Page 101 of Vampire's Hearth

I shook my head as my eyes followed where she would be in the next room. “Very subtle, Jade,” I called, a chuckle close behind the words as I pressed my lips into a tight smile.

“You’re welcome, Rory.” Her voice was distant now, and I was sure I heard her on the steps.

Cormac’s gaze dropped to his glass. He took two steps toward it, picking it up, the amber liquid splashing on the sides from themovement. He took a drink, his eyes dancing over the rim, never leaving mine. I watched as his chest rose and fell from a deep breath as he ran his hand through his hair. He subtly cleared his throat. “Where do we go from here?” he asked, a fear in his eyes that his voice did not betray. “Would you like to be done with us?”

My fingers tightened around my glass, my heart thumping in my chest. I stared at the liquid as a cool wave washed over my extremities. My mind raced. Was our closeness since the spell all habitual and not what he wanted? He was giving me a way to leave him. My chest tightened, the thought of not being with him impossible. My brow furrowed. Was it possible he didn’t feel the same way after I had staked him?

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He shrugged but refused to meet my eyes as he spoke. His voice was low, the quality I had learned it took on when the responsibility for his family weighed on him. “I only asked that you stay with me until we found the Cure. Now that Conall and I know where he is, we can work together to figure out how to stop Aiden.”

I looked out the window, the waves of the harbor contrasting with the turbulence in my mind. The pounding of my heart against the tightness of my chest hurt after everything—the joys, the heartache, and the pain. Tears filled the corners of my eyes as my gaze lingered on the dark water reflecting the moonlight, a coolness in my mind that contradicted my heart. I bit my lip. “We haven’t found him yet,” I said, keeping my voice soft and resolute. “We only know where to find him. This partnership isn’t over.”

Cormac looked at the ceiling, gulping more whiskey as his other arm crossed his stomach. He lowered his glass so his arms were crossed. “I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry that I thought it would protect you. But you have to know that every feeling I had foryou was very, very real.” His voice was raw as his eyes searched mine, as though wanting any hint of forgiveness they could find.

I stared at my wine, feeling the tears rise to my eyelids. I had forgiven him in my heart, but could I speak the words? My fingers traced the rim of my glass. I raised my gaze to meet his. As I did so, a tear escaped my eye, cutting a cool path down my cheek. Then, Cormac was beside me, kneeling next to me, wiping the tear away. His touch was more gentle than it had ever been before, his eyes glassy and pain etched on his face as though my tears were the one thing that could hurt him. Before he could pull his hand away, I grabbed it, closed my eyes, and held it with mine at my face, leaning into him.

“No more lies,” I said, barely able to whisper the words through my tight throat.

He shook his head, his face softening. “Never. Never again.” His arms wrapped around me. I sank into his warm embrace, safe and loving. We had so much to tell each other from the last few days, but I pushed it to the back of my mind, relishing his arms around me again, the feeling of his lips on my head as he kissed me.

He pulled back and looked at me, a soft, bright smile on his face, his eyes reflecting a hidden joy. “Can I show you something?”

I tilted my head. “What are you going to show me now?”

His smile turned to a grin, a playful glint in his eye, so different from the sophisticated manner I expected. “Everything.”

A sudden icy hand gripped my heart. My brow furrowed. “Are you sure you don’t need to go after Conall? What is he going to do?”

Cormac shrugged. “That’s a story for another day.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, recognizing the phrase he used to hide so many details from me.

He looked into my eyes, no longer withholding the evil truth. “When Conall gets angry, people die.”

“Oh my God,” I said on an exhale.

Cormac shook his head, laying a hand on my arm. “Runa was outside earlier. She’ll make sure he at least doesn’t get caught.” His voice was calm and reassuring.

I tilted my head and heard the curiosity in my voice as I spoke. “What is the deal with her?”

Cormac bit the inside of his cheek, his brow knitting together. “There is a truce between her and my parents. We never got too caught up in it, never needing to. She ensures the O’Cillians are forgotten in one way or another. So tonight, she’ll follow Conall. And if she can’t stop him from killing, then... she’ll make sure a wisp of her hair is seen, and the stories of the Dearg Dur live on, but not of the O’Cillians.” He looked at me, his voice soft as he continued. “Theories of who the O’Cillians are only exist in the supernatural world. But we’re not the bloodthirsty, angry monsters everyone makes us out to be.”

I wrinkled my forehead with a delicate laugh, keeping my voice light, but I couldn’t speak without the tinge of irony. “You have one brother trying to be worshipped as a god, and another being stalked by a vampire to make sure he doesn’t kill anyone. Would you like to rethink that statement?”

He pressed his lips together resolutely and gave a quick nod. “It is all true.” He sipped his drink and resumed smiling at me, his gaze steady. “But they’re my brothers, and I’ve had a thousand years of dealing with them. So for tonight, let’s forget they exist.” He extended his hand toward me.

I looked from his eyes to the smile still playing on his lips to his extended hand. Taking it was more than the simple gesture of listening to him. It was forgiveness, acceptance, and love. It was knowing I would deal with his family drama and that people would die. It was immersing his family into my supernaturalworld. And it was right. I stood and wrapped his fingers in mine. “I trust you,” I said, my voice filled with promises.

Cormac’s eyes lit up. “We’ll start in the great hall. Did you notice there are two pictures of Conall and none of me?”

He walked me through the house, our hands never parting, the warmth of his touch enticing. This time, instead of pointing out the artisanship and who created it, or where the rooms were, he told me stories, his voice soft and intimate. Stories about him and his brothers when they were close, after they had returned to Ireland from England and the manor had been built, the family living together in peace—until they had been summoned to the United States, when the world seemed to change. A wistful, nostalgic tone would creep into his voice as he spoke. His memories of his family were the most precious thing he had.

As we walked through the moonlit gardens, his fingers caressed the leaves of the plants as he recalled the days of their youth when they ran through the fields where the manor now stood, which had been farmland at that time, helping to feed the nearby clan. His eyes shone with a distant warmth, his lips curling into a soft smile as he spoke of the innocence of those early days. They gleamed when he told me about the great predators that used to live in Ireland and how his father would fight them, always winning because he was the more ruthless predator.

He led me along the shore. A harem of seals played in the water. We stopped and watched them for a minute, and he pointed at them, his other hand resting on my lower back, the cool harbor breeze playing with my hair.

“My mother used to love to come out here and watch the seals.” His voice was low, his eyes flickering in the moonlight with unshed tears as he watched a seal glide through the water. He turned back and pointed at a balcony off the side of the houseon the second floor. “That’s her room right there. She’d sit on that balcony for hours, just watching the water.”

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