Page 80 of Vampire's Breath

“Is that what this is really about?” He laid his hand on my forearm. “Do you fear you’re her dark mate?”

I looked out the window, the words stuck in my chest. After a time, I looked back at him. “Ashdowne was born of my blood, and Briar was born of Isobel’s. How could I not fear we are bound by something twisted?”

Conall’s expression turned serious. “It is only once in a thousand years that a pair of dark mates are born, let alone that they find each other. Dark mates don’t want love, Lorcan. They want obedience. Slaves, not partners. Control, not communion.”

I shook my head, my desire to see Briar fall apart at my hands, thoughts of her tears of elation mixed with the edges of pain causing a twinge in my cock. “You don’t understand.”

He chuckled. “Do you think I haven’t figured out your proclivities in the eight hundred years we lived closely?” His tone was warm but matter-of-fact. “You enjoy the edge, yes. You crave intensity—dominance even—but never cruelty. Never pain without purpose. You want her gasping in your arms, not because she’s frightened, but because she trusts you enough to let go.”

“Then why do I want her blood so much it aches?”

“Because you’re starving yourself. And you love her. Stop fighting what the rest of us already know—you’re not her dark mate. You’re fated for her. You can’t run from it.”

I swallowed hard, and something shifted inside as his words took root. The road blurred past outside the window as the car sped toward the airport.

Toward her.

Briar

The taxi dropped me off in the public parking area down the beach from my destination just after twelve thirty. I didn’t quite understand it, but whenever I asked about coming out to Dún Na Farraige, people looked at me with worry.

Even last night, at The Seal and Stag, the pub where I’d found a room, their voices had dropped to hushed whispers when I mentioned Dún Na Farraige, like saying the name too loudly would summon something from the cliffs. One patron tried to scare me away by mentioning a gentleman who worked there a little over a year ago. He was killed right outside the walls of the grand estate in a freak accident.

I had pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose and smiled at him. “Are you going to tell me that a stag ripped his throat out?”

The man tilted his head.“How did you know?”

My voice shook as I spoke. “Just a lucky guess.” I had meant it as a joke, but fear settled at the base of my spine when the man didn’t laugh.

The stories about vampires persisted. But there was something about it—something about the coincidence of the deaths of all these people. They were years apart, but for stags to kill them all? It wasn’t an animal that usually hunted humans. But I suppose if a human tried to harm it, it would protect its family. I wasn’t a believer, not really. But the pattern was impossible to ignore. If it wasn’t vampires, what was it?

I had left my suitcase at the pub after lunch, where they said they would watch it for the afternoon. Tucked securely inside my backpack, slung over my shoulder, rested the portfolio containing everything I had on Lady Isobel.

The waves rolled onto the shore in a steady, calming pulse, the wind misting my tongue with salt and spray. But the calm was a lie. Overhead, the clouds churned, heavy with warning—as if the sky itself knew something was coming.

I breathed in another lungful of salty air. Tomorrow, I flew home, back to my life as I had known it. With this last place of significance in Lady Isobel’s life, I would say goodbye forever to the O’Cillians and find my path ahead. I ran a hand over my face, the exhaustion pressing in on me. So much had changed in so little time.

I paused, the sand shifting under my feet, as I looked out over the harbor. A harem of seals played in the water, their sleek bodies dipping in and out of the waves with effortless grace. The woman from the Kirkwall ferry invaded my thoughts, andI couldn’t help but wonder—were they just seals? Or were they something more?

I laughed at myself. Vampires. Finfolk. None of them were real. Stories. That was all they were. Yet part of me wanted to return to a childhood belief that supernatural immortality and fairy worlds existed.

I tore my eyes away from the playful creatures and continued walking. Within moments, the large manor came into view, perched on the cliffs to my left. I walked on until I stood below the middle of the structure, looking up at the graying stones. To my right, hewn into the rock face, an imposing staircase rose from the public beach I stood on, leading to the back of the home.

The ominous Elizabethan manor seemed the perfect abode for Cormac O’Cillian, though I struggled to envision Lorcan at home here. My eyes followed the stone wall that extended from the house to a copse of trees to the left, their mostly bare branches reaching like decaying fingers to the sky. Nestled among them, I could just make out the thatched roof of what I assumed was a stone cottage. How strange it would still stand? A cottage like that should have collapsed long ago.

The manor’s beauty could not be denied, even though the windows remained dark, as though they had been abandoned long ago. The overlooks stood empty. Would women in gorgeous gowns and men in their tailcoats and cravats have filled them the night Lady Isobel was presented as the Baroness of Blackcairn?

A voice floated past me, soft as the tinkling of bells. “And what have we here?”

I shivered involuntarily, and for a second, my heart slammed into my ribs. I hadn’t heard anyone approach. The woman who now stood next to me embraced such a dreamlike quality I had to ask myself if she was real. Her blond—almost white—hair fell in waves over her shoulders, reaching nearly to her waist. Herporcelain skin was eerily smooth, her lips a shade of red I had never seen before. Her eyes—brilliant gray—mirrored the storm-heavy sky.

“You’re interested in Dún Na Farraige?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I’ve heard stories about it and the O’Cillians. My ancestor was introduced as the Baroness of Blackcairn here.”

My skin prickled, my instincts screaming at me to walk away. But it wasn’t that easy. I glanced at the formidable stone staircase, my heart thudding. Beyond it, the cliffs stretched almost to the water, leaving just a small swath of sand to walk on. I turned to face the woman as she stood between me and the public parking.

A movement on the far overlook above me caught my eye. The man standing there, looked down at us, distracting me. When I looked back, she had moved closer. I cleared my throat, stepping closer to the cliffs, hoping she would walk on. “But I’ve seen it now, so I should go.”

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