Bound by Forever - (True Immortality #3) Page 0,50
in the small space.
Kiyo stared at Niamh, vaguely aware of Conall closing the apartment door behind them.
Niamh was huddled in the corner of the sparsely furnished room, her arms tight around her knees. Her cheeks were pale and tear streaked, her eyes huge in her face and filled with the kind of grief and pain that cut through Kiyo like a katana.
“Kiyo.” Conall’s voice stopped him just before he moved to go to her.
He glanced back at the alpha. Conall gestured to the wall adjacent.
Kiyo followed his gaze and found a small blond woman. Her back was pressed against the wall, her own face saturated with fear. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the gold rings that encircled the blond’s wrists and ankles. He’d never seen anything like it. The rings were made from light. Golden light.
Fae magic.
His eyes flew to Niamh. “Who is she?”
Niamh shook her head in despair.
He took a tentative step toward her. “Did you do that? The magical restraints?”
She nodded slowly.
Kiyo looked back at Conall who stayed where he was, guarding the exit. “Have you seen anything like that?”
“The restraints? No.” He shook his head, his attention moving to Niamh. “My mate had no idea what she was, had barely tapped into her potential before the change. It seems Niamh has had more practice.”
Niamh looked at Conall but immediately refocused on Kiyo.
He took another step toward her. “Who is the woman?”
Her haunted eyes filled with fresh tears, and Kiyo was done. He hurried across the room and lowered himself in front of her.
“Niamh,” he said, his voice soft, coaxing. “Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”
“She”—the word croaked and cracked, causing Niamh to swallow hard and try again—“Meghan … Her coven killed my brother.”
This was vengeance.
“I thought they were all dead.” Her grief-stricken gaze moved toward the woman behind him. “But that night at the hotel in Kalmar, I had a vision of her. Alive. Here in Paris.” She looked back at Kiyo, seeming to plead with him. “All those visions of bad people, all the justice I mete out. How could I ignore this one when it’s the most important?”
He lowered a knee to the floor and moved closer, his hand covering hers as it rested on her knee. “Then why is she still alive? And why are you balled up in a corner like this?”
“I’m taking my time,” she said in an almost comically petulant tone.
“You’re procrastinating.”
“I’m going to do it. Ronan deserves justice.”
His hand tightened over hers. “This isn’t justice, Niamh. This is vengeance. Trust me. I know the difference.”
“Whatever word you want to give it, I owe this to my brother.”
Kiyo recognized guilt when he saw it. “You’re not to blame for Ronan’s death.”
The surrounding air crackled dangerously.
“Kiyo,” Conall warned.
Niamh glared at him. “I never said I was.”
Denial.
Great.
“Niamh. Let the witch go, and you and I can get the hell out of this shithole.”
Her eyes lowered and she shook her head.
Frustration churned in his gut.
“Kiyo …” Conall’s voice came at him again.
And this time he understood why. The alpha’s words of wisdom regarding trust filtered through his mind. With a heavy sigh of discomfort, Kiyo moved to sit beside Niamh, his back pressed against the wall, the side of his body touching hers. He looked at her profile, taking in the pert nose that turned up a little at the end, the wide cheekbones, and the spiky, long lashes wet with tears.
Something tightened in his chest.
Agitation thrummed through him, but he called on the self-control he took much pride in and cleared his throat. He had a job to do and apparently making himself vulnerable was going to be part of that job.
“You don’t want to do this, Niamh. I told you before that deciding who lives and dies is too big a judgment to lay on your shoulders. It’s not up to you, and it shouldn’t be.”
She stiffened next to him but he pushed on. “It’s not who you are. There’s too much darkness in it. The line has been blurred between vengeance and justice in everything you’ve been doing these last few months. But this”—he gestured to the witch—“this is vengeance, pure and simple.”
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”
“Your soul matters,” he said gruffly.
Her head whipped toward him, her eyes wide with surprise.
“You told me I should be grateful that your greatest gift was your kindness, your compassion. What you really meant was that I should be grateful your humanity was your greatest gift.”