Page 22

CHAPTER 21

D ots appeared before Taryn’s eyes, and her vision went dark. Why the hell was she always blacking out in his presence?

Bending his knees, he cupped her face and gave her a gentle shake.

“Stay with me,” he urged through their link.

“But you’re Bloodstone? Like the Bloodstone? How can that be?”

A troubled frown drew his brows down as he stroked her hair. Taryn couldn’t say how or why, but she sensed his struggle: a desire to explain and the frustration accompanying it because he couldn’t voice it.

“Fintan is going to be so pissed,” she said, still reeling in shock.

“It’s a feckin’ freak incident,” Peter said beside her.

Taryn patted Ardghal’s hands, indicating he should release her, which he appeared reluctant to do.

She raised a brow, challenging his continued claim.

His mouth curled, straightened, then swept upward again, as if he were fighting his amusement and losing. Finally, he held up his arms and stepped back.

“Thank you.” With a stern look at Peter, she said, “I think it’s time you explained what you know.”

“No need to get your knickers twisted, girl,” he grumbled, but he hadn’t lost his mischievous sparkle.

“You’re a devil. I’d be surprised if you aren’t half leprechaun with your devious acts and half-truths,” she retorted without heat.

He chuckled along with Ardghal.

Taryn rolled her eyes. “So you needed the original Siren. Why?”

“To access treasures. An enchantment binds them, and since he’s the one to cast the spell, he’ll be the one to break it.”

“Are you sure it was him? Could it have been someone else a century or two later?”

Peter scowled as if she blasphemed. “Don’t be soft in the head! Of course he did it.”

The Siren huffed a laugh and swatted her on the ass, pitching her forward. Luckily for her, he caught her before she stumbled into a stone wall.

“Not cool, dude.”

Proving remorse was beyond his capability, he chuffed.

“This is why women today might find you obnoxious. We don’t like men who push us around, especially physically.”

He compressed his lips, and she was startled by how human he seemed in this form. Warming up to him was a terrible idea, and she pasted on her I-mean-business expression. “Take us to the treasures, Pete. The sooner we can find them, the sooner Fintan can return.”

Mine .

“Fintan’s.”

They walked for what seemed like hours through twisting tunnels. The torch she’d conjured only lit up five feet in front of her at best, casting eerie shadows on the cave walls. Periodically, Ardghal would reach out and redirect her around a potential hazard. How the hell did he see in the dark? A Siren side effect?

If he weren’t so damned protective, she might fear the two of them working in conjunction to get rid of her.

Ardghal chuckled the second she’d considered it.

She’d forgotten he had free access to every blasted thought she had.

“I’m getting tired. How far have we gone? England?”

“Jaysus! Do ya do nothin’ but complain, girl?”

“This damned club is heavy, and I’d use it over your thick skull if you were corporeal, you ass.”

Ardghal swept her up, scaring a scream and maybe a little pee from her. The torch tumbled from her hand, coming to rest against a stone boulder, and snuffed itself out. Plunged into blackness, she clung to him.

“I never thought I was scared of the dark or claustrophobic, but I might be a little of both,” Taryn admitted aloud.

“Carry.”

“Well, I guess cavemen are good for some things,” she muttered.

His chest shook with his laughter, and she wondered—not for the first time—if all his grunting and posturing was an act.

“Maybe a little,” he said.

A rush of desire settled low in her belly.

“And there’s your reason why, love.”

She closed her eyes against the sensual assault.

“Fucking A! How did the women survive around you? Were they burning their undergarments and fighting over who bedded you if you happened to speak?” She held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. I agree. The less talking you do, the better.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, pitching his voice low and intimate.

Taryn whimpered. “You’re a cruel man.”

“Most women loved it when I spoke intimately to them.” He sent it through their mental link, and Taryn was positive his amusement rode the current along with it.

At least he wasn’t throwing her into an orgasmic apocalypse—wait a minute! Why the hell was she complaining anyway? What woman?—

“Have you forgotten your beloved Fintan already?”

Shit. He was going to kill her.

“The boy’s in love. He’ll not harm a single hair on your head.”

“Boy?” she asked aloud with a scoff. “He’s going to kick puppies. He hates being called a boy.”

Ardghal grinned.

“Is it getting lighter in here? How am I able to see your face?” she asked.

With a tilt of his chin, he gestured in front of them. Taryn had been so focused inward on their conversation, she’d missed the underground pool.

Tucked beneath a blanket of moss, the grotto shimmered like something stolen straight out of a dream, or a really bougie spa commercial with better lighting. The air was cooler, holding onto the dampness caused by the pool. And the water was a sight to behold. It wasn’t just clear, it glowed . Not in an aggressive, neon nightclub kind of way, but soft and ethereal, as if the moonlight had decided to take a dip.

The bottom was smooth and likely made the pool deceptively deep. Boulders lounged like ancient sentinels, and their edges were kissed by a silvery luminescence that pulsed, as if the grotto itself was breathing. If magic had a favorite hideout, this would be it—private, pretty, and dangerous enough to make a person’s pulse skip. It’s the sort of place where visions blur with memories, and the water hums in a minor key when Sirens get too close. Instant atmosphere. Just what a musical muse might order.

And although her elemental magic felt heightened, Tayrn had a strange sense she shouldn’t be there. Like this place was too magical for a mere witch, and it might tempt her to do terrible things.

Peter stopped by the pool’s lip, his back to them, and he appeared as mesmerised as she was.

Part of her wanted Ardghal to put her down so she could dive beneath the surface and explore every last rock. And speaking of those rocks, they lit up brighter than bottled starlight. With every step closer, another sigil appeared, signaling Taryn’s pulse to accelerate. The water pulsed with a rhythm too close to her racing heartbeat, as if the grotto had been waiting for its Siren all along.

Still holding her against his too broad chest, Ardghal hovered at the edge, and the glow from the pool painted silver-blue on the undersides of his throat and the sharp line of his jaw. He was otherworldly.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered through a suddenly parched throat. “This is all kinds of wrong.”

His gaze snapped to hers, as if he’d forgotten she was present and was startled to see her. With the slightest shake of his head, he turned his attention back to the water.

“Ya have to be here, girl. Ardghal needs your magic.”

Taryn’s heart stalled right along with her lungs, and her bowels were close to becoming liquid, too. She struggled against the Siren’s hold. Fighting his granite chest and arms was all but useless, but she wasn’t going down like a helpless heroine in a forties movie.

“Be still, woman!”

She froze. Whether compelled or in fear, she couldn’t say, but she wasn’t taking chances with an irritated seven-foot creature able to drop razor-sharp incisors and sprout claws in a blink. When she could regain use of her limbs and manage somehow not to scream her terror, she touched his jaw.

“Please don’t do this, Ardghal. You said you loved me. That’s not stealing my magic and leaving me for dead.”

He quirked a brow.

She dropped her arm.

“Yeah, I can see how that might work for psychos, but you don’t strike me as the lunatic type.” Taryn gave him a sickly smile. “I mean, sure, I haven’t known you long, but you seem like a good guy. Kind. Generous with orgasms.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and those hypnotic orbs glowed with laughter.

Feeling foolish, she glanced at Peter, who was staring at her like she’d just escaped the loony bin and was still bound in a straitjacket.

“What are ya on about, girl?” He shook his head. “Today’s youth,” he said in disgust.

Maybe she’d streamed one too many episodes of the popular stalker show. The guy’s love interests tended to end up in a clear box in the basement or dead. And after Morcant, perhaps Taryn was leery of men claiming to love her.

“I should’ve killed him,” Ardghal growled.

Would it have been an easy feat for him to kill an Arcane Devourer? The fantasy was nice. A shiver took her, but it wasn’t sexual. It was one of appreciation for a protector, which was odd since she’d painted him with a potential-serial-killer brush.

With a sardonic smile, he set her on her feet. “This grotto neutralizes my voice’s ability to control others when I wish. We can speak freely without you worrying about death. La petite mort or otherwise.”

“I wasn’t worried,” she muttered, avoiding direct eye contact.

He chuckled.

“Oh-kaaay. So!” She clapped her hands together, wincing when the over-loud noise resounded. “Sorry. Um, can someone tell me why an uber-powerful Siren needs my magic in a dark cave in the middle of the night?”

“It’s quarter seven in the mornin’, and it takes two of ya to light the sigils,” Peter said.

A glance showed they were already lit. “Uh, Peter…”

“They won’t stay illuminated if you leave, love.” Ardghal tipped up her chin and smiled in the face of her confusion. “Long ago, I brought you here to bury important artifacts. Together, we locked them beneath the earth’s surface, hiding them from others who would use them for nefarious reasons.”

Annndddd she was back to believing him insane. Great.

“I hate to break it to you, Ari, but I’ve never met you before yesterday. And I certainly haven’t?—”

He silenced her with a finger on her lips. “You were born again. What you would call re-in-car?—”

She shoved his hand away. “Reincarnation, and I know what it means. But you’re a few Froot Loops shy of a full bowl, buddy.”

Tilting his head, as if studying her for a way to get his point across, Ardghal watched her.

“You might not know what that means. How about a few threads short of a sweater? No? Don’t have all your dogs on one leash?”

He raised his brows.

“Older saying might be better. Let’s try no grain in the silo.” She tapped her temple and gave him a commiserating look.

His lips twitched, but he remained silent.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Who do you believe I was?”

“Your name was Elizabeth, and you were my wife.”

Wife? Did Sirens take brides? Was that something else she needed to worry about in addition to his “mine” bullshit? Nope, nope. All the nopes. She was going to need an adultier adult than either of them. Preferrably one that didn’t reside at Batshit Manor.

His expression darkened, and Taryn had an oh-fuck moment, having momentarily forgotten he could hear ever damned thought in her head—mental brick wall or no.

“You are mine. Were. First.”

“And what about Fintan?” she snapped. “You keep conveniently forgetting about him.”

“I could kill him if that would make you feel better,” he replied silkily, with menace in his narrowed eyes.

Her knees went weak.

Sensing her distress, Ardghal sighed and guided her to a nearby boulder, then eased her down with a hand on her shoulder. “Apologies, love.”

He squatted in front of her and wiped away a rogue tear. His fingertips on her skin shouldn’t have felt so soft, so tender, and yet, they matched the sweet look he gave her.

“You recognized me, there in that pub, Taryn,” he said. “My voice.”

“No, it was Fintan. He was the one on stage, not you.”

“We are the same. His music, his voice, it’s mine.”

Shaking her head, she scrunched her eyes closed and covered her ears. The idiotic movement was laughable. With direct access to people’s minds, Ardghal didn’t require uncovered ears. But Taryn didn’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. Yes, she believed in reincarnation, but it was Fintan’s soul that hers had recognized, not Ardghal’s.

He sighed in frustration and shifted away, tempting Taryn into peeking to see where he’d gone.

He’d selected a spot beside her, but she refused to acknowledge him.

Again, he waited her out.

It appeared Ardghal was the master of patience.

“Only when it comes to you, love,” he said absently. A flickering in the pool pulled his focus. “Dissent between us will close the sigils. They require our souls in harmony.”

“Who made up that bullshit rule?”

“You did.” He whipped back to look at her, and his gaze bore into her. “You’ve always had a measure of self-preservation when it came to my power.” Holding up a hand, he smiled warmly. “No need to defend the action. You were smart to.”

“I wasn’t going to defend it. I intended to say, stop saying it was me. It wasn’t.” Sure, she didn’t want to piss him off, because like his wife, she possessed a measure of self-preservation. Yet hers was likely ten times that of Elizabeth’s. Taryn had major trust issues.

“They’re ingrained,” he said dryly. “I had the devil of a time getting you to trust me the first time.”

“If there’s a way to murder you, I’m going to take it,” she growled, frustrated by his continued insistence that she was Elizabeth.

Ardghal surprised her with his deep laughter. When he sobered, he smiled at her with great affection.

“Should I not say yours was Elizabeth’s favorite threat?” he teased.

“Ugh!”

“To answer your question, Fintan in human form, is also me. Reincarnated from the man I was. He chooses to deny it, but he can’t when the Siren takes over. That’s when I’m in charge.”

“One soul, split personalities. Great. I’m back to the whole psycho thing.”

“Would you like me to restore your memories of our time together?” he offered, clasping her hand.

Did she? That would mean she believed the ridiculous story of being Mrs. Bloodstone. And if it was the case, why did that fucking necklace hate her so much?

“Objects cannot have emotions, love.”

“It doesn’t like when I touch it.”

“There’s a reason for that. You stole it from my neck, where its magic thrived, and hid it. It’s designed to protect me.”

“Not me. Elizabeth ,” she stressed. “And why would she do that?”

“So I would die.”