The man stood there, hands in his pockets, a slow, knowing smile curling his lips. “Miss me, baby?”
Howthe fuck did Viper not see him?
Reaper’s blood turned to ice. His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms hard enough to draw blood.
Derek tilted his head, his gaze raking over him with a possessive hunger that made his skin crawl. “You look like hell.” Reaper’s stomach twisted with dread at his sickeningly sweet velvet purr. “But then again, you always did after a fight.”
His pulse roared in his ears, the mating bond a distant, muffled hum beneath the storm of rage and fear.
Derek took a step forward. “Did you really think you could run forever?”
Cian, Failinis, I need you.
20
Cian paced backand forth infront of the Fianna Door. He’d been here since the bond flared with a sharp, sudden burst of Reaper’s pain. The taste of blood and gunpowder had flooded his mouth, and he’d known. His Grá Croí was hurt.
Failinis had howled inside his chest, clawing to be free, to hunt down their mate and ensure his safety. Cian wanted that, too, so badly. But Fionn had insisted he was waiting inside the door. He’d even issued a royal fecking decree in front of the Warrior Hounds of the Fianna, and made Cian swear he would not cross it, until either Reaper came for him, or the time was right.
“How will I know the time is right?”
“You’ll know.”
Fionn has turned into a bit of an arse.
I agree, Failinis. He has.
Who knows? Maybe being locked away for so long made him even more insane than he was to begin with.
So they waited. Cian sat on a rock, with his swords laid bare across his thighs, his breath steady, and his body coiled like a spring. And Failinis, in his head, with his head on his paws, staring at the door through his human brother's eyes. Both waiting for their man to come home.
Someone is coming.
Who?
Not mate.
Damn.
“Is anyone there?” Viper’s voice came through from the other side. “Can you fetch the druid Ward to open the door?”
“The door is open for the bonds of the Grá Croí,” he called.
Except for us.
Mean Fionn.
The veil rippled, and Viper stepped through, his boots kicking up sparks against the stone. He took one look at him, “He’s coming. Where…”
“Dún Fianna, waiting in the Crannóg, kept for your use. He is tired from working the magic to make the door more stable. Now the Grá Croí bond will allow a man to join his mate on the other side.”
“So why are you waiting here?”
“Orders from mo Rhí.”
“Damn, that must suck.”
He could see Viper was itching to go find Ward, so he waved him off. “Go, yours is waiting for you. Have your reunion before you jump out of your skin, as Reaper does in his sleep.”
