Page 17 of The Seer

Dismay chased shock across his divinely handsome face.

Yes, she could understand why all his gorgeousness, along with his Siren’s song, could send a woman straight to her knees, either to beg for sexual favors or give them.

One of his dark brows shot up, and an intrigued light entered his stormy eyes. His sensual mouth kicked up at the corner. “It’s temptin’ to see you on those grand knees,aoibhneas mo croí.”

Heat spread from her chest up her neck and scorched her face.

Their stupid mental link was going to get her in deep shit if she didn’t learn to turn it off.

“Aye,” he growled. “The deepest shite imaginable.”

But his gaze had softened, and the fierce man from a moment ago looked regretful.

“I’ll try to keep my thoughts to myself,” she promised.

“Sure, and that would be best.” He turned on his heel to leave but paused. “It’s sorry I am if I scared you, Taryn-Taryn.”

“You didn’t. Not really.”

Fintan grunted in his standard grumpy fashion before striding out the door.

Next on her agenda was to find a way to block their thought exchange. Maybe Brenna could help, and if not, she could go to Damian as a last resort.

“Fintan?” she whispered, imagining him in her mind’s eye. Not the angry, resentful version, but the grinning young man, with his mischievous dancing eyes.

The buzz of their link grew louder, and she assumed he could hear her.

“I didn’t mean to provoke you or your Siren. I’m sorry, too.”

Radio silence.

Well, she tried. Standing, she crossed to his beloved guitar and stroked her fingers along the wood’s grain.

“I miss your music,”she telegraphed.“I never got the chance to tell you, but I was your biggest fan. And the world is worse for not experiencing your beautiful songs.”

“Thank you, Taryn-Taryn.”

She closed her eyes in relief, strangely grateful he’d chosen to respond.“When you’re willing, we should discuss the necklace. I found out a few things?—”

Like a fucking wraith, he appeared, triggering her scream.

“Dude! What the fuck? I thought you’d left.” She placed a hand over her pounding heart and glared. “Not cool.”

His engaging grin was reminiscent of their first meeting, and Taryn’s lungs squeezed, making breathing difficult.

“Yeah, and you should’ve led with the information about Bloodstone’s necklace,” he said.

“You never gave me a chance.” She inhaled a steadying breath. “Ready to listen?”

He plopped down and drew the guitar in his lap as if it were his talisman against her particular brand of sorcery. “Aye.”

CHAPTER6

“Bloodstone’s necklace, as it’s known, belonged to Ardghal”—Taryn mistakenly pronounced it ARD-gall—“Sullivan.”

“It’s AHR-dahl. The G is silent, and the D begins the second syllable,aoibhneas mo croí,” Fintan corrected, unable to contain his grin. He’d frequently hidden and listened to her slaughter the Irish language in conversations with Brenna and Eoin. Later, after she’d left, he and Eoin would craic on about the women’s attempts. Never within Brenna’s hearing, because they were considerate of her feelings.

Taryn waved a hand as if the name were of no importance. “Potato, potahto. But his nickname was Bloodstone, and he was the first Seer.”

---