’re of value to me. If I tell you the truth, I’ll have to kill you. I’d rather not.”
“I’d rather you didn’t either,” he said.
“Good. Now, how did you find a way in?”
He glanced down at his hands. Seamus slowly fisted them before stretching them wide. Only then did he meet Erith’s gaze. “By accident. There’s a doorway in Dublin on the grounds of an old castle’s ruins. I’d tried every Fae doorway I could find over my lifetime. I heard whispers of this one.”
“And?” Death prodded when he paused.
“It’s different. I almost didn’t walk through it. It felt … wrong.”
Cael frowned. Fae doorways were constructed by Fae themselves. So for one to be there, a Fae had to have erected it. Then Cael’s eyes slid to Erith.
Or Death.
Seamus cleared his throat. “I’m Dark. Evil is part of my life, but there was something about this doorway that made me want to go the opposite direction.”
“But you walked through it anyway,” Erith stated.
Cael looked at Seamus. Had the Dark been paying attention, he would’ve heard the anger and censor in Erith’s voice. Seamus would’ve seen the power she kept under wraps around him.
But the Dark was too occupied thinking of that doorway.
“Not at first,” Seamus admitted. “I returned to it four times before I was able to step through it.”
Death didn’t utter a sound as her gaze narrowed on the Dark.
Seamus continued, unaware. “I found myself standing in what can only can be described as a large bubble. All around me was chaos, fire, and wind. None of it touched me, but I could still feel it. I knew then that somehow I was looking at the Netherworld.”
Chapter Eleven
Kyran stood at the entrance to the caves. His promise to River reverberated through him. Even if it hadn’t been her family targeted, he still would’ve made that promise—just to himself.
The roar of the sea below as well as the wind buffeting the cliffs was deafening, but he still knew River was behind him. He didn’t turn around. Not because he didn’t want to see her, but because he very much wanted her near.
Twice now he’d nearly kissed her. He couldn’t put himself in that position a third time. He only had so much control. And those new clothes she wore that showed every wonderful curve made his mouth water.
“Would you rather be alone?”
She spoke softly, her Scottish brogue making him want to groan in need. Without thinking about it, Kyran shook his head. The next thing he knew, River stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
“Wow,” she murmured.
He turned his head toward her and saw her rapt attention as she looked over the dark blue sea. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted in wonder.
Had his face ever held such an expression? Had there ever been a time when he looked at something so beautiful and wanted to keep the memory forever?
No matter how Kyran sorted through his wretched memories, he found nothing. River had no idea how being half-human gave her the ability to find joy and splendor in such simple pleasures. A Dark didn’t have that ability.
“No wonder you’re here,” River said, a small smile about her lips. She pulled her gaze away from the opening and looked at him.
Kyran struggled to breathe. He couldn’t look away from her pale blue gaze no matter how hard he tried. River looked at him as if he were special. It was as if she didn’t see his red eyes or the silver in his hair.
She made him feel as if his past had never been, as if he’d always been the man he was with the Reapers.
And she couldn’t possibly grasp how much that affected him.
Their fingers brushed. A shock of something vibrant and brilliant, of something compelling and penetrating crackled through him.
River also experienced it by the way her eyes widened a fraction. There was no need for words, no need to try and question what was there. It hung between them like a dominant, evocative force that wouldn’t be denied.
Kyran wound his fingers with hers. As one they turned toward each other. He stared into her eyes, losing himself in the pure blue depths.
With his other hand, he caressed up her arm to her shoulder and then her neck, her dark locks sliding silkily against the back of his fingers. His mind cautioned him to back away, but his entire body demanded he kiss River.
Slowly, he slid his hands into the thick tresses of her hair. Her face tilted upward as desire filled her eyes. Kyran lowered his head while his heart pounded in his chest. Her lids slid closed right before their lips met.
The first contact of their mouths was like the calm before a storm. It was a faint brush of lips, hesitant and teasing. Kyran pulled back a little to look down at her in shock and wonder at the urgent need swirling through him to make her his—in the most primal way possible.
River’s hands came up to his shoulders and pulled him down. Kyran splayed his hands on her back and kissed her as he’d been yearning to do.
It started slowly, but quickly turned wild, the desire raging like a tempest between them. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, of her smell. Kyran’s cock ached
to be buried inside her.
Her hands were everywhere, touching every part of him. He groaned when her nails scoured his back through his shirt. In answer, she pressed her body tighter against him.
The feel of her full breasts to his chest made his balls tighten. Kyran held her tight, hating the clothes that stood between them being flesh to flesh.
He wound his hands in her hair and pulled her head back. She gasped and opened her eyes. Their breaths drowned out the sounds outside the cave.
The craving was so fervent that if Kyran didn’t get them somewhere private, he was likely to take her right there.
As he stared down at River’s lips, swollen from his kisses, there was no question she would be his. The fire within her matched his.
He teleported them to the cavern he claimed as his own. There was no bed, only a pile of pillows and blankets scattered on the floor.
River’s hands were beneath his shirt against his bare skin in a second. Kyran’s need was too great for him to take the few moments to discard their clothes. Instead, he used magic.
When she saw their clothes gone, River smiled and pulled his head back down for another kiss. Kyran released his hold on her hair.
Skin to skin, breath to breath. Each touch, each kiss sent him spiraling into an abyss that felt like home. He didn’t question the rightness of having River in his arms or the perfection of how they matched each other.
All Kyran knew was that he had to have her, he had to mark her as his. The need, the longing was driving every move and decision he made since he first laid eyes upon her.
Whatever fleeting thoughts he had about ignoring the feelings within him were banished the moment his lips met River’s. Regardless of the consequences, he wasn’t going to deny himself or her.
With a slight tug on her hand, he knelt. She followed, never breaking the kiss. Kyran kept one arm around her and used his other to brace them as he laid River down.
He groaned when River wrapped one long leg around him. Kyran loved the feel of her smooth skin and how it warmed beneath his palm.
Like a blind man, he learned her through touch. He felt the firm muscles from repeated use of her weapons. He learned the slender column of her neck and her slim shoulders. He counted each vertebra down her back before he leisurely caressed around her slim waist and over flared hips.
