CHAPTER ONE 

RILEY

Bandrui's Grove was the first place that popped into Riley's head when she needed a place to hide. It could be her new home, or so she hoped. It had a reputation as a sanctuary, which meant protection. She hoped it was enough.

Shawn's spies would make living in a major city too hard. He had contacts everywhere and had threatened to use all of them to find her.

A new beginning was required for her survival and sanity. No one could know the truth — that she was a banshee, descended from a long line of witches that could be traced back hundreds of years.

She would just be Riley. It saddened her that she had to abandon her Doyle surname. It was too well known among Other Worlders, espevislly in Ireland. She’d considered changing her first name too, but her father had given her a name passed down through the generations. She'd had to abandon her family. Her name wasn't uncommon. She could at least keep that part of her past.

Riley needed to think of a suitable surname fast if she wanted a job. A sharp wave of loneliness swept over her, bringing sudden, stinging heat to her eyes. She longed to call one of her siblings. They’d help her think of a name and cover story, Her twin brothers had a particular talent for skullduggery. Not that her sisters were slouches in that department.

But she couldn’t. No contact with anyone from her past. That was one of the many hated rules she had to live by now. She also hated the men who made the rules. The Comhairle. She didn’t want anything to do with that antiquated bunch of old men who thought they ruled the world, but Shawn had made that impossible.

She wished she was powerful enough to handle them. Well, powerful enough to handle them without killing them. Riley shuddered. That was an experience she didn't ever want to repeat.

Maybe send the misogynistic old men of the Comhairle to the middle of nowhere and see how they liked being exiled.

If she used her magic, or made a single misstep, they had her dead to rights. She'd taken a mortal life — nevermind that she'd acted in self defense.

Of course, everyone claimed innocence, so the Comhairle didn't believe her. She was only guilty of falling for a mage who had everyone convinced he was on the side of right.

Asshole.

Shawn lied as easily as he breathed. He had a way about him that made others hang on his every word. His magic was so potent, he'd even bamboozled a banshee. No mean feat.

She hadn't known he drew his power from darkness and preyed upon witches. Mages started off looking normal, and as they grew more corrupted, the telltale white drained their color and soul. She’d been the latest obsession in Shawn's quest for power. His charisma made turning him down impossible when they met. She’d eventually come to her senses and escaped him. He'd not taken the rejection well.

Riley had been lucky to get away, and that the Comhairle only exiled her and banned her from using her magic. They could have locked her away for life, or demanded her execution.

The only reason they gave her another chance — so long as she started over and gave up everything she knew — was because of her father’s influence.

She had to make a clean break or she’d spend the rest of her life in some prison with a bunch of supernatural lawbreakers.

Riley sighed. Starting over was a bitch, but she had to begin anew or else. So she'd fled Ireland, crossed the Atlantic and most of North America, to arrive in Bandrui's Grove — a village in high, forested mountains, nestled in the shadow of a volcano.

Damn Shawn.

Love was for idiots. She’d never make that mistake again. No. She wouldn't put her heart on the line or trust a man.

Especially not an Other World male.

She’d settle down with some clueless human once she figured out what she was going to do. Until then, she’d work whatever jobs she could find and do her best to stay below Shawn’s radar. If she could hide from him, the Comhairle wouldn't be able to find her, either.

She had been in Bandrui's Grove for three days, and so far, the antiques shop was the only place hiring. The locals claimed the owner needed help with running the shop, along with managing the books.

Since she was qualified for such a job, Riley was hoping she’d be able to land it. She couldn’t exactly hand over references or announce her qualifications. Well, she could, but the minute anyone checked, Shawn would be all over her. That wasn’t an option, and funds were running low.

Riley stood outside the store, eyeing the grey sky. It rained a lot in Bandrui's Grove, just like at home.

The antiques shop, like the rest of the village, had an old-world Irish charm to it. Bandrui's Grove had become a human tourist attraction after being featured on some television shows and magazine articles about haunted and picturesque villages. A film crew left only yesterday.

Riley had always been fascinated with Bandrui's Grove. Her family had visited a few times when she was a child, and it had felt perfect. A piece of Ireland across the world from where anyone expected to find it, located in a pocket of its own. Immune to goings-on around it. Far from problems. Far from what was normal. Safe.

And she needed to feel safe — or, at least the illusion of it, more than ever.

She peered into the window of the shop. There were no signs indicating the owner was looking to hire someone.

The air smelled of pending rain and she glanced into the distance, her gaze skimming over the mountains. It certainly looked like rain was on the horizon. Great. Just what the area needed. More rain. Seemed like all it had done was rain since her arrival.

Bandrui's Grove was losing some of its attraction. She sighed, running her hands through her long, unruly, deep red hair.

Riley would look like something the cat dragged in if she waited much longer. Her available wardrobe wasn't appropriate for cool weather. There'd been less than an hour to abandon her home. Not much time to pack discerningly.

She’d hoped her father would defend her before the Comhairle. He hadn’t. He’d agreed to exile her for ten years. She’d never believed he would allow any of his daughters to move away, let alone stand over her, looking hurt, then turning his back on her.

Her father’s disappointed expression haunted her. Shame. The last thing she'd seen on his face was shame. Of her, for violating the rules. Even he hadn't believed she’d used her power against another in self defense. But her word, against the men on the Comhairle, who swallowed every lie Shawn spouted, meant little.

Riley raised her head and squared her shoulders. She would not cry again. No. She was a stronger woman than that.

She had to be.

CHAPTER TWO 

JAKUB

Jakub Finnegan bent over his woodworking bench and turned a piece of oak in his hands. He'd been toying with it for the last few days, but it had nothing to say to him yet. Oak was special to his people — the druids.

Especially his bloodline. There were many Finnegans, and each clan of the family was attuned to a particular tree. Jakub's branch was Oak.

He was a Druid, given magic and immortality, and charged to protect humans. Ironic, since they held little regard for nature. They didn't care for much, other than themselves and their personal comforts and conveniences. He was not a fan, but almost eight billion of them weren't going anywhere.

Jakub sighed. While he would never say the goddess had made a mistake, he often thought she might have chosen a bit hastily when sending him to be birthed to a family of immortal Druids, then tasked them with overseeing humans’ safety as well as the training of other magic users.

He didn’t mind the Other Worlders as much. Though, more and more, they also held less respect for the craft and its roots. They sought power for the sake of it. Those types almost always ended up going bad — becoming something Jakub, his brothers, and his cousins hunted.

It had been a month since the last threat had surfaced and he felt restless. He had ended the mage and harnessed his white magic to keep it from reentering the ether. The man had more attitude than power. He should have waited to go completely white before he tried to be a badass.

Bandrui's Grove attracted more than its fair share of danger. Most threats were simple to deal with, but every now and then, one took some effort. Aiden, his cousin and best friend, had just returned from a hunt for a mage like that — one who took a toll on the hunters.

Aiden had acquired some bruises, but was fine. The same couldn’t be said for their cousin Blake. He’d already suffered at the hands of demons and paid the price every day.

All the Finnegan men held guilt over Blake. They'd failed him. He’d been savagely attacked, held prisoner, and tortured for months by a mage who had turned to the ways of the Abhartach — blood drinkers.

They'd extricated Blake, and he'd survived, but he'd not come out of the ordeal unchanged. As a result, he was considered an Abhartach, though none of the Finnegans would hunt him.

The damn idiot thought himself a danger to mankind and was doing a damn fine job of trying to end himself. The fool had no idea that the kind-hearted man he’d once been still remained. That the blood drinker side of him did not rule him. Couldn’t get it through Blake’s thick skull, though.

Stubbornness was a Finnegan family trait every one of them inherited.

Should he try to call Blake? It would be Christmas soon. The man typically refused to answer his cell, and even magical contact yielded no results. If Blake didn’t respond soon, Jakub would bring in the big guns.

Maimeó

Their grandmother would straighten Blake out, or pull him by his nose to the rest of the boys so they could. Jakub had found himself on the receiving end of her disappointment and correction often enough.

For a woman who didn’t even come to his shoulder, she was terrifying when she wanted to be, but entirely loving and nurturing all other times.

Yes. If Blake didn’t respond soon, Jakub would leave the matter in Maimeó's more than capable hands.

He smiled, his focus returning to the piece of oak in his hands. This time, a form revealed itself, and his knife moved to free the Oak King.

So much of his time had been poured into carving toys, figures, and furniture over the centuries. He needed the outlet, or he’d dwell on the past, and all the things he couldn't change. That way led to insanity.

A few of them had gone that way. Their family lived such long lives, not even being born to it guaranteed immortality suited them.

Worse than the regrets of the past were the diminishing hopes of the future. The last generation of the Finnegan boys hadn't found their Maité — the other halves of their immortal souls.

What had his family done to piss off the goddess? They respected her and feared her. Did her bidding to protect humans.

Yet, they were all single. Some liked that. Others, such as himself, were more than ready to start families and have something more in life. He sighed. It hadn’t happened in seven hundred years and didn’t look as if it ever would.

For now, he’d do what he always did with his spare time — stay busy and alert for the next threat. He carved the mouth and beard of the Oak King.

The soft sounds of music from the motherland played on his speakers as he lost himself in his work. His building was large enough that he the antiques shop out front, a workshop in the back, and an apartment above it.

It was almost time to open the store, but he could carve a little longer.

Any of the Finnegans could live like kings, but they chose to lead simple lives. Others did not need to know he was worth millions, perhaps billions.

He easily recalled when he and his clan hunted for food, living off the land. Modern conveniences meant so many took so much for granted. Not Jakub. He held great respect for the land, and for the magic.

That same magic ran through his veins, often wanting to be free. With his age and position came high titles within the Other World magic community.

He, his brothers and his cousins, each held positions on the Comhairle. There were so many Finnegans that the other members joked the vote always went whichever way the Finnegans wanted.

The truth was, he avoided as many of those meetings as possible. He had no interest in politics. The threats he dealt with required swift action, not drawn out proceedings. And no jail sentence would rehabilitate a mage, once they went bad.

The old men could have their Comhairle.

Jakub had a pair of magic-eating swords.

CHAPTER THREE 

RILEY

Riley took a deep breath to summon courage, and studied the carved oak door. The thing was huge and wouldn't have been out of place in a castle. A third of the panel depicted a hunting scene of an archer aiming at a boar. Below that, fairies cavorted with humans. The bottom third was a forest of trees with a river wending through it.

She put her hand on the doorknob. At the contact, energy blasted up her arm, zipped through her blood, and ended with a warm swirl in her chest.

The magic hummed a melody she'd never heard before, but knew in her heart. It was from the old world and beckoned to her magic, trying to coax it from the box she'd locked it away in.

No, no, no! It couldn't get out! Shawn or the Comhairle would find her. She gasped and remained rooted where she was as she used every ounce of her will to shut her magic back into the prison.

It went, but not willingly. Riley blew out a breath and blinked water out of her eyes. Great. She'd been standing around long enough for the rain to start.

Hoping that brief flare of power went unnoticed, she tried to gather her wits. It would do no good showing up to ask for a job dripping magic everywhere when she probably resembled a drowned rat.

She could use her magic to dry herself and to tidy up her appearance, but after the near disaster just now, there was no way she dared risk it.

Even the slightest mistake could get her killed. That was what Shawn was counting on. Then he would swoop in to save her so she owed him her life. That… That mage had probably planned this all along.

Riley curled her hands into fists. She wanted to turn him into a worm and step on him.

Stop it before you get yourself in more trouble.

She’d never actually met a member of the Comhairle. They'd worn hooded robes during her sham of a trial, but the stories told to young Other Worlders were enough to keep a kid up at night.

They were probably decrepit-looking old men who had bald patches on their heads, and giant noses full of bristly hair.

Focus on why you're here. You need a job!

Riley turned the knob and entered the shop.

Calming scents of lavender and vanilla filled the air. The store was as pleasing to the eye on the inside as it had been on the outside. Carved furniture stood everywhere amid tables displaying statues, vases, and bric-a-brac.

Tiny carvings of wood to life-sized statues were everywhere. One wall held an elaborately hand-crafted bookcase holding tomes and decorative boxes. Someone had spent a fortune having a woodsmith custom design each piece. It was beautiful.

Riley may not be able to live among her family anymore, but this place felt like home. She’d accept anything at the moment.

“Hello?” Riley took a few steps inside, the heavy carved oak door shutting behind her. She expected an ominous thud from the heavy door, but it swung closed soundlessly.

The sound of drums and faint chants filled the air. Some sort of Celtic music playing from the back of the shop. She walked in the direction it came from, calling out two more times in hopes someone would hear her.

She ended up next to a door she assumed led to the back, where patrons weren’t welcomed. This one was also beautifully carved, depicting a scene of fairies having a party. She touched one of the figures, half expecting the winged creature to take flight.

“Anyone here?” she shouted, straining to be heard over the music.

The music shut off and the door swung open. Riley blinked, at a loss for words as she stared at a bare, very muscular chest, displaying every Celtic marking she could think of inked permanently on tawny skin.

Touching each one seemed like the best idea she’d had in… maybe forever Her gaze slid lower, to the V framing a series of intriguing ridges down the center.

Oh yeah. She wanted to touch every one of those, too.

All she could think about was the sight of the man before her. Her sisters had mentioned muscles on a man making a woman stupid, which Riley had laughed at.

As she stared at the expanse of male so magnificently displayed, her level of intelligence plummeted like a free falling elevator.

“Tá,” the man said, his voice deep, his Irish lilt evident, making her sigh softly. “Who wants to know?”

Her intelligence was still lost in the plummeting elevator car. Who? What the hell was her name? Why had she come here? She forced her gaze from his chiseled chest to his equally square, stubbled jaw line.

Her throat felt dry as she raked her gaze farther up, spotting full, kissable lips, then penetrating slate-grey eyes. Eyes that were looking at her with a strange expression. Long black hair with several braids fell to the tops of his broad shoulders.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Hot men clearly made her stupid. “Um.” Riley wasn’t sure how long they stood there, neither saying a word, but the silence ticked by, growing awkward.

“Wh — ” she croaked. Yep. She was now one of those women who couldn’t think straight around a half-naked, muscled man.

He blinked, his black brows meeting for a moment before he nodded. “Come this way, lass.”

She followed, unsure what else to do since she’d been struck stupid at the very sight of him. Of course, now her view was of his muscled back, all the tattoos there, and his ass in low hanging jeans.

Was that sawdust? He'd carved all the things in the shop? He entered a break room with a few roundtables and plastic chairs. A microwave stood atop a counter next to a fridge, which he opened, to pull out a bottle of water.

Riley stood back, still surprised by her response to a perfect stranger. He twisted the cap off and extended the water. The moment her fingers slid over his, a rush of magic surged between them.

That song her heart recognized trilled in her mind. She gasped, eyes widening as she fought to contain her magic. Her throat went drier.

Riley was about to sip the water when Mr. Muscles pulled it back, his eyes were on her chest as he gulped the water down. There wasn’t a drop left when he was done.

Laughter escaped her lips. At least she wasn't alone having issues.

Mr. Muscles looked from the empty bottle to her and smiled abashedly. “Sorry.” He went to the fridge again and got her a new bottle that he set on a table as if he didn’t want to chance getting closer to her.

That was fine. She wasn’t sure she could handle him any closer either. Smiling, Riley took the water. “Thank you.” She sipped it as he continued to watch her.

“We don't open for another thirty minutes.” His voice made her want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

She'd only sworn off love, not lust.

Best decision ever.

Riley took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m here about the job. I was told you’re hiring.”

He shook his head. “What?”

“Hiring." It appeared his intelligence had left the building, too. "Are you hiring?”

Putting his palms on the table top, he leaned toward her.. “Tá. You're hired.”

She took a step back. “You didn’t ask if I was qualified. You don’t even know my name.”

He squeezed his hands into fists, watching her with a strange expression. “I seem to recall asking, but you didn't answer.”

Oh, right.

“What is your name, lass?” he asked for the third time, his lips quirking.

“Riley Doyle.”

Shit. Why did I give him my real name?

Riley tried to think of another name, but it was too late. She’d already told him the truth. All she could do was hope he didn’t run a background check on her.

“Good enough for me. You're hired.”

Riley balked. “You didn’t ask for my resume or if I’ve done bookkeeping.”

Why was she trying to talk him out of the exact decision she'd wanted him to make?. Him not wanting any of those things was a godsend. Her intelligence hadn't taken the elevator back up yet.

“I don't care. You're hired, lass. Stop trying to talk me out of it. The girl I have working for me threatened to quit if I didn’t get some help in here. She’s naught but a slip of a thing, but can scare the hide off a bear. So, you're hired. Niamh will be happy." He held out his arms. "I keep my skin in one piece.”

This man definitely needed to keep all that skin exactly how it was.

He motioned to the door he’d come through. “Look around and get to know the place. You start now.”

Riley stood rooted in place again. “Um, Mister? I don’t know your name.” She doubted he’d like it if she went around calling him Mr. Muscles.

“Jakub Finnegan,” he responded. “Owner of the shop, and your new boss.”