Devil of Dublin

by B.B. Easton

Her eyes lifted to mine, round and sweet, and without a word, without a plan, without a clue as to why we would do such a thing, Darby and I pressed our bloody palms together. And kissed. The moment her lips touched mine, the same still blue presence that had beckoned me into the water returned. It wrapped around my mind like the tail of a cat, warm and soft and cautiously curious. Then, it spoke. “Is fíor bhur ngrá,” it purred. “Tugaim mobheannacht daoibh.”

💜💜

Kellen grinned, and I could almost feel his self-hatred crack like a glacier and start to melt in my hands. “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—”

💜