Page 21

CHAPTER 20

“F intan?”

Taryn poked his shoulder, waking him from sleep.

“I’m a wee worn out, aoibhneas mo croí. But if you give me another hour or two, I’ll pleasure ya like?—”

“Fintan!”

The urgency in her tone penetrated his sleep-fogged brain, and he sat up. “What—oh, shite! Am I dreamin’ then?”

“If you are, I am,” she croaked.

At the foot of their bed, Uncle Peter impatiently tapped his foot. He uncrossed his arms as soon as he realized Fintan was awake and focused on him.

“Grand. Now, we’ve a need to hurry, boyo. Follow me.” So saying, his uncle drifted through the closed door.

“Jaysus! What a fuckin’ nightmare to wake to!”

Taryn nodded mutely, her attention locked on the door. She was white as the sheet she clutched to her naked breasts. “He was really here, wasn’t he?”

“Aye, and he’ll be back.” Fintan nudged her, hoping to prompt her into action. “You should dress, Taryn-Taryn. He’ll be salty as a sailor when he discovers we haven’t hightailed it after him.”

“Oh! Right.”

With a wary eye on the door, she scrambled up. It took a simple snap of her fingers to clothe herself, and Fintan was sad for it. Naked Taryn was a sight to behold, and he mourned whenever she covered up. Of a certain, he was a horny bastard, but they had years of separation to make up for.

He rose, smiling when he caught her hot gaze eating up his body. “Should I tell Uncle Peter to feck off?”

“I wish, but no. I’ll be unable to get off while worrying about him watching us.”

“I’m not a feckin’ pervert, girl,” Peter snapped from behind Fintan, scaring the shite out of him.

“What the fuck, man!” He pointed toward the door. “Are ya after givin’ me heart failure?”

A grin transformed his uncle’s face from craggy to jovial elf, and his mischievous twinkle said he’d done it on purpose.

“If you ever enter when Taryn’s naked again, I’ll exorcise your feckin’ spirit from the house, yeah?”

“She’s always in a naked state, same as you, boyo. You’ve been at it for two bleedin’ days. I’ve not wanted to disturb ya, knowin’ the two of you needed to reestablish your love, but time is of the essence, it is. So get hoppin’.”

Taryn’s chirp of laughter drew Fintan’s gaze.

“Sure, and it’s the craic now that you’re dressed, but I’m still bare assed with me flute out.”

“In my experience, men enjoy their ‘flute’ hanging in the breeze and don’t care if others see it. Probably hoping someone will jump on it and play a few notes.”

“Keep your sexy thoughts to a minimum, love, or I’ll have a cockstand before ya know it,” Fintan warned within the confines of their bond.

She smirked, damn her, but honored his request. “Women are more modest in nature.”

“I’ve never understood modesty, meself,” Peter said. “Nothin’ is as grand as a woman’s body.”

“I’m not so self-critical that I don’t believe I’m attractive, but having it all hang out is uncomfortable and dangerous in the wrong company. Thank goodness you’re one of the sweet ones.” She smiled warmly at Peter and won his uncle’s heart in an instant. “I prefer to keep my wares under wraps until I’m in private with my man.”

Her eyes shone when she turned them to Fintan, and damned if he didn’t want to puff up his chest like Uncle Peter. Shaking off her enchantment, he pulled on his discarded clothes and shoved his feet into trainers. He had a strong suspicion they were in for a hike through the house, although why ghosts weren’t inclined to teleport was beyond his comprehension. Someday soon, he’d ask his uncle.

“What’s so all-fired important, Peter?” Taryn asked as they hurried to follow him.

“What she means is why the feck couldn’t this wait until mornin’?” Fintan clasped her hand, drawing her closer to avoid a table in the darkened hallway.

Her breathy “thank you” almost made him turn back. Every look, touch, sigh, or word she spoke aroused him.

Taryn squeezed his hand, reminding him she’d heard his internal thoughts. “It’s the same for me, Fintan.”

Without slowing, he raised her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Peter halted before a paneled wall on the second-floor landing, shot a covert glance upstairs, then gestured to him to tug a sconce. The exposed passageway was new to Fintan.

“Sure, and I thought I’d found them all,” he muttered.

“This old estate still has a few surprises for ya, boyo.” Peter ushered them inside the narrow tunnel, peeked his head out to check for goddess knew what once more, then told him to shut the door.

The instant the panel clicked back into place, the cramped space illuminated, revealing a larger room beyond the small entry.

“This is exciting, but why the covert skulking?” Taryn asked.

“Spies, girl. Spies everywhere.”

Fintan shared a concerned look with Taryn.

“Is it possible for a spirit to turn insane in the afterlife?” she telegraphed.

“Aye,” Peter said. “But I’m not mad.”

She gasped, and Fintan’s jaw dropped right along with hers.

“You heard her?” he asked hoarsely.

“We’re Sullivan’s. Sullivans are the original Sirens from the sea gods, my boy. How do you think they communicated underwater? Sign language?” Peter scoffed. “No. They read the minds of others.”

“Yeah, I knew we could with family, but not with anyone not sharing our blood.”

Peter paused in leading them through the vast chamber and faced them. “You and Taryn can share one mind because of what you are, Fin. You’re not destined to be mates for the duration of your lives, and so ya weren’t gifted with the bond ya think you have.”

The breath left his lungs, and Fintan swayed on his feet. Taryn appeared equally as devastated. Rage followed on the heels of his shock, and he shook his head like a wounded bear.

“Fuck all the way off with ya!” he growled. “What fuckin’ game are you and the ancestors playin’ this time, Uncle? Because we’ll not be part of it. Taryn is the love of me life.”

Mine .

“Fintan,” she warned, sliding her arm through his and hugging it. “Don’t lose your shit, sweetheart. You’ll open yourself up to your Siren. I can feel his rage building, too.”

Fintan’s muscles twitched, and the skin along his arms rippled. Having heard the Siren’s possessive growl, Taryn feared he was in the throes of a transformation. Her heart jumped into her throat.

It was hard to shove aside Peter’s claim that they weren’t fated mates, like Viv and Damian or Soleil and Trev. Was it true? If not, why would Fintan’s uncle push his buttons? Was it to trigger the Siren? If so, why?

She met his considering gaze, and the sick feeling of having her privacy invaded twice in one night sparked her anger. “Stay out of my head. Siren blood-gift or not, I don’t like anyone else poking around.”

“But not our boyo, yeah?”

“What are you trying to pull, Peter? Because whatever it is, I want you to knock it off. Triggering Fintan’s creature is dangerous in the extreme.”

“You think you know what he’s capable of, but you don’t,” Peter warned. “In here, he can’t hurt me, but he can certainly hurt you.”

A shiver of apprehension traveled through her, but she lifted her chin. “He won’t.”

His crafty expression indicated he knew her bravado was false, and he glanced sharply at Fintan. “She fears ya, boyo.”

“I don’t!” she denied hotly. “Stop this right now!” Taryn stepped forward, prepared for battle. “I don’t know how to beat the hell out of a ghost, but I’m not above trying.”

“Me thinks the girl protests too much,” he taunted. “That you’re afraid of him but don’t want him to know.”

“I swear to God, I’ll?—”

The Siren’s granite-hard arm encircled her and tugged her back against him. She barely suppressed a scream as his claws swiped the air before her. But it wasn’t her the creature wanted to harm.

It was Peter.

Protect .

Mine .

“Good. He’s here,” he said. “Now, leash your admirer, girl, and follow me.”

“What?”

“Fintan wouldn’t have released it, and I needed the Siren for this next bit,” Peter told her matter-of-factly, showing zero remorse for provoking a dangerous beast. “I knew if they were both angry enough, he’d transform.”

A small amount of the Siren’s tension eased, and Taryn felt it huff in irritation. Fintan was going to be equally annoyed when he returned.

She pushed at the steel bands encircling her, not budging those solid arms an inch. In fact, he tightened his hold, hunching over her like a bodyguard protecting their charge, and she feared he’d never release her.

Then another scary thing registered—the erection forming against her backside. Like his arms, it was iron hard and growing by the second.

“That thing is going to snap my spine, buddy. Can you rein it in?”

He huffed a laugh, and though gruff, the magical sound relaxed her, causing her to lean back against him.

“Oh, shit,” she muttered. Was the power of his voice able to steal her will, or did he put off some type of pheromone able to lull her into submission?

“Mine,” he purred.

“Fintan’s,” she retorted.

Burying his nose in her hair, he inhaled and then rubbed his cheek against hers, ending with a kiss on her temple.

“Love.”

Her heart hiccuped.

Were he and Fintan the same? Or were they two different souls crammed together in one body? If the latter, how lonely must it have been all these years, trapped without human contact!

His claws retracted, and his arms loosened. But he didn’t free her completely. Instead, he shifted Taryn, lifting her to make her face level with his.

Her jaw gaped. Gone was the mythical-looking creature she’d met the first time, and in his place was a tall, well-built man who bore an astonishing resemblance to Fintan. There were subtle differences in his eye color, hair, and body composition, but he was a handsome fucker.

“Love,” he said again.

“Uh, thank you?” What was she supposed to say to a magical monster able to detach her head with a swipe of his wrist?

His overbright eyes crinkled with amusement, and he cocked his head. “Five notes?”

“No! Absolutely not. No way, no how.”

Peter’s rusty chuckle rang out, attracting the Siren’s warning glare.

“You can’t kill our audience, buddy. He’s already dead.” She pitched her voice low. “Also, Fintan might not be so happy I’m receiving orgasms from other guys. Not that the last one wasn’t lovely and all.”

His gleaming teeth flashed in one of his rare grins, and there was no vampire-ish quality to them like before. “You like?”

“Who wouldn’t? But still, not cool to hum a woman into a coma against her will.”

With a thoughtful frown, he set her on her feet.

“’Kay.”

Her brows shot up. “Wow. You caved pretty fast.”

Laughing, he palmed the back of her head and drew her against him. There was no denying the adoration on his face, and a huge part of her felt bad for him. Wrapping her arms around as much of his washboard waist as she could encircle, she hugged him.

“Thank you.”

His fingers were tender as they stroked her back, and unexpected tears filled her eyes. She was familiar with loneliness, just like him. Blinking away the evidence of her sorrow, she gazed up at him.

“I can’t keep calling you ‘buddy.’ Do you have a name?”

“Ardghal.”

Her heart stopped. Surely she’d heard wrong?

“Pardon?” she croaked.

“Ardghal.”

“Bloodstone?” she screeched, making him wince. The blood drained from her head, and she swayed on her feet. “How is it possible? Oh, God! Oh, God!”