Page 37 of The Seer

With an unhurried grace, Fintan descended the remaining stairs, halting before her. “Somethin’s been botherin’ me since I spoke to Odessa. She was too confident. Too knowing.”

“Knowing? About what? The necklace?” Taryn asked. “Do you think she’s stumbled upon information we don’t have?”

He nodded. “Who was the person at the Witches’ Council you spoke with about the necklace,aoibhneas mo croí?”

“He’s a new hire named Micha Forsyth.”

“Forsyth?” He didn’t look pleased. “Ya said he was a new hire?”

“Yes. He was newly appointed by the Council to head up the archive department,” she replied, glancing between Draven and him. “Why?”

Fintan avoided her question and addressed Draven. “Do you know anythin’ about the man?” he asked sharply.

“I don’t, but I’ve been avoidin’ the witch community for decades,cher. It seems you do, though.”

Taryn touched Fintan’s arm but immediately drew away when his gaze grew intense. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” When she didn’t readily accept his answer, he said, “A feelin’ as if someone’s been walkin’ on me grave but nothing I can pinpoint or explain. The last name is one I’m familiar with.”

“Uh… I, um, I can ask Alastair or Nash. They know everyone.”

“Sure, and you’re on again about the man!” The twinkle in his eyes contradicted his WTF tone.

She grinned, happy he wasn’t truly jealous. “What can I say? The Thornes make beautiful people. As long as Ryanne doesn’t mind, I’ll look my fill.”

“Oh, I’m jealous, Taryn-Taryn. I’ll kill the man if he touches ya,”Fintan replied through their connection.

“You forgot to block the ring’s ability,cher,” Draven said dryly. “Let’s deliver the necklace and determine our next move.”

“I didn’t forget. Let my words serve as a warnin’ to any man who tries to woo her.”

Left with her mouth hanging open, Taryn didn’t know what to say. Fintan’s possessive routine was new and confusing as hell.

Draven glanced back, shooting her a wink.

“Am I in a fever dream?” she muttered. Why did he become territorial? And the better question was why she tolerated it? The about-face was baffling—for both of them.

“I love ya, Taryn-Taryn. I always have, and I’ll not be denyin’ it any longer.”

“But the ancestors?—”

“We’ll find a solution, yeah?”

CHAPTER12

Tragically, Taryn didn’t trust Fintan’s willingness to vex the entities controlling his brain. She built the mental wall like Creed had instructed before giving way to her doubts. With Fintan’s mission to deliver the necklace, he needed all his wits. Her skepticism regarding a relationship shouldn’t weigh on his mind.

Left with nothing to do but check on Narissa and head home, she went upstairs—and promptly got lost. Wandering aimlessly, she checked room after room, climbing the tower until she stumbled upon the one she least expected to find again.

Fintan’s.

She hadn’t realized she’d ventured into the north wing. But maybe her heart was leading her feet instead of listening to her head. Her rebellious limbs took control and crossed the threshold to his room. The first time she was here, she hadn’t given her surroundings much thought. She’d been too concerned for him. But how did she resist a peek into his space when it might give her insight into the man himself?

Decorated in rich navy blue with silver and black accents, it leaned toward gothic. The mammoth four-poster bed was made of the sturdiest wood, and without magical ability, the damned thing wasn’t moving an inch. Although his room was the size of two of hers combined, it was sparse, hinting that Fintan preferred a minimalist lifestyle.

A bureau of drawers on the far wall sparked her curiosity, and she eased open the middle one to peer inside. Graphic t-shirts were neatly folded and coordinated by color, clarifying he was a bit of a neat freak, like she’d always suspected. Lifting one, she inhaled. The combination of wild prairies and ocean breezes greeted her nose. Did he hike? Spend time at the beach? How did the material still retain his unique scent after washing?

She rubbed her cheek on the butter-soft material, half tempted to steal it. Deciding to forego the larcenous life, she returned the shirt to its home and closed the drawer. Abandoning the bureau, she crossed to an antique writing desk. A half-composed song lay on top, and Taryn played the notes in her mind. The tune was haunting and would hit platinum status if he decided to make a comeback and release it.

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