The only one he could instruct to back off was Rhiannon. She understood the unique bond they shared. Though they were a year and a half apart in age, their complimentary sabot birthdays joined them like twins. They’d been reading each other for centuries.
He stuffed his hand into his pocket, fishing for the cigarette package he’d left behind. When he couldn’t find it, he pulled out his cell phone instead and hit the number to speed dial his sister. But just as the line began to ring, another force hit him so hard he swerved onto the shoulder.
Terror. Reese’s unadulterated fear.
What in the name of the ancestors?
He stomped on the gas pedal gaining speed that his heart rate matched. As he navigated down the two lane road, gunning for the next exit, he ordered his mind into obedience. Panicking would solve nothing. If she were in legitimate danger, he needed to know from who, and how to avert it.
Which meant concentrating on his bond with her.
Trying his best, he tuned into the frenzied churn of her thoughts and navigated the exit ramp. But Reese’s mind was too immersed in whatever was taking place to offer him insight. She couldn’t see past the fear, couldn’t rationalize anything but an overwhelming, desperate need to escape.
“Damn it!” Dáire swore as he wheeled around the turn onto the overpass. The left turn light blinked bright red, twenty feet away. No way in this century was he waiting the precious minutes before that light turned green. Instead, he scanned the overpass for oncoming traffic, and on finding the approaching car a good two hundred yards away, he barreled through the stoplight, down the on-ramp, back onto the highway.
I’m coming, Reese. Hold on, sweetheart.
Whether or not she could hear him made no difference. He pushed the thought to her with forced serenity and a calm he didn’t feel. If she at least caught the levelness of his thoughts, it might slow hers down enough he could interpret what she was going through.
Surely Tom hadn’t dropped in on her. He could be three kinds of bastard, but could he be capable of causing her legitimate fear?
The idea seemed as implausible as high tide in the middle of the afternoon. But there were aspects to Tom’s personality Dáire had deliberately avoided understanding. Like the deep-rooted fantasy he held of roughing up a prostitute now and then. It was that particular fantasy, however, that gave Dáire pause. When he’d sensed it radiating off Tom’s energy, it never came with causing legitimate wounds. Tom wanted the dominance of it all, the total submission of someone he could overpower in all ways. Tom didn’t have it in him to seriously hurt anyone.
But the only image he could glean from Reese’s frenzied head created two visions—one of him, the other of Tom. And Dáire was pretty damn certain Reese wasn’t in a fit of terror over him.
Time passed in a vacuum as he steered down the side streets, praying he wouldn’t pass a speed trap. Pain hadn’t registered in Reese’s subconscious. Not yet at least. He wouldn’t take the chance it might happen either.
Had Drandar somehow…
Dáire shook his head, unable to complete the thought. If his sire had found Reese already, if he comprehended Reese possessed the scroll, nothing Dáire could do could keep her from harm. He wasn’t strong enough to stand against his sire solo. Even if he unleashed the incubus blood they shared and let his own vile soul reign in destruction, he couldn’t overpower his sire without his siblings’ help.
Reese, honey, hang in there, I’m almost there.
He gunned the Mustang around another intersection and sped down the winding oceanfront street she lived on. His gaze locked on her midnight blue, two-story townhouse and the painted white shutters that stood open to the late-morning sun. Almost there. Thirty feet. Twenty…
He zipped into her driveway behind a pair of taillights, and his blood ran with ice. Taran’s rental nearly connected with her garage door.
“Taran!” The bellow tore from Dáire’s throat as he launched himself out of the car and hit the pavement running. He took her porch steps two at a time, his heart in his throat. If his brother had hurt her, if she were harmed in any way…
He rammed a shoulder against her front door, sending the splintered door swinging inward on its broken hinges. Rationality fled as his gaze locked on the scene inside. Reese huddled into the far corner of her front room, her hands raised defensively across her face. Taran stood over her, using his imposing height to bend her to his wishes.
Dáire didn’t wait to see if she’d been hurt. He charged across the room, grabbed his brother by the shoulders, and in one swift thrust, hurled him against Reese’s living room wall. Before Taran had time to even recognize his assailant, Dáire closed the distance between them and slammed his fist into his brother’s jaw. “Don’t fucking touch her!”
****
Reese stared wide-eyed. Ten seconds ago, she’d been convinced Taran would make good on his threat to squeeze the air off in her throat if she didn’t tell him where she’d hidden the scroll. The ancient parchment that she’d discovered in that old cabin with Dáire.
Now, she watched as Dáire slammed another fist into Taran’s face. Blood spurted from where his nose had been, turning Dáire’s knuckles a bright shade of crimson. The blow would have knocked another man senseless. But Taran merely wobbled, and the fury in his dark expression doubled. He shoved at Dáire, pushing Dáire off enough to free himself from the wall. He returned the attack with a swift upper cut that smacked into Dáire’s cheek. Dáire grunted, but otherwise appeared unfazed.
“You thought you had me fooled, didn’t you, brother?” Taran’s voice filled with disgust. “That you and your little companion there could get away without my discovering that handy little design of our mother’s.”
Dáire didn’t respond with words. To Reese’s morbid relief, he thumped a heavy fist into Taran’s gut, doubling the younger brother over. As he clutched at his midsection, gasping for air, Dáire grabbed him by the hair. He drove his knee up, jamming it into Taran’s face.
When Taran wobbled, Dáire thrust him toward the door. “Get out, asshole. Stay away from her, stay away from me.”
“He’ll find you,” Taran wheezed from the doorway. “He’ll find you both.”
Reese swallowed another terrified squeak at the chilling threat Taran issued. She didn’t have the faintest clue who he referred to, but the wicked light that gleamed in his dark eyes instinctively told her she didn’t want to know.
“Get out.” Dáire lunged at Taran again, catching him by the front of his shirt. He dragged him close, his face inches from his brother’s. “I share your blood, Taran. I will use it to tear you apart. I’d love nothing more, brother.”
The threat should have terrified her more, given the deadly undercurrent of warning beneath Dáire’s words. Reese held no doubt he meant every word of that promise. But instead of frightening her, instead of making her question just what Dáire might be capable of, her heart tripped into double-time. He was standing up for her. To his family. When Tom’s mother had cut her down openly, Tom found a way to blame Reese.
No one had ever chosen her over the bonds of blood.
The strain of her near attack, the overwhelming feeling that came with realizing not only what Dáire meant in his words, but also what she’d subjected herself to these last few years, was too much. Tears gathered in her eyes.
Through the misty haze, she watched Taran hold up both hands in surrender. Dáire let him go, following him to the door as he slinked outside.
Then Dáire was kneeling in front of her, gathering her into his protective embrace. One large hand pressed her head into the warm comfort of his shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s gone,” he murmured. “Are you hurt, sweetheart?”
Winding her arms around Dáire’s waist, she shook her head and attempted to talk around the lump gathered in her throat. All that came out, however, was a sob. Tears spilled free, hot and embarrassing, and she tucked her head into his shirt to make them stop.
“Shh,” Dáire
soothed as he stroked her back. “Reese, I’m so sorry. I had no idea he’d follow us. If I’d known…” Inhaling sharply, he tucked his chin into her hair and squeezed her tight. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“How—” Her voice caught, and she sniffed. Taking a deep breath to temper her tears, she swallowed hard and tried again. “How did you know I needed help?”
Dáire was quiet for a long moment, the only sound that of his calloused hand scraping quietly over her sweater and the hard fall of his breath near her ear. When he spoke, she had to strain to hear him. “Sometimes…I sense things.”
The odd answer was enough to crack through her temporary hysterics and pull her out of his embrace far enough she could lean back and look up into his eyes. “Sense things?”
“Sixth sense, I guess.” Dáire shrugged. He pushed a thick lock of hair away from her face and gave her a soft smile. “Call it lucky timing.”
No truer words had ever been spoken. If he hadn’t appeared when he did, she had no doubt Taran would have carried through on his chilling promise. “What the hell’s wrong with him, Dáire?”
Dáire shook his head. “It’s complicated. He’s always been…off.”
Off was a funny way to put it. The man belonged behind bars. But she couldn’t bring herself to suggest calling the police when her attacker was part of Dáire’s family. That should be Dáire’s call.
“He wanted that scroll I found in the cabin.”
Again, Dáire nodded, only this time a touch of sorrow reflected in his cerulean gaze.
“Why? What’s so special about that old runic parchment? How did he know I have it?”
Chapter Ten
How did Taran know—Dáire flinched inwardly at the question. Reese’s mind was already on overflow, her fear just beneath the surface far too close to provocation. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her more. But with Taran’s attack, she needed to know what she’d inadvertently become a part of.
More than that, she deserved to know.
He folded her close and nuzzled her hair to mask the intrusion of his mental gift. You should want to leave this place.
Her subconscious resisted, pushing back against his suggestion. Dáire closed his eyes and remained unmoving. She yielded to the firm insistence, embracing a truth she had yet to consciously acknowledge. When he felt that shift, the complete submission to his more dominant will, he placed a gentle kiss to her temple. “You want to get out of here for a little bit?”
Reese pulled out of his embrace, confusion lacing through her watery eyes.
“What, sweetheart?”
Chuckling, she shook her head. “I swear, sometimes you can read my mind. I was just thinking I didn’t want to be here right now.”
He smiled despite the heavy weight of guilt that settled on his shoulders. Rocking back to his heels, he steadied her as she rose on shaky legs. When she’d gained her balance, he stood and clasped her hand. “Where to?”
She furrowed her brow, giving Dáire the momentary pause he needed to convince her into where he wanted to take her. You want to meet my sister, Reese.
It surprised him the way her subconscious latched onto the suggestion without the slightest bit of resistance. She wanted to spend more time with his family? After she’d experienced first-hand his darkest sibling?
Dáire pushed aside his own startled awareness, aware he had only a small window of opportunity to turn suggestion into act. “Rhi’s been blowing up my phone. We could stop by her place and then figure out what to do about your front door.”
As one delicate hand crept up to massage the muscles at the nape of her neck, Reese nodded. “Let me grab some aspirin real quick. I can’t seem to shake this headache.”
She wouldn’t either. Not until he retreated from the dark recesses of her awareness. Another fact that dealt Dáire a heavy dose of guilt. He shouldn’t be pushing her like this. He’d lingered too long. In short order he wouldn’t be able to mask his intrusion and she’d begin to recognize the link they shared.
Reese disappeared down the hall. In the wake of her absence, Dáire sighed heavily. He hated manipulating her every bit as much as he recognized the wrong in doing so. Still, he couldn’t see another way. Taran knew about the scroll. Dáire held no hope Drandar wouldn’t soon as well. If he didn’t already.
The only saving grace in this whole disaster was that Fintan had confined their dark sister Brigid. At least she couldn’t show up to help Taran obtain the scroll and circumvent the next ritual that would bring their despicable sire closer to destruction.
At the thought of Taran again, anger surged to the surface. When he got his hands on his brother, blood would spill. One way or the other, Dáire would make Taran pay for the fear he’d brought to Reese tonight. Smashing his nose had only touched the degree of damage Dáire intended to mete out.
An unnatural chill descended on the room, and Dáire’s instincts kicked into high gear. He reached for Reese’s coat, grabbed her purse off the coffee table in the center of the room. With his gaze trained on the ceiling overhead, searching for signs of shifting energy, he called to her, “We should hurry, Reese.”
Before that foreboding presence transformed into the one being Dáire couldn’t protect her from. Anxious, he tapped his foot. Come on, sweetheart.
“I’m coming,” she called more loudly. “Have a little patience.”
Damn. She was really picking up on him. He hadn’t even projected that thought at her.
The atmosphere shifted again, assuming heavier mass, pressing down on Dáire like the ceiling was lowering. He ground his teeth against the rise of the darker half of his soul as it sensed the energy that created him. “Reese, we have to go now!”
“I’m right here, you don’t have to yell.”
Not wasting time with an apology, Dáire grabbed her by the hand and led her out the rickety door, down the steps, to his Mustang. When she was safely tucked in the passenger seat, he bolted around the rear bumper and jumped behind the wheel. As he keyed the engine, a dark cloud rolled in.
Or at least what any mortal would call a dark cloud. To those who knew what to look for, substance gathered in that black mass. Slowly coalescing energy that feasted on death.
Dáire gunned the car out of her driveway. Drandar might follow, but Rhiannon could ward Reese. If Isolde was present—as he assumed she would be given the nearness of the sabot—Reese would be doubly safe. It seemed for each death-blow Drandar took, Isolde, who was so like their mother, grew in power.
“Are you okay?” Reese asked.
He nodded. “Just pissed off at Taran.”
She slid her hand across the console and rested it on his thigh, the squeeze of her fingers offering both comfort and understanding.
****
At the feel of muscle moving beneath her palm, peace settled into Reese. Something about just touching Dáire quieted the racket in her head that she couldn’t quite sift into logic. Not to mention the feel of him did wonders for the headache that refused to stay away. The base of her skull throbbed, a harbinger to a massive migraine if she couldn’t find a way to relax.
Relaxing, however, was out of the question after the nightmare with Taran. Her stomach still felt like it was inhabited by butterflies on crack. Her heart hadn’t ebbed into its usual steady rhythm either; it still threatened to thump out of her chest.
The line of tension in Dáire’s jaw, his sharp focus on the road that stretched before them, revealed he hadn’t fully moved beyond the incident either. And on some level she couldn’t explain, she inherently sensed his agitation. Maybe it was their longtime friendship that allowed her to pick up on the small thing. Maybe making love to him had somehow bonded them a little more. Whatever it was, Reese felt his anger as if it were her own.
She gave his leg another squeeze. “Thank you.”
His gaze cut to her, and a frown flickered before he looked back at the road. “For?”
“If you hadn’t come back for whatever reason�
�” She trailed away, unable to complete the thought.
Dáire’s large palm covered the back of her hand. His fingers laced between hers. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Reese. Not Tom. Not my brother.”
“He called this morning. Wanted to know if I made it home okay.”
One auburn eyebrow arched as he glanced at her once more. “Oh? What did you tell him? That I’m great in bed?”
To see his wicked grin return did more to restore Reese’s spirits than anything else. She let out a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Ego, Dáire. Turn it down a notch.”
“Who me? I don’t have an ego.”
“Uh huh. And Maine doesn’t have hockey.”
Dáire scoffed, but laughter danced in his regal profile. The intricate tattoo on his cheek crinkled at the corner of his eyes. “I’m as humble as…as…” He paused, his brow furrowing. “As homemade ice cream.”
Reese’s laughter built. Shaking her head, she chided, “That is the worst association I’ve ever heard.”
The ringing of his phone interrupted their banter. Muttering something unintelligible, Dáire shoved a hand into his coat pocket and tossed his cell phone into Reese’s lap. “Wait for the text. When it comes in, tell her we’re almost there.”
We? Reese’s heart tap-danced against her ribs. “Did you tell her you were bringing me?”
“She knows. Maybe not that it’s you, but she knows.”
“Huh? How?”
“The link.”
Ah—the bond he shared with his virtual twin. He’d told her about it several times, but her only child upbringing made it impossible to comprehend the bonds of siblings, let alone the deeper bonds of twins. “Gotcha.”
The cell phone vibrated against her thigh. She picked it up, unlocked the touch-screen, and tapped on the incoming text message. “It says: Stop ignoring me. What’s happening with you?
Dáire’s grin faltered as he shifted his grip on the steering wheel. “Just tell her we’re almost there. Ten minutes, max.”
Fated for Sacrifice Page 7
