Immortal Scotsman

by McQueen, H. M.

“It’s not your fault,” her mother answered. “We kept you sheltered for as long as we could. For the first twenty years, you were babies and then younglings, which made it easy to keep the truth hidden. Then, as you grew up, we never allowed any modern conveniences. No televisions, and we stuck mostly to small country towns, slow to evolve.”

  “One question,” Guiles got everyone’s attention “How long do we live?”

  Julian put his cup down and picked up a cookie then answered his question, “You’re almost immortal. Most Fae live for at least eight hundred years.” He’d remained all day, seeming to feel comfortable around her family. It surprised Wendy to see him so relaxed.

  “What about the key? Why do I have it?” Wendy asked.

  Julian looked to her parents, but they remained silent, so he replied. “The key is passed down to the next generation. It usually remains in the same family. In the case of the Key of Peace, it has been entrusted to your bloodline for longer than we can calculate.”

  “I tried to talk your grandmother out of passing the key to you,” her mother told her. “She said it was your destiny, that there was no choice in the matter. Now, you must be protected.”

  “Yes,” her father replied, “as soon as possible. We must get her mated to a strong male so that she will have constant security.”

  “Patrick would be a good choice. He is strong and a great warrior. He will make a good husband for her,” her mother chimed in.

  Wendy slammed her hands on the counter. “Whoa! ‘She’ is right here! Husband?! I am not marrying some guy named Patrick, whom I’ve never met,” she screeched. “Can’t you just protect me here? I can stay with you and be protected by Dad.” She looked around the table, every instinct screaming against what they planned. Feeling exhausted, she held shaky hands up before anyone could answer. “Never mind. I can’t deal with anymore today, I really can’t. I need to lie down. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

  Her father softened first, as always, having a hard time being stern with his daughter. “Tomorrow, we must speak to the Queen. She will insist on you having a mate. I’m sorry, honey, but the key’s keeper is always mated so that she and her husband can keep watch over it.”

  “Well, then, how was I able to stay single all this time?” Wendy asked exasperated. “Why can’t I just live with Guiles or something?”

  Everyone looked at Julian. A muscle tensed in his jaw, and his dark eyes met her father’s for a moment.

  Unlike her father, he seemed to be losing patience with her and glared, his dark eyes boring into hers. “Gwendolyn, the reality is that you have been lucky. It took the demons a long time to find you; they did not expect you to be living in America. They were not aware that your grandmother had passed away and given you the key. You must be mated as soon as possible, in that there is no choice. Your brother has a mission to complete and will be too busy to protect you.”

  Wendy stared at her brother, and then, she saw it. What she’d been too overwhelmed with everything else to notice. His face had changed. Once slim like hers, it was now chiseled. His jaw was square, and his neck was thicker. His shoulders were broad, and his arms were more muscular. Guiles was at least six inches taller than the last time she’d seen him, just a few months earlier. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What kind of mission?”

  “Guiles will be a Protector,” Julian told her. “A Fae will make a nice addition to our force. And with the increasing demon attacks in Ireland, he will lead Fae warriors in the defense of the country.”

  “Oh.” Wendy couldn’t think of anything more to say. She slumped back into the chair, her head spinning. At this point, she didn’t care anymore. She just wanted to go to bed and curl up into a ball and sleep.

  Forever.

  Maybe this would make better sense in the morning, or maybe it was all a long, terrible nightmare and she’d wake up in her small apartment in Atlanta. Spend the day daydreaming about Kieran and laughing over coffee with Emma.

  Or she’d wake up to face a stark reality.

  She was the keeper of the Key of Peace, a Fae, and about to marry a total stranger.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kieran sank back into the leather chair, exhausted. He was at Fallon’s house again. He’d insisted on not remaining at Cyn’s any longer. And since his house was a pile of ashes, his options were limited.

  This was the third day he’d been able to get out of bed, and he still tired easily. He tried hard to hide his weakness because Cyn watched him like a hawk. At the first sign of weariness, his brother would grab him and force him back to bed. As much as he loved his brother, the temptation to slug him next time Cyn embarrassed him in front of the others was becoming strong.

  He closed his eyes in thought, picturing the demon attack at his home and, at the same time, allowing himself a respite from the questions Roderick fired at him.

  The last question was did he recall any type of new weapon wielded by the demons on the day of his attack?

  “I don’t remember anything different.” Kieran opened his eyes and met Roderick’s intense gaze. “I do remember one stab in particular that got me here.” He motioned to the right side of his lower torso. “It hurt like a mother fucker when it cut me.”

  Roderick’s brows shot up. “I saw the scar, and I wondered if it was a remnant of your human days.”

  “Nope,” Kieran replied, “I didn’t have a scar there before. Whatever they used to cut me with caused it.”

  “Damn it!” Fallon sprang to his feet, his hands curled into tight fists. The other Protectors in the room watched him with interest. It was unusual for the aristocrat’s cool composure to fall. “We bloody well better find out what they’re using. I, for one, don’t want to become a Protector shish kebob the next time I fight.”

  A yawn escaped Kieran before he could cut it off. Cyn leaned forward as if ready to spring to catch him. He waved his brother off. “I’m okay.” Then, he spoke to Roderick. “I don’t think it’s a special type of sword they are using. It’s almost as if they coated it with something. The cut burned like hell.”

  His brother pressed his lips together in thought. “If I remember correctly, didn’t Julian say that to make a permanent mark in our skin, we had to use sea salt? Maybe they figured out a way to somehow forge sea salt into their weapons.”

  “That makes a lot of sense,” Roderick replied, blowing out air.

  “Well, so, what do we do now?” Fallon asked no one in particular while pacing back and forth.

  Kieran studied his partner. There was something different about Fallon. Perhaps, he’d talk to him later, once the other Protectors left. He saw that Cyn was also watching Fallon, his brows drawn together and a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Sit down, Fallon. You’re making me dizzy,” Kieran told the Brit.

  “Too much coffee?” Cyn asked him.

  Fallon glared at them. For a beat, it looked as if he would retort, but instead, he fell into a nearby chair, which was totally uncharacteristic of him. He usually took great care of his precious antique furnishings.

  “Kieran,” Cyn shook him. Damn, had he fallen asleep? “I think that’s enough for today,” Cyn told the others. “He needs to rest.” His brother pulled him up, and he tried to resist, but all of his energy had seeped from him.

  “It’s more than just sea salt,” Roderick said, concern etched on his face. “True, sea salt would leave a scar, burn like hell, and cause some pretty bad damage to our internal organs, but it doesn’t explain Kieran’s weakness, the inability to heal as quickly as usual.”

  Later that night, Kieran woke with a start, but he didn’t sit up. Someone was watching him. He lifted his lashes just enough and scanned the room until his saw a person in a chair in the corner. He let out a breath. “Fallon, what the hell are you doing? You in love with me or something?”

  “Shut up,” Fallon snapped. “Your damn brother is making us take turns watching you. Next thing you know, he’ll have us hold your cock while yo
u piss.”

  Kieran couldn’t help but smile at that. “As a matter of fact, I think I have to go right now. Care to come along?” He got a glare in response. “Didn’t think so.” He swung his legs to the side of the bed and sat up, relieved not to be greeted by a dizzy spell for a change. Slowly, he was getting stronger. “Where is everyone?”

  “Rod, Cyn, and Logan are out on patrol. Logan will be here in an hour or so. Then, I will go out.”

  When he walked back from the bathroom, Fallon was standing by the window. He tapped his foot impatiently as he looked forlornly out. It was almost physically painful for Protectors not to be out fighting at night, especially when they were not mated. “It’s a dark night, barely any moonlight,” the Brit told him without turning away from the window.

  At Fallon’s mention of the moon, Kieran stopped mid-stride. “When is the next full moon? How many days have passed since the attack?” Since Wendy left.

  “Hell, I don’t know. Let’s see,” Fallon angled his head to the side in thought. “I believe it’s been about a week and a half since the attack. I don’t know when the next full moon will be. Gauging by the lack of moon, I’d say maybe two weeks.”

  Two weeks. He’d be married in two weeks. Kieran began to dig in an overnight bag for a clean T-shirt and sweatpants. “I’m fine, Fallon. Go on, go fight. I would be out there, too, if I didn’t feel so damn weak.”

  “I’ll be in the kitchen. Logan will be here any minute,” Fallon replied and left. Apparently, Cyn had forced Fallon to give his word that he’d watch over Kieran so Fallon wouldn’t leave him alone. A Protector never broke a promise.

  Instead of getting dressed, he walked to the same spot where Fallon had stood. Looking up at the dark sky, his thoughts immediately went to Wendy. What was she doing right now? He knew Julian had taken her to Ireland, to her family. There, she would learn about her heritage and the responsibilities of being Fae.

  Did she look forward to her new life? How had she taken the news of his engagement? No doubt by hating his guts.

  If only he’d been able to talk to her before she left. To explain everything.

  He should have told her how he felt about her. How much she meant to him. How much he loved her. She was the first person he’d asked for once he’d regained consciousness, but she’d already left for Ireland. Julian wasted no time in taking her away from him. He understood. After all, her safety and that of the key were more important than anything.

  In two weeks, he’d marry a stranger, a woman who would not love him. Knowing Julian, she’d be beautiful and fully trained to please him.

  Wonderful—another beautiful wife that didn’t love him.

  Was that his lot in life? Could he do it again?

  It didn’t matter. He’d agreed to it, and backing out was not an option.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Fallon paced from one side to the other in his oversized kitchen. The stale indoor air and confining walls closed in on him.

  What the hell was wrong with him?

  Since the day he’d blacked out at Centennial Park, he’d been restless. Violent thoughts constantly circled in his mind. A dark mist fogged his vision at all times. It fed on anger, making him want to do terrible things.

  Not just to the demons he’d fought, but to humans too. The aggression or whatever it was that pulsed in his veins was a worrisome development.

  He’d almost mentioned it earlier, when Cyn had asked, but they had enough to worry about, with the possibility of demons wielding new weaponry.

  Whatever this was, he could control it.

  For now.

  Where the hell was Logan? Fallon had given Cyn his word that he would not leave Kieran alone, and he wouldn’t. He understood why they had to watch the injured Scot.

  Kieran didn’t seem to be aware that he had passed out without warning. They didn’t want to take the chance that he’d hurt himself more and slow down his already slow healing process.

  No, he’d stay within earshot until Logan came to relieve him. But it became harder and harder with each passing minute to remain inside.

  Fallon leaned against the railing on his screened-in porch and studied the darkness. His thoughts went to the night before.

  It had been late, almost three in the morning. He’d come very close to attacking a human male while he walked the empty streets of Atlanta. Bloodlust had surged in him, his fangs elongated and his vision sharpened, and he’d honed in on a lone man, who walked unhurriedly down a dark sidewalk. The scent of the man’s blood pulled at him, and he’d lost all control.

  Somehow, right before coming up behind the man, he’d fought the hunger and run in the opposite direction. He kept wandering for a couple of hours, hoping to find demons to kill, anything to get rid of the pent-up adrenaline. Little by little, the cool air seemed to help take the edge off the violent urges.

  Feeling more in control, Fallon was headed back to his car when he’d spotted a beautiful blonde making her way to a townhouse.

  Sex would definitely help rid him of the urges that grasped at him.

  He sped up, moving toward her, willing her attention to him. Although he didn’t make it a habit to use his strong abilities, this night, he’d made an exception.

  Turn to me. Look at me.

  The woman had frowned at his mental probe and glanced toward him. She was stunning. Obviously coming home after a night of clubbing, she was dressed in a short, tight black dress and high-heeled red shoes. Her long legs caught his attention, and he smiled at her.

  She got the message and cocked her head to the side; then, she scanned the street, perhaps for his car. His silver Jaguar was parked down the block.

  “It’s over there, the silver one,” he pointed replying to her unspoken question. “I was taking a short walk. I need to sober up before trying to drive home,” he lied. “Can I invite you for a cup of coffee?” he asked, hoping she’d invite him up to her apartment for other things.

  The woman hesitated.

  As if reading his mind, her eyes flickered to her front door and back to him. He purposely ran his gaze slowly up her body. Her lips parted at his overt implication.

  He read her thoughts. She wanted him.

  She was aroused at the thought of being with him.

  They had slammed against the wall as soon as the door closed behind them. Fallon kissed her as she made frantic work of pulling his clothes from him. With a chuckle, he pulled back and allowed her to pull the sweater over his head. He already had her dress up around her waist and finished by pulling it off over her stretched arms.

  Instantly, her fingers worked at unfastening his pants while his mouth plundered hers. With amazing agility, she was able to free him from the confines of his pants and boxers in one yank.

  Equally hungry for each other, she didn’t protest when he cupped her bottom, lifting her, and rammed inside her. She moaned, grabbing his shoulders. She’d wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned loudly, her nails raking down his back.

  Fallon slammed in and out of her, not able to slow down, needing to take what he could from her.

  “Yes! Yes! Harder!” Fortunately, the female liked it rough and begged him for more. Fallon continued pounding into her until she screamed, peaking. Her head thrashed from side to side, her body tightened around his length.

  The constriction of her muscles around him pushed him over the edge. Fallon climaxed so hard, his knees almost buckled. He lowered her, but before he could withdraw, they fell onto the floor.

  He was still hard.

  With him splayed on his back, the striking woman took full advantage and began to ride him. A sustained erection was definitely not a bad thing, Fallon realized as another climb to ecstasy commenced.

  The sun was bright when he made his way out of her apartment. They’d had sex for hours until, finally, all of the violence left him. Feeling more like himself, he gratefully made love with the woman once more, this time gently, before walking out.

  Jus
t recalling the encounter, Fallon felt his cock twitch.

  He hadn’t asked her name, and the woman hadn’t asked for his either. He wished he had. Maybe he’d ask her out.

  Growling, he began to pace again. Why bother? What Kieran was going through was proof. He’d delved into the Scot’s thoughts. Kieran was in love with Wendy, and his heart was breaking at her being torn from him by Julian.

  He needed to pay heed. Protectors were not allowed a normal love life.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kieran strode into the kitchen with two thoughts, coffee and food. He was finally beginning to feel like himself again. As soon as he ate and drank an entire pot of coffee, he would practice with his sword. The room seemed empty, and he was glad not to have to make small talk until after at least his first cup of coffee.

  He was energized at the prospect of a workout, but of course, he’d have to finish it by dawn, when Cyn usually came to check on him.

  Guitar chords flowed into the room along with a deep voice. The country song was upbeat. “Why don’t we just dance…” The words flowed easily, and Kieran couldn’t help but be impressed. Logan was definitely all country, not only in his way of dressing, his swagger, and his drawl, but he also played the guitar and could sing.

  Kieran shook his head as he poured coffee into the large mug. Fallon had finally realized that his fancy little teacups were too small for good ole’ American coffee drinkers and had bought larger ones. Kieran drank almost half of the cup before he began to look for sandwich makings.

  Minutes later, he poured the last of the coffee into the cup and made his way out to the screened-in back patio, where Logan was still plucking at the guitar but no longer singing. The cowboy’s eyes rose when Kieran stepped outside, but he continued playing without speaking.

  Kieran sat and listened to Logan play for a few minutes. “I need to spar.”

  Logan’s eyes met his for a beat. He shrugged and continued playing. “Cyn said you’d want to as soon as you felt halfway decent. It’s too soon, man.”