“You’re thinking about facing Prince Ivar, aren’t you?” she asked, horrified.

“I want to protect you.”

“That's sweet, but it’s not smart. You know what he’ll do to you.”

“That’s all rumors. He’s not supposed to have that Sasquatch army and I don’t want to have to restrict my brothers’ movements or mine because we’re living in fear, always having to look over our shoulder. Or even have someone recognize us, like that mermaid and have them blackmail us to do their bidding. I don’t want to live a life like that. Do you?”

Aoife sighed. “No, but that’s been my life.”

“I need to confront him and let him know that you’re my mate.” A chill ran down his spine as he said that and the woods around him became silent as if the very trees were listening.

Aoife’s eyes turned white and she shimmered as it seemed the forest around them grew darker. The surface of the lake was dark, still, like a mirror. The clouds black, like a storm approaching. All the sunlight was sucked out of the morning sky. It was eerily quiet.

A prickly sensation ran over his body and a growl rumbled deep in his chest.

“Adam,” Aoife stated, her voice hollow. “Death.”

“I sense it.”

“Stay behind me.” She levitated off the ground as black misty tendrils crept along the forest floor.

Adam crouched down low, focused on the mist gathering.

He wasn’t sure if it was Tuatha Order members, but he didn’t think that witches or warlocks could control the environment like this. It definitely wasn’t Prince Ivar or any one of the Fae realms. This was something sinister.

Evil.

A figure formed as the mist collected and solidified, becoming a hooded figure with pale skin which glowed through the blackness.

He was dressed all in leather and as he pushed the hood off his head, a mane of ebony hair similar to Aoife’s, was braided over his shoulder. His eyes were black, like Aoife. He smiled at Adam’s mate with a smirk of satisfaction.

Aoife settled back to the ground, her body turning solid again, her eyes returning to their black color instead of white.

“Who are you,” Adam snarled.

The man looked at him and another shudder of dread passed through him.

“Aoife, tell yoursabeto take a step back please. I’m not going to hurt you,” the man drawled.

Aoife snorted. “It’s okay, Adam. This is my half brother. A wraith. His name is Cillian.”

Cilliantskedunder his breath. “Now, Aoife you know I prefer the term reaper.”

“You’re her brother?” Adam asked.

Cillian smiled. “Her half brother. Same father, different mothers. Although, I guess I’m technically your great-great-great uncle too. We have the same grand sire. My mother is a full-on banshee and has a taste for mortal men.”

Aoife was completely triggeredwhen she felt the presence of a wraith, but she wasn’t sure if it was a member of her extended family or someone else. Someone sent by Prince Ivar. Not that wraiths were particularly loyal. They did what they did for money or blood or whatever the hell they wanted.

However, they were loyal to family.

Just not reliable.

Cillian was okay as half brothers go. He was a bit shady and completely narcissistic and totally unreliable. She really had no idea why he was here. She knew he wasn’t hunting her down, because no matter how diabolical he was, it was just written into the DNA of wraiths that they couldn’t betray their own blood.

Even if they wanted to.

She didn’t have that, being a banshee.