Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
A petite brunette named Rose Kelly.
A hulking, ancient Celtic king, Fionn Mór, not fae-borne but made fae by the Faerie Queen herself, and now mated to Rose Kelly. A dangerous mating, William had said.
And a tall, willowy blond Echo had recognized immediately.
Niamh Farren.
She’d kept her expression clear of any recognition as William explained who Niamh was—a particularly powerful Irish fae with psychic abilities.
Three weeks ago, Niamh Farren broke into Echo’s apartment undetected by William’s men who watched her place. She disabled the bugs Echo knew William had planted. And then Niamh dropped files at Echo’s feet filled with information that blew her world apart. At the time, Echo had sensed her magic and thought her a witch.
Now she knew Niamh was a fae. And psychic. It would explain how she knew about Echo’s mother and father. And why she’d brought the files to her in the first place. To undermine William. To drive a wedge between him and his daughter.
Mission accomplished.
Taking the information William shared, Echo had done her own digging. Not just on her parents, but on Niamh.
Everywhere the psychic had been spotted in the last year, Echo found news articles on miracle events. Human accidents and crimes that had been averted. Niamh Farren had presumably been using her fae gifts to save people.
Not exactly the monster William had painted the fae to be.
But more than that … Echo remembered the feeling she’d gotten from Niamh as the blond stood in her apartment.
She couldn’t explain it, other than it was almost spiritual. Like she was standing before a being who was pure of heart. Sounded cheesy and trippy when she said it like that, but Echo didn’t know how else to explain it.
And the truth was, she no longer knew what to believe about the prophecy, about The Garm. They’d killed innocent people in their mission, and she’d compartmentalized that. They were casualties of war.
Or were they?
Maybe they were casualties of Eirik’s and William’s madness, of their desperate desire to remain at the top of the food chain.
Glaring at Roark, who wanted to be one of them, Echo demanded, “Clothes. Now.”
He rolled his eyes like a child. “For a moment there, I actually thought you were loosening up. But you’re still wound tighter than a fucking nun.”
“That’s a contradiction,” she muttered under her breath as she searched the bedroom for her clothing.
“What?” he snapped at her back.
“Nothing. Clothes.”
Suddenly, Roark grabbed at her again, and all the rage simmering deep inside Echo threatened to escape. She spun in his arms, pressed her palms to his chest, and flew them across the room at vamp speed, slamming him so hard into his wall, the plasterwork crumbled around him.
“Touch me again without my permission, and I’ll cut off your cock and make you watch as I cook it for William’s wolves.”
Roark shoved her off and she stumbled back, readying to fight.
Instead, he gestured at the damage behind him. “You owe me a wall.”
“You owe me two nights of my life I’d like to throw up and forget, so I guess we’re even.”
Finally spotting her jeans and shirt, Echo whipped them from the floor and threw them over her shoulder. “I’m using your shower. Follow me and die.”
“One day, you’ll be mine again,” Roark taunted.
“Again.” Echo looked back at him pitilessly. “We fucked, Roark. If that was all it took, there would be a football team of men out there calling me theirs. But that’s not what it takes. So get this through that thick skull of yours now … I will never, ever belong to you.”
As she stepped into his luxurious shower, unable to relax for fear he would ignore her and follow her in, Echo washed the dried blood from her body as realization settled over her.
She would never, ever belong to anyone.
She wouldn’t live long enough to.
Not after she executed the plan forming in her mind.
It was a vampire’s supernatural sixth sense to know when the sun had risen and set. As Echo rinsed the last of the blood from her hair, she perceived the sun had disappeared behind the horizon. Relieved, she dried and clothed herself and stalked out of the bathroom. Roark was again in bed with the still-sleeping twins.
“Your cell rang.” He tossed it at her and smirked. “It was Daddy Dearest. I hope you don’t mind that I answered.”
Shaking her head at his childish antics, Echo checked the call list. It didn’t matter if Roark answered. Echo was fully aware William had her under surveillance since her move to Munich. The Garm’s headquarters were here. She wasn’t constantly tailed, but her apartment was bugged, and now and then, she sensed she was being followed.
William would already know about Roark.
She let herself believe William’s measures were put in place because of his position and his fear that someone would use Echo against him. Now she knew differently. It wasn’t about love. It was about control.