Page 46 of Vampire's Hearth

I left Lyra dressing and walked through the galley. A silver flask with random black lines decorating the front sat on the counter. My ring burned as I walked by. I glanced around, trying to locate the magic. I caught the flask out of the corner of my eye, but this time, it looked different. The lines now formed a design, a unique Celtic heart, topped with antlers and a seal head. I looked at the flask from the front for a better view, and it disappeared.

Turning my head to the side, I saw it again. What was the design, and why couldn’t I see it when I looked at it straight on?

I pushed the worrying development to the back of my mind. I would have to ask Aunt Amara about it later.

As I exited the plane, Mac’s back was to me as he spoke with a man who bore a striking resemblance to him. They had the same cheekbones and broad shoulders. The man’s shaggy brown hair fell just past his ears. He gestured toward me with his chin, causing Mac to turn.

“Aurora, it’s so good to see you awake. How did you sleep?”

I smiled. “Quite well for being in the air.”

The hangar door stood open behind the man, the crisp air blowing in from outside driving a chill through me. Beyond the tarmac, a field of emerald grass stretched as far as I could see. Something in the air even felt different. The thought of being in Ireland made me shiver with excitement. “I can’t believe we’re here,” I mumbled. “This is all such a dream.”

“Have you ever been to Ireland before?” asked Mac.

I shook my head. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve barely been outside of Savannah.”

His grin widened. “It is a striking place. I cannot wait to experience it with you.” He held my gaze with his. He reached forward, his fingers brushing my forearm. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot myself.”

He stepped aside, revealing the man he had been speaking with. “This is Conall O’Cillian.”

Conall stood a few inches shorter than Mac, his smile exuding a similar charm. A playful light danced in his blue eyes—the same ocean-blue color as Mac’s. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, looking ready for a day at the pubs. This was the last man I would picture as a bloodthirsty, maniacal, evil vampire.

“Aurora, it’s lovely to meet you.” He took my hand, lifting it to his lips in an old-fashioned gesture that made me blush despite myself. “I can see why Mac is so taken with you.”

My cheeks heated further at his implication as I looked down, unsure how to respond. I glanced at Mac, holding my breath, wondering what he would say.

Mac, however, simply smiled, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than usual before he turned back to Conall.

“We should collect her cousin and get to the manor. We have much to discuss.”

I looked between the two of them as Mac turned toward the plane. I pushed their resemblance out of my mind.They are both from here. Of course there will be similarities.I couldn’t deny I was falling for a vampire, but there was no way in hell that vampire was an O’Cillian.

Cormac

Ipushed open the heavy wooden door with barely a sound. Dún Na Farraige. The land my family called home for centuries. Where we returned after living among English royalty for five hundred years. We had, of course, stolen back to the cottage—the perfectly preserved single-room stone home my father built for my mother when they married—time and again. When my father decided we should return permanently, no one questioned another grand country home being built for an English marquess and his family. By that time, the O’Cillian name had all but died in our homeland, no longer recognizable as one of the original clans.

My gaze roamed the great hall, my throat tightening. The dark green walls with gilded accents stretched two floors high to meetthe timber and plaster ceiling. At the end, an immense fireplace dominated the wall under the gallery, with doors on either side. Two grand crystal chandeliers hung above, ready to cast light across the ancient parquet floors. Four archways flanked by sconces lined each side of the hall, and between them were portraits of my family from the 1600s. We hadn’t changed at all. I gazed at the faces of my parents and my brothers, fighting the tears that threatened to gather in my eyes.

I shook my head with a smile when I noted a portrait—my portrait—had been replaced by a second portrait of Conall. Round, heavy oak tables adorned with flowers sat on plush rugs from the 1700s beneath the massive crystal chandeliers—rugs that had once been swept aside to open the space for the elegant balls my mother adored hosting. I couldn’t remember the last time this manor had seen a party—probably before we left for the United States, before the American Civil War. Truthfully, although most of our lives had been spent elsewhere, this home was the heart of our family, the place we had spent the best years of our lives.

Conall appeared at my side, his hand resting on my shoulder, a familiar weight I hadn’t felt in years, causing my chest to fill with warmth. “It hasn’t changed a bit, has it?”

I shook my head, the corners of my mouth twitching. “No. Not a bit.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to step inside so the rest of us can come in,” he quipped with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

I shot him a wry smile before stepping farther into the manor, trying to recall how many years it’d been since I’d set foot here. Thirty? Fifty? Although my heart longed to be here, I preferred to stay in New Orleans or Kentucky—the duty of watching over Aiden unsurpassed. Most of the family avoided this place now since the memories were oppressive.

Lyra trudged in behind me, her shoes clicking off the floor. Her eyes widened and flitted about as she surveyed the manor’s grandeur. “And I thought the plane was something.”

Aurora followed close behind and gave a slight gasp. Her hand reached for her pendant. “I didn’t know houses like this still existed as just a residence.”

My stomach twisted as I watched the awe on her face. I desired to hear her innermost thoughts on my home but knew I wouldn’t hear them now.

Conall responded, maintaining the facade that I was not part of the family. “The O’Cillian family has owned this manor since it was built. We used to spend a lot of time here.”

Lyra narrowed her eyes. “Kill too many locals to be able to stay?”

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