The Immortal's Redemption. Kelli Ireland
she whispered in the darkness.
A hand clamped over her mouth tightly, and she was dragged back into a hard body.
She fought like a mad woman, biting, kicking, scratching—everything she’d learned in the army.
Just as she’d maneuvered to flip her assailant over her shoulder, he shouted, “Calm down!”
Nostrils alternately flaring and sucking almost closed as she struggled to get enough air, she stopped fighting.
“I’m letting you go.”
Hands slipped away and she spun, knee connecting with a denim-clad groin.
“Oompf!” Ethan doubled over and couldn’t contain the groan that escaped him. “Damn it, Kennedy. You just scrambled my eggs.”
Chest heaving, she took in the shadowy form of her best friend. “Damn you, Ethan! You leave me with directions to run and then return before shoving me into a freaking public restroom, show up here in the dark and finally, truly, scare the crap out of me. What’d you expect me to do? Say thanks?”
“Keep it down.” He propped his hands on his knees and slowly worked his way to standing.
She rubbed her lips, tasting blood. Mine or his? Spinning on her heel, she stalked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “I decided I’m not doing this, going along with your apparent he’s dangerous theory just because I trust you. And I do. Trust you, that is. It’s just...
“This is out of control, Ethan. Climbing out public bathroom windows and dodging Dumpsters and one very large rat to get to my car isn’t reasonable. I’m bruised, scraped up and scared. Living like this isn’t an option. Personnel made it clear last time I missed work that my job was in jeopardy. After this latest stunt? No way. It’ll cost me, and being the director of nursing is who I am, Ethan. I’m not willing to give that up.”
He stepped close and wrapped her in his arms, the hug tight and long. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too, though I’m still not exactly sure what happened.” She tilted her head back and he kissed her on the forehead. “Thanks.”
“You’re my girl. How else would I greet you?”
“Want a beer?” She opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle, offering it over her shoulder.
“Nope. I’m driving.”
She twisted the top off the bottle and took a long pull, the hoppy flavor making her taste buds curl a little, before turning toward Ethan with slow deliberation. “Driving?”
“We’re getting out of here.”
“Clearly, you didn’t hear me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Ignoring her, he spun away and, wraith-like, slipped through the dark house.
She rolled her shoulders and leaned a hip against the counter. It took a minute for her to gather her wits about her before following him down the hall and into his bedroom. When she reached for the light, he grabbed her wrist.
“Lights need to stay out.”
“What? Why?”
“I would imagine we’re okay, but I don’t want to tempt the Fates. The, uh, guy from earlier could be around,” he muttered.
“The cop that’s apparently not a cop.” She considered him carefully. “You realize that every word out of your mouth makes you sound like you’re the one in need of the psych eval, right?”
The ensuing silence said volumes. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, hard in a way she’d never heard it before. “You’ll owe me an apology when this is all said and done.”
She knew she should say something to smooth ruffled feathers, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she carefully lowered herself to the floor and sipped her beer, watching as he packed a small bag.
“You have no idea how much trouble you’re in. Why is this guy gunning for you? What have you done?”
She coughed and sputtered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Gunning for me? You make me sound like I’m an animal and it’s open season. And as for what I’ve done? That would be a big, fat nothing. Not that I remember.”
Ethan shifted. A slight split in the curtains let in the glow from the streetlight and made his gray eyes appear nearly lifeless. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into with him.”
“Then explain it to me.” Derision dripped from each word, and while she wasn’t proud of herself, she really feared Ethan had experienced some kind of mental break.
His eyes narrowed. “I ought to, if only to prove you’re screwed. But I’m going to try to talk you into leaving first.”
“I told you—I’m not leaving.”
“You’ve got to get out of town. Your only chance is to start a new life somewhere else.”
“Not happening.” Tracing the rim of the bottle, she considered Ethan. “Who is he, E? I kept thinking about him this afternoon, and I have this feeling I’ve seen him before. It’s like part of me recognizes him, but it’s the part of me that isn’t me. Does that make any sense?”
Ethan stopped breathing.
Something was right on the edge of her consciousness, something big, but it wouldn’t materialize. The harder she chased it, the more like smoke it became, sifting through her fingers with every grab, spreading thinner and thinner until there was nothing left to seize. “I don’t know how else to explain it, but I know I’m not afraid of him.”
“Well, if there is some other part to you, she’s an idiot.”
A deep growl slipped through her lips.
She stood slowly, fighting an unexpected wave of vertigo. “No. I mean it. Explain.”
Ethan’s chin hitched up and his eyes darkened. A small smile played at one corner of his mouth, and he watched her with disturbing intensity. “You want to know? Think before you answer, because once you know? There’s no undoing it.”
She stared at the sliver of light, thinking. Several long minutes passed before she found her answer and was able to look up at him.
The glint of determination on Ethan’s face was so familiar she hardly considered it significant. He was a playful person, true, but he had a steel core almost everyone missed.
He crossed his arms. “Well?”
“I want to know.”
A strange quiet took hold of him as he settled into himself, and she watched it happen with growing anticipation.
“You’re sure?” he asked once more.
Tension spread through her in stops and starts, dragging frayed nerves along for the ride. “Just say it,” she snapped out.
“Fine,” he answered in kind. “I’m a warlock—magick-practicing and everything.”
She broke into a full grin. When he did nothing but stare at her with a totally straight face, her grin began to fade. “Ethan—”
“Nope. That’s not the end of it.” He dragged a hand down the front of his face. “I knew I’d seen Dylan O’Shea before but couldn’t remember where. He came to a coven I was involved in at the time, and he was looking for someone.”
“A coven, as in a bunch of witches with black cats and brooms and cauldrons.” Shaking her head, she tried not to laugh. “That’s rich, Ethan.”
“I’m not a—” He paused, trying to find a way to explain. “Dylan O’Shea is an actual living, breathing Druid. What’s worse? He’s their Assassin. And they only let that dog off the chain when they’ve