Page 3

CHAPTER 2

T hroughout the meeting with the Aether, Fintan’s attention strayed to Taryn, and he considered the wrongs he’d perpetrated on her. She’d carelessly listed them as if they meant little to her, but the deep grooves around her downturned mouth and the lack of sparkle in her normally bright eyes spoke of a different story.

Positioned across the table from him, she did her level best to ignore him and avoid the curiosity of everyone else. Their volatile relationship was cause for speculation, and nothing was worse than a bunch of bored men without amusements to occupy them.

Fintan had embarrassed her, though he hadn’t meant to.

Or maybe he had.

But he’d only erected and maintained the wall between them for her protection.

“Who are you kidding, Sullivan? It was to protect yourself.” Alexander Castor’s voice inside his mind jerked Fintan’s head up and around.

Panicked, he looked at the Sentinels present. Draven’s watchful expression held a hint of pity, while Creed and Alex still expressed ire for Fintan’s earlier behavior. He’d forgotten he wore the fecking tanzanite ring, allowing for unspoken communication with his fellow team members and giving them access to any unguarded thoughts.

“Aye, and maybe it was,” he admitted inside the confines of their silent coms. With a glare at the others, he yanked the communicator off his finger.

What the hell had they heard when he’d been speaking to Taryn in the library? He attempted to recall what he’d been thinking at the time. Other than admiring her fiery fighting spirit or being willing to promise the fucking moon and stars if he could touch her once more, there wasn’t much.

Yeah, he’d give his left nut to have a normal life with her.

“Fintan?”

He nodded when Damian Dethridge addressed him directly. Cursing himself for not paying attention, he shrugged. “Sure, and I’ve been mullin’ over a vision I saw earlier,” he replied, feeling like a disobedient schoolboy caught daydreaming. “I wasn’t listenin’,” he admitted.

Amusement danced in Damian’s dark obsidian eyes, and Fintan fought the urge to squirm. If anyone knew what was going on in his brain, ring or no, it was the Aether.

“I had asked if you’d mind working with Taryn to discover the origins of the necklace she found. It’s Celtic in nature.”

His first instinct was to shout, “Feck no!” Luckily, he held it in check, and his curiosity won out.

“Necklace? What’s that, then?” he asked.

Creed snorted, Draven grinned, and Alex laughed.

“His mind was on other things,” the latter said. “I can’t wait to see how this one plays out.”

“Feck off, why don’t ya?” Fintan growled. “Get your own house sorted before ya take a wreckin’ ball to somebody else’s, yeah?”

“I don’t need his help, Damian,” Taryn inserted quickly. “I’m sure Sabrina may have insight, or I can speak to Mackenzie Thorne.”

Fintan breathed a sigh of relief. If he could avoid touching the object, certain to have a history he wanted no part of, while escaping the forced proximity to Taryn, he’d consider himself fortunate.

Damian grimaced. “I’d prefer not to bring Mack into this if we can help it. She’s a new mother, and the less hassle or drama we bring to her door, the better. As for Beastie, we can ask, but she may experience the same aversion to touching it as I had.”

Aversion?

Before Fintan could ask, Damian added, “I’d like to see Sullivan give it a go first.”

And so saying, the Aether crushed his dreams of avoiding entanglement. Due to the timing of his vision in the foyer, he suspected he knew exactly what trinket they were discussing.

“ Don’t ever touch the bloodstone necklace, or it will send you down the path toward your eventual ruin and loss of power,” the ancestors had intoned in their creepy-as-fuck way while imprisoning him in a trance.

The group was awaiting his response, and Fintan reluctantly nodded. “I’ll have a quick look and tell ya any impressions I receive, but I’ll not be touchin’ it or hangin’ about for research.”

Taryn took exception and sneered.

“If you don’t want to work with me, that’s fine. I can take a hint.” She stood and addressed Damian. “I’ll go get it. Maybe there’s someone his royal highness will actually speak to.”

Fintan jumped up. “Taryn, love, I?—”

“Fuck off , Fintan.” The water in a pitcher at the center of the table swirled and dipped in the center, creating a mini maelstrom. Steam rose from mugs scattered about the table’s surface like geysers, and those closest leaned backward to avoid injury. Taryn’s rage had sparked to life, and she never appeared more beautiful than she did at that moment. “Just fuck all the way off already!”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and it echoed in the chambers of his heart.

The pitcher upended over his head, leaving him standing in shocked silence and looking for all the world like the eejit he was. Yet, he didn’t care one whit about any of it. His focus was locked on her ramrod-straight back as she stalked away, and he experienced the certainty of love. If that fecker Cupid were standing in front of him, grinning like a fool and polishing his nails on his giant diaper for a job well done, it would come as no surprise to Fintan. Because the pain in his chest was as sharp as an arrow’s tip, and his desire to chase after her was too overpowering to ignore, he gave chase.

He’d only taken two steps when Damian’s laughter-filled voice reached him. “You may want to let her cool down a bit, Sullivan. If not, she’s liable to host a lobster boil in the swimming pool with you at the center of it.”

“Sure, and those are wise words, Dethridge, but I’ll not let another minute go by without her knowin’ it wasn’t her I was objectin’ to.”

“It’s your funeral,” Castor said cheerfully. “Who has a mirror? We should scry. The fireworks are bound to be entertaining.”

“Feck off,” Fintan called back as he jogged for the door. The squish and squeaks from his shoes made him wince. Or maybe it was the laughter of the people behind him. His supposed friends, who claimed to have his back.

“Bastards,” he muttered.

In the hallway, he snapped his fingers and dried his clothes, then toed off his soggy shoes. To calm his rioting emotions, he inhaled deeply before searching for Taryn.

Fintan found her pacing the library and cursing him with every breath. Leaning against the doorframe, he remained silent, letting her vent. He admired her creativity, especially regarding which part of his anatomy he could stick the necklace.

“You seem particularly obsessed with shovin’ things up my arse. Should I be worried, then?” he said.

Additional color surged into her cheeks, and she resembled one of Soleil’s prized tomatoes.

“You weren’t meant to hear any of that.”

Her haughty tone was as amusing as her colorful language, and Fintan grinned.

Lifting her chin, she glared. “You’re a contrary ass!”

He nodded. “I am at that.”

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be running as fast and as far away from me as possible?” she asked, with attitude to spare. Her stance was packed with challenge and daring as if she hoped a motherfucker would.

“Aye, I should.”

But I can’t.

“Why can’t you?” she asked.

He frowned.

“Can you hear me?” He thought the question but didn’t speak it aloud. His heart clunked painfully in his chest, and he hoped to hell that he was mistaken about her new ability.

“Yes, you asked if I can hear—” With wide eyes and hands over her mouth, she paled and stared at him in horror.

She’d guessed what it meant.

Fintan straightened from the wall.

“Can you hear me?” Her thought was edged with a healthy heaping of desperation. Even though she hadn’t spoken out loud, her dismay came through, giving the voice inside his head a squeaky pitch.

Fintan closed his eyes and hung his head.

“You know what this means, don’t you, aoibhneas mo croí ?” he asked her.

“I know what I don’t want it to mean,” she retorted.

He snorted a laugh, amazed he could in such dire circumstances.

Jaysus! Fated mates with the one woman destined to destroy him. Oh, how the gods must be enjoying the results of their sick humor.

“I would never do anything to destroy you, Fintan,” she said with undeniable sincerity. “And I don’t want to be fated mates with you or anyone.”

Liar .

Color flooded her cheeks as her conscience called her out.

Sighing his resignation, he approached her.

“I never thought it would be intentional.” He brushed the soft underside of her jaw with his thumb. “Never in a million years would I believe it.”

“Why would you? And why avoid me?” she asked, unable to disguise the hurt in her voice. “I’m a big girl. I was then, too. At any time, you could’ve said I wasn’t who you wanted as a girlfriend, and I’d have walked away. Like I intend to now.”

His heart contracted painfully. “Sure, but I’d have been lyin’. And that’s the one thing I won’t do.”

“I don’t understand.” She searched his face as if expecting to find answers to all her questions.

“I’m not sure I do, either,” Fintan admitted. “I’ve wanted ya from the first, and that’s the honest truth of it. But on the last night we were to meet, the night I didn’t show up, my uncle died.”

“Oh, Fintan! I’m so sorry. But why didn’t you message me?”

“I couldn’t. They wouldn’t let me.”

“Who?” Her scowl was fierce, as if she was prepared to battle an army on his behalf. “Who wouldn’t let you?”

“The ancestors.”