She’s safe.
He focused on the food, glad he’d thought to stock the rental car with a cooler so he could remake the meal he’d first made for her in Estwood. But that hadn’t stopped her watching him with an appetite that forced him to use every inch of his willpower, even if his body still hadn’t got the memo. Not since she’d wrapped her fingers around him in his townhouse and he’d been … remade. There was no other word for it. He’d spent most of his life ignoring any desires that didn’t serve the hunt.
And then Nicole had marched right into the middle of it.
Kyan smiled and glanced at her. She was dressed in a short pyjama set of white cotton and little straps that hugged her form. He had to force himself to stop touching, despite how her body was screaming at him what she was feeling. Her hair fanned out around her shoulders and that fascinated, attentive look on her face reminded him she’d asked a question.
I’m in love with you,he thought.
‘Ah.’ He cleared his throat, focused. ‘It happened during the Battle of Cooley, the one talked about in theTáin. My – one of my foster fathers punched me in the face and broke my nose.’
She sat up, eyes flashing with outrage. ‘It better have been an accident.’
His smile turned rueful. ‘No, actually. Do you remember my uncle, King Conchobar?’
He needn’t have checked, there was no way his mate, with her knowledge-eager eyes, could have forgotten. He was proven right when she nodded.
‘The modernisation of his name would probably be Conor today. Queen Medb started a war against him – over much more than cattle, despite what the legends claim.
‘I had a chance to kill her, and I thought I could do it. I thought it would end the war.’ His throat worked, images of blood and dead horses replaced by the swinging weight of a weapon. ‘But I hesitated. It gave Fergus – my foster father – a moment to intervene. He’d beenbewitched by her, I think, because he’d turned to her side. He punched me. Broke my nose in one swift blow.’ Kyan clamped it now between his thumb and forefinger. ‘It never quite healed straight.’
Worry shaded her features. ‘That would have been upsetting.’
How long had it been since someone cared for him like this? In such an intimate but fierce way?
‘It was a long time ago,’ he said, throat tight.
She made a thoughtful, unhappy little noise.
He resumed chopping. ‘Are there any more family members of yours I have to meet?’
‘Not really.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘My mother had a sister, but we don’t know much about her. She betrayed her in some way a long time ago.’
He frowned. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I never met her; she doesn’t know about us. We have each other, that’s all the family I need and they taught me all I need to know about love and home and loyalty.’
He’d thought his king had taught him the meaning of loyalty. The Wake had then given it a new bedrock that slowly encompassed his soul. Loyalty became the quality by which he measured himself. If he was loyal to others who knew better, knew more, like his Empyrean instincts, then he couldn’t make mistakes.
But then he’d met Nicole, and loyalty transformed again. Loyalty became the bloodied knife of his protection; the recesses of his morals and his lost magic.
I love you, he nearly said again.I’m going to do everything in my power to get you what you need. To keep you and your loved ones safe. To make sure you can live without fear.
‘Tá mé sa bhaile leat cheana féin,’ he’d said to her in the forest.
I’m already at home with you.
And as the night deepened and the storm calmed, he proved it to her.
Again, and again, and again.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Verin
CLASSICAL MUSIC SCYTHED THROUGH THEMANOR, THEtremulous wizardry of a harpsichord, the clear whine of oscillating violins. The pace of it was like a frenzied heartbeat, like a chase.
It calmed him.
