Fated for Sacrifice Page 8

  Reese did as requested, then folded the cell phone onto her lap. A half second later, it vibrated again. “She says, underlined even, We who? Want me to tell her?”

  “Nah. We’ll surprise her. Consider it payback for all the times she left me with no way to contact her because she refused to get a cell.”

  Driven by sheer impulse, Reese unfastened her seatbelt and leaned across the console to brush a kiss across Dáire’s cheek. “You’re priceless.”

  As she settled back into her seat, nerves struck. She was meeting Dáire’s family. People she knew through conversation, a sister he treasured. What if she said the wrong thing? What if they left this evening, and like Tom’s family, hated her?

  At once, nausea balled her stomach into a knot. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t go through that again.

  “Reese,” Dáire whispered. “Relax.”

  There he went with the reading her mind again. She stole a sideways glance at him, attempting a smile. Her lower lip quivered, instead. But as she bit her top teeth into it to stop the nervous tremor, Dáire’s presence hit her like a physical force. Though he hadn’t taken his hands from the wheel, hadn’t even glanced away from the road, he somehow calmed her. Her lungs loosened enough she could draw in air. Her stomach released its tight fist.

  Tom had rarely offered reassurance—only when it benefitted him to do so. She’d never been calmed simply by sitting at Tom’s side, by taking strength in his quiet presence. Dáire, however, didn’t have to say a word, and she knew he’d stand at her side. That if his family turned against her for whatever reason, he would be strong enough to turn away from them. That he would choose her.

  She slid her hand toward his. As if he anticipated her reaction, his palm turned over, ready and waiting. When she twined her fingers through his, he gave them a gentle squeeze that somehow made logical sense out of everything.

  He slowed for another turn and entered an older residential area. Trees hung low over the road, brick houses told stories of families that had been raised here. Quaint. Comfortable.

  At a ranch-style home that bore resemblances of 1970s architecture, he nosed into the driveway behind a SUV. “We’re here.”

  Reese took a deep breath and nodded. Everything’s going to be fine. She could even survive another run-in with Taran, so long as Dáire held onto her hand.

  Chapter Eleven

  Wanting nothing more than to pull Reese aside and assure her, beyond any possible argument, that his family would adore her—well, except perhaps for Brigid and Taran—Dáire ushered her into the house Rhiannon shared with Mick, unable to do anything more than hope she felt his confidence in the steady pressure of his hand. He couldn’t reassure her. Not without explaining how he knew precisely what was turning her mind in circles.

  And if things went as he planned, he’d be telling her everything but that soon enough. She’d have greater worries to confront. Like whether she wanted to participate in the ritual, or whether she wanted anything to do with him at all.

  As Dáire shut the door behind him, Mick’s heavy footsteps entered the front hall. “Don’t you ever knock?”

  Dáire smirked. He had to admit—sharing Rhi took some getting used to, but there could be worse people he had to share her with. “Not if I can help it.”

  Mick grumbled, but humor shone behind his dark eyes. At least they’d finally managed to reach a point where they could stand in the same room with each other and not want to beat the other senseless.

  Mick’s gaze slanted to Reese, and the homicide detective surfaced, his sharp observant eye assessing her even as she wrung her hands and gave him a heart-stopping shy smile.

  “Mick, this is Reese.”

  “The Reese?”

  Damn it, sometimes the bond he shared with Rhiannon really sucked. Dáire nodded.

  As his smile became genuinely full of warmth, Mick thrust out a hand to shake Reese’s. “If you can keep this guy out of my hair, you’re welcome here any time.”

  His joke on Dáire’s expense accomplished what Dáire himself couldn’t. Reese’s nerves slid away, her shoulders straightened, and she let out a throaty laugh that made Dáire’s heart shudder. Yearning opened inside his gut, a hollow cavern that begged for her to fill it.

  She pumped Mick’s hand with enthusiasm. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

  “I love you already.” Mick looped his arm around Reese’s shoulder and guided her down the hall. “Come meet the family.”

  “Family?” Dáire asked. He’d only observed Rhiannon and Mick’s vehicles in the drive.

  “If you’d answer your phone, you’d know Isolde, Belen, and Faith are here too.”

  Isolde didn’t particularly surprise Dáire. But Belen and Faith—Drandar had nearly killed them both. With their mortality and lacking their mother’s warding, both risked a great deal by making a stand against Drandar a second time.

  Then again, he reminded himself, no one here knew he’d discovered the scroll. They’d probably stopped by just to celebrate the sabot.

  He followed to the family room where Rhiannon jumped from her seat and launched herself across the room. Dáire caught her in a bear hug, laughing as she smacked a fist into his shoulder. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

  He twisted out of her reach just in time to avoid another fist to the shoulder. “Have you ever heard the story of the boy who cried wolf, Rhi? Your cell phone works a lot like that.”

  “Why…you…argh!” The flat of her hand thumped him in the ribs. “It’s not the same thing at all. We need to talk.” As if she’d just noticed he brought a companion, she turned and blinked at Reese. One delicate auburn eyebrow arched and she swung her gaze back to Dáire as if to say, She’s why you’ve been all bent out of sorts?

  Though he tried to contain a grin, Dáire felt the twitching of his mouth. He covered the tell-tale reaction with a false cough, and ran his hand over the back of his neck. Deliberately avoiding Rhiannon’s observant stare, he maneuvered around the coffee table to shake first Belen, then Faith’s hands. “Belen, Faith—this is Reese Hamilton. Reese, you’ve heard me talk about Belen, I think. This is his fiancée, Faith. She’s a social worker.”

  Reese greeted them with practiced poise and a smile that was warm enough to thaw icicles. “Pleased to meet you both.”

  “Whatever he’s told you, I promise it’s all true,” Belen remarked with a chuckle.

  “Reese.” Dáire drew her attention once more. “This is Rhiannon.”

  It was his sister who surprised Dáire with a heartfelt welcome. She didn’t offer mere pleasantries, didn’t tell Reese she was welcome. Instead, she looped her arms around Reese’s shoulders and gave her an affectionate hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Reese. I’ve hoped for a long time we’d have the opportunity.”

  Those simple, honest words did more for Reese’s comfort level than all the rest. The last bits of her nervous reserve slipped away. When her heart stutter-stepped, Dáire felt the rush of happiness roll through her subconscious. Peace settled through her head, freeing her at last from the chains of self-doubt.

  He couldn’t help but smile in admiration as she took a seat on the couch beside Faith, joining the chatter, blending into his motley group of siblings as if she’d spent the last several centuries at their sides.

  “I need to talk to you,” Rhi murmured at Dáire’s ear.

  “It can wait a minute.” He left his sister to sit beside the woman who had become so much a part of him over these last several years, even if he hadn’t fully realized how deep her roots delved until he’d finally had time alone with her. His hand slid into hers. She remained engaged in conversation, but her fingers squeezed, and she affectionately brushed her thumb over the meaty part of his. The subtle caress drew the attention of his every last nerve. His entire body tightened with sudden, fierce want.

  By the ancestors he never wanted this feeling to end.

  Bringing her hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss across her
knuckles.

  ****

  Part of Reese yearned to turn into Dáire’s embrace and kiss him until they were both in dire need of air. The other, more logical part of her brain reminded her that even if she did feel comfortable with his siblings, they were still family, and there were just some things family didn’t care to witness.

  Though from what she’d heard over the years, what she’d learned more recently about Rhiannon and Belen both getting engaged, chided that these people probably wouldn’t care if they did catch her kissing Dáire like she might never get the opportunity to do so again.

  Instead of following through on what she most wanted, she leaned into his side, returning his gesture of affection while she answered Faith’s inquiry. “I teach second grade in Augusta.” She couldn’t move beyond the introduction Dáire provided. She’s a social worker. She remembered Dáire mentioning Belen only briefly, and for the life of her couldn’t recall whether they lived in Augusta or further south. “Are you both local?”

  Faith smiled. “We’re in Manhattan right now, but by summer will be up here to be closer to family. I’m transferring to Augusta. Cian and Miranda found a house not far from theirs that we both like.”

  “Miranda.” Reese’s brow furrowed. “That sounds really familiar.”

  “Cian’s wife.” Belen supplied as he leaned forward to fetch his soda from the coffee table. “She owns a rare book store there.”

  The Miranda. The same woman who Reese’s neighbor had a crush on for so long. Good lord, of all the ironies! She chuckled. “I’d heard the name back when they met, but it’s been so long…”

  “Dáire, I need to see you,” Rhiannon interjected from the doorway. “Now.”

  Reese gave Dáire a grin, leaned across and gave in to what she most desired—she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered before she released his hand and leaned away. Turning to Faith once more, she swallowed rising nerves and asked the one thing that had been on the tip of her tongue since she’d been introduced. “Would you mind if I asked you about your job protocols?”

  Faith nodded as Dáire rose to his feet. “Sure. Anytime.”

  “I have a student who concerns me. Something isn’t right at home. My principal has dismissed—”

  “Before you go, give me his name. I’ll see what I can do.”

  In that moment, Reese’s heart soared. She’d been fighting for David’s well-being and accomplishing nothing but one dead end after another. With her principal shrugging off her concerns, painting her as a well-meaning but overly reactive instructor, the case worker who’d shown interest backed off. Her one meeting with David produced nothing of substance. She’d closed the case file as soon as it had been opened.

  Now…not only had Reese met someone she could truly enjoy as a friend, but she’d found hope for the little boy whose green eyes had lost their zest for life.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, overcome by Faith’s unhesitant willingness.

  “You want a drink?” Mick asked. “I’ve got beer, wine, soda—take your pick.”

  “Ah, yeah. After the day I’ve had, I could use a glass of white wine.”

  “That bad, huh?” Belen asked as he tossed muscular legs out in front of him and stretched one arm around Faith’s shoulders.

  Shit. Now what? Somehow, Reese doubted Dáire would appreciate her telling his family what their youngest sibling had done. Even if he didn’t care, that was his territory, his call to make. “Something like that,” she murmured, hoping they’d back off.

  “What happened?” Faith asked.

  Great. Just what Reese needed. Well, maybe she could stall. Tell them about the camping trip gone wrong, the coyote, and by the time she got around to the part that involved Taran, maybe Dáire would be back.

  ****

  Dáire found himself facing not just Rhiannon, but Isolde who’d been in the kitchen putting together the ingredients for an apple pie. His two sisters leaned against the countertop, shoulder to shoulder, carved from the same cloth but as different as night and day. Rhiannon, with her deep red hair and vivid green eyes shone like a firecracker beside the fairer, more demure, Isolde. Although, Dáire had to give her credit, Isolde’s spine was gaining substance with each day. She no longer embodied the mouse Taran liked to call her.

  “What do you mean, Fintan called?” Dáire asked guardedly. He tried to focus on the bond he shared with Rhiannon to gather clues about where this conversation was heading. But with Reese dominating his mind so strongly, locking in on the twin-like link they shared was next to impossible. All he could grasp was a few strong emotions, none of which he could precisely define. He reached in his jeans pocket out of habit, then pulled out an empty fist. Damn it, quitting smoking was not on his immediate agenda.

  “Fintan went to see how Brigid was coming along with her demonologist guard.” Isolde turned away to put her dirty mixing bowl in the sink and fill it with water. “She evidently said something odd, something that insinuated Taran knew something else, and Fintan alerted Cian.”

  “And you’ve been with Taran, not answering your phone, clearly on an emotional roller coaster—I was scared to death he’d done something to you, Dáire,” Rhiannon explained.

  “What did she say, exactly?”

  Rhiannon glanced at Isolde, who looked over her shoulder and met Rhiannon’s hesitant stare. Isolde shrugged. Rhiannon nodded.

  “Hey, you two, I’m standing right here. Did she say something about me?”

  The water ran while Isolde focused on her dishes. Rhiannon broke the uncomfortable silence. “Brigid said something about this birthday being your last and that Taran would insure the proper sacrifice.” She paused for several heartbeats, before adding more quietly, “I don’t think Taran’s there just to make sure you don’t stumble onto a scroll. I think he believes he can permanently harm you.”

  It was Dáire’s turn to fall silent. If he’d had any remaining doubt that Drandar knew about the discovery of the scroll, Rhiannon had just erased it. Taran had contacted Brigid and no doubt told her. Which meant he’d informed their sire as well.

  “Taran doesn’t want to hurt me,” Dáire answered quietly. He patted his pocket again, and cursed inwardly.

  Isolde tossed the dish brush forcibly into the sink, sending a spray of water onto the tiled wall. She whipped around, spots of indignation on her pale cheeks, pale silver eyes flashing. “Don’t be so certain. Foolish confidence will only insure he succeeds!”

  Rhiannon lifted a hand to ward off the rest of Isolde’s tirade. In the silence that followed, she scrutinized Dáire through narrowed eyes. “Reese has the scroll, doesn’t she?” She tipped her head to the side. “And did you quit smoking?”

  Damnation. Why, why must his twin be able to read his thoughts when he most wanted to keep them to himself? Dáire shifted his weight. “I’m working on quitting.”

  “And that’s what I was reading off you.”

  “That I’m dying for nicotine?”

  “No.” She rolled her eyes. “Reese. Not just her, not just great sex. She has the scroll. You’re the next pair.” Her voice animated with excitement. “Have you told her? Does she know what she has?”

  “Not…yet…” He shifted his weight again and looked around the cozy kitchen, unable to look his sister in the eye.

  “Not yet?” Isolde’s voice rose. “What do you mean, not yet? The sabot is tomorrow night.”

  “I mean…I’ve tried. I just haven’t…gotten very far.” If he confided the lengths he’d gone to, Rhiannon would put his chaotic emotions together with the discovery of the scroll and voice the one emotion Dáire couldn’t consider.

  “And how, exactly, have you tried?” Rhiannon asked warily.

  Damn her.

  Dáire drew in a deep breath and forcibly expelled it. “I’ve been trying to convince her out of it. But her subconscious has blocked me until very recently.”

  “Blocked you?” Isolde blinked. “You mean you�
�re using your gift to manipulate her into giving you the scroll?”

  Ugh. He so didn’t want to have this conversation. But with no easy means of changing the subject, he didn’t have a choice. He looked to his boots and mumbled, “That sounds about right.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Have you lost your mind?” Isolde whirled on Dáire. “Have you forgotten the ways of our ancestors, that your very birth assigns you as keeper of the balance?”

  Dáire flinched at the sharp tone of her voice. Yet despite her rightful anger, he hushed her with a lifted hand. “Keep your voice down. She’ll hear you.”

  “And she should! You’ve been given a gift, brother. The one you’ve wanted—mortality to match Rhiannon’s. Yet you abuse the very principles of what we’ve fought to protect. It is her choice to aid you. To aid us.”

  He looked to Rhiannon for support. Understanding shone in the soft contours of her mouth, but sorrow glinted in her blue eyes. To his consternation, she leaned her elbows on the countertop and stared at the floor, excerpting herself from the conversation. Sighing, he tunneled a hand through his hair. “Isolde, You can’t possibly understand the difficulty in making someone believe. It takes time. Time I don’t have. The scroll was discovered last night. Taran knows she has it; he’s already attacked her once.”

  True to her righteous designs and the light that burned so bright in her soul, she folded her arms over her chest, unbudging. “If it’s time you need, you aren’t meant to perform the ritual on Ostara.”

  “Tell her, Rhi!” Dáire cried in frustration. “You know what it’s like when—” He stopped abruptly, a breath away from putting Reese and love in the same sentence.

  “When your heart’s involved?” Rhiannon asked quietly. She shot Isolde a warning glance, and their sister pursed her lips. “Is it, Dáire? Are you in love with Reese?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t let myself think that far. Maybe.”

  “You’ll know.” Rhiannon chuckled. “When you find yourself thinking how nice it would be to kill her, you’ll know.”