Page 9 of The Seer

Their lips met. The explosion of light behind his eyes jolted him. But the sense of rightness he’d felt when she first spoke returned to embrace him, and he cupped her face with both hands, pressing into her as she gripped his waist.

“Get a feckin’ room,” Donal shouted, giving him a shove and laughing at his own idiocy when Taryn’s beer spilled down the front of Fintan’s trousers.

“Are ya a bleedin’ eejit, Donal? Where the fuck’s your brain, man?” Fintan growled. He’d long since had enough of the guy’s antics. Once they’d gained a small measure of fame, Donal became an obnoxious dryshite.

To Taryn, who looked thoroughly dismayed, Fintan apologized. “It’s sorry I am, love. Are you all right? You didn’t get hurt by his eejit move?”

He would’ve sworn hearts entered her eyes as she smiled in her sweet, unassuming way. “No. I didn’t get hurt. Would you like me to, um”—her gaze locked on his crotch—“take care of that?”

Fintan almost swallowed his tongue and, had he been able to speak, would’ve asked just what she intended. They were interrupted when the bartender tossed him a towel.

“Dry that up, and don’t be acting the maggot in me pub, yeah?”

“Aye, Bridget. It won’t happen again,” he said, bending to soak up the mess on the floor.

As he returned the towel, the fiery redhead gave him a sharp nod before winking at Taryn. “Be careful, girl. Most of the men in these parts are only after a ride. Don’t be losin’ your heart to one such as these, yeah?”

“Ach! Now, why would ya be sayin’ such a thing?” Fintan pretended to cover Taryn’s ears, then lifted one hand to say, “We’re not all heartless rogues, love.”

With a snort, Bridget gestured to the stage. “Break’s over. Get your arse back up there. Your newest fan can sit here and keep me company.”

“Sure, and don’t be fillin’ Taryn-Taryn’s ears with shite about me,” he warned with a wink.

“Go!” Bridget ordered, but laughter lurked in her command.

Leaning in for a quick kiss, he met Taryn’s sparkling aqua eyes. “You’ll stick around?”

“Yes.”

“Grand. The next one is for you.”

As he turned to go, she gripped his wrist. “Wait! It looks like you peed your pants. You can’t go up there like that.”

“The lighting is low, and?—”

He made a strangled sound when she cupped him through his jeans. With berry-red cheeks, she whispered, “Come to me.”

Brains scrambled, cock thickening, and agreement only a heartbeat away, Fintan opened his mouth to speak. But she withdrew her balled fist and placed it flat over the mouth of an empty glass. All the liquid that had been soaking his pants filled the mug, leaving his clothing bone dry.

Heat climbed his neck when she shot him an amused look.

“I know what you were thinking, but I’m notthateasy,” she said pertly.

“I never thought you were, Taryn-Taryn,” he assured her, somehow knowing in his heart of hearts she wasn’t the type to hook up with a random stranger, lead singer or no. He tucked a strand of her wild mane behind one ear. “But a man can hope, yeah?”

Her laughter followed him to the stage, or perhaps he imagined it did, but when he sought her out across the room, he experienced vertigo. His entire world was turned inside out in an instant.

* * *

PRESENT DAY…

Taryn had heardtalk of Fintan’s psychic gift in recent years, particularly “the ancestors” part. The facts from Damian were that the Sullivan line produced one male per generation to receive the ability, and those controlling bastards directed his every movement.

Was it as simple as Fintan doing what he was told back then? Now, too? If so, did she want a man who wouldn’t fight for her above all else? What was the alternative? Was he supposed to give up his magic for her? Definitely not. But goddess above, she wanted him to say he would, and not because she required it but because he desired her more.

She’d never ask him to, though.

“I know you wouldn’t,aoibhneas mo croí.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, reminiscent of the night they’d met.

---