Read Online Reluctant Adept: Book Three of A Clairvoyant's Complicated Life by Katherine Bayless - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Katherine Bayless
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turned back toward my window.
Tíereachán squeezed my arm and tried to pull me toward him, but I shrugged him off. I dropped my arms, my hands thumping to rest limply on my thighs. "His strigoi thugs enthralled everyone, held them hostage. He wants me to retrieve Maeve." I went on to explain the details of Lorcán's ultimatum. "There's no way I can bust her out of there. I'm not a djinn with untold powers. When I told him the whole idea was ludicrous, he ordered one of his vamps to murder my ex-boyfriend. She tore open his throat, and I stood there, stuttering like an idiot while she did it."
I turned to stare at him. Even in the dark, it was easy to discern the shock and sympathy in his widened eyes. "Maybe if Lorcán hadn't told me about Kieran and Nuala and … who I am — " I faltered, sucking in a breath at the memory. "I might have been able to keep it together, but— " I shook my head vehemently. "I warned him. I tried. I told him it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge, but the fucker didn't listen. He killed him. Poor Glen … he … he didn't have a chance," I said, my voice breaking. "The rest could be dead too, and it's all my stupid fault!"
As I slumped to the seat, he pulled me into his arms. Red scrabbled over my back, jumping to the window's ledge to avoid inflicting his defensive spells on him. I collapsed against the warmth of Tíereachán's chest, grief-stricken and too wrecked to resist the enticing comfort of his embrace.
He tucked my head under his chin and shushed me, whispering tender endearments and holding me close. Boneless and sniffling, I swallowed my tears and tried to think positive. Kieran would call any minute. It took time to save everyone and defeat Lorcán. He'd be okay. Soon enough, he'd tell me, in his alluring, musical baritone, that Julie and Steven and the rest of my friends were okay. The disheartening bombshell about his continued deception … I didn't have the strength to dwell on it, not when I awaited news of their possible deaths, knowing the fiasco was my fault.
After several minutes, Tíereachán murmured, "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner. I didn't receive Wade's warning message about the revelations at Maeve's trial until late, and Michael neglected to inform me of your friend's party until afterward. I felt your anguish and we were still blocks away." His arms stiffened, crushing me against him. At my squeak of protest, he eased his hold. My head rose and fell along with his heavy sigh.
This was the first I'd heard that he could sense my emotions through our blood connection. A spark of unease fluttered through me, but I cataloged the disturbing thought under the heading, 'Things To Freak Out About Tomorrow.' Or next week. Better yet, how about never?
He muttered bitterly, "What was my cousin thinking, allowing you to attend that party in the first place?"
I crumpled the smooth weave of his shirt as shame swelled up to lodge heavy in my throat. I turned my face into his chest, trying to hide from the world, from my mistake, from everything. "My fault— "
"No, Lire," Red scolded from his window perch. "I will not allow you to bear this burden. You have every right to live your life—more cause than most, in my mind. Any fault in this lies entirely with Lorcán. The decision to leave the relative safety of your building was mutually decided. Even had we stayed, you know as well as I, the safety there is an illusion. A fact proved by Lorcán's brutal yet effective tactics."
Red explained the strategy behind our evening plans to Tíereachán and Fisk. If either one thought it naïve or misguided, they kept their opinion to themselves.
As my frantic, guilt-plagued thoughts quieted, I became aware of Tíereachán's gentle stroking along my spine. At first, the unsolicited contact had been a dimly noticed comfort, but now that the heat of his body and his clean, citrusy scent had risen to the fore of my mind, unease hitched along for the ride,
Tíereachán squeezed my arm and tried to pull me toward him, but I shrugged him off. I dropped my arms, my hands thumping to rest limply on my thighs. "His strigoi thugs enthralled everyone, held them hostage. He wants me to retrieve Maeve." I went on to explain the details of Lorcán's ultimatum. "There's no way I can bust her out of there. I'm not a djinn with untold powers. When I told him the whole idea was ludicrous, he ordered one of his vamps to murder my ex-boyfriend. She tore open his throat, and I stood there, stuttering like an idiot while she did it."
I turned to stare at him. Even in the dark, it was easy to discern the shock and sympathy in his widened eyes. "Maybe if Lorcán hadn't told me about Kieran and Nuala and … who I am — " I faltered, sucking in a breath at the memory. "I might have been able to keep it together, but— " I shook my head vehemently. "I warned him. I tried. I told him it wouldn't take much to push me over the edge, but the fucker didn't listen. He killed him. Poor Glen … he … he didn't have a chance," I said, my voice breaking. "The rest could be dead too, and it's all my stupid fault!"
As I slumped to the seat, he pulled me into his arms. Red scrabbled over my back, jumping to the window's ledge to avoid inflicting his defensive spells on him. I collapsed against the warmth of Tíereachán's chest, grief-stricken and too wrecked to resist the enticing comfort of his embrace.
He tucked my head under his chin and shushed me, whispering tender endearments and holding me close. Boneless and sniffling, I swallowed my tears and tried to think positive. Kieran would call any minute. It took time to save everyone and defeat Lorcán. He'd be okay. Soon enough, he'd tell me, in his alluring, musical baritone, that Julie and Steven and the rest of my friends were okay. The disheartening bombshell about his continued deception … I didn't have the strength to dwell on it, not when I awaited news of their possible deaths, knowing the fiasco was my fault.
After several minutes, Tíereachán murmured, "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner. I didn't receive Wade's warning message about the revelations at Maeve's trial until late, and Michael neglected to inform me of your friend's party until afterward. I felt your anguish and we were still blocks away." His arms stiffened, crushing me against him. At my squeak of protest, he eased his hold. My head rose and fell along with his heavy sigh.
This was the first I'd heard that he could sense my emotions through our blood connection. A spark of unease fluttered through me, but I cataloged the disturbing thought under the heading, 'Things To Freak Out About Tomorrow.' Or next week. Better yet, how about never?
He muttered bitterly, "What was my cousin thinking, allowing you to attend that party in the first place?"
I crumpled the smooth weave of his shirt as shame swelled up to lodge heavy in my throat. I turned my face into his chest, trying to hide from the world, from my mistake, from everything. "My fault— "
"No, Lire," Red scolded from his window perch. "I will not allow you to bear this burden. You have every right to live your life—more cause than most, in my mind. Any fault in this lies entirely with Lorcán. The decision to leave the relative safety of your building was mutually decided. Even had we stayed, you know as well as I, the safety there is an illusion. A fact proved by Lorcán's brutal yet effective tactics."
Red explained the strategy behind our evening plans to Tíereachán and Fisk. If either one thought it naïve or misguided, they kept their opinion to themselves.
As my frantic, guilt-plagued thoughts quieted, I became aware of Tíereachán's gentle stroking along my spine. At first, the unsolicited contact had been a dimly noticed comfort, but now that the heat of his body and his clean, citrusy scent had risen to the fore of my mind, unease hitched along for the ride,
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