centuries. Aidan had only paid the final and sweetest price on what his ancestor had owed.
It was true Aidan could be cautious when need be, as befitted a man who had been a great warrior. Too cautious and tricky by half. He would have been expecting attack from the second his feet had touched Irish soil. Giving it to him would release some of that coiled tension, and conversely erode his caution, however infinitesimally. Abhartach had also been hoping to expose a weak spot and he believed he had succeeded.
The Fitzpatricks, of course, had always been out of bounds, at least for a direct onslaught. Ronan, particularly.
Abhartach had always known that, though it galled him. It would have been so easy to trap Aidan that way, particularly with one of the children. But you did not attack the beloved of the king of the Tuatha de Naanan and expect to get away with it. Look what had happened to that idiot Fomorian bastard, Aillen.
The only other weakness of Aidan’s was the one long since lost to time, more’s the pity. If he possessed that leverage again, Aidan would come to him on his knees… begging.
Abhartach sighed.
Still…his bad, bad boy had not been alone when they had found him, had he? No, indeed. When the human Declan had told him of Aidan’s companion, he had suspected a dalliance, nothing more. His heir was a bit of a rouge in that respect.
However, in that room, Aidan had kept the woman behind him every second, he made pains to keep from exposing her to any more danger than necessary for even the breadth of a single heartbeat. But he had exposed himself quite nicely.
On top of all this wonderful news, there was the whole ghrian siúlóir issue. Could the myth be true? He wouldn't have believed it, but the slave swore he was telling the truth. He would test that soon and if it were true….
Anticipation had him throwing his head back. To feel the sun upon his skin once more…!
Ah well, all in due time.
Abhartach smiled at the painting of his heir as he saluted him with a goblet brimming with the blood of the unfortunate Rathkeale bed and breakfast owner. Pieces of her body were scattered down the table in glistening hunks, along with bright streaks of blood and entrails that still steamed in the cold air of the dining hall. The hunting party had deserved some small treat for their efforts tonight. They had done well.
Abhartach drank deep as satisfaction filled him with a warmth greater than the fresh blood.
His foster son had a lovely weak spot alright…though he didn’t appear to realize it yet.
That, of course, just made it all the sweeter.
Chapter 5
It wasn’t possible. Heather lay belly-down on the outside edge of Lacey and Ronan’s bed, her arm hanging off the mattress. Her fingers trailed lightly on the fur rug laid below her on the hardwood floor. Soft fur, thick and soothing against her fingers. She wondered idly what kind of animal it might have come from as her brain continued to whirl.
Back and forth, thoughts going round and round. If she closed her eyes she could see them; dark blue worries about Lacey and what she’d gotten herself into, magenta streaks of more worries over what Heather had gotten her own self into, emerald coils of distress about what they were going to tell Kate, then the bright, startling flashes of silver and cobalt.
That was all Aidan, of course.
Vampire. Psychic fucking vampire .
Lacey had explained that not only did Aidan have the preternatural strength and speed that always seemed to associated with vampires, he was also special in other ways. He'd been born with a low-level psychic gift as a human, one that he'd only ever thought of as a strong sense of empathy. When he'd been changed, that gift had changed as well, becoming more of a curse. He could feel intense emotions from the very air around him and actually touching someone had the power to cause him physical pain or mental anguish, depending on the state of the person's mind at the
It was true Aidan could be cautious when need be, as befitted a man who had been a great warrior. Too cautious and tricky by half. He would have been expecting attack from the second his feet had touched Irish soil. Giving it to him would release some of that coiled tension, and conversely erode his caution, however infinitesimally. Abhartach had also been hoping to expose a weak spot and he believed he had succeeded.
The Fitzpatricks, of course, had always been out of bounds, at least for a direct onslaught. Ronan, particularly.
Abhartach had always known that, though it galled him. It would have been so easy to trap Aidan that way, particularly with one of the children. But you did not attack the beloved of the king of the Tuatha de Naanan and expect to get away with it. Look what had happened to that idiot Fomorian bastard, Aillen.
The only other weakness of Aidan’s was the one long since lost to time, more’s the pity. If he possessed that leverage again, Aidan would come to him on his knees… begging.
Abhartach sighed.
Still…his bad, bad boy had not been alone when they had found him, had he? No, indeed. When the human Declan had told him of Aidan’s companion, he had suspected a dalliance, nothing more. His heir was a bit of a rouge in that respect.
However, in that room, Aidan had kept the woman behind him every second, he made pains to keep from exposing her to any more danger than necessary for even the breadth of a single heartbeat. But he had exposed himself quite nicely.
On top of all this wonderful news, there was the whole ghrian siúlóir issue. Could the myth be true? He wouldn't have believed it, but the slave swore he was telling the truth. He would test that soon and if it were true….
Anticipation had him throwing his head back. To feel the sun upon his skin once more…!
Ah well, all in due time.
Abhartach smiled at the painting of his heir as he saluted him with a goblet brimming with the blood of the unfortunate Rathkeale bed and breakfast owner. Pieces of her body were scattered down the table in glistening hunks, along with bright streaks of blood and entrails that still steamed in the cold air of the dining hall. The hunting party had deserved some small treat for their efforts tonight. They had done well.
Abhartach drank deep as satisfaction filled him with a warmth greater than the fresh blood.
His foster son had a lovely weak spot alright…though he didn’t appear to realize it yet.
That, of course, just made it all the sweeter.
Chapter 5
It wasn’t possible. Heather lay belly-down on the outside edge of Lacey and Ronan’s bed, her arm hanging off the mattress. Her fingers trailed lightly on the fur rug laid below her on the hardwood floor. Soft fur, thick and soothing against her fingers. She wondered idly what kind of animal it might have come from as her brain continued to whirl.
Back and forth, thoughts going round and round. If she closed her eyes she could see them; dark blue worries about Lacey and what she’d gotten herself into, magenta streaks of more worries over what Heather had gotten her own self into, emerald coils of distress about what they were going to tell Kate, then the bright, startling flashes of silver and cobalt.
That was all Aidan, of course.
Vampire. Psychic fucking vampire .
Lacey had explained that not only did Aidan have the preternatural strength and speed that always seemed to associated with vampires, he was also special in other ways. He'd been born with a low-level psychic gift as a human, one that he'd only ever thought of as a strong sense of empathy. When he'd been changed, that gift had changed as well, becoming more of a curse. He could feel intense emotions from the very air around him and actually touching someone had the power to cause him physical pain or mental anguish, depending on the state of the person's mind at the
Similar Books
