Page 33 of Wine & Warlocks

The man wasn’t budging when it came to knowing what he was getting into, and Ronan couldn’t blame him. If he wasn’t fearful that Reg might not make it out of his prison alive and of not stopping Loman, he wouldn’t so readily have offered up his own blood.

“’Tis simple, really. After Ronan pricks your finger and your blood combines, I’ll consume it, so it will be minglin’ with mine.” Fintan never broke eye contact with Quentin. “It should trick the feckin’ book into allowing me to handle it, short term, until your blood is out of my system.”

“You’ll drink it? That’s it?”

“Aye.”

“Goddammit, I hate this.” Quentin ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair and laced his hands behind his head as he began to pace.

Both Ronan and Fintan allowed him the time he needed to come to the right decision.

Finally, Quentin stopped in front of Ronan and held out his hand, shooting a warning look at Fintan. “If this backfires and affects my family in any way, I’ll crucify the lot of you. Understand?”

For the first time, Ronan saw Fintan’s expression soften. “Your children will never have anything to fear from me, Quentin Buchanan.”

“Children? I only have a daughter—ah.” Quentin smiled wryly. “Well, at least you told me I’ll make it out of this particular battle in one piece.”

With a half smile as acknowledgment, Fintan turned and met Ronan’s watchful gaze. “Begin.”

* * *

Fifteen minutesafter they’d finished the quick blood-letting ritual and confirmed Fintan could handle the enchanted book, Quentin washed the athame clean, salted it, and returned it to Ronan to hide on Reggie’s shelf. Ronan was careful to tuck it behind a collection of Shakespeare’s works, knowing if Loman or his minions ever managed to break in, it might be the last place he’d think to look for any ceremonial tools. One could never be too cautious with his da.

They arrived at the Black Cat Inn just as Dubheasa was joining Trevor and her siblings.

Her voice was breathy and sweet when she said, “Hi.”

Jaysus! How the hell could she take him out at the knees with one sexy-sounding word? How did one warm smile make him want to grovel at her feet and promise her the moon and stars if she’d smile like that at him for the rest of their lives? Crossing to her, he tenderly traced the line of her mouth with his fingertips.

“Hello, Dove,” he replied huskily.

Dubheasa licked her lips and shivered, assuring him he wasn’t the only one so greatly affected. Her response reminded him of their dinner date and how she’d readily agreed to become his lover. Wanting nothing more than to steal her away for a repeat performance of their first time, Ronan barely held himself in check. With her, he could forget about warring families and monstrous parents. And if he could, he’d spend the next year in bed with her, only leaving it for necessities. He’d explore every square inch of her porcelain skin… taste her…

Someone cleared their throat, but Ronan continued to drown in Dubheasa’s incredible eyes.

“What did you find out about Reggie, O’Connor?” Eoin asked.

Ignoring Eoin, Ronan brushed his lips across Dubheasa’s, capturing her soundless moan.

“O’Connor!”

Dubheasa blinked, releasing Ronan from under her spell. Scowling, he faced Cian. “Ya can’t wait a bleedin’ second for me to greet me mate with a simple kiss?”

Cian’s lips twitched as the rest of their group chuckled. “I was afraid you were after shagging her where you stood.”

“Feck off.”

But her brother had read Ronan’s intent correctly. His restraint had frayed, and he’d been one second from teleporting her to his room.

Eoin shared an amused look with Cian. “Sure, and I’ll ask again. What did you find out about Reggie?”

“He’s being held by Loman on an island somewhere in Scotland,” Quentin answered for Ronan, not bothering to lift his head from whatever held his attention on the screen of his phone. “Fintan has the means to communicate with him.”

“What island?”Alastair nearly came out of his seat, but Damian placed a restraining hand on his arm.

The sharp bite of Alastair’s question caught Quentin’s attention as quickly as it had Ronan’s. “He didn’t say. Only that he was being held in a prison that was once a stronghold for someone other than Loman. It sounded like Reggie intended to say the Désorceler Society, but I can’t be sure.” He held up his smartphone. “I’ve been searching Google Earth, looking for any sign of a private island.”

“What’s the Désorceler Society?” Brenna asked.

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