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CHAPTER 17

T aryn was reticent to tell Fintan she loved him, and she didn’t need to examine why. Too many times in the past, she’d freely given her affection, only to have her soul battered and abused. Trusting someone to keep her heart safe no longer came as easily for a woman in her forties as it did for her younger self.

At nineteen, she’d viewed everything through romance-tinted glasses. A look, a touch, a sigh—they all sparked dreams. But later in life, longing looks were met with skepticism. She tended to overanalyze or dismiss overtures for fear of being wrong and appearing a fool.

“Men aren’t much different, aoibhneas mo croí. We fear rejection, too. Maybe more. Women are emotionally stronger because they’ve had to be, yeah?” Fintan said.

She silently cursed their damned link. It would be better to keep her worries to herself, but she was failing spectacularly at it.

“You’ll be better with practice,” he assured her, extending a hand to help her stand. Tugging her close, he touched his forehead to hers. “Sure, and it’s maddening now, but we’ll work on it. And if you’re absolutely opposed to Fate’s gift, we’ll find a way to sever it.”

He’d made it sound like rejecting Fate’s gift was akin to rejecting him, though his words were meant to be supportive. Why did she suddenly feel like the worst sort of bitch?

“I’m not one-hundred percent opposed, but I don’t necessarily love that you can hear my every thought either.”

“Do you want me to pretend I don’t hear ya, then?”

His compassion and understanding ran deep, and Taryn appreciated his unexpected kindness.

“No,” she said, resigned. “That would be worse and feel too much like a lie.”

“Let’s call Damian and ask for a spell to filter such things,” he replied. His lopsided smile zinged through her, but she ignored the pesky attraction because it came with commitment she wasn’t ready for.

“Do you think that’s possible, Fintan? That perhaps I can prevent your access to my deeper emotions?”

He frowned, and Taryn reevaluated her comment.

“Oh! I didn’t mean you and I shouldn’t share a loving connection. Only to save you from all my self-doubt and recriminations.”

“And I’d save you from me own, too. But I also want you to know I’m being honest with ya and holdin’ nothin’ back.”

Honesty shone from his troubled eyes, and her shame expanded to overwhelming proportions. She’d been busy trying to protect herself and keep any doubts hidden when she should’ve been voicing them and resolving their issues.

“Thank you for trusting me with your truth, Fintan. And if it’s any consolation, I don’t want to date Micha or anyone else.” She smiled as she stroked his jaw, absently noting his stubble. “I’ve always cared about you. Even when I desperately wanted to hate you for disappearing like you did.” Holding up a hand to prevent his protest, she said, “We don’t need to readdress it. I believe you. It’s just a matter of convincing my head and heart to take another chance. It’s like baseball. Three strikes and you’re out.”

“And I have two against me?”

“No, not you. I meant me, striking out at love twice. Here I am, standing at the plate, staring down the pitcher, and knowing he intends to throw a curveball. How do I prepare for it?”

“Just keep your eye on the ball, aoibhneas mo croí. Free your mind and do what comes naturally. I promise you’ll hit the bleedin’ thing out of the park.”

“You make it sound so easy when we both know it isn’t,” she said forlornly.

“It’s not my intent. I only want to ease your fears.”

Feeling as if she’d talked the issue to death, she nodded. She stretched on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly. “Thank you. Let’s discuss your plan.”

“It’s only half-baked, as you Americans say.”

Grinning, she shook her head. “Maybe we should get half-baked and hash the rest out.”

“Are ya always goin’ to be a bad influence?”

“Whenever I can.”

He chuckled. The pitch was low, bordering on wicked, and it shot throughout her body, distributing delicious shivers. It gave her the smallest taste of his power.

His expression hardened. “I didn’t mean?—”

Taryn placed a finger over his lips. “I’m not objecting, and you didn’t steal anything, Fintan. Please don’t freak out.”

The tightness around his eyes and mouth eased. With a kiss of her fingertip, he drew her hand down and placed it over his heart.

“Thank you, Taryn-Taryn.”

“Let’s take things one problem at a time. When we’ve dealt with Odessa and Bloodstone’s necklace, we’ll work on us, okay?”

“Aye.”

“I’m sensing you want to know about Micha.” His silence was answer enough. “Okay, so it’s my understanding that he began working for the Witches’ Council about four months ago. I met him about six weeks ago when I turned over an artifact I discovered at an estate sale in Salem.”

“Just how often do you find those bleedin’ artifacts?”

She laughed. “Quite a bit. Most people can’t sense the magic they hold and want to get rid of garbage. Others believe they are being sentimental for hanging on to grandma’s trinkets.”

“Why start huntin’ them in the first place?”

His interest seemed genuine, and it was easier to reveal her reasons.

“It began after Morcant.”

“Ah. It’s a recent thing?”

“Yes. I couldn’t escape into my books anymore, and whenever I was at the shop—Soleil and I have one downtown—I’d get restless. The driving need to search out objects was strong. Weirdly, I haven’t experienced it since finding the amulet.”

“Have you never spoken to anyone about your trauma?” he asked quietly.

“Not really. Damian once or twice, and only because he sensed my turmoil.” She shrugged and looked away. Everyone meant well, but how could they understand the self-contempt attached to bringing a killer into their home?

“Taryn.”

“I’m okay.” She brushed off his compassion. “To answer your question, Damian offered to take away the worst of it. But what if it resurfaces when I least expect?”

“What did that bastard do to you, love?”

“Nothing as horrible as what he did to Josie,” she replied quickly. But Morcant had undermined her confidence and taught her to distrust herself. He almost killed her niece, for fuck’s sake! And he had murdered Viv. Thankfully, Damian had a Death Dealer in his back pocket. Yet coming back from that was the hardest for Taryn. Her stupid decisions had caused trauma for those she loved.

Fintan embraced her from behind, resting his chin on her head.

“I’m sorry, Taryn-Taryn,” he said through their connection. “If I’d have been stronger, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten close to ya.”

“If not me, he would’ve targeted Soleil. I’m glad it’s my burden to bear and not hers.”

“Josie shares in your burden.” Fintan hugged her tighter, and Taryn allowed his soothing energy to permeate her fragile shell. “You should talk to her, and soon,” he advised.

“I will. I owe her a sit-down and a massive apology.”

“Grand. Oh, and Soleil is stronger than ya give her credit for.” He shifted her to face him. “I’ve seen her give Trevor shite, and it’s a feckin’ joy to watch.”

Taryn laughed, feeling oddly lighter, before sobering again. “I hate that the Authority allowed Buttagier to use us as pawns. If they’re willing to—what is it?”

His face contorted as if he were in pain, and her panic spiked.

“Fintan?”

Falling to his knees, he clutched his head. “Run!”

“What?”

“Run!” he commanded. His voice deepened, wrapping around her and compelling her with the single word. All will left, and she headed for the exit.

“No, child!” a man shouted inside her mind. Halting, she spun back and searched for the source.

The blue-green light emanating from Fintan stole her breath with its brightness, but it was the fear etched on his face that froze her to the spot.

“Go!” he shouted. “I can’t hold it back.”

“It?” she squeaked. Did he mean his Siren?

Understanding came with the barrage of his frantic thoughts and those of another.

It will consume her.

Freedom.

Power.

Fuck her.

The last three weren’t Fintan. Or not the him she’d come to know.

His eyes glazed as his body transformed, growing a foot in size. The creature’s shoulders were one and a half times that of Fintan’s, and the bulging muscles tore through his clothing like paper. Muscled thighs befitting Mr. Universe played peek-a-book with the shredded chinos, and ultra-thin iridescent scales formed over his exposed skin. If she hadn’t stood within a few feet of him, she’d have assumed his skin had taken on a sweaty sheen.

Then, Taryn caught a glimpse of the forming erection. Heart beating like a wild bird’s wings in a cage, she met the creature’s burning gaze.

Desire was reflected back. There was also a predatory gleam, as if the creature felt the need for dominance. To possess.

It grinned.

“Holy fuck!” she screeched.

“Holy fuck is right,” Creed said from the doorway. “Is that Fin? For the love of all things Hulk! Who knew he was sporting an anaconda? Has he—oh, shit. He doesn’t look as thrilled to see me as he does you.”

A horrified laugh escaped her, and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

The Siren frowned at her, and his head pivoted toward the door. All at once, the predatory expression disappeared, replaced by outrage.

Intruder .

Rival.

Destroy.

The creature had cataloged Creed as competition for Taryn’s affections, and she feared for him. Fintan’s musician’s fingers elongated, and shiny black nails replaced the tips. The claws were easily five inches long and another two in width, resembling a grizzly bear’s paws. And like a bear, they probably weren’t razor sharp, but they’d do substantial damage.

“No!” Forgetting any threat to self, she jumped between them.

“Mine,” the Siren hummed, and a shiver of awareness rolled over her.

All will abandoned her for the second time, and she stepped forward to within touching distance.

“Taryn, we need to teleport out of here right now,” Creed warned. “That thing isn’t the Fintan you know.”

“What’s happening?” Noah’s voice drifted to her. The creature’s reaction was immediate.

He grew another half foot and flexed threateningly.

“I guess now’s not the time to discuss Damian’s thoughts on Bloodstone’s necklace,” Noah said dryly.

“How the hell can you joke when that thing’s one-eyed monster is staring you down?” Creed demanded.

Horrified amusement bubbled inside her, and she giggled. Her humor was on the darker side, and uncontrollable laughter was an embarrassing side effect.

Other than an irritated shake of his head, the Siren ignored them, hyperfocusing on her. His claws retracted as he wrapped a hand around her neck and dragged her closer.

“Mine,” he hummed.

“Fintan’s,” she found the courage to whisper, breaking his hold on her.

It grinned, displaying gleaming-white, vampire-like teeth. The rest of his shirt fell from his torso as ebony bones sprouted from his shoulder blades, unfurling into the shape of dragon wings. At the topmost joint, a claw, about twice the size of those on his hands, formed. The flexible outer membrane of the wing was similar to a bat in texture, but the color was a rich oceanic blue.

“Taryn—” Creed clamped his jaw shut when Fintan bared his teeth.

“You should go, Creed,” she urged. “You both should.”

“We can’t, in good conscience, leave you alone with that thing, love.” Noah cultivated a tone that was soft and unthreatening, and the creature dismissed him, keeping his focus on Taryn.

“He’s little more than an animal right now,” Creed argued.

The Siren’s aquamarine eyes locked with hers, as if challenging her to run. Deep in her soul, she knew if she did, it would give chase. But just as assuredly, it wouldn’t hurt her if she stayed.

“Go, guys. I’m not leaving Fintan.”

His creature purred its satisfaction, and panic filled her as she realized the harmonious sound tickled all her private parts.

“Five notes,” it murmured.

As another wave of pleasure swept her, Taryn’s eyes flew wide.

The amused half-grin was pure Fintan.

Other than a savage curse, Creed said nothing, but Taryn had the sense they’d departed.

“Fintan, if you’re in there, I need you to return now,” she urged.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate a panty-incinerating experience, but his warning rang in her mind. He’d feared the Incubus. And though she doubted that’s what the creature in front of her was, she knew if it absorbed her magic when she crested—three more notes, but who was counting?—Fintan would become his greatest fear.

“No,” it hummed, causing another tsunami of pleasure.

“Stop this!” she ordered. “I love Fintan, and?—”

The Siren’s arms hauled her against him, lifting her off her feet.

With a squeal, she clutched his shoulders. The texture of his scales wasn’t as expected, and her fingertips encountered warm skin. Wherever she touched him, he lit from within, giving off a jellyfish-like bioluminescence.

“That’s incredible,” she breathed.

His wings encircled them, plunging her world into darkness except for the shimmer of light off his body. The bottom bones supporting the lower sail’s membrane provided a place for her to stand, putting them face to face.

“You,” he said.

Incredible.

Mine.

Fuck.

“Nope!” She applied the brakes on the Siren’s runaway train, especially when his anaconda tried caressing places only Fintan’s snake was allowed entrance. “No fucking! That thing you’re packing will rearrange my internal organs.”

“Will fit,” he purred, causing her another pleasurable shudder.

Moisture gathered at the apex of her thighs. If it wasn’t for the small matter that she loved Fintan and if she were into sex with anything but humans, she might’ve been persuaded to give the Siren a go.

Was that four notes? She’d always been bad at math.

A gleam entered his eyes, and it looked remarkably like a challenge.

She frowned. “How many people have you had sex with in this state?” she demanded. “Because I don’t think you’re an ordinary Siren.”

His grin flashed, and he buried his nose against her throat, inhaling deeply right before swiping his tongue from the base of her neck to her ear lobe. Though a bit longer and thicker, the texture of his tongue was no different than a human’s, and it put naughty ideas into her head.

“Ye—,” he began.

She clapped her hand over his mouth. “Not another sound, mister!”

Humor lurked in his twinkling eyes, and she had the stray thought that Fintan might be pranking her. Would he risk such a thing?

“Please send Fintan back to me,” she begged.

“Five,” he hummed.

Her body was an earthquake unto itself, and she blacked out.