mouth was inches from her as he spoke—“if you found other ways to communicate that didn’t involve the abuse of my balls.”
She tried not to grin and failed.
Fionn glared at her mouth.
Her blood, which had heated as soon as she found herself beneath his magnificent body, whooshed in her ears. Demanding need set in between her legs.
She shifted her hips beneath his and answered provocatively, “If you want, I could kiss them all better.”
Desire flashed fiercely across Fionn’s face seconds before he rolled off her and landed on his feet by the bed. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he bit out gruffly and marched toward the adjoining door.
Disappointment flooded her as she sat up. “What about An Breitheamh?”
His answer was to slam the door hard behind him.
Laughter trembled on Rose’s lips. For whatever reason, Fionn was fighting his attraction to her. Pushing that button would be a much more entertaining way to keep him on his toes than a swift kick to the balls.
“If you want, I could kiss them all better.”
Fionn flinched as Rose’s husky offer played over and over in his mind, not doing anything to dispel the hot blood currently hardening his dick. He flicked a hand at the shower as he undressed in the en suite. Bracing himself as he stepped into the tub, Fionn sucked in a breath as the cold water hit his skin.
Determined to stay there for as long as it took to regain control of his body, Fionn withstood the icy spray.
She’d bested him twice.
First with a surprisingly impactful knee to his balls.
Then by trying to seduce him.
Fuck.
She was the devil.
Rose Kelly was the bloody devil.
He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had gotten the better of him, let alone a little slip of a woman. Even Aoibhinn had not been able to lead him around by his dick.
Neither would Rose, he growled to himself.
In a mere few days, she’d be dead and out of his life.
Just like that, his arousal died.
Fionn turned off the shower, leaning back against the wet tile.
That woman next door, with her vital strength and complex soul, would be extinguished from this world and he’d be one step closer to his revenge.
The burn in his own soul reminded him that his was not yet lost. But that burn, a million times more painful than Rose’s knee between his legs, would not change his mind. Tomorrow she’d help him retrieve An Breitheamh, the iron dagger that had belonged to him when he was human. The iron dagger that had killed the fae prince, his royal blood imbuing it with powers that made it legendary. An Breitheamh the only weapon purported to be able to kill Aine. The dagger that had taken him two centuries to find because the faerie bitch had hidden it so well.
Once he had that dagger, he’d use it to kill Rose to open the gate, and then, he’d plunge its fatal point into the heart of the Faerie Queen.
17
“Uh … we’re going to what?” Rose stared open-mouthed at Fionn from across the breakfast table.
Their hotel put on a breakfast buffet and Fionn had inadvertently supplied the morning’s entertainment by eating his weight in food without breaking a sweat. That was until he’d told her they would steal an ancient iron dagger called An Breitheamh from a vault in a five-star hotel in Barcelona.
Fionn chewed the last of his toast, studying her with the blank expression he’d treated her to since joining him downstairs for breakfast. His empty expression was driving Rose nuts.
She surmised his current cold behavior was an effort to create walls between them after last night.
Usually, Rose would be good with that.
A guy didn’t want to have sex with her? Fine. Plenty of other fish in the sea.
However, Rose wasn’t a hundred percent sure Fionn didn’t want to have sex with her, and there were not plenty of other men like Fionn in the sea.
He wasn’t even a man.
He was a six-foot-seven behemoth of hotness. A fae warrior king who was frustrating, implacable, Powerful with a capital P, and fiercely noble in a way she’d never encountered.
Every time she looked into his spring-green eyes, her belly fluttered.
Actually fluttered.
Rose wanted him.
And for once, she didn’t feel like giving up so easily.
“An Breitheamh is in a vault at Hotel Saber, a luxury hotel owned by a warlock,” Fionn repeated patiently. “It will be removed from that vault tonight at midnight for the auction. For reasons I’m about to explain, I need your help