Aisling Elizabeth Tanner is now the leader of the Faerie rebellion. Facing the end of the world, she will have to find the strength to lead the Fae to victory against the threat they face, or risk losing everything, including Finn, whom she’s come to love more than life.
Warrior Finn O’Connell wants nothing more than to fight by Elizabeth’s side. But an ancient Celtic goddess threatens to take charge of his soul, and he will have to wage a war within himself to save the rebellion from disintegrating into chaos.
Excerpt:
Finn turned on
his heel and he practically tackled me against the bed, showering me with hard
kisses on my lips, my neck, my chest. I dug my fingernails into his back,
willing him to stay pinned to me. I lifted my hips, taking in his strength, his
heat. I would have defied a thousand goddesses to keep Finn there, his body a
shield against the cold creeping into the cave as night fell.
His arm slipped
behind my neck as he shifted above me, nestling me in the hollow of his
shoulder. “Let’s not think about it.”
I let out a long
exhale, burying my nose in his chest. “I know. I can’t help it.”
“If the Morrígan
comes for me, we shall deal with it then,” he said. “One battle at a time.”
I nodded.
He stretched and
pulled me up from the bed. “You smell like Fir Bolgs.”
“I do not!” I
made to punch him in the arm, but his quick reflexes had me spinning. He pinned
my hands and pulled me against him.
“Fir Bolgs and
horse,” he whispered in my ear. “Mmmm…so sexy…”
I elbowed him in
the gut, and he grunted.
I marched away
from him, my arms crossed against my naked chest. “And speaking of battles,
don’t lecture in me in the middle of one again. I’m not your Padawan.”
Finn’s mocking
grin turned to a grimace. “A what?”
“Star Wars?” I
raised my eyebrows. “Jedi Apprentice?”
He blinked.
I rolled my
eyes. “Just hand me the damn sponge so I can clean myself up.”
Finn frowned and
walked over to the small tub we kept handy for bathing. He lifted the sponge
out from the bath and squeezed it, his knuckles flexing as all the water ringed
from it. His eyes lowered to the ground, and he walked over to me, clasping my
hand in his.
“I’m sorry,” he
said.
“For what?”
“For
mansplaining, or whatever it is you call it.” He ran the sponge across my
wrist, tiny rivulets of water and dirt falling down my arm. “You are not my
Pad— Pa—”
“Padawan.”
“Right.” He ran
the sponge across my shoulders, and a small moan escaped my lips as he applied
slight pressure to my sore muscles. “I’m used to giving orders, not receiving
them. And I…” He hesitated, his hand lingering on my waist.
“What?” I said
in a soft voice.
“It’s hard for
me to see you put yourself at risk. Like today with the wagon, and how you—”
“Finn,” I said
in a warning tone.
“I know.” He ran
the sponge down my back, my body trembling at the seductive motion.
“I don’t know if
I’ll ever get used to it.” He planted a kiss between my shoulder blades.
I didn’t know if
I would get used to it, either. The killing, the fighting. The first time I
killed a Fir Bolg during a raid, I couldn’t eat for a week. My hands wouldn’t
stop shaking. I still remembered the way my spear pierced his skin, how the
blood had poured from the wound in his side. I’ve killed since then, but I
would never stop thinking of that first one. Who was he? What was his name?
Would someone mourn for him? But it had been either that Fir Bolg or me, and in
this war, that was a fundamental truth I could not escape.
I turned to face
Finn. He stood half naked, the edges and planes of his incredible body as
chiseled and fine as a marble statue. I reached out to brush my hand against
the small hairs on his pecs, tracing a line down to his emerging erection. He
was insatiable lately, as if fucking me silly could somehow win this war. It
was a constant undercurrent of our lovemaking. He accepted me as leader, but I
knew he struggled with the risk, our mortality always one breath away from a
stray bullet. Finn had one setting—protection. It didn’t matter if it was the
Fianna soldiers he once led or me, his lover. Even then, I knew the unspoken
truth of his heart, how he secretly wanted me safe in a tower, alone and
waiting for him. But the rebellion would never wait, nor would liberty from the
Fir Bolgs’ extremism. No one else could lead us to a real and equitable peace.
As heir to Tír na nÓg, I was it. He had to get on the Xena-Warrior-Princess
party wagon or find another girlfriend.
He reached for
me, his eyes darkening. “I don’t know if I want to get used to it.”
I lifted my gaze
to meet his smoldering stare. “I don’t think I can get used to your righteous
BO, but I’m trying to make it work.”
“BO?”
“Body odor?” I
waved my hand beneath my nose. “I’ll have to pick up some deodorant next time
I’m mortal side.”
He cracked a
wide smile and pulled me close to him. Before I could wrestle away, he lifted
his armpit and put me in a headlock. “BO? That’s the smell of a fighter,
princess!”
I squealed,
falling in a fit of laughter as I tried to wrench myself away. I loved his
smell. Sweaty, leathery, strong, and pure man.
“I can’t
breathe!” I made pretend gagging noises. “Oh, god, get some soap, for the love
of—”
He wrapped his
arm around my waist and, seemingly defying the law of physics, flipped me into
his arms, cradling me like a child. He rubbed his thumb down the side of my
cheek, lingering on my bottom lip.
“I love you,” he
said.
I arched an
eyebrow. “Even though I stink?”
He nodded. “Especially
because you stink. I love the smell of you. All of you. All of it.” He pressed
his lips to mine, and I clutched his face with both hands, moaning as his
tongue flicked against mine.
