Page 102 of The Spider Queen

I buried my face in his chest, slid my arms around him, and held on as the plane landed.

“Maybe,” I whispered, wondering if he could hear me over the roar of the engines. “But there are people worth fighting for…”

We made it through customs in record time. I wondered if Hunter had paid people off, only to realize I didn’t care if he did or not. It was mid-afternoon, and I was tired and a little hungry.

After climbing into a cab, Hunter asked the cabbie to take us to the Temple Bar district.

“It’s where everything is happening,” Hunter assured me.

“I bow to your knowledge,” I quipped, pressing my nose to the window. Half an hour later, the cabbie dropped us off, said something in a thick Irish lilt, and then sped away.

The sky was cloudy, and the air was chilly. “We should probably get inside before it rains,” Hunter said.

“In a bit. I’m taking it all in.”

Worn cobblestone streets, red wooden doors, old stone statues. I felt drops on my shoulders, realizing we were without the proper clothing or rain gear.

“Come on!” Hunter said, tugging me along toward one of the many pubs. We made it inside just as it started to downpour.

“That’s Dublin for you,” Hunter muttered, running a hand through his damp hair.

“You’ve been to Dublin before?”

He nodded. “Grab that booth in the back. I’ll order us food and then tell you all about it.”

Chapter 38

I maneuvered my way through a sea of accented words and small crowd of people to reach the back of the bar. At first it was difficult to understand, but I soon picked up the cadence and fell into the rhythm of local speech.

While I waited for Hunter to find me, my gaze wandered around the pub. It looked like any other Irish Pub; even remarkably similar to the one I’d been to in Charleston. Yet this place had a certain authenticity that couldn’t be faked.

“You’re without a drink, love.”

I glanced up at the Irish guy grinning down at me. He held a pint of beer, his wool sweater dusted with raindrops that caught the dim light of the pub.

“Not for long,” I said. “My boyfriend is at the bar.”

The attractive young man with dark hair slid into the booth seat across from me, ignoring my dismissive attitude. It didn’t matter how cute he was—or the fact that he had dimples and an accent. This was the last thing I needed and I wasn’t in the mood.

He cocked his head to one side, his dark hair flopping across his forehead. “You’re not from here, are you, love?”

“I’m not your love,” I snapped, patience gone.

His smile was easy. “Sorry. You Americans—”

“We Americans, what?” Hunter asked, all of a sudden appearing at the table, two pints of beer in his hands.

The hot guy looked up and smirked at Hunter. “Sorry, mate. Just keeping your girl company until you returned.”

The stranger stood and brushed past Hunter. Just when I thought he would leave us in peace, he turned and said to me, “If you need someone to show you the sights, love…” He winked and then left.

Hunter glared after him.

“Don’t bother. He’s not worth it,” I stated, taking the pints from him and setting them down onto two cork coasters.

“Fucking Irish. Think they’re so damn charming,” Hunter muttered, settling himself in the booth and reaching for his pint. “Food will be out in a bit.”

I nodded and took a sip from my own glass. The Guinness was smooth and rich. Perfect.