Dark Alpha's Lover

by Donna Grant

  “So Fintan was told by a Light in Galway. Why did the Fae continue to go to the family?”

  “At one time, the Hayeses were powerful, ruling Galway. I believe that, combined with a comely female, caught the attention of the first Light. It’s probably what caused all three of the Fae to spend time with them.”

  “It’s very rare for that to happen.”

  “It also means the family has more magic than any other half-Fae. They could rival the Druids,” she added.

  He ran a hand over his chin. “Why would Bran not go after the family first?”

  “Who’s to say he didn’t? Maybe one of the family kept under the radar. She would be a perfect lure to draw him out if she’s willing to go along with the plan.”

  “She’s not hiding.”

  Death drummed her fingers slowly on the table. “Now I know why you think Bran might want her.”

  Cael leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. “I’m not sure Fintan is the right one to talk to her.”

  “Because he hides his emotions or because of his looks?”

  “Both. You know how he unsettles even the Dark.”

  Erith regarded him in silence for a moment. “Fintan is too smart to let this opportunity slip past us. He—like all of us—has a driving need to find Eoghan.”

  At the mention of his oldest friend, Cael rose to his feet and faced the thick forest. “Eoghan saved my life. I won’t ever stop looking for him.”

  “Nor will I.”

  He looked down to find Death beside him. A fire burned in her lavender eyes, one that promised retribution against Bran. He had the urge to touch her face, to have some sort of connection with her.

  “We will find Eoghan,” she promised.

  “Bran will never tell us.”

  Her chin lifted defiantly. “I’m Death. I will find my Reaper.”

  If there was one thing he knew about Erith, it was that she was always true to her word. Though she looked the same, he could sense that she wasn’t well.

  Every day that passed and more of her magic was syphoned, the weaker she became. The world would be flung into chaos with Death’s demise—if it came to that.

  And he . . . he wasn’t sure he could survive not having her near.

  “And if Bran finds you?”

  Her eyes flashed dangerously. “Do you forget who I am?”

  “Never.”

  “But?” she asked, her gaze narrowing.

  With just a thought, she could cease his life. The power within her didn’t inspire fear. He respected and admired her. But she didn’t frighten him.

  Some might call that foolish since she was Death, but few knew her. Not that he claimed to know her. But he was closer than most.

  It was because of that, that he knew how deeply she cared for the Reapers. He alone had seen the extremes she had gone to for them. He alone knew how much she wanted them to be happy and find the peace that had eluded them in life.

  “You trust me enough to lead your men.”

  “Your Reapers,” she corrected.

  He shook his head. “You chose us. We’re yours.”

  There was some unnamed emotion that flashed in her eyes, but it was gone in a blink. “If I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be leading them.”

  “Yet you don’t trust me enough to tell me that your magic is fading.”

  Her gaze slid away. A wall came down between them in a heartbeat. She became as aloof as she’d once been. It cut him deeper than any blade could.

  He knew it was wrong to desire her. He knew it was wrong to want more than he could have with her, but he couldn’t stop what had been set in motion.

  Everyone who saw her wanted Erith. He’d thought himself above the others because he was her chosen leader, the one she allowed into her realm. But he’d been wrong.

  That was never clearer than at that moment.

  He took a deep breath and released it. “I’ll keep you updated on Fintan’s progress. If this Hayes woman is as special as you say, that should pull Bran out of his hiding place.”

  Minutes passed as he waited for Death to reply. Finally, he realized she wasn’t going to. He bowed his head and pivoted to make his way back to the Fae doorway.

  With every step away from her, his gut clenched. She was Bran’s ultimate target. Her realm had always kept her safe from anyone she didn’t allow in, but how long would that last now?

  If her magic had faded enough to let the sole doorway into the Netherworld prison where Bran had been kept become visible, allowing Seamus to find it and help Bran escape, then it was simply a matter of time before Bran found his way to her realm.

  Since there was only one doorway to her, Cael intended to guard it until Bran was captured. The only way Bran would ever get to Erith was if he killed Cael first.

  It didn’t matter that she didn’t feel anything for him. It didn’t even matter that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. If Cael could do this for her, then he would.

  Because of who she was.

  Because his feelings were forbidden.

  Because there could never be anything more than what he saw in his dreams.

  He walked through the doorway, stopping himself from looking back at the last minute. There, on a small isle in the middle of a loch in Scotland, he set up sentry.

  Chapter Six

  The silence of the night could be disconcerting to some, but Cat always found it a time for reflection, when no outside noises could interfere. And she had much to think about.

  She’d lain awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling while she came at Fintan’s proposition from every angle. She was taking a chance trusting him, but what did she have to lose, really? Already, she felt as if each day were borrowed time. Why not make use of it while she could?

  To take a stand—in any way possible.

  Her thoughts drifted to Fintan. His voice was deep and so captivating that she wondered if he used it on purpose. Almost like a weapon, but one of silk and seduction instead of steel and blood.

  He made her nervous, but she also wanted to know more about him. Particularly how he’d come to have white hair. But also, she was curious about everything he kept tightly locked away. She recognized it in him because she did it herself.

  Though he was a master while she was only a novice.

  Fintan had been upfront with her with everything, which she appreciated. He hadn’t pulled any punches, telling her about Bran and that he would come for her. It was everything she already knew, but he hadn’t tried to soften things.

  Her predicament turned her thoughts to her grandfather. He was the last family she had, and she was willing to do whatever it took to keep him unharmed. She was young and able to continue the Hayes lines. With her gone, there was a chance Bran and the Fae would leave her grandfather alone. It was a gamble she was counting on.

  Thinking of family soon had memories of her siblings and parents running through her head, causing her to smile, laugh, and even cry.

  She didn’t push those thoughts away. They were the only way her family lived on, and she would welcome the happiness—and the pain—the memories brought.

  Before she knew it, light filtered through her curtains, signaling the start of a new day. It was her day off, but habit got her up at the normal time. She showered and dressed, wondering how the day would unfold.

  When she opened her front window curtains, she expected to see Fintan. When she didn’t, she shrugged. That’s what she deserved for believing he’d watch over her the entire night.

  She turned and then jumped back at the sight of Fintan sitting at her kitchen table.

  “My apologies,” he said. “I didn’t want anyone to see me enter.”

  His voice caused warmth to spread over her like a seductive whisper. Or maybe it was the way those red-rimmed white eyes watched her as if she were his next meal—in bed.

  Either way, how her body heated in response caused her to take a step toward him as if some invisible s
tring were tugging her forward.

  “How long have you been there?” she asked.

  “I just popped in.”

  She swallowed and made her way to the kitchen on unsteady legs to put bread in the toaster. “I suppose you’re here for the details.” When he didn’t reply, she looked over her shoulder at him.

  He slowly nodded his head once.

  “All right. Where do we begin?” she asked as she spread butter on her toast.

  “Some friends of mine are spreading the word about you.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “I suspect there’s a but in there somewhere.”

  “With the amount of Fae that know about you, I find it . . . strange that Bran doesn’t.”

  A chill raced down her spine, halting her movements. “In other words, he could’ve been watching me all along?”

  “Yes.”

  She set down the toast, her appetite now gone. Turning to him, she said, “I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

  “It’s too late to change your mind.”

  “I’m not. I’m trusting you, and—”

  “You don’t trust Fae,” he finished.

  She gave a shake of her head. “I’ve had no reason to.”

  “Until recently, you didn’t have a reason to distrust us either.”

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a part of two worlds, but not belong to either one?”

  “Yes,” he stated softly.

  As she looked at his white hair and eyes, she realized he did indeed know how she felt. She walked to the table and sat. “So, what happens now?”

  “We wait.” Then he placed something on the table.

  Cat gaped in astonishment and excitement when she saw the dagger. It was longer than a normal blade with a white wooden handle polished to a shine. Thin strips of gold made a design of swirls around the grip that was anything but feminine.

  She eagerly picked up the weapon and slid it from the sheath. The weight was surprisingly light, balancing well in her hand. The blade was slightly curved with both edges sharpened.

  “It was forged in the Fires of Erwar,” he said. “It’ll slay any Fae.”

  “Fires of Erwar?”

  “A mountain on the Fae realm where the fires are mixed with magic. Any blade forged there will scar or kill a Fae.”

  She looked into his eyes and smiled. He could have no idea what the weapon meant to her. But it was enough that he had granted her request. “Thank you.”

  “Are you skilled with such a weapon?”

  Cat shrugged. “No.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “Then why did you give it to me?” she asked, confused.

  He tilted his head slightly. “Because Bran will come with several men and they won’t expect you to have it. It’ll give you some time.”

  “For?” she asked.

  “For me to reach you.”

  She put the dagger into the sheath and set it back on the table, her excitement dulled a little. “I know there’s a chance Bran will kill me.”

  “I don’t intend to allow that to happen.”

  “Be that as it may, you can’t watch over me twenty-four hours a day. I want you to know that I’m not going into this blindly. I know my chances.”

  He blinked. “Your odds improved with my arrival.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at his comment. “I think you’re right, even if I don’t know you.”

  “I don’t know you either.”

  “You know more about me than I do you.”

  “What do you want to know?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth to pose her first question when her mobile phone rang. She answered it, frowning as she tried to make sense of the mass of jumbled words the caller kept repeating. Then she heard it.

  “The café is on fire!”

  Cat dropped the phone and rushed from the house, her arms pumping as she ran to the café. Something stopped her from entering the building that was now engulfed by bright red flames. She looked down at the thick arms banding her middle and recognized Fintan.

  “It’s too late,” he whispered in her ear.

  She had no choice but to watch as a team of men fought the fire to no avail. All around her, people milled about, bumping into her, but she didn’t pay them any mind.

  The café that had been in her family for over a hundred years was no more. Something else had been taken from her. It felt as if someone were intentionally attacking her, taking away things that meant the most to her.

  “Cat,” Fintan said.

  She let him lead her away. As they turned back toward her house, she glanced his way to see that he’d used glamour to hide his appearance.

  But it was the way his gaze darted about that put her on edge.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Magic started that fire.”

  She shook her head in bewilderment. “Why? I serve the Fae as well as humans. All are welcome.”

  “Then it’s probably Bran.”

  It was said with such certainty that she frowned. “What does burning down the source of my income get him?”

  Fintan’s eyes met hers. “I don’t know. It could be a test to draw me out.”

  “Did you see him?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean anything. He can stay veiled for as long as he wants.”

  She stumbled to a halt, shock making her blood run cold. “What? That’s the kind of information I could use.”

  “Now you know.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “Just like a male.”

  She started walking. There was insurance on the café. That would help her get back on her feet. It would take months, though.

  “I’m going to have to tell my grandfather.” That wouldn’t be easy.

  Fintan looked over his shoulder. “At least he’s well guarded. Tell me why you don’t have the same symbols on your house.”

  “Did you follow me to my grandfather’s house?”

  “Yes.”

  No excuses, just a simple answer. And she was coming to like the way he stated such things. “I want the Fae to leave him alone. He’s an old man who has lost everything. He shouldn’t have to suffer any more.”

  “He’ll suffer if you die.”

  She shot Fintan a look. “I know.”

  “He thinks you have the same wards up?” he guessed.

  Reluctantly, she nodded. “I lied because I know he’s an easy target. I want them to come for me first.”

  “You’re going to get your wish.”

  That she was. “It’s not like I want to die.”

  “You could’ve fooled me.”

  She took offense at his words. “It’s inevitable.”

  “Death for mortals is certain, but openly inviting death into your home is tantamount to madness.”

  Her mouth fell open, but he continued before she had a chance to speak.

  “You say your grandfather has lost everyone. He still has you. How much longer do you think he’d have the will to live once you were killed?”

  “I can bear children. I can continue the line. If someone wants to wipe out our family, they’ll come for me first.”

  Fintan stopped and faced her as they reached her cottage. “So you serve yourself up for sacrifice?”

  “To give my grandfather a chance. Yes.”

  Fintan was quiet for a long time as he stared at her. “I’d do the same for the men I call my brothers.”

  His words touched her, and she put her hand on his arm without thinking. His eyes jerked down to where she touched his jacket. Yanking her hand away, she turned and walked down the sidewalk to the front door.

  When she entered, Fintan was already inside with the glamour removed. His revelation about his brothers made him seem more human. She knew Fae had emotions, but there was something about him that made her think of him as a robot most times.

  She’d seen him kill, so she knew he was skilled with his sword. It had been in the way he moved and the way
he held the weapon.

  But he had yet to smile. The only thing that came close to any emotion was the few times she’d seen him frown.

  That was until she’d heard him talk about his brothers. Under it all, she perceived fierce protection and loyalty in his voice. He cared about those men. Deeply.

  “I loved my brother and sister,” she said as she made coffee. “And they loved me. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that I was born without magic. While they honed their skills and learned to control their gifts, I was relegated to watching them. I was an outsider, unable to be a part of what they enjoyed.”

  “That must’ve been tough.”

  “My parents constantly told me that I would come into my gifts one day. I believed them until I turned twenty. When that day came and went, I knew that, for whatever reason, the magic had passed me over.”

  Fintan came to stand near her. “Has that happened to anyone else in the Hayes line?”

  “Never.”

  He put his finger beneath her chin and turned her head to him. “You’re far from being the only Halfling without magic. Many of the half-Fae have none. So don’t let that diminish who you are.”

  Heat started from the point of contact of his finger and spread over her body. He spoke with conviction, that sexy voice adding a layer that made her heart skip a beat.

  Her mouth went dry when his gaze lowered to her lips. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to kiss her or not. The longer they remained locked in place, the more she yearned for him to do something.

  She found herself leaning toward him bit by bit. Something swirled inside her, and it took a moment for her to realize what it was—longing.

  Suddenly, he dropped his hand and took a step back. “The coffee has finished brewing.”

  “Yeah.” She turned to the machine.

  While she’d been wrapped in desire, he’d been listening to the pot brew. She was such an idiot. Was she so lonely that she was ready to fall for the first man who gave her a second look?

  Apparently.

  She poured two mugs and took hers to the sofa. The day had barely begun, and already, she’d lost the source of her income, been overcome by desire, and faced more truths than she could process.

  At least she hadn’t tried to kiss Fintan. What a fool she’d have made of herself.