Page 68 of Wine & Warlocks

As she collapsed and her shoulder bounced against the ground, Loman flashed her a gloating smile, so evil in his pleasure. The fucker had anticipated Reggie’s shot and teleported out of the arrow’s path.

Not wanting his to be the last face she saw, she turned her head toward the rush of running feet.

Ronan’s frantic eyes turned a deep gunmetal gray with his looming grief.

“I’m sorry,” she said. A death rattle choked off the last of her apology as metallic-tasting liquid pooled in her mouth. She tried again. “I’m so—” Once again, coughs caused her body to spasm, and her blood splattered against his charcoal-gray shirt, adding to the dark stains of his enemies’ blood already there.

“Don’t talk, Dove,” he cried urgently. “Don’t try to talk. We’ll get ya to the healer. Just hold on, love.”

His words ran together the more panicked he became, and she tried to smile. To assure him he’d be just fine without her. Because he was Ronan Fucking O’Connor, the best man she knew.

Freezing and exhausted, with no more energy remaining, she closed her eyes and turned her face toward the warmth of his large palm. She lifted her lids to view—and perhaps memorize for the afterlife—his beautiful face one last time. “Love you,” she murmured as she exhaled her last breath.

CHAPTER29

When Dubheasa’s ear com had stopped transmitting, Ronan’s inner voice refused to give him peace until he returned to find her. But he wasn’t prepared for the scene he’d stumbled across, and now he knelt, frozen in shock at the sight of her still form. With no magic to heal her, none to keep her on this plane with him, he was desolate.

“Save her,” he cried hoarsely. “Please, Da. You’re the only one with the power.”

“Sure, and tell me, boyo, why would I be after revivin’ her when I already have what I want?”

Ronan had momentarily forgotten the lessons of his childhood. Begging would gain him naught. Because he wanted Dubheasa more than his own life, Loman would deny him. Needing a new tactic, Ronan attempted to rack his traumatized brain.

“She was to be a Guardian,” Reggie stated clearly and coolly as if he were simply imparting facts, with no care one way or another. “If you bring her back, you can take her power along with Ronan’s.”

Gratitude filled Ronan, but he kept his visage blank as his gaze lowered to Dubheasa’s lifeless eyes. Raw panic tried to wrap its ugly, insidious fists around his mind. It crept forward, ready to turn him into a reactive Neanderthal. But he needed to keep a level head. Though she wasn’t lost to him completely, the longer Dubheasa was in the Otherworld, the higher the chance parts of her soul would fracture off, leaving her dispassionate and distant when she returned to this plane. And Ronan needed her whole. Needed her fiery nature to keep his own soul warm and alive. Currently, the only person capable of bringing her back with any expediency was his heartless father.

“You have enough magic from all these poor bastards to revive her. If you save her, I’ll give you more of what you want,” Ronan found himself saying. Steeling himself, he glanced up and locked gazes with Loman. “I’ll give you the power of a Guardian.”

Greed lit his father’s eyes even as a disgusted sneer curled his lips. “And hers. I want hers if it’s true she was to be a Guardian.”

“It’s true.”

A moan sounded a small distance beyond Dubheasa’s body, but Ronan didn’t look to see who had made the sound. Likely another unfortunate soul his kindhearted Dove had tried to save.

As Loman’s head turned toward the person in the shadows, his smile became gloating. “See O’Malley? Ya came after me, thinking you could best me, didn’t ya? I told ya before that I always win, I did.”

Whipping his head in the direction of the prisoner he’d intentionally ignored, Ronan registered an elderly male with pain-filled green eyes locked on Dubheasa. The man’s arms had suffered major burns, and angry blisters rose on the darkened skin, but still, he stretched them in an attempt to touch her.

“O’Malley?” The name fell involuntarily from Ronan’s lips.

As their gazes collided, he saw what he’d missed. Dubheasa’s father. It could be no other. The guy bore a remarkable resemblance to Cian, but bearing auburn hair laced with silver highlights.

Ronan’s chest ached.

There lay the true reason Dubheasa hadn’t tried to escape when Loman came upon her. The father she thought had left her and her siblings behind was, in truth, a prisoner of Ronan’s own father. And Dubheasa, with her forgiving nature, was too loyal by far. Doubtless, she’d have tried to save him or remain to offer comfort in his existing state of injury.

Dismissing the wounded man, Loman lifted his hand toward Reggie. “The controller, boyo. I’ll have it back now, I will. Sure, and the others are eager to go back into their cages.”

The shuffling of feet throughout the cellblock finally penetrated Ronan’s consciousness, and down the aisle, the captives who were capable of walking inched their way toward the main exit, trying desperately to go unnoticed.

“Let them go, Da.” Ronan stood and blocked Loman’s view of the hallway. “You’ve got me.”

His father turned feral in a mere blink. “But you’re powerless, ya useless fuck! Ya think I don’t know that you bound your magic to come here? There’s no light radiatin’ off ya, like a true Guardian would have. Just as yourhorhad none,” he spat.

Right when Ronan would’ve charged and pummeled his father to death, Reggie stepped between them and placed a hand on Ronan’s chest, attempting to restrain him.

“It will take but one phone call to restore what’s been bound, Uncle,” Reggie said smoothly, presumably stalling for time for the remaining prisoners to escape. “Ronan can call the Aether and have his abilities returned in an instant.”

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