Page 52 of The Seer

“Oh! I didn’t mean you and I shouldn’t share a loving connection. Only to save you from all my self-doubt and recriminations.”

“And I’d save you from me own, too. But I also want you to know I’m being honest with ya and holdin’ nothin’ back.”

Honesty shone from his troubled eyes, and her shame expanded to overwhelming proportions. She’d been busy trying to protect herself and keep any doubts hidden when she should’ve been voicing them and resolving their issues.

“Thank you for trusting me with your truth, Fintan. And if it’s any consolation, I don’t want to date Micha or anyone else.” She smiled as she stroked his jaw, absently noting his stubble. “I’ve always cared about you. Even when I desperately wanted to hate you for disappearing like you did.” Holding up a hand to prevent his protest, she said, “We don’t need to readdress it. I believe you. It’s just a matter of convincing my head and heart to take another chance. It’s like baseball. Three strikes and you’re out.”

“And I have two against me?”

“No, not you. I meant me, striking out at love twice. Here I am, standing at the plate, staring down the pitcher, and knowing he intends to throw a curveball. How do I prepare for it?”

“Just keep your eye on the ball,aoibhneas mo croí.Free your mind and do what comes naturally. I promise you’ll hit the bleedin’ thing out of the park.”

“You make it sound so easy when we both know it isn’t,” she said forlornly.

“It’s not my intent. I only want to ease your fears.”

Feeling as if she’d talked the issue to death, she nodded. She stretched on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly. “Thank you. Let’s discuss your plan.”

“It’s only half-baked, as you Americans say.”

Grinning, she shook her head. “Maybe we should get half-baked and hash the rest out.”

“Are ya always goin’ to be a bad influence?”

“Whenever I can.”

He chuckled. The pitch was low, bordering on wicked, and it shot throughout her body, distributing delicious shivers. It gave her the smallest taste of his power.

His expression hardened. “I didn’t mean?—”

Taryn placed a finger over his lips. “I’m not objecting, and you didn’t steal anything, Fintan. Please don’t freak out.”

The tightness around his eyes and mouth eased. With a kiss of her fingertip, he drew her hand down and placed it over his heart.

“Thank you, Taryn-Taryn.”

“Let’s take things one problem at a time. When we’ve dealt with Odessa and Bloodstone’s necklace, we’ll work on us, okay?”

“Aye.”

“I’m sensing you want to know about Micha.” His silence was answer enough. “Okay, so it’s my understanding that he began working for the Witches’ Council about four months ago. I met him about six weeks ago when I turned over an artifact I discovered at an estate sale in Salem.”

“Just how often do you find those bleedin’ artifacts?”

She laughed. “Quite a bit. Most people can’t sense the magic they hold and want to get rid of garbage. Others believe they are being sentimental for hanging on to grandma’s trinkets.”

“Why start huntin’ them in the first place?”

His interest seemed genuine, and it was easier to reveal her reasons.

“It began after Morcant.”

“Ah. It’s a recent thing?”

“Yes. I couldn’t escape into my books anymore, and whenever I was at the shop—Soleil and I have one downtown—I’d get restless. The driving need to search out objects was strong. Weirdly, I haven’t experienced it since finding the amulet.”

“Have you never spoken to anyone about your trauma?” he asked quietly.

---