Devil of Dublin

by B.B. Easton

“When we get to New York, I’m building you a fuckin’ library.”

The second that sugary vanilla flavor hit my tongue, a kaleidoscope of memories exploded behind my eyes. Darby in those yellow wellies. Darby’s tiny hand holding a biscuit out to me like I was a rabid dog. Darby’s fearless, gap-toothed grin as she watched me devour them. They were the best things I’d ever tasted at the time because they tasted like her.

If love had a flavor, it would be vanilla custard cream.

If I didn’t know her, I would have assumed that she was the prettiest girl at Trinity College, and I would have been insanely jealous of the bloke whose jacket she was wearing. How the fuck that bloke had turned out to be me, I still didn’t know.

Like he’d said, I was the Devil of Dublin. The one they called Diabhal. And Diabhal didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He didn’t fuck, drink, or smoke. He spoke only when necessary. And nobody outside of the UIB knew what he looked like because everyone who’d seen his face was dead.

“Oh, you didn’t know? Darlin’, you were kidnapped by the Devil of Dublin himself. He’s a sick fuck, this one. Yer lucky to be alive. Most people who get a glimpse of that handsome mug don’t live to tell the tale.”

I’d gotten my half hour in heaven. And now, the Devil knew I was dead.

I was staring at someone they called the Devil of Dublin, but all I saw when I looked at him was a busted lip peeking out from behind a curtain of loose black curls. A cauldron made from a scuffed leather shoe. A skinny, scarred body backflipping into an enchanted lake. My poor, sweet Kellen. What did they do to you? What did they make you do?

I was afraid for him. I was afraid of losing him. But I had never, not once, been afraid of Kellen Donovan.

“We have eternity, remember? Maybe I’ll deserve you by then.”

A sense of peace washed over me, and like I’d experienced the night before, a still, certain knowing settled into my bones. Only this time, the knowing didn’t tell me that everything was going to be all right. It wasn’t there to comfort me. It didn’t hold my hand or stroke my hair. It lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and said, NO.

NO. It was a decree. A demand. A line drawn in the sand. NO. I would not let another man touch me without my permission. NO. I would not abandon my body and let it be attacked. NO. I was not powerless. Helpless. Or weak. In fact, I was the most dangerous force on earth. I was somebody with nothing to lose.

“Please help me find her again. I’ll be everything she deserves next time. I’ll be anything you want. Just, when they finally kill me, help me find her again. Please.”

I’d never considered myself to be a man of faith. But I was. I believed in a god who’d forsaken me. I believed in a devil whose blood ran in my veins. And I believed in the only blessing I’d ever been given. I had to. It was all I had left.

“It’s gonna be all right. You know how I know?” I shook my head with a sniffle. “Because yer covered in freckles. Everywhere ya have a freckle is where an angel kissed ya, you know? So, I can tell that yer thoroughly protected.”

And even though my table for four had three empty seats, I didn’t feel alone. Because Grandpa, my mom, and Kellen were all there in spirit, cheering me on.

A tear spilled over her freckled cheek, and I never got the chance to hand her my heart because the tortured, relieved, enraptured smile she gave me next reached in between my ribs and stole it from me.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just … did what I thought you would do. Every step of the way, Kellen. You kept me alive. You showed me what to do.”

“You opened my eyes. You showed me that power is something you take back, not something you wait to be given. You showed me a life I’d never even dreamed of.”

“A life that was finally worth fighting for.”

“This is the girl I fell in love with back in Glenshire.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against mine as his gaze dropped to my lips. “Fearless.” He said, sealing my parted lips with a reverent kiss. “Clever.” Another kiss. “Badass.” One more. “Beautiful.”

“Of course I do. Kellen, I want you because I know the truth. The truth is that you are good, and brave, and strong, and smart, and humble, and sweet, and”—I let him watch my eyes slide down his exposed, chiseled, bloodied torso—“honestly, just ridiculously hot. I mean, look at you. Seriously.”

“The truth is that I’ve been yours since the moment we met. I thought you were magical then, and I still do. You are my past, you are my present, and according to a thousand-year-old lake spirit, you are my eternity. So, yeah, I still want—”

“Every good memory I have happened here too. Right here, Darby. With you.”

Kellen was the most courageous, most resilient, most formidable person I’d ever met. He’d found the strength to destroy the men who’d hurt us, and if that made him the Devil, then I would gladly burn in hell by his side.

“I would love nothin’ more than to haunt these woods with you for eternity.”

“I know today is our first government anniversary, but as far as Saoirse and I are concerned”—he tipped his head toward the bench—“you and I’ve been married for goin’ on ten years now.”