Wise? It might be more prudent to see who he is. If he is the same one who helped you in Ireland, there’s a reason he’s on Skye. It’s always better to have information.
Maybe, but she didn’t want to get involved. Getting answers meant that she would have to talk to people, and that totally messed up the hermit lifestyle she had come to know and love. All she had to do was lift her foot and move forward. Just lift the foot. It was simple. Liiiiiiift….
Instead, she turned around and found herself staring into the red eyes of a Dark Fae.
“I won’t harm you,” he said.
It was the same voice as the man in Ireland. She’d recognize it anywhere. Deep, velvety, and utterly erotic. She’d never heard another like it. Sorcha knew firsthand how stunningly beautiful all Fae were, regardless of if they were Light or Dark. This man was no exception. His face was cut from granite with hard edges that seemed to contrast with his full mouth, the bottom lip plumper than the top. His eyes were fringed with thick, black lashes. And his body…it looked just as good as it had felt beneath her hands the night he’d carried her.
But he was Fae. Dark Fae, at that.
His gaze slid away as he sighed. “I should’ve used glamour. I didn’t mean to frighten you. That Light Fae won’t be bothering you again.”
Chapter Six
“Why?”
Cathal blinked at her question. “Why, what?”
“Why did you help me? You’re Dark.”
It had never bothered him until that moment that he was a Dark Fae. He had accepted who he was long before he’d become a Reaper. Then again, she seemed to have been just as disgusted by the Light Fae. So maybe it wasn’t only his coloring. “You told him twice to leave you alone.”
“And you thought I needed saving. Again.”
“If I hadn’t stepped in, things could’ve gotten…bad…for you.”
Her nostrils flared as she blew out a breath. “Thank you for helping me, but I didn’t ask for it this time.”
So, she did remember him. Cathal wasn’t sure that was good or not. Any minute, she’d ask him how he had found her and what he wanted. He bowed his head, hoping to be gone before then. “I’ll leave you so you can get back to whatever you were doing.”
“Why are you here?”
He halted mid-stride. So much for him getting away before she dropped her questions. He looked at her, knowing that Aisling was near, veiled and listening. “Looking for you.”
“Oh?” she said, brows raised. “Aren’t I the lucky one? Whatever you want, I’m not interested.”
“You might be if you listen to what I have to say.”
She flattened her lips and shook her head. “I can guarantee I won’t. The first time in ten years that I left my house was to go to Ireland. I did that as a favor, and I’ve regretted every minute of it.”
“Really?” he asked. “For someone who hasn’t left their house in that long, you seem to have enjoyed getting out enough to be here.”
He didn’t mention following her to the beach. It had gutted him to see her crying. He didn’t know what had caused her tears, but the silent way she’d stood there as they ran down her face spoke of deep anguish. He recognized it since he had been there himself at one time.
Emerald green eyes narrowed for a heartbeat. “You’re on Skye. The home of Druids. You might have access because of the Fairy Pools, but that doesn’t mean your kind is welcome here.”
At that, she turned on her heel and began to walk away.
Cathal smiled. She had spirit. There might be a thread of vulnerability in her, but courage and determination ran right alongside it. It would take a lot to break the Halfling. He respected that about her. Few people—mortals or Fae—had the strength to get through some of life’s toughest hurdles. He might not know what the Halfling had been through, but based on her reactions, he suspected it was a whopper.
She had gotten about five meters from him when he said, “There’s something you need to know.”
Without stopping, she lifted a hand and said, “Keep it to yourself.”
Just as Cathal was about to respond, he spotted a Light Fae that appeared just behind the Halfling. Cathal didn’t give the Light a chance to speak. He teleported in front of the Fae and punched him in the face, knocking him out immediately. Cathal grabbed the Light before he could hit the ground. If the Halfling heard any of it, she didn’t show it.
He glanced to the side to see Aisling standing next to him, still veiled. She jerked her chin toward the Halfling, letting Cathal know that she would follow her. Neither of them liked that two Fae had tried to approach her in such a short time. Normally, the Fae couldn’t care less about a mortal who might have some Fae blood running through their veins. What was it about this Halfling that had brought attention to her?
Cathal gave one last look at the Halfling’s retreating back. He wanted to continue talking with her, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Aisling was more than capable of making sure the Halfling got home. In the meantime, Cathal was going to see if he could get some answers from the Light Fae he’d just stopped.
He attempted to wake the Fae. “Bloody hell. I guess I hit you harder than expected.”
Cathal kept the Fae with him, tossing him over one shoulder like a sack as he walked around the Fairy Pools, veiled. To his surprise, four more Fae arrived. Most were Light, but there was a Dark also. As the sun rose higher, mortals began to appear, as well. The Fae didn’t pay them any heed, even as some mortals blatantly let their interests be known.
When the Dark ignored a mortal, Cathal knew that something was up. The Fae were looking for something. And he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what it was.
He took the unconscious Fae with him to the highest peak on Skye, where few people dared to venture. Then he dangled the Light by his foot over the side of the mountain and jiggled him a few times. It didn’t take long for the Fae to wake.
“About time,” Cathal said. “I want answers.”
“Who the fek are you?” the Fae asked as he tilted his head while crunching his torso to try and see Cathal.
Cathal raised a brow. “Since I’m not the one being held upside down over a mountain, I’ll be the one asking the questions.”
“I’m not answering anything. Especially not to a Dark.”
Cathal twisted his lips as he nodded. “Fair enough. But if you aren’t going to talk, then that means there’s no use for you.” As he finished speaking, he held out his hand and called his sword to him.
The Fae lived exceptionally long years. But they could be killed. Especially by a blade forged in the Fires of Erwar.
The Light held up his hands. “Whoa. Hold on. Let’s not be hasty.”
“It took too long for you to wake, and you’re making this difficult. My patience is wearing thin. You’ve got one chance to tell me what I want to know, or I’ll end your life.”
Since Death hadn’t sent Cathal to reap this Fae’s soul, he couldn’t actually kill him. But Cathal kept that tidbit of information to himself.
“Fine. Ask your questions,” the Light said hastily, his voice laced with exasperation.