The Dracove (The Prophecy series) (36 page)

She looked at him, confused.
Why?

Trust me.

She nodded and grabbed his hand.

And don’t speak to him, unless he speaks to you, though I doubt he will.

You don’t think he’ll like me? You said earlier—

It’s not that. You’re mortal. He doesn’t befriend mortals unless it suits his needs. He might be angry with me for bringin’ ye here without talkin’ to him about it first.

Angry? Why?

Showin’ a mortal where we live carries a severe punishment for us, an’ the mortal.

She stared at him.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come with you.

Too late
, he said.
He’s comin’. Now, don’t be frightened. Remember they can smell your fear. I won’t let them harm ye
.

“Them?” she said aloud.

He moved his finger to his lips. “Shh.”

Cearbhall descended the stairwell and stopped at its base. He was a stocky man and looked like he might have been a warrior at one time. Kylie saw it in the way he carried himself. She wondered how old he was. A scar marred his left cheek, and she wondered how it got there. He seemed older than Grant, however old that was. His hair was salt and pepper gray mixed with light brown. Very distinguishing, but she didn’t understand it, not if he was a vampyre. Perhaps he was transformed after his hair had started to go grey.

Really, must you keep putting me into these shockingly frightful situations?

You’re dealing with vampyres, Ky. How can that not be terrifyin’?

Cearbhall cleared his throat.

Grant listened to the thoughts racing through Kylie’s mind. He wanted to tell her she was correct about Cearbhall being a warrior, but he couldn’t at the moment, even telepathically. Others lay hidden in the shadows, and she wasn’t blocking her thoughts. That wasn’t good. If he could read her thoughts, others who had the ability could too. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Cearbhall, who hadn’t moved since he’d stepped off the stairwell and cleared his throat.

The others stepped out of hiding and into the foyer: two from the parlor and one—a petite blonde—out of the study, dangerously close to them.
They can smell her.
Just the smell of her blood woke them. The hunt is about to begin.

Some vampyres chose to hunt right around dusk; some waited until midnight. Others waited until the true witching hour. He tightened his grip on Kylie’s hand and quickly loosened his hold when he sensed her pain.

Sometimes he forgot how strong he was . . . .

“Is this your offerin’ to get back into my good graces, brother?” Cearbhall motioned to Kylie.

Offering? What the hell is he talking about?

Grant ignored her questions. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

The young woman near them reached out to touch Kylie. She gasped and abruptly jerked her arm away, glaring at the vampyre.

Grant growled and clawed at the small blonde. Bloody scratches welled up on her arm. She shrieked, jumped back, and looked at him dumbfounded. Her wounds healed within seconds.

“Don’t. Touch. Her.”

She hissed at him.

Grant pulled a stunned Kylie to his side and growled again, his lip curling up just enough to show her his fangs. His vision changed and she got a glimpse of the electric blue dance within his eyes. The vampyre backed off. Her head dropped, acknowledging he was much older and stronger than she was. Grant retracted his fangs and claws, and looked at the man they’d come to speak with—the man who was, at one time, his friend and brother.

“No, Cearbhall, she’s not for you,” he said as though nothing had happened.

Cearbhall’s eyes narrowed. “Then why did ye bring ‘er here?” His tone suggested he was less than thrilled about a strange mortal in his home. “She’s mortal. Ye know the laws.”

“Aye, I do, but ye don’t understand—”

“I understand ye have the audacity to show up here with a mortal after four centuries an’ you’re not even going to offer her to me after disturbin’ my rest.”

Grant turned his head to Kylie, and back to Cearbhall. “Well, if you’d shut up for a damn minute, I’d explain it to ye.”

Cearbhall’s eyes grew wide. At Grant’s side, Kylie gasped and quickly covered her mouth. He and Cearbhall glared at one another. Suddenly, Cearbhall burst into laughter, and confusion covered Kylie’s face.

“Oh, Grantlund.” Cearbhall clapped. “I see you’re still a pain in the arse.” He motioned for the others to go. Before leaving, the woman Grant lashed out at glared at Kylie.

Grant could feel the discomfort in Kylie, being so vulnerable around them in her frail human state. He started toward the vampyre. Cearbhall cleared his throat and she scattered out of the room.

“Come forward. Let me look at ye an’ the beautiful young woman you’ve brought with ye.”

Grant started walking over to him, but Kylie tugged on his arm. He turned and saw the frightened look on her face, stepped back, and stroked her arm.

“It’s okay, Kylie. He wants to meet ye.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?”

Cearbhall laughed. “Well, she’s a feisty one, isn’t she? She must keep ye very busy.”

Grant smiled and turned to Kylie.
Really, it’s okay. I told you to trust me.

Kylie stared into his eyes.
I know, but—

I said I wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to ye.

She looked down at the floor, then to Cearbhall. He smiled at her and gave a short nod.

“Kylie, is it?”

She nodded.

“Well, Kylie” —he bowed with one arm tucked against his stomach and the other sweeping out—”ye have my word no harm shall come to ye in this house. I can see Grantlund cares for you deeply.”

Grant watched her cheeks turn to a rosy blush from the embarrassment. Maybe not quite embarrassment, but she was blushing just the same. Cearbhall couldn’t have been more right. He knew they’d come to the right place.

“Come on.” Grant tugged her hand.

She cautiously followed him.

Cearbhall gazed at her. Sunlight broke through the stained glass and basked upon her face.

“My word, Grantlund. She looks like—”

“I know.”

“But she—”

“I know that too.”

“Know what,” she asked Grant. “Who do I look like?”

“Later.” He clutched Cearbhall’s hand. They pulled each other into a brotherly embrace and patted one another on the back.

 
“It’s good to see ye again, brother,” Cearbhall said and pulled back.

The grin forming on Grant’s lips stretched from ear to ear. He nodded at his brother. Kylie wondered what they were talking about and if she was the subject matter.

“Let’s go in the parlor,” Cearbhall said. “Ye can tell me what you’ve been up to for the last four hundred years, besides meetin’ this lovely lass.” He turned to her and bowed again. “Cearbhall Logan of the clan Logan at your service, my lady.” He took her hand and kissed it. “‘Tis an honor to meet the woman who has captured my brother’s heart.”

Cearbhall led her into the parlor. She looked back to see Grant following closely behind. Grant sat on the antique sofa next to Kylie and nodded to Cearbhall, who sat across from them in a large wing chair. Everything in the room was ancient, including the two men in her company.

“So tell me, Grantlund, why’re ye here?” Cearbhall stared at Kylie.

She shifted in her seat and took Grant’s hand. He hadn’t stopped staring at her since he came downstairs.

“I know this isn’t a social call,” he prompted.

“We’ve somethin’ to ask o’ ye,” Grant said.

“What, ye can’t transform her by yourself?” he said with a grin. “I’d be happy to—”

“No. It’s not that, exactly.”

“Then what is it, exactly?”

Grant lowered his head.

“Just say it,” she said.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yes it is.”

Grant glanced at Cearbhall. He watched them, studying the exchange with curiosity.

“Well, Kylie, why don’t ye tell me? Grantlund has always had trouble with words. He’s more of a man of action.”

She looked at him, into his golden eyes. “What, me? I don’t know. There are things Grant needs to tell you about that I’m not too clear on just yet.”

“Why don’t ye start it for him?”

She looked at Grant again to see if he was okay with her starting their tale. He nodded for her to go ahead. “I’m not sure where to begin . . . .”

“I thought ye two wanted to ask me somethin’. Sounds like you’re about to tell me a long, boring story.”

That shut Kylie up.

Grant touched her arm. “He’s kidding.”

“Okay, well, we don’t know if you know what’s happening.”

He nodded once and held his hand out, palm up, urging her to continue.

She told him how they met about a week ago, about meeting Cianán, and how she came to be in Ireland. She considered telling him what happened the night before, sans the sex, of course, but decided it would take too long to go over everything, so she just stopped talking. Grant looked at her with curiosity, his brow creasing, after she hadn’t said anything for a minute.

Grant said they didn’t have much time. Why speak unnecessary words?

He placed his hand on her thigh. “Kylie?”

She jumped. Her eyes quickly shifted from him to Cearbhall. She drew in a deep breath. “In a nutshell, Cianán wants to use me in a blood sacrifice so he can become some sort of god.”

Grant and Cearbhall stared at her. Kylie rather enjoyed surprising two vampyres.

When Cearbhall looked to Grant, he nodded in agreement to what Kylie said.

Cearbhall leaned forward in his chair, the shocked expression still upon his face. “
You’re
the one he thinks is his Chosen One, the one he’s been searchin’ for all these bloody years?”

She turned to Grant.

“I’m pretty sure she is,” Grant replied. “She bears the mark. He tracked her down, but hadn’t killed her. Y’know Cianán just as well, if not better than I do.”

“That’d explain the likeness—”

“To Siobhán?” They jumped when she spoke, and stared at her. “Come on, you didn’t think I’d figure that out?”

“Well, I-I—”

“I
did
dream about the whole thing, you know.”

He shook his head. “I just . . . I didn’t want ye to think . . . .”

She took his hand in hers, brushed his hair back with the other, and softly touched his left cheek. “Grant, I know you loved her. I know you love me. It isn’t because I look like her or you think she and I might share the same soul, but because you actually
love
me.”