“I know. That’s why I’m bringing it up. So you can choose what you want to do.”
Steeling myself for bad news, I bite the bullet. “Okay. What is it?”
He takes a beat, like he’s regretting his decision to say anything. But then he finally does.
“Garyth showed me some of his memories. It was like he implanted them straight into my mind in the span of a heartbeat. He was a seer, too, Taryn. Him, my grandmother, and Barwyn all were, and they were working together.”
I’m speechless. Of all the things Finn could’ve told me, my father being a seer who helped orchestrate all of this wasn’t even in the mix. Then I realize something else and stare at him with wide eyes. “Seers can only transfer their memories and visions to other seers, Finn.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
My expression softens with concern. “That’s a pretty big revelation. How are you doing with that?”
He smiles to reassure me, but it’s not the unguarded kind that comes so naturally to him. “I’m fine, it’s just a lot to take in. It explains why I always had such strong gut feelings about things. I’m guessing the power was muted, though, because I was born here. But I think the connection I felt with you through your Armas was my power’s way of showing me what was in my future. You.”
Resting my hand on the side of his face, I stare into the windows of his soul and see love reflected back at me that makes my chest ache in the best of ways. “And it’s why I was dreaming of your golden eyes and couldn’t stop drawing them. Part of me knew I was waiting for you to find me.”
He presses a sweet kiss to my forehead and tucks me against him. This is quickly becoming my safe haven, wrapped up in his arms where I can hear the steady beat of his heart and feel the warmth from his body radiating into mine.
“What memories did he show you?”
“Do you want to see them for yourself?”
I pull away to look at him, frowning. “I’m not a seer, Finn. I inherited my mother’s conjuring magic. Bryn inherited both her parents’ specialty powers, but she’s the exception to the rule.”
“I know,” he says, “but if you siphon some of mine, I could show you. It’s what he meant when he said ‘show her,’ but if you’re not comfortable with that, I can just as easily tell you.”
My mind flashes back to the feeling of Finn drinking my blood, the intimacy of his lips on my neck, and I wonder what it would feel like to do the same to him, wonder how he would taste. The idea is both thrilling and unnerving, as I’ve never bit anyone or drank from them. It’s not something fae do unless they’re mated. Then again, it can’t be that hard. Dmitri does it all the time.
And more than anything, I want to see my father’s memories for myself.
I take a deep breath, my resolve firming. “No, I want you to show me.”
“Don’t be nervous, just let your instincts take over,” he says calmly.
“Is that what you did when you drank from me?”
Cupping my face with one of his hands, he brushes his thumb across my cheek and stares into my eyes. “Drinking from you felt like the most natural thing in the world.”
Gods, this male. I don’t know how he’s done it, but he’s claimed my heart in only a few days as though he’s had it for millennia. I wish I could tell him—to say the words he so easily says to me—but the people I love most in this world are so often taken from me. Saying it out loud feels like tempting fate to do it again, and I don’t know that I would survive it if I lost Finnian.
Taking a steadying breath, I say, “I’m ready.”
He slips his hand around to the back of my neck and guides me closer. I pause at his throat, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat against my lips. The skin there is warm and inviting, and his unique scent of bergamot and amber envelops me, comforting and exhilarating all at once.
Closing my eyes, I do as he said and let instinct take over. My senses heighten, and the world narrows down to this singular moment, the feel of him beneath my lips, the anticipation thrumming through my veins.
With a swift, gentle motion, I bite into his flesh. The initial resistance gives way, and his blood rushes into my mouth, warm and powerful. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever tasted, dark and rich with a hint of something primal, a depth that speaks of ancient power and hidden secrets. His Dark Fae blood carries a potency that floods my senses, each drop teeming with raw energy and life.
The connection between us deepens as I drink, his magic merging with mine. Finn’s hand tightens on my neck, not out of pain, but in response to the undeniable affirmation of our destined bond.
Suddenly, a jolt of energy courses through me, causing me to gasp and release my bite as a montage of moments from my father’s life rapidly flashes through my mind…
Meeting secretly with Moira and Barwyn in Tír Tairngire to discuss our visions of the future and make plans…
Instructing a conjuring artisan to craft a box and Armas out of Luna and spelling them to work as lock and key…
Consumed with a mix of sadness and determination as I leave the palace in the middle of the night, gazing up at my children’s bedroom windows one last time…
Living in isolation in the farthest reaches of Faerie…
Mourning my brave son’s death…
Watching from afar as my daughter sets the Summer Palace ablaze in violet fire, my heart breaking for her but knowing it is part of her destined path…
On and on I see pieces of his life. More meetings with Moira and Barwyn at his remote home in the desert, times he looked in on me in this realm, visiting Moira on her death bed to finalize plans, retrieving the Spear of Assal from the Temple of Rhiannon in Faerie, placing Moira’s clues as the hotels were built, making himself a home in the forgotten hall of Abhaile to guard the spear and await my eventual arrival.
And finally, I see Edevane. How he fired an energy ball that sent Athair flying across the room. How Edevane knew the shaft in the glass case was a decoy when he tried to connect it with the spearhead, and nothing happened.
A location spell took him to its hiding place, and once in close proximity, the two halves found each other like magnets. The weapon fused itself back together in Edevane’s hands, an inscription glowing on the shaft just long enough for him to read it. Then, turning to my father, he whispered a command, threw the spear, and watched in smug satisfaction as it soared through the air—
I block that last part out, knowing what came next and not wanting to witness the gory details of the fatal blow that ended my father’s life.
“Are you okay?” Finn asks, searching my face with concern swimming in his honey eyes.
I nod and try to catch my breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. That was…”
“Intense,” he finishes for me. “I know. How are you feeling about everything you saw?”
