The Falconer (The Falconer #1)

Chapter 17

17

My breath stalls as Kiaran saunters up without care, all coiled grace and lethal intent, as if stumbling on us here is happenstance and not calculation. Beside me, Catherine goes rigid, staring wide-eyed. He hasn’t bothered with a glamour to dim the otherworldly beauty that marks him as fae.

Kiaran’s gaze finds mine, and something dangerous sparks in those ancient eyes. Recognition. As if he can see every secret etched into my skin, every jagged scar.

As if I’m the lamb straying too far, and he’s the wolf come to collect.

Catherine might as well be invisible, for all the attention Kiaran spares her. No, his focus burns into me, peeling back my defences.

His voice, when it comes, is a rumble that skates down my spine. “We need to talk.”

Oh, I am going to kill him. Slowly and creatively. With a rusty spoon.

Or perhaps I’ll spare the spoon and use my teeth.

Catherine makes a strangled sound. I see the conclusions forming in her stare as it darts between us.

Heat climbs my neck, but I force nonchalance, tipping my chin up. “Miss Catherine Kilmartin, allow me to introduce—” an utter bastard who snuck from my bed like a thief in the night “—Mr Kiaran MacKay.”

I say his name like I’m driving a dagger through his ribs. A subtle promise of violence.

Catherine recovers enough to smile, manners ingrained despite her shock. “How do you do?”

“I’m not here for idle chatter,” he says.

Beautiful face. Manners of a barnacle.

Don’t embarrass me. I’ll carve out your heart and make you eat it if you ruin my life.

Kiaran’s eyes narrow, as though he’s plucked that unspoken threat from the air between us. I hear the lyrical cadence of fae words spilling from his lips—likely cursing the day he met me. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“Catherine,” I say, “Mr MacKay is a...” I trail off. Just what does one label him, anyway? Bedmate? Occasional nemesis? “An associate. Here on business.”

The business of humiliating me, clearly. Just a beautiful, hostile acquaintance whose hands and mouth I’ve imagined all over my body when I’m not envisioning stabbing him through the eye with my brooch pin.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr MacKay.” Catherine extends a gloved hand. My friend is nothing if not polite, even when encountering infuriating fae with no concept of manners.

Kiaran stares at her proffered hand as though she’s just offered him a dead fish. Does this male have no grasp of basic manners? Was he raised by a pack of bloody wolves? I wouldn’t be surprised.

I hiss under my breath, “Take her hand, you heathen.”

Honestly.

Kiaran exhales, a growl underlying the sound as he takes her fingers. “If I must endure these ridiculous human customs...”

He brushes his lips over her knuckles in the barest facsimile of a proper greeting.

I seethe. “ The air above her knuckles , you absolute—”

But he’s already dropping her hand, ignoring me. Lost interest. An Arctic breeze would show more warmth.

Catherine sways closer to Kiaran, blinking up at him in dazed awe. “You really are unfairly handsome, Mr MacKay. I hope you don’t mind my saying.”

She drifts nearer still, as if compelled to press herself against him just to inhale more of that exotic scent all fae males exude. A heady aroma I know intimately, having woken up with it still clinging to my sheets.

Damn. Bloody fae males.

I take Catherine’s arm firmly, pulling her back several paces before she does something reckless. She makes a faint sound of protest that I ignore.

“Time to go,” I say. “Wave goodbye.” When we’re a safer distance away, I give her a little shake. “Catherine?”

She blinks up at me, still half in a daze.

A fiercer shake seems to snap her out of her hypnotised state. “Hmm? Did you say something?”

“Eyes here,” I tell her, waiting until she meets my gaze. Her pupils are dilated, the black nearly eclipsing the blue.

“Listen to me,” I say gently. “Admire him from afar if you must, but never touch that man again. He’s trouble of the worst sort.”

“But he’s so very—”

“Oh, I know.” I pat her shoulder. “Truly sublime specimen. But I insist you steer well clear of Mr MacKay.”

She gives me a dreamy smile. “He should come to the ball tomorrow evening.”

I swallow an undignified snort at the idea of Kiaran MacKay unleashed among Edinburgh’s elite at a refined social event. Manners of an odious dock worker, pure arrogance, and he’d probably ruin a dozen ladies before midnight. Have them all penning lusty sonnets to his cock before the first set.

“Absolutely not,” I say.

I feel the aggressive swell of Kiaran’s power an instant before it hits me, potent as any caress. My knees nearly buckle. Beside me, Catherine stills, head cocked, as though listening to a voice only she can hear. I recognise the glassy look in her eyes. She’s slipped under his control.

She turns and begins a tranquil stroll toward the park gates without a backward glance. Off to wait somewhere safe until his compulsion releases her.

Rage scorches along my veins.

I storm over to Kiaran, lounging beneath the elm tree, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Undo whatever you just did to her,” I snarl, “or I’ll remove your fingers one by one.”

Kiaran closes the space between us in one smooth stride. “She’s unharmed,” he says. “I adjusted only the details necessary to erase my existence and remove her from my presence.” One hand comes up, tracing the air beside my face in a caress I can almost feel. “Unless you wanted me to leave her pleading to be bent over the nearest park bench?” His gaze sweeps down, molten silver bleeding through. “I thought you might object to that?”

I ignore that mental picture through sheer force of will. “I liked you better when you were the strong and silent intimidating type,” I snap.

“Lie.” He says it softly. Just a statement of fact.

“I certainly like you less now that you’ve learned to talk.” The elderly couple passing by shoots us curious looks, no doubt wondering at the tension thrumming between us. “Hide us.”

His eyes glint. “Giving orders again?”

“I’m about to raise my voice,” I say through gritted teeth, “and I don’t want an audience.”

Other nosy onlookers are already glancing our way. “Since you asked so politely...”

He lifts a hand, fingers splayed, and his power slams into me. My vision whites out. Dark energy sinks into my bones, my blood, my very cells, suffusing my whole body until I’m certain I’ll shatter from the pressure.

Then it passes, and I straighten on unsteady feet, blinking hard. The park surrounding us is muted and colourless. Even the distant shouts and laughter sound muffled, as if I’m hearing them from underwater. Kiaran bent reality around us, shaping a pocket where we stand unseen.

A neat trick, that. Now I understand how he carved out an entire bloody realm in the middle of Edinburgh.

I round on Kiaran. “Let’s have it,” I demand, grateful my voice hardly shakes. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your unwelcome lurking?”

Kiaran lifts an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t call it lurking.”

“No? Then what would you call it?” I tap my lips. “Skulking, perhaps? Creeping about? Slithering up on me like a great brooding serpent? I was just thinking what a nice surprise it is for you to intrude on my walk and be smouldering and cryptic in my general direction. Can’t wait to be dazzled by whatever important matter compelled your appearance.”

“Did I upset you?” He almost sounds bemused.

I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Shall we review the facts? You snuck out of my bed pre-dawn like a thief—”

“You seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Don’t interrupt. You show up unannounced, interrupting my walk—”

“I had good reason.”

“—you meddled with my oldest friend’s memories—”

“Gently. With care.”

“—and now we’re sequestered away while you glower at me. So yes, you’ve managed to irritate me quite thoroughly.”

He considers my litany of complaints. “I had business to take care of last night,” he says in what I suppose is meant to be a defence.

“I know you talk like a solicitor, but when you say business , it sounds rather threatening.” I narrow my eyes. “What business?”

Kiaran looks casual, but his entire body radiates menace. A beautiful, lethal predator licking his claws clean. “The two fae who fled from us last night made the mistake of trying to hide in the Fade. So I paid them a visit.”

I suppress a shiver at the ominous implication. The promise of violence wrapped in genteel words. “Do I even want to know what you did with them?”

Kiaran steps into my space. Claiming it. I resist the urge to step back, to yield ground. “Does it matter? I don’t tolerate disloyalty.” His voice drops lower, soft with warning. “Nor do I forgive anyone threatening what’s mine.”

“I don’t belong to you. I’m not your subject, I’m not your servant. I’m not yours. The mark doesn’t mean—”

For an instant, his eyes flare with unguarded hunger. There and gone. The wolf peeking out from behind the polished civility.

“Of course not,” he concedes after a pause.

We’re balanced on the knife edge of dangerous admissions. I draw the conversation to safer ground. “Tell me,” I say, “what was so important that you interrupted my walk to convey it? I assume you’re not here to brag about your murderous jaunt.”

“I came to warn you.” There’s a tension in every line of his body. Lethal focus waiting to be unleashed. “Stay off the streets until we eliminate the threat. There’s unrest in the Fade. Arion has some convinced that freeing the fae belowground will allow us to restore the fallen Courts and retake the lands we’ve lost. He’s likely responsible for the rogues you’ve been hunting.”

The fae who ambushed me were part of a failed coup against the ruling hierarchies a thousand years ago, their allies left entombed beneath this city. And I am the last barrier between them and victory.

The final piece to remove.

“But if the seal breaks, it would mean catastrophe,” I say. “This city would be—”

“A slaughterhouse. They know.” His jaw tightens. “Not all care anymore. They want power restored, whatever the cost. Including you. And I’m concerned that last night, you hesitated.”

The words pierce me. I shut my eyes, breathing deeply against the swell of memories threatening to drag me under. Claws hooking in my skin. Fangs at my throat. A cruel melody sung as I screamed.

You’ll break so exquisitely.

“If you’re asking me to stay locked up in my house—”

“Take your pixie with you when you leave,” he says. “Tell him to alert me if there’s any sign of trouble.”

I raise my eyebrow. “You want me to take my crass pixie to a society ball? I’d rather call you through the mark.”

“He’s faster, and you tend to attract mayhem.”

“I wouldn’t attract it if you didn’t bring it with you.”

Before Kiaran can argue further, the earth beneath our feet trembles. It starts as a faint vibration, so subtle I almost don’t notice it at first. But then the tremors strengthen. Pebbles and soil hop and skitter across the grass. The tree branches shake, shedding flakes of bark.

I stumble into Kiaran, off-balance from the increasing violence of the quakes. His hands grasp my waist to steady me.

“MacKay?” I whisper.

A wet thump hits the grass between us. A black feather floats to rest on the dead crow cooling at our feet. Dark blood drips from its beak to stain the frosted path.

Kiaran and I glance up at the cloudy sky. Above us, a murder of crows stills mid-flight, silhouettes against the wan sunlight. Wings spread wide. Obsidian feathers ruffle in the brisk wind gusting through the branches.

And then they begin to fall.

Their bodies spiral earthward one by one. Striking the dirt with sickening wet smacks—hollow bones snapping on impact, dark wings crumpling.

I barely have time to suck in a shocked breath before Kiaran grabs me, shoving me back against the rough bark of the elm tree looming tall behind us.

He presses in close, caging me in. My arms come up instinctively to wrap tight around his neck for balance. Our faces are inches apart, breaths mingling.

“What—”

“Hush.”

The last crow’s body flops lifeless onto the grass. A dozen feathered corpses lie scattered around us now. The only movement comes from their black feathers, ruffling in the biting winter wind.

“What was that?” I ask unsteadily.

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “That night on the hill,” he says tightly. “When you were ambushed. Did you notice anything amiss with the seal?”

I suppress a shudder as a memory slices through me—dirt and stones at my back, fangs shredding me and laughter while I screamed. And beneath it all pulses the seal, a steady heartbeat marking my last moments.

“I was a bit distracted at the time trying not to die,” I say, unable to keep the bite from my tone. “So no, I didn’t stop to inspect the bloody seal while they were ripping me apart.”

“You came dangerously close to death before I put my mark on you. Close enough that it might have weakened the bindings. Fae power is leaking out.”

Dread congeals in my chest, cold and heavy. “Can we repair it?”

“We’ll see if your blood mends it.” His eyes are intent on my face. “Are you prepared to give more?”

My answering smile holds only jagged edges. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”