Epilogue

Isis smiled as she watched Cian tumble Piper back onto the mattress and claim her mouth in a passionate kiss.

Yes, he’d be that guy. The one who would always dance with his love beneath the stars, the man whose soul burned white-hot only for her until the end of time. He’d be the one who would stay up to watch her sleep because he couldn’t believe his good fortune. And he’d be the perfect father to their hoard of children.

Isis didn’t feel one smidgeon of guilt for plucking the daydream from Piper’s mind the day she’d rebuilt the old keep. The girl had made clear her thoughts as she welcomed Isis’s gift and used it to create the perfect home for her future family. The very least Isis could do was work with Fate to make sure one of her descendants received their heart’s desire.

“You know nothing is assured.”

Isis didn’t need to look behind her to know who had joined her. “Anu. Welcome. And yes, I’m aware.”

She waved her staff and the scene on the pond’s surface shifted to show the three who conspired to stop the O’Malley prophecy from coming to fruition.

“Yours, I believe.”

Anu joined her and winced when she saw the group Isis indicated. “Should I end them?”

Isis smiled and shook her head. “Your offer comes from the right place, and I appreciate your willingness to assist me. However, if we remove the playing pieces from the board, the prophecy will be aborted.”

“Ah, so you’ve already consulted the Three to glimpse the future. What threads have they woven into the tapestry of the O’Malley family’s life?”

The Three were also known as the three Sisters of Fate. They were responsible for all future events. The gods and goddesses could dabble with Fate’s design to a small extent, but in the end, the final outcome was for the Three to decide.

“I wish I knew. The Three only shared enough for me to understand Moira and Seamus needed to be free to run amok and set the wheels of the next part in motion.

“And the third? How does he play into this?”

“Oddly, I can’t seem to get a read on him.” Isis frowned as she peered closer. “Do you find that as disturbing as I do?”

“Exceedingly.” Anu studied the blond man who towered over Seamus and Moira. “He’s familiar to me, but I can’t place him.”

“Let’s watch and see how this plays out. Perhaps we’ll give little Aeden the help he needs if the time comes.”

“You’ve always had a soft spot for children.” Anu’s smile was warm and admiring. “You’re descendants will be a welcome addition to my island.”

“Thank you, Blessed.” Isis hugged her. “Shall we continue to work together on this one?”

“I’d like nothing better.”

They shared a smile and turned back to watch the scene reflected on the pool surface as it unfolded.

Seamus and Moira stood in front of Ronan’s chair, arguing about who was to blame for the current failure. The bickering was driving Ronan mad. If they didn’t stop soon, he was likely to murder them both.

His phone burned a hole in his pocket, and he removed it to read Rebecca Walsh-Thorne’s message from two weeks ago. The only one he’d received from Bec in over a decade and a half, despite his waiting impatiently.

“See that Piper doesn’t come to harm while she’s in Ireland.”

He’d promptly texted back.

“Not my call.”

Rebecca’s reply was immediate and stung like the dickens.

“You owe me that much for what you did.”

Ronan guzzled what was left of his red wine and stared moodily at the screen.

What he did, yes. He’d tried to seduce her away from her husband and child twenty-two years ago. For all of a moment, he thought he’d had done it. Thought she’d loved him as he loved her. But no. Her heart had been given to Hoyt Thorne and she had no room for Ronan.

Well, if Bec ever saw him again, she’d murder him dead, to be sure. He’d failed to keep Piper safe. Despite his command to leave Piper untouched, Seamus and Moira had gone off script and harmed Bec’s daughter at every opportunity.

Ronan was a piss-poor excuse for a watchdog.

He eyed them sourly as they continued their quarrel.

“You’re a fecking eejit is what you are!” Seamus roared at Moira. “You didn’t trust I’d take care of Piper meself, and you had to show your hand as you tried to prove Cian still loved ya above all others.” An evil, gloating grin spread across his face. “But he doesn’t, does he?”

The sound of Moira’s slap rang out.

The scarlet hand imprint on Seamus’s cheek was no more than the idiot deserved.

As the ring leader of their trio, Ronan had his work cut out for him.

He should’ve killed them the first time they defied him.

“Enough!” he barked and slammed his fist on an end table.

With a surly exchange of glances, Moira and Seamus complied.

Ronan lifted his hand and let flames dance along his fingertips. “The next one who defies my direct order will roast in a hell of my making, do you understand?”

Seamus audibly gulped as Moira studied the polished points of her two-inch nails.

“Moira. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she hissed, and the boiling fury in her glare would singe a lesser man.

“Cian O’Malley is now off the table, as is the Thorne woman.” He rose to his impressive height of six-feet-five and stared down at his two impulsive cousins. “I mean it. If Piper Thorne gets a hangnail, I’ll visit it on you both tenfold. Am I clear?”

They nodded, and Ronan was positive they’d have this conversation again. Preferably before they not-so-accidentally killed Piper with their harebrained schemes.

“We need to prevent the next part of the prophecy,” he told them, to gain their focus.

“Why can’t we just take out the brat?” Moira whined. “Once we do, we’ve ended it for good.”

“No,” Ronan snapped. “The boy was never to be harmed.” He snuffed out the fire by fisting his hand, then proceeded to punch Seamus in the face.

Seamus flew from his seat, landed in a heap, and curled into a ball. After a time when he sensed no further threat, he scurried up, clutching his broken nose. “I’m sorry, Ronan. I’ve said it again and again.”

“I’ll remind you both one last time. We don’t make war on children and we don’t use blood magic.” Ronan crossed his arms and turned his steely silver gaze on the two of them. “You’ve already disobeyed me when you caused the accident that killed Roisin, Seamus. And you!” He pinned Moira with a look. “You defied me with the poison and your fucking blood magic. It will not happen again. I will kill you both where you stand should you ever try.”

“Rona—” they began to whinge in unison.

“Shut up!” He hollered.

The stone walls of their family castle shook and a wealth of dust particles rained down on Seamus’s and Moira’s heads. The two of them ducked and covered.

With a snort of disgust, Ronan beckoned his men from the shadows. “Take them to the south tower and lock them in. Perhaps a few weeks of reflection is what they need to understand I’m deadly serious.”

“No!” Real terror shone in Moira’s eyes. “Please, Ronan. Please don’t lock me in that room.”

The tower rooms had been their punishment from the time the three of them were small children. Stripped bare of all but a hard mattress and a bucket for pissing or shitting, the eight-by-eight space was enough to send the strongest-minded into the mouth of madness.

Ronan hated the place himself, but he couldn’t risk either of his cousins killing anyone else. The intent had been to scare Piper into leaving or to convince Cian to send the woman away. Ronan hadn’t counted on O’Malley falling in love—not after what Moira had done to him in the past. Her betrayal had been one of Ronan’s best laid plans, and she destroyed it when she resurrected herself and showed up in Cian’s salon.

Which reminded him…

“How did you get past the wards, Moira?” he asked in a tone as soft as silk. Sure, and he had his suspicions, but she would answer for her mischief before the day was out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her panicked eyes darted sideways as if to seek Seamus’s help. Her plea-filled look was in vain. Seamus was a coward on the best of days.

Ronan gave her a chilly smile. “Right.” Without breaking eye contact, he motioned the closest guard forward. “Search her. Be careful of poisonous rings and be sure to confiscate whatever you find.”

Moira’s eyes were huge in her deathly pale face. “Ronan—”

“I suspect you borrowed what wasn’t yours to take, Cousin. I’ll have it back now.”

It took less than a minute for the security guard to pat her down, but he shook his head in answer to magical items Moira might be packing.

“Where is it, Moira?” he growled.

“My guess is the Witches’ Council,” Seamus inserted slyly. “They took her ring, too.”

Rage detonated in Ronan’s brain. The missing piece had been given to him by Rebecca during their brief affair. One that allowed him to slip by the Thornes’ wards. It was the only thing he had to remember her by, and now it was gone. His desire to maim tried to overwhelm him. With careful control, he tucked the emotion behind a mental wall. He’d deal with Moira in due course.

“This was orchestrated down to the last note and has been in play for the last seven years, Moira. If you believe I’ll let you or Seamus fuck it up again, you’re delusional. I want the O’Malley magic, and I’ll get it. With or without you.”

Thank you for reading Cian & Piper’s story. If you’re like me, you don’t want to see them go away. Well, they’re not. Going away, that is. You’ll see them woven throughout the rest of the books in my new series, The Unlucky Charms! Turn the page to read an excerpt of Carrick O’Malley and Roisin Byrne’s love story, Whiskey & Witches.

When the Golden Son sacrifices for the One,

Only then can the curse be undone…

Order Whiskey & Witches

PREFACE

Aeden.

The pain was unexpected.

Unbelievable.

Unbearable.

The movement of Roisin’s chest was compressed by the immovable part of the vehicle’s framework that caged her. Taking anything other than a partial, panting breath was impossible.

Aeden.

She wanted to call out to her son, but she couldn’t. Speaking required more air than she could muster with a single inhale. Even had she been able, the ability to draw in oxygen was hindered by the sudden smoke filling the cab of their Rover. She knew real fear then. Smoke meant fire. It wasn’t just the compression of the metal or the thickening tendrils of smoke making breathing difficult; it was the blind panic beginning to set in.

Aeden.

Her beautiful golden boy. She could hear him crying in the back, and every fiber of her being needed to get to him, but she couldn’t. Her magic was gone, and without it, there was no prying herself out of the tangled metal.

His terrified screams rose to a crescendo, becoming more frantic with each passing second. Then, they were no more. She cried out to him, but the sound was an aborted gurgle, and blood bubbled up from her lungs and into her mouth.

Aeden!

Her heart stopped beating.

The physical agony eased with her death, but the anxiety for her son clung to her and wouldn’t let her cross to the Otherworld.

Aeden.

She couldn’t leave him, not her precious son. He needed his mam.

Her heart thudded once. Stopped. Then started again, the beat thready and irregular. Barely there, like her spirit, but tenacious all the same. She was alive, and she’d stay that way for as long as it took to make sure her son was safe.

Brilliant white-gold light filled the vehicle and felt like it seared her retinas behind her closed lids. The entire right side of her face was aflame, and the initial stinging turned into a raging fire. She gasped and immediately regretted the movement as another bubble of blood filled her mouth.

“Don’t move, love. I’ve got you.”

Whoever he was, his was the voice of an angel. Or perhaps a god because she wasn’t sure angels existed in the truest sense of the word. Gods did, though. And Fae. She definitely believed in the Fae, those mischievous feckers.

The metal was sheered away, and Roisin had a vague sense of a giant looming above her.

“Jaysus!”

The light was still too great for her to open her eyes, but she turned her face toward the sound of his sucked-in breath. She wanted to speak. Wanted to ask him what was bad enough to cause that type of reaction. But she suspected the wreckage of her body was a gruesome sight.

“Aeden?” she croaked.

“He’s safe, never you fear. I’ll not let anything happen to him, love.”

She managed a hint of a nod.

“Meg,” she whispered past suddenly dry lips. She hadn’t heard her sister speak or move, and Roisin feared the worst.

“It’s okay, Meg. I’ve got you.”

“Sister…” The metallic taste of her blood mixed with the burn of bile, and she swallowed hard as another wave of fierce pain washed over her.

Gentle fingers stroked the hair back from her face. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly.

The salty sting of tears burned the open, raw wounds of her face.

Meg.

Gone.

Somehow, she’d already known that her larger-than-life, sassy sister who held the world in the palm of her hand was dead. Her rebellious sister who only truly wanted the one thing she could never have: Carrick. Roisin’s beloved husband.

“I’m not a healer, but I can pause the internal bleeding until I get you to hospital for the help you need.”

She opened her eyes and stared into the silvery depths of her savior. No longer able to manage speech or movement, feeling her life force fading, she blinked.

“I’m going to need you to hang in there and not die on my watch, Meg.”

His hand burned where it rested over her heart, but she felt the suffocating fluid that had been filling her chest cavity recede, and her breathing was marginally easier. Turning her head away from his too-intense stare, her gaze touched on her son lying by the side of the road.

Aeden!

Her panic returned, and she feebly shoved at the thick, muscled chest holding her. She’d been unaware of speaking, but the gentle giant holding her was quick to ease her fear.

“I’ve put him to sleep. He’s not hurt but for a little smoke inhalation. The fire’s out now, and he’s safe.” He touched her hand. “If you know what I am, you know what I can do, Meg. I’m going to use my magic to probe your spine for injuries, and I need you to stay perfectly still for me. You can do that, yeah?”

She didn’t have the strength to move or speak, so she simply blinked her acknowledgment, feeling suddenly detached from it all.

A pulse of power, just shy of an electrical zap, slowly traveled from the base of her skull to her tailbone, hesitating around the area of her low back as if it were exploring that area.

“Nothing severe, but I think you have a few fractures, love. I need to get you out of this bloody mess, which means you’re going to experience a bit more pain.”

She opened her mouth to protest but closed it again as blood trickled out in place of her words.

“I’ve no choice, Meg. The whole thing could blow.”

With great care, he used his magic and large, gentle hands to ease her out of the wreckage, then strode with her to where Aeden was curled up. Bending, he used the hand supporting her legs to touch the crown of her son’s head. Roisin’s cells warmed, starting with the nucleus and burning outward, heating her entire body as he teleported them away from the crash site.

The sounds of an ambulance in the distance and of nearby shouting indicated they’d arrived at hospital.

As the blackness crowded the edges of her consciousness, she heard her rescuer’s smooth, confident tone as he explained the situation to another and handed her off to the medical personnel. She had enough presence of mind to grasp his hand and squeeze—the only thanks she could manage.

“Aeden is safe,” he murmured. “We’ll contact his da. Rest now, love.”

And so she did.

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Books in The Thorne Witches Series: