Kiyo reached the struggling couple and took a small amount of pleasure in shoving the man off the girl with just enough strength to put him on his ass. The place was so packed, the prick took down a couple of people in his path. But Kiyo couldn’t be sorry.
Especially when the girl looked up at him with hero worship and interest in her dark eyes.
Well, this is going to be easy.
Her cheeks flushed prettily as Kiyo stared down at her. She was perfect for snaring Niamh in his trap.
The girl leaned onto her tiptoes and he bent his head toward her. Her lips brushed his ear as she said, “Spasibo.”
He nodded and lifted his head. “You’re welcome.”
She frowned.
He searched his memory for the little Russian he knew. “Pozhaluysta.”
Beaming, she grinned flirtatiously. Kiyo took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He mimed taking an invisible drink with his free hand and raised a questioning eyebrow.
The girl lowered her lashes and nodded coyly.
Kiyo led her through the surging bodies. But not toward the bar at the back of the room. As he moved, he looked for a glowing exit sign. Discerning the green one that read выход was it, he stalked toward it. He felt the girl wrap her other hand around his wrist and give a tug. Glancing over his shoulder at her, he found her frowning warily.
As he offered her a reassuring look, he tried not to appear triumphant as the smell of caramel and spice grew closer. His skin tingled with awareness, the hair rising on the nape of his neck.
Niamh was following them.
Gripping the girl’s hand tighter, he pulled her to the exit door, ignoring the barely there sting of her nails on his skin as she resisted. He yanked open the door and hauled her past him, thrusting her into the darkly lit hallway. Steep concrete stairs led down to a fire door.
The exit door slammed shut behind him and the girl backed away, her eyes round with fear.
Kiyo let the growl of the wolf rumble in his voice as he ordered, “Run.”
She might not have understood English, but she understood his command. She ran. Without hesitation.
She took the stairs three at a time and blasted out through the fire door without looking back.
A shiver cascaded down Kiyo’s spine, shocking him as his claws unleashed, as if his body had a mind of its own. Something satisfying and needful tugged at his gut. It was like the call of a full moon. As her scent tickled him, Kiyo realized the sensation was Niamh drawing near.
Darting into the darkest corner of the hall, he retracted his claws and held his breath as the exit door opened again.
Niamh stepped into the hall, her scent enveloping him.
The hair on his arms rose.
His heart raced.
What the hell?
“Hello?” She turned toward the staircase.
Kiyo knew Niamh was fast. Faster than even him.
It was a risk to take her like this.
But he really saw no other choice.
Niamh tensed, turning her head so she was in profile. Her lips parted in surprise and he knew she’d sensed him.
Too late.
Faster than most werewolves, Kiyo was a speedy blur as he crossed the short distance between them, grabbed her head between his large hands, and snapped her neck.
The fae crumpled, and he quickly swept her warm body into his arms. Her head lolled horribly, but he refused to feel guilty. Guilt was a foreign emotion. Anyway, a fae didn’t stay down long from a broken neck. Or so Fionn and Rose had told him.
As he pushed out into the freezing Moscow night, he searched the parking lot for witnesses and was relieved to find none. They were alone. He rounded the vehicle and swiped the keys off the tire, pressing them to open the car. Remembering how important this woman was to Fionn, Kiyo found himself easing her onto the back seat of the car with a gentleness that did not come naturally.
And was pointless, really, considering he’d just broken her neck.
Before coming for her, he’d torn open the leather of the car bench and lined the inside with pure iron, and then taped the leather back up. If Niamh awoke before he returned to the apartment, the iron would weaken her without hurting her.
Pure iron, Fionn had confessed, was the only weapon on earth that could harm a fae. They did not have pure iron on Faerie, which was why the fae were truly immortal in their own world.
Sometimes he had to remind himself this shit was no longer a fairy tale supernaturals scoffed at or the religion that some of them clung to, to explain their existence.
It was real.
Still, Kiyo reckoned it would never feel truly real unless he, one day, saw Faerie. And if that happened, the world was screwed.
Moving with urgency, Kiyo got in the car and tried not to speed out of the parking lot. The heat from the traffic within the city center melted the snow and ice, but Kiyo drove west at an inconspicuous speed. At this hour the traffic wasn’t bad, but it still took thirty-five minutes for them to reach the apartment in the Solntsevo District.
Niamh had been awake for most of that.
She healed with remarkable speed.
Kiyo knew she was awake because only five minutes into the drive, an almost imperceptible whimper had escaped her lips. Glancing in the rearview mirror angled toward her, he found her lying limp, eyes closed.
But her neck no longer lolled at a hideous angle, and her chest rose and fell ever so slightly. His gaze darted down her sweetly curved body to the long legs that he’d had to bend at the knees to make them fit on the bench.
Staring back at the road, Kiyo felt every muscle in his body lock with tension. He had no idea if the pure iron sewn into the seat would work.
Eventually, he relaxed. The fact that she hadn’t attacked him the entire ride or traveled out of the car using fae magic was evidence that his strategy was a success.
Parking the car in a dark neighborhood of dangerous reputation, one chosen specifically so if anyone saw him hauling a woman into his apartment, they might be less likely to do anything about it, Kiyo waited a moment. He had excellent vision and even in the car’s dim light, he could make out Niamh’s every feature. She still pretended to be unconscious.
That strange shiver cascaded down his spine again, and his pulse jumped. He frowned. It was unlike him to be anything but calm in a situation.
Reaching into the glove box, Kiyo removed the handcuffs he’d had specially made. They were pure iron but covered in thick leather so they wouldn’t burn her. He’d seen the burn scars on Rose’s wrists from whoever had held her captive. To press pure iron to Niamh’s skin would be tantamount to torture.
And while he wasn’t in the habit of torturing innocents, Kiyo also wasn’t keen on testing the unbreakable contract with Fionn. If he hurt or abandoned Niamh, Fionn would be able to summon Kiyo to him using magic. Though Kiyo was unkillable, he was pretty certain Fionn would be able to imprison him for all eternity or until he found a way to end Kiyo’s life. Kiyo didn’t mind the ending his life part, but he knew with absolute certainty there was no way to kill him.
Unlike every other being on Earth, Kiyo was a true immortal.
Eternity was a terrifying prospect Kiyo avoided the thought of by working as a mercenary and battling in underground fights.
Eternity in prison … he didn’t dare contemplate the hell it would be.
So, he’d do as Fionn asked, even if Niamh Farren turned out to be the biggest pain in the ass. He was being generously compensated to do so.
Kiyo exited and rounded the car to the passenger side where Niamh’s head rested. He didn’t want to take the chance of opening the other side and her using what strength she had to kick him to Timbuktu. Moving at wolf speed, he fastened the handcuffs around her wrists. She couldn’t hide her flinch.