Page 5 of The Seer

“Don’t mock them or the visions, Taryn,” he warned with an ill-at-ease glance skyward. “It’s not the craic.”

“No, it’s not funny, and neither is your behavior toward me. So do us both a favor and shove your apology up your ass, okay?”

His handsome face was a foot above hers, alerting her to the not-so-subtle changes time had wrought. Where once his visage bore that of youth and eagerness—perhaps excitement at a blossoming career—now, it was a chiseled monument to his complex adult life. All the engaging energy of a burgeoning artist had disappeared behind a rock-solid mask of disillusionment and surliness.

“What happened to you?” she asked softly. “To that sweet, kind guy I met who was thrilled to sing to the masses?”

“He discovered what he was,” he said, equally as soft and a helluva lot more tormented. “He has a monster waitin’ inside to wake and gobble up innocent little girls like you, love.”

“Are we speaking literally or figuratively? Because from where I’m standing, it’s figurative and something you can control.”

“It’s not.” His irises darkened further, and she could tell by the deepening color that he was hurting. An excellent barometer for a witch’s feelings was the changing shades. “It’s quite literal, and I can’t control him. At least, not around you.”

CHAPTER2

Throughout the meeting with the Aether, Fintan’s attention strayed to Taryn, and he considered the wrongs he’d perpetrated on her. She’d carelessly listed them as if they meant little to her, but the deep grooves around her downturned mouth and the lack of sparkle in her normally bright eyes spoke of a different story.

Positioned across the table from him, she did her level best to ignore him and avoid the curiosity of everyone else. Their volatile relationship was cause for speculation, and nothing was worse than a bunch of bored men without amusements to occupy them.

Fintan had embarrassed her, though he hadn’t meant to.

Or maybe he had.

But he’d only erected and maintained the wall between them for her protection.

“Who are you kidding, Sullivan? It was to protect yourself.”AlexanderCastor’s voice inside his mind jerked Fintan’s head up and around.

Panicked, he looked at the Sentinels present. Draven’s watchful expression held a hint of pity, while Creed and Alex still expressed ire for Fintan’s earlier behavior. He’d forgotten he wore the fecking tanzanite ring, allowing for unspoken communication with his fellow team members and giving them access to any unguarded thoughts.

“Aye, and maybe it was,”he admitted inside the confines of their silent coms. With a glare at the others, he yanked the communicator off his finger.

What the hell had they heard when he’d been speaking to Taryn in the library? He attempted to recall what he’d been thinking at the time. Other than admiring her fiery fighting spirit or being willing to promise the fucking moon and stars if he could touch her once more, there wasn’t much.

Yeah, he’d give his left nut to have a normal life with her.

“Fintan?”

He nodded when Damian Dethridge addressed him directly. Cursing himself for not paying attention, he shrugged. “Sure, and I’ve been mullin’ over a vision I saw earlier,” he replied, feeling like a disobedient schoolboy caught daydreaming. “I wasn’t listenin’,” he admitted.

Amusement danced in Damian’s dark obsidian eyes, and Fintan fought the urge to squirm. If anyone knew what was going on in his brain, ring or no, it was the Aether.

“I had asked if you’d mind working with Taryn to discover the origins of the necklace she found. It’s Celtic in nature.”

His first instinct was to shout, “Feck no!” Luckily, he held it in check, and his curiosity won out.

“Necklace? What’s that, then?” he asked.

Creed snorted, Draven grinned, and Alex laughed.

“His mind was on other things,” the latter said. “I can’t wait to see how this one plays out.”

“Feck off, why don’t ya?” Fintan growled. “Get your own house sorted before ya take a wreckin’ ball to somebody else’s, yeah?”

“I don’t need his help, Damian,” Taryn inserted quickly. “I’m sure Sabrina may have insight, or I can speak to Mackenzie Thorne.”

Fintan breathed a sigh of relief. If he could avoid touching the object, certain to have a history he wanted no part of, while escaping the forced proximity to Taryn, he’d consider himself fortunate.

Damian grimaced. “I’d prefer not to bring Mack into this if we can help it. She’s a new mother, and the less hassle or drama we bring to her door, the better. As for Beastie, we can ask, but she may experience the same aversion to touching it as I had.”

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