The Immortal Highlander by Karen Marie Moning Page A

no idea what you’re talking ab—”
    It made an impatient noise and laid a finger to her lips, shushing her. “Irish, don’t dissemble with me, I have no patience for it. The
féth fiada
doesn’t work on you, and you called me by name. I admit, when first I caught you looking at me, I was perplexed, but there’s no other explanation for your behavior. It’s why you fought me. You know all about my race, don’t you?”
    After a long moment Gabby swallowed and nodded tightly. She had well and truly betrayed herself, first by being caught looking at it, then by telling it to “go to hell” by name. It knew. And it was clearly not in the mood for games. “So what now?” she asked stiffly. “Are you going to kill me?”
    “I’ve no intention of killing you,
ka-lyrra
. Though indeed there was a time a
Sidhe
-seer’s life was forfeited if caught, my people haven’t spilled human blood since The Compact governing our races was negotiated.” It swept a fall of hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, its hand lingering, tracing the curve of her cheek. “Nor do I plan to hurt you, unless you hurt me again, at which point all bets are off. As of this moment I’m willing to wipe the slate clean between us, consider your hostility a misunderstanding. Allow that a wee thing like you—believing your life in jeopardy—would feel driven to fight dirty against a man like me. However, if you hurt me again, you’ll pay tenfold. Understand?”
    Gabby nodded stiffly, wishing it would stop touching her. The mere brush of its hand made her skin tingle, made all the muscles in her lower stomach clench. How dare the embodiment of her worst nightmare come packaged as her hottest fantasy?
    It leaned back in the chair, swept its hands through its long dark hair, then laced its fingers together behind its head. Its powerful arms rippled with the movement, cut shoulders bulging beneath the black T-shirt, massive biceps flexing, gold armbands glinting in the morning sun spilling through the tall windows. It took immense effort to keep her gaze firmly fixed on its face, keep it from sweeping down over all that fairy perfection.
    The
Books of the Fae
contained dozens of tales about how, in the days of yore, on nights when the moon hung fat and full against a violet dusk and the Wild Hunt ran, young maidens had raced into the forests, hoping to be taken by one of the exotic Fae males. Had gone willingly to their doom.
    Gabby O’Callaghan would
never
be such a fool. Whatever it had in store for her, she would fight it every inch of the way.
    “A
Sidhe
-seer,” it said, dark gaze scrutinizing her intently. “It never occurred to me to look for one of you, that any of you might still be about. Aoibheal believes the Hunters eliminated the last of you long ago, as did I. How many others of your bloodline have the vision?”
    “I’m the last.” For the first time in her life she was grateful she had no other family members who shared her curse. There was no one else to protect; only her own survival was at stake.
    While it studied her, she pondered its words.
Ah-veel,
it had said: the High Queen of the Seelie, Court of the Light.
Hunters:
The mere word iced her blood. As a child they’d been the bogeyman in her every closet, the monster beneath her every bed. Handpicked by the queen and dispatched to hunt the
Sidhe
-seers, they were ruthless, terrifying creatures that hailed from the Unseelie King’s hellish realm of shadow and ice. She might not know all the Fae by name—there were too many, and they donned too many different glamours for that—but Gram had taught her about the most powerful ones at a young age.
    “Your mother is no longer alive?”
    “She doesn’t have the vision.”
Stay away from my mom, you bastard.
    “Then how did she protect you?”
    Gabby flinched inwardly.
I can’t protect her, damn it, Mother! How can I protect her from something I can’t see?
Jilly had shouted at Moira O’Callaghan on that