Kiss of Vengeance by Samantha Young Page 0,66

deeply she felt his pain made no sense to her.

Blinking back tears, she reached for the clasp on the box.

Fionn had said not to open it but Rose needed to see. She needed to see what the weapon, destined to kill her, looked like.

As soon as she lifted the lid, tremors affected her nerves, weakening her. Her knees gave way as if a huge weight was crushing down on her.

Rose slammed the box shut, closing the clasp, her strength returning.

“Fuck,” she whispered, trembling.

She’d barely gotten a glimpse of the silvery-gray weapon.

When Fionn said pure iron hurt them, she assumed the metal would have to touch her skin to do it. Apparently not. Apparently, she just needed to be in its vicinity for it to affect her.

Then why hadn’t she felt it when Ethan threw that blade at her?

Rose held the box firmly in her hand and focused on traveling outside the vault door. She was immediately faced with an irate Fionn.

“What took so long?” He took hold of the box before she could answer and unsnapped the clasp to lift the lid. She felt the strange weakening occur again just as Fionn flinched and shut the box.

Rose frowned. “Why does it do that? The blade Ethan threw didn’t affect me, but this …” She gestured to the box.

“Its effects are akin to being trapped in a room made entirely of iron. I told you. It’s not just an ordinary iron blade. It’s more powerful than that. Now, travel back to the restroom. From there to the stadium.”

He vanished before she could answer.

Sighing at his bossy abruptness, Rose prepared to travel. There was a niggle of exhaustion working its way through her, and she didn’t think it had to do with the iron. This felt more natural. As if traveling from place to place was draining her. With the vault so far underground, she couldn’t just travel to the stadium from here. She needed to make the restroom pit stop as a precaution since she was still new at this.

Gathering her energy, Rose traveled into the hotel restroom stall and immediately felt her knees give away. Weakness flooded her.

What the hell?

A potent tingle filled the air.

Magic.

The stall door blew off and into the room.

Shocked, Rose lifted her weary head. Her limbs felt like lead.

What was going on?

Two witches and a warlock stepped into her line of sight.

How?

The taller of the two women, an attractive brunette, spoke. “You didn’t think a little spell like Schneider’s would keep us out, did you?” She was American. “We’ve been hanging out here all morning, waiting on you and Mór to show. Finally, you did but what do you know, we follow you in here and you’d vanished.”

Rose cursed herself for using the stall.

She was trapped by its three walls and these three strangers and—she glanced down at the gap between the stall walls and the floor. No light came in under it because a band of iron filled the gap. In fact, the whole stall felt strangely dark. Straining to look up, Rose cursed under her breath. The stall had a ceiling now. A ceiling of iron.

“It envelops the entire stall. Like an iron cage,” the woman informed her.

Fuck.

“Who are you?”

“Layton Blackwood.” The warlock stepped forward and gave her an old-fashioned, gentlemanly bow. “At your service. These are my sisters, Liza and Lori.”

He didn’t look anything like his sisters, who were both brunettes with golden skin. Layton had shocking white-blond hair and pale skin. Rose licked her lips, thinking, thinking. Dammit, think!

Nausea made itself known and she groaned, desperately wishing she could flee the iron. The room began to spin.

“We’re here to bring you into the safe arms of the Blackwood Coven, Rose.”

No, no.

Kill her more like.

Her stomach roiled.

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I feel real safe right now.”

“We apologize for the iron, but we couldn’t have you popping out of here without letting us explain.” The warlock lowered to his haunches before her, his gaze crawling over her skin. “What is it about fae? I could look at you for hours and never tire of it, and I know Lori feels the same about Mór.” Layton glanced over his shoulder. “What about you, Liza? Like what you see in Rose here?”

Liza was the shorter sister. She scowled at Layton. “We’re not here to sexually harass her. Let’s get on with things.”

“It isn’t sexual harassment. I just appreciate the finer things in life.” He smiled at Rose.

Infuriated by his ogling, Rose bared her teeth at him. “If

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