Page 88 of Vampire's Breath

Rory returned my smile. “Oh, I’ve known about it my whole life because of the coven. Although we only learned about the Cure a few months ago.”

My brow furrowed. “What’s the cure? The cure for what?”

Isla smiled. “It’s not a what, it’s a who. There’s an old Irish tradition that the seventh son of a seventh son holds the cure for some ailment. A line of Cures started with the youngest of Kieran’s brothers. Every generation since has had at least seven sons, and Rory and Cormac just found the one alive.”

The weight of centuries pressed down on me in a way different from what had brought me here, these stories and curses passing through generations like heirlooms. “And what happens now?”

Rory shrugged. “We don’t know yet. It depends on what he can tell us. Everyone rushed here when we learned you and Aiden were on a crash course.”

I turned to Isla. “What about you? How did you get mixed up in this?”

Her lips twitched with a nostalgic smile. “My grandmother always told me stories about vampires, fairies, and werewolves. I never believed they were real. I’m working on my PhD infolklore. My best friend and I picked the Dearg Dur for our dissertation research.”

I realized how easily she said it, like she could still pretend it was just research instead of daily life. “Where’s your best friend now?” I asked.

Isla’s smile faltered, her gaze falling to the floor. “She’s the reason we won’t let you outside alone. Runa killed her—and she nearly killed me too.”

My knuckles turned white. “I’m so sorry. But what about the truce Aiden mentioned?”

“The truce is between the O’Cillians and Runa,” Rory said. “Runa gets to lead the Waterford factions, and in return, she ensures the O’Cillians never make it into the mortal history books. If you try to research vampires in Waterford, you’ll only find her.”

Isla looked at the ceiling. “She killed Aisling to keep her from talking about the O’Cillians after Declan told us about them.”

A heavy silence fell over us as I contemplated everything I had just learned. Tension spread beneath my ribs. I hesitated, my voice small, afraid of the answer even as I asked. “Is being a mate… scary?”

Isla shook her head. “No. It’s a little weird, knowing I have vampire blood in my system all the time because I know if something terrible happens, I’ll have twenty-four hours to decide whether I live forever or die. But accidents are rare. And I’ll choose to turn only if I want to.”

Rory smiled. “But other than that, being a mate is amazing. In our case, it is the most fulfilling bond you could want because we’re fated. I was created just for Cormac, to complement him—perfect in every way.” She stopped and bit her lip. “I think you and Lorcan are fated, too.”

I smirked. “No, not at all.”

There was no way, not with Lorcan. I stared at the table between us as my mind spun between memories—Lorcan’s hand on my neck, Runa’s snarl, the worn pages of Lady Isobel’s journal. None of it fitted together, yet it was all part of the same story, everything leading me to him.

He’d kept me at arm’s length from the very beginning. So why was I even asking these questions? In my case, fate was playing a cruel trick.

I set my glass down and pushed it away. “Thank you.” I looked at my friend. “For everything. For the explanations.” My voice dropped to a whisper as I refused to hold her gaze. “But I think it is time for me to go. There’s no place for me here.”

“Briar.” His voice was deep, soft, and tinged with sadness.

My breath caught at the sound of my name, and tears stung my eyes.

Before I could look up, he was in front of me, kneeling, trying to find my eyes. How did he do that?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been pushing you away since the moment I met you.”

I raised my gaze to his, focusing on his eyes that revealed a pain I’d never seen before.

“Maybe we ought to go,” Isla murmured.

Lorcan shook his head without breaking eye contact with me. “No. You two stay here. Briar, would you come with me? Just for a few minutes.”

I shook my head. “You made yourself abundantly clear.”

He nodded, his expression grim. “I know. And I was wrong. Please—if you don’t want to forgive me, if you want me to leave you alone forever, I promise I will. Just give me the next few minutes.”

A spark of hope I refused to acknowledge took hold as my resolve wavered, the raw plea in his voice carving through mydefenses. “Fine,” I said with a sigh, standing. “Where are we going?”

He stood. “I want to show you where I grew up.”

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