Page 4

CHAPTER 3

TWENTY-FOUR YEARS EARLIER…

F intan glanced out over the sea of faces, staring up at him and his four bandmates in wide-eyed wonder. Excitement thrummed through the crowd, feeding the energy in the room. Most were non-magical, but scattered among them were the witches and other supernatural beings of the world. His voice was unique and packed venues, earning them top dollar and contracts out the arse.

He didn’t care.

Not about the business end of things, nor the money. That was their drummer’s gig. He was the brain and promotional genius behind their success. Well, his hard work and Fintan’s talent.

He maintained his music was intended for the masses, for anyone who appreciated his unique brand of poetry in the form of lyrics and harmony combined.

One stood out.

A shining star in the black night sky that drew his notice and spiked his interest. Her aura was as multi-dimensional as her hair color, with its dyed red and orange streaks. With no past relationships to go by, Fintan didn’t know much about love, but he was damned sure struck dumb in her presence.

The instant when their gazes collided, he forgot the song lyrics. Fortunately, they were mid-chorus, and the guys picked up the slack. And when the set was over, he didn’t care that his bandmates had a go at him. He was obsessed with finding the girl he’d lost his heart to.

“Did ya see her, then?” he asked Donal, his bassist.

“Who?”

“The cailín down front with the large eyes and wild hair.”

Donal laughed and slapped him on the back. “Sure, and they all have large eyes from where we’re standin’, man.” With a dismissive shake of his head, he leaned halfway over the bar and ordered a pint from the server, flirting with the woman beside him all the while.

“He’s right,” someone said behind him.

A sense of rightness washed over him. His ears instinctively knew the sound of her voice. He turned, and the crowd around them faded like evening mist chased by the morning light, leaving only her.

“Sure, and what’s he right about, then?” he asked with a face-splitting grin.

“There were a ton of women with large, admiring eyes staring up at you,” his dream girl said, raising her voice to be heard over the pub noise. “And a few other large assets, as well.”

“I’m only interested in one of those women,” he assured her.

“Oh? Should I leave so you can find her?”

He leaned forward, speaking right beside her ear. “If you do, I’ll be after chasin’ ya and bringin’ ya back.”

Her smile, brighter than the sun sparkling on lake water and twenty times as warm, rewarded him.

“You’re pretty smooth,” she said. “Must come with the territory.”

He considered her comment as he sipped his drink. One would assume, as the lead singer in a popular rock band, he’d be a lady’s man. Yes, he had the looks to back up any play he cared to make, but random hook-ups had never appealed to him. How did he tell her that inside, he was a jumbled mess of insecurity?

All because of her.

“I’m not, though.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “I’m what you Yanks would call a ‘hot mess.’”

Her eyes flared wide as she grinned up at him. “Consider me intrigued.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Fintan lifted a hand, stopping just shy of touching her flawless skin. “May I?”

She nodded after a moment’s pause, and he stroked her silky smooth cheek, tracing her jawline, then cupped her neck to draw her close.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Taryn. Taryn Stephens.” Her voice had a sexy breathiness that he fucking adored.

“Well, it’s nice to meet ya, Taryn-Taryn Stephens. I’m Fintan Sullivan.”

Her laugh bordered on a giggle, and though he despised giggling girls in general, coming from her, the joyful sound wasn’t annoying.

“You identified yourself at the beginning of your set,” she said.

He shrugged, having forgotten anything that came before spotting her in the crowd. “And now the introductions are out of the way, can I snog ya, then?”

“Snog?”

“Kiss. I’ve a powerful need to kiss ya, love.”

Again, she hesitated before nodding, giving him a shy smile in the process.

That bashful gesture created a burst of happiness in his chest, yet his stomach tightened. A knowing washed through him, alerting him that this meeting was big and its importance would carry through the rest of his life. But the impulse to press his mouth to hers, to taste her contagious merriment, was greater than all his wayward feelings combined, and since he had her permission, he wasted no time leaning in.

Their lips met. The explosion of light behind his eyes jolted him. But the sense of rightness he’d felt when she first spoke returned to embrace him, and he cupped her face with both hands, pressing into her as she gripped his waist.

“Get a feckin’ room,” Donal shouted, giving him a shove and laughing at his own idiocy when Taryn’s beer spilled down the front of Fintan’s trousers.

“Are ya a bleedin’ eejit, Donal? Where the fuck’s your brain, man?” Fintan growled. He’d long since had enough of the guy’s antics. Once they’d gained a small measure of fame, Donal became an obnoxious dryshite.

To Taryn, who looked thoroughly dismayed, Fintan apologized. “It’s sorry I am, love. Are you all right? You didn’t get hurt by his eejit move?”

He would’ve sworn hearts entered her eyes as she smiled in her sweet, unassuming way. “No. I didn’t get hurt. Would you like me to, um”—her gaze locked on his crotch—“take care of that?”

Fintan almost swallowed his tongue and, had he been able to speak, would’ve asked just what she intended. They were interrupted when the bartender tossed him a towel.

“Dry that up, and don’t be acting the maggot in me pub, yeah?”

“Aye, Bridget. It won’t happen again,” he said, bending to soak up the mess on the floor.

As he returned the towel, the fiery redhead gave him a sharp nod before winking at Taryn. “Be careful, girl. Most of the men in these parts are only after a ride. Don’t be losin’ your heart to one such as these, yeah?”

“Ach! Now, why would ya be sayin’ such a thing?” Fintan pretended to cover Taryn’s ears, then lifted one hand to say, “We’re not all heartless rogues, love.”

With a snort, Bridget gestured to the stage. “Break’s over. Get your arse back up there. Your newest fan can sit here and keep me company.”

“Sure, and don’t be fillin’ Taryn-Taryn’s ears with shite about me,” he warned with a wink.

“Go!” Bridget ordered, but laughter lurked in her command.

Leaning in for a quick kiss, he met Taryn’s sparkling aqua eyes. “You’ll stick around?”

“Yes.”

“Grand. The next one is for you.”

As he turned to go, she gripped his wrist. “Wait! It looks like you peed your pants. You can’t go up there like that.”

“The lighting is low, and?—”

He made a strangled sound when she cupped him through his jeans. With berry-red cheeks, she whispered, “Come to me.”

Brains scrambled, cock thickening, and agreement only a heartbeat away, Fintan opened his mouth to speak. But she withdrew her balled fist and placed it flat over the mouth of an empty glass. All the liquid that had been soaking his pants filled the mug, leaving his clothing bone dry.

Heat climbed his neck when she shot him an amused look.

“I know what you were thinking, but I’m not that easy,” she said pertly.

“I never thought you were, Taryn-Taryn,” he assured her, somehow knowing in his heart of hearts she wasn’t the type to hook up with a random stranger, lead singer or no. He tucked a strand of her wild mane behind one ear. “But a man can hope, yeah?”

Her laughter followed him to the stage, or perhaps he imagined it did, but when he sought her out across the room, he experienced vertigo. His entire world was turned inside out in an instant.

* * *

PRESENT DAY…

Taryn had heard talk of Fintan’s psychic gift in recent years, particularly “the ancestors” part. The facts from Damian were that the Sullivan line produced one male per generation to receive the ability, and those controlling bastards directed his every movement.

Was it as simple as Fintan doing what he was told back then? Now, too? If so, did she want a man who wouldn’t fight for her above all else? What was the alternative? Was he supposed to give up his magic for her? Definitely not. But goddess above, she wanted him to say he would, and not because she required it but because he desired her more.

She’d never ask him to, though.

“I know you wouldn’t, aoibhneas mo croí .” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, reminiscent of the night they’d met.

And for the span of a heartbeat, she let herself believe he might still choose her. It was easy to convince herself that he might already have. Taryn could embrace delusion as well as anyone. Yet harsh reality had a way of intruding, especially in her world.

She sighed and shook her head at her foolishness. “You’re privy to all my thoughts now, aren’t you?”

“Aye. I am.”

“Will I never have another one that’s purely my own?” she croaked.

“Ya will, once we find the switch and turn this off.”

For a cocksure man, he didn’t sound convincing.

She threw up her hands. “Awesome. This is going to be great fun.”

“Isn’t it, though?” His frustration was as great as hers.

And she tried not to feel bad for him as she fought against thinking anything at all. It wouldn’t do to let him know how much he still affected her all these years later.

The side of his mouth quirked up. “Sure, and you affect me, too. Ya always have, Taryn-Taryn,” he said huskily. “But we can never be, yeah? The ancestors have stated you’ll be my downfall if I’m to love ya.”

A chill penetrated her soul. His voice was gentle, but the rejection landed like a blade on bone.

“I’m sure they have nothing to worry about.” Her tone was glib and at direct odds with how she was feeling. Searching for another topic, she glanced toward the table. “The amulet I found. Why don’t you want to research it with me? Is this about me or the object?”

“Both.”

She sucked in a breath, too surprised to form a response.

“Being around you is torture when I can’t touch ya,” he replied. His sincerity seemed real, and she nodded, backing around the coffee table to allow him space.

“It’s sorry I am to have hurt your feelings, all the same.”

“I’m an adult, Fintan. I’ll cope.” Her tone was as brittle as her heart.

“Are ya rejectin’ the apology, then?”

“No. Not at all. I’m merely telling you that I stopped letting careless men hurt me decades ago.” She recalled the day she’d been left standing at the train station, waiting for a gorgeous, talented singer to return after they’d spent a life-altering two-and-a-half weeks together. The rain was relentless as she’d lingered for hours, a soaking-wet, pathetic castoff, for a man who didn’t have the courtesy to inform her he wasn’t coming. “You were one in a succession of assholes, Fintan. The only thing that makes you special is that you were the first.”

Although he didn’t show it, she felt his internal wince.

Good.

She paused, waiting for him to argue. To say she was wrong and that she still mattered.

He didn’t.

“Next time, be defiant enough to inform a woman you’re not interested enough to pursue her.” She reached for the box containing the artifact. But when she shifted to show him, his face had paled.

“Fintan?”

“Aye. I’m grand.” He swallowed, never removing his horrified stare from the box. “Sure, and where did you say you found the necklace?”

“At a yard sale. Why?”

“It’s the downfall I was tellin’ ya about.”

She shoved it under the sofa cushion. “Get out! Get out now!”

His gaze snapped to hers, and in the next instant, he was laughing.

“Why are you lingering? Are you nuts?” she screeched.

“Aye. But we’re not in one of those action films you love so much, and it’s doubtful the feckin’ thing will explode.”

Taryn stalked forward and punched his arm. “You’re such a dick.”

His irises had lightened, making his twinkling humor more prominent and, sadly, more alluring. His husky laughter eased the tension in her shoulders. But she didn’t join in his amusement. Not right away. Laughing felt like surrender, and she wasn’t ready to let her guard down with this mercurial man.

“Okay, so maybe I overreacted,” she admitted with a sheepish shrug.

He held his thumb and index finger up. “Just a wee bit.”

They stared at each other, caught up in the magic, similar to their initial meeting in Ireland.

The memory of their first kiss drifted back to her…

“And now the introductions are out of the way, can I snog ya, then?”

“Snog?” she’d asked.

“Kiss. I’ve a powerful need to kiss ya, love.”

The memory affected them both. With the same intensity he had in the pub, Fintan tipped up her chin and brushed her nose with his. Desire, both his and hers, grew thick in the air, enchanting and drawing them together. If an inch of space existed between them, it wasn’t by design.

“Sure, and I still have that powerful need, Taryn-Taryn. It’s likely to never go away.”

His voice was a mere whisper, but it thundered in her chest. Every intimate memory they’d shared surged to the surface: music, firelight, the feel of his bare skin on hers, and the weight of him cradled between her thighs. Chasing those memories was the ache of everything left unsaid.

Goddess, she was a fool, because here she was, ready to rush back in, if only to recapture the unique feeling of being alive only Fintan could spark within her.

Sucking in her breath, she tilted her head to receive his mouth.

But the kiss never came.