“Why are you doing this?” Niamh asked as they reached the entrance.
“Doing what?”
“Acting as my bodyguard. I mean, a fairly terrible one who breaks my neck and all, but … yeah, for lack of a better word, my bodyguard.”
“Terrible?” he asked in his bored tone. “I saved your life. I wouldn’t call that being bad at my job. And that’s why: It’s a job I’m being paid to do. Extremely well paid.”
“There’s more to it than that. Someone who is secretly seething underneath at the thought of going to Tokyo wouldn’t go, not even for money.”
With a sigh of irritation, he gripped her arm and pulled her toward the airline desks. “It’s called an unbreakable contract. Basically, a spell. If I fail to protect you, the spell brings me to Fionn. He’s promised retribution.”
Niamh’s brow puckered. “Why on earth would you sign up for that?”
“Because I was bored.” He gave her a hard smirk. “Believe me, I’m regretting it.”
“Why?” she said. “Nothing about the last twenty-four hours has been boring, has it?”
Then she saw it … a definite twitch of his lips and a slight glitter of amusement in his eyes.
Something swelled in her chest at the sight, and she found herself grinning like a moron. “Thought not.”
“Shut up,” he said gruffly. “And let’s book this flight.”
Having the ability to make humans see what she wanted was one of Niamh’s less honorable tricks, but it had come in very handy over the years. She changed the name on Kiyo’s passport, which was currently Ryan Green.
“Very imaginative,” she muttered dryly.
He really could cut the most delightfully dirty looks.
And she presented a piece of paper that the desk staff would see as a passport.
They had no bags to check, so it was a fairly quick business. Kiyo attempted to pay for the tickets but Niamh didn’t want to give anyone a chance to track them. She paid in cash.
Their first flight was to Istanbul, and they had over six hours to wait until takeoff. The thought left Niamh feeling antsy for more than one reason. Six hours was too long to be in one place after being attacked by The Garm. Worse, she hated hanging around airports. Airports seemed to exist on some plane of existence where time slowed to a painful, sloth-like crawl. Her boredom always increased tenfold.
When they moved through security, she had to use mental manipulation again to stop security from questioning her about the pile of cash in her bag. She had over $30,000 in different currencies.
“Did you steal that cash?” Kiyo asked as they strolled out of security.
Guilt pricked at her. “What of it?”
“There is no honor in stealing.”
“I know,” she said so quietly, it was almost a whisper.
Kiyo frowned at whatever he heard in her voice. “Then why?”
“I’ve been on the run for over half my life.” She shrugged. “I did what I could to survive.”
“Luxury hotels, empty penthouse apartments, and piles of cash is merely surviving?”
Realizing he knew more about her than she’d thought—and hearing the judgment in his tone—Niamh clamped her lips tightly shut. He wouldn’t understand, so there was no point engaging in conversation about it.
“Unless, of course, it was your brother who convinced you living it large made up for being on the run.”
His words hit so close to the truth, Niamh felt them like claws in her chest. She turned to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own business, when a roll of familiar nausea turned over in her gut.
She felt the blood drain from her face.
No.
Not now.
Not so soon after the last.
“Kiyo,” she said, frantic.
He stopped, expression alert. “What?”
“Vision.” She got the word out just before the first image slammed into her head. Vaguely she was aware of her body moving and then a strong band of power wrapped around her. It steadied her as images of a young, pretty, dark-haired girl pounded painfully through her brain, one after the other. A man. Older. Connected to her. Owner. Husband. Sexual violence. Beatings. Abuse. Servitude. Exhaustion. Pain. Despair. Loathing. Rage. Despair. Rage.
Despair.
Rage
Despair.
RAGE.
Shuddering as the last image faded from her mind, Niamh realized the usual juddering convulsions were restrained. Cognizance returned, and Niamh lifted her head to lock gazes with Kiyo.
He’d guided her to a corner of the airport, his body covering hers, his arms bound tight around her.
“If anyone saw, they only witnessed two people embracing,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling her face.
The hairs on Niamh’s arms and nape rose as a shiver skated down her spine.
He smelled wonderful. Earthy. Smoky.
And his arms felt safe.
They felt good.
It had been months since anyone had been there to hold her through her visions.
As tears burned her throat and stung her eyes, Niamh dropped her gaze so he wouldn’t see. She pushed gently at his chest.
He slowly released her.
“Thanks,” she muttered, turning away from him.
Her bag had fallen to the floor. She quickly grabbed it and hurried in the direction of the ladies’ restroom.
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what the vision was about?”
“Same one,” she lied. “Must be important.”
They reached the restroom and Niamh raised an eyebrow at him. “You know you can’t come in here, right? Why don’t you go buy us some breakfast?” She gestured to the food court. “I’ll meet you over there.”
Niamh wasn’t sure if anyone had ever bestowed such a suspicious look on her before. Everyone else saw a sweet girl with a sweet demeanor who couldn’t possibly lie … not Kiyo. It was like the bastard could see right through her.
With a roll of her eyes, Niamh pushed into the restroom and let the door slam behind her.
There were several other women inside.
She pretended to use the facilities as quickly as possible and then followed one of the other ladies out.
Thankfully, Kiyo was gone, which meant he was at the food court.
Good.
Niamh took off in the direction for terminal transport. By the time Kiyo realized she was gone, it would be too late. And she’d find him again. Something told her that whenever the wolf was in the vicinity, Niamh would be able to find him, even blindfolded.
Ignoring the ghost of his embrace that still clung to her, Niamh got on the elevator that took her down to the terminal’s bus stop. A bus was already there waiting. Perfect timing.
Her patience strained as the bus sat there for five minutes and then finally, the doors closed. It moved, skirting the runway and waiting planes as it drove toward the next terminal.
No one would notice if she raced from this point on because people were always in a hurry at the airport. Niamh dove off the bus in the direction of the girl from her vision. This vision had explained more than the last. Unlike the last, but much like the latest others, this vision was tinged with insistence and aggression. She’d never had visions like these up until a few months ago … like they were trying to make her feel something, not just relay information.