A massive body charged through the crowd like a bear, catching me mid-fall into the void. A different pair of hands encompassed my face, demanding yet soft.
“Look at me.” Those two, beautiful green eyes penetrated that dark part of me. “You,” Finley said, fierce and unyielding, “arenomistake!”
Lips crashed into mine.
It wasn’t the soft, sweet kiss I’d imagined he’d give. No, this was determined,claiming. My mouth immediately surrendered, opening to him, letting him have me. His tongue wove into mine with seductive strokes. An arm curled around, yanking me closer, my back arching in response.
The blood inside me was at a roaring boil, right before I felt asnap.
The Liplock spell. It finally broke—like a fever leaving me in a damp, clammy mess.
But how strange. The desire was still there, no longer a torrent, just a steady stream. Had Breena messed up the potion? Perhaps a lingering side-effect?
Icould’vestopped the kiss, but I didn’t want to. Finley’s form was strong and embracing and, in the moment, I felt safe, cared for. A deep part of me wept, knowing I just needed to feel that—even if just for one night.
Finley slowed the kiss, making me realize just how boisterous the room was. I was too afraid to open my eyes, knowing the cheers, hollers, and laughter was directed at us.
Someone dramatically cleared their throat.
We reluctantly released our mouths from each other.
“Don’t think ya need to conceive a babe in the middle of the bar to ensure doom isn’t upon us. I’d say we’re in the clear . . .”
Lochlainn, of course.
He had his arms crossed, looking vexed and perhaps mildly nauseated by us.
With the potion’s fog lifted, only a bit of drunkenness remained. I briefly swiveled my eyes around, catching a glimpse of Pogue at the bar, throwing back some dark liquid. There was a serrated edge to the energy around him. I could almost see black wisps creating an aura.
My abilities were no longer muffled. A part of my Soulsayer unintentionally opened—feeling something sharp and stabbing. I looked toward Pogue and wondered if that’s what his soul felt like. Livid, seething . . .
Wait . . . did I actually just feel his soul? What—? How?—?
That’d never happened before.
I spoke to souls, yes—but I’d never read one belonging to someonealivebefore. Then again, I’d been drugged and drinking questionable liquids. So this could all be some hallucination, right? Right.
I pulled back, loosening Finley’s embrace on me.
“I’m up!” Breena sang.
Aine returned to our area of the bar, nursing a bubbly drink. She smirked, seeing how overjoyed Breena was to be playing this demonic game.
The warmth at my back was comforting as Finley embraced me from behind, allowing me to watch my friend’s turn.
A rush of desire prickled my skin.
Shouldn’t this have gone away?
As if scenting my desire, he leaned in, brushing his lips overmy earlobe. “Want to find somewhere a little less . . . crowded?”
There was an inferno behind his sweet, teasing question—a heat I hadn’t expected, but desperately needed to feel.
My head nodded before my brain could catch up. The alcohol wrapped around me like a jacket, as did his arms.
Fingers interlocked with mine, guiding me to a far corner of the bar, far more private. The walls were lined with black, semi-circle leather booths. Dim light from the orb candelabras reflected off the leather. The round tables had long, luxurious, plum tablecloths that cascaded to the floor.
I scooted into a booth, Finley following close behind. His arm instinctually slid behind my head, resting against the seat.
