“And here I thought I was the only freak, princess.” Warwick pressed up behind me as the actual man stood feet away.
“Cac!” Shit! Tad’s curved spine jerked, tipping him over on his side, his eyes wide and darting between Warwick and me. “How—how is it possible?”
The link snapped in a blink as Warwick jerked back.
“How were you here and—and there at the same time?” Tad stumbled over his words, the fear and confusion genuine.
“You could see me?” Warwick rumbled, a vein in his neck twitching. The entire room, except Ash, was completely confused.
“Y-yes.” Tad pushed himself back up as much as he could, his expression twisting to wonder. “It was like when I saw her visit me yesterday. An impression. An apparition.”
Ash’s head bounced in agreement. “I can’t see it, but I can feel it when they do the link thing.”
Tad rubbed his head. “This makes so much more sense now.”
“What does?” I asked.
“Back at Halálház, I would think I’d see a glimmer of Warwick near you—a few times when you were in the ring fighting in the Games—but when I looked again, he was gone. I thought my eyes were senile, and this old mind was starting to lose its last marbles.”
I recalled those times, too, when this thing between us could still be explained away and denied.
“You two are becoming so interesting. I thought I had seen it all.” Tad brushed a few strands of his knotted hair back.
“So, you’ve never run into anything like this before?” I hoped he had an explanation and examples of whatever this was between us.
“No.” He continued to stare at us with utter shock. “Never in my years have I see anything close to this. It shouldn’t be possible.”
“Hey?” Tracker’s voice boomed from a doorway he was guarding, Ava on the other entrance. “Sorry to rush the catching up and all, but can we get this moving? We are still in enemy territory.”
Tracker was right. Finding the nectar and getting out of here was the most important. The rest could wait.
“Give me your hands.” Tad reached over. “Don’t let go, okay? I will be right with you.”
I nodded, knowing what to do. I reached over, clasping onto Tad’s bony fingers. I shut my lids and took a breath as our twined fingers touched the page. Electricity shot through me, the inhuman voice vibrating through my bones.
“Tadhgan, the Druid. It has been a long time,” the book spoke. “And Brexley Kovacs, the girl who defies nature. Tell me what you seek. Do not waste my time.”
“I apologize I wasn’t clear enough last time. I would like to see where the nectar is hidden,” I asked as concisely as I could.
“Again, you requesting this information is interesting,” the book replied. “I can only show what is written.”
The moment the book uttered the last syllables, the sensation of falling and spinning rattled my head, bile coiling in my stomach as Tad and I fell into the archives of the past.
When I opened my eyes, the book had placed me in the same dark tunnel it had the other day.
Alone.
“Tad?” I whispered, peering around the cool, murky passageways, goosebumps breaking out over my arms. Looking for the Druid, he was nowhere in sight. “Tad, are you here?”
“This way,” a deep voice muttered. The sound of multiple boots hitting the ground right around the corner flung me automatically into a dark crevice, my spine stinging as I slammed into the rock wall.
Two figures were about to pass me when another man stepped into the path, cutting them off.
“Once a thief, always a thief.” A gasp shot up my throat as I took in a younger version of Killian. He was dressed in a nice but outdated suit, his hair a little longer, flipping around his ears. Less polished than the man I knew now.
“You would know.” A tall, broad dark-haired man with a deep voice stepped up closer to Killian, coming into view. My chest sucked in at the man’s rugged, sexual aura. He possessed a feral quality, like he could fuck you at the same time he sliced you in half with the long sword attached to his side without blinking an eye.
Standing about six feet, slender but ripped, with dark almond-shaped eyes, thick dark lashes, and long black hair, I had no doubt he was fae by his unbelievable beauty.
“Wow, look at you.” The dark-haired man’s eyes went over Killian with aversion. “All fancy now, aren’t we?”
“Looks like nothing has changed with you. Still a second-rate thief...” Killian puffed his chest, glaring at him.
“Tradesman.” The man stepped closer, challenging him. “And you think because you wear an expensive suit and have a title before your name, you are above the rest of us now?”
“I am the Lord of Budapest. I rule everyone here now. This is my kingdom.” Killian’s silky voice frayed at the end, his anger curling his hands.
“You don’t rule me.” The thief moved closer, threatening. “You forget, Killian, I know the real you. I was the one to put the brand on your chest. Know where you come from.” I saw Killian’s eye twitch at this claim. “If your minions only knew how you really got this role—who you were before—would they still worship you?” The man flicked the pocket square at Killian’s chest with a scoff. “Play dress up all you want. I know the real street rat underneath.”
“Fuck you,” Killian growled, lurching for the man, his pure fae magic crackling the air.
A petite dark-haired woman next to the man, who almost blended into the shadows, got between them. She put a blade at Killian’s throat, halting him on his feet.
“Step back, Kil.” Her long, shiny black ponytail whipped around. Her frame was so small you might mistake her for a young girl, but her face was so utterly breathtaking, you could see a sensual woman there.
Killian stared at her, shock and hurt on his face.
“Kitty-Kat.” Killian’s voice changed, going low. Pained.
“Don’t call me that.” Her face twisted, a flicker of agony dancing over her expression, pushing her blade deeper against his jugular.
“So, you’re with him now?” Killian shook his head, sadness in his tone. His gaze moved over her with such deep longing, agony, and... love. “You hated him.” He sneered. “Wanted to kill him. Guess we’re all liars and thieves here.”
“This has nothing to do with him,” she spit out. “Let us leave, Killian, and no harm will come to you.”
“Too late for that, Kitty-Kat.” His tone suggested he meant something else entirely. A history between them I wasn’t privy to.
Her lashes fluttered like she wanted to cry, but instead, she rolled her shoulders back, locking down her features. “I don’t want to hurt you, but we’re leaving with the nectar—no matter what.” Her head tilted slightly to the small messenger bag hanging off her hip.
It was like a punch to my gut. Without one inkling of doubt, I knew the nectar was in there. It was real. And a few feet away from me.
My eyes latched on to the satchel. I swore it felt my presence, coming alive with awareness. I could no longer hear them or even see past what I knew was inside. The pull coming from her bag pushed my back off the wall, and I took a step. It called to me and wanted me to take it. As if it had its own heartbeat, I heard it pulse with power, the beat in rhythm with my own heart. Energy hummed in my veins.