Kelli Ireland - The Immortal's Hunger

WHEN YOU PLAY WITH FIRE...

It was only a matter of time before Gareth Brennan had to die. Before he made that ultimate sacrifice, the assassin wanted to know warmth once again. His recent experiences had destroyed his ability to create fire, yet sexy bartender Ashley Clement was now igniting one within him.

As a Phoenix, Ashley had limited time herself; soon a male Phoenix would claim her. Unless she could find a lover. Gareth was the perfect man for the job. Except he was no human, and their union might draw even more danger. But to deny their fiery attraction...that was a truly impossible task.

“I’ll show you mine when you show me yours.”

Ashley leaned into him and the smell of sunshine and dry heat intensified. “Clever man. I suppose closing time will provide us both the answer I’ve not yet decided on. Stay if you will.”

Spinning on her heel, she strode across the pub and slipped behind the bar.

Gareth stole a look at his watch.

Midnight.

Two hours to kill.

If this woman was his last chance? If she could give him the chance to find even a moment’s peace before an eternity of torment? There was nothing he wouldn’t do, no sin he wouldn’t commit. And he would do any of it, all of it, without batting an eye. After all, he was already damned, a dead man.

There was nothing left to lose, only a warm woman to gain.

KELLI IRELAND spent a decade as a name on a door in corporate America. Unexpectedly liberated by Fate’s sense of humor, she chose to carpe the diem and pursue her passion for writing. A fan of happily-ever-afters, she found she loved being the puppet master for the most unlikely couples. Seeing them through the best and worst of each other while helping them survive the joys and disasters of falling in love? Best. Thing. Ever. Visit Kelli’s website at www.kelliireland.com.

The Immortal’s Hunger

Kelli Ireland

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

Welcome back to the myth and magic of Ireland! The first book in the series introduced you to the five men, all Druids, who make up the Assassin’s Arcanum. This second book introduces the man who’s second in command, or Regent: Gareth Brennan. Darkness has weighed him down for too long, but the personal sacrifice it will take to shed that weight may be too high a cost. Only time, and the power of love, will tell.

I was fortunate to spend several weeks in Ireland not long ago. The country is as charming as it is indescribably beautiful. And I can tell you without batting an eye that the country is as green as it’s reputed to be. And the people? They’re warm, friendly and have a quick wit about them. I made friends there that I still miss (waves at Mary and Tommy!).

Every time I delve into an Arcanum member’s story, I’m transported back to this land. Ireland wove her own magic around me. It seemed anything...everything...was possible while I was there. I’ve cherished each discovery I made in Ireland, both personal and professional. But that particular feeling of being able to do anything I set my mind to? I’ve held it closest of all.

May that sense of wonder and the urge to believe in the impossible find you somewhere within the pages of Gareth’s story.

Until next time,

Kelli

To all the amazing people who touched my life while I was in Ireland researching this series.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Gareth Brennan considered the frost-rimed grass, yellowed and made brittle by a persistent cold no summer month in Ireland had ever seen. Toeing the edge of the macabre pattern of cracked earth with his booted foot, a hard shiver raced up his spine. The Old Ones, ancestors lost long before the modern day, held that a man knew when someone passed over his grave. They’d known with certainty what time such events occurred and disbelief at the myth had turned into an old wives’ tale, suggesting that the connection between life and death was so thin that the soul rebelled at death’s most subtle threat.

Gareth had died here a little more than six months ago. And he’d been resurrected. His connection to this very place had been cemented that day. Whether anyone believed in the old legends, or his reactions, was irrelevant. Gareth knew every time man, animal or...other...crossed this ground.

Clumps of dark, cracked soil broke away as he continued to think. The ground seemed to sigh, exhaustion bleeding out of the unnatural fissures. It shamed him that fear, not fury, was his immediate response to that sound, the sound that called up memories of his death. The goddess, Cailleach, bound millennia before to the Shadow Realm, had sought to break her chains and return to this plane. She’d sought to displace the gods and remake the world to her satisfaction, placing her and her siblings as rulers over mankind.

Gareth hadn’t been of an accord. And he also hadn’t been willing to fight her, not when she’d possessed a woman who bore no responsibility in the merging of souls beyond having been born to the wrong bloodline at the worst possible time. He couldn’t condemn her for something so beyond her control. Well, that and the fact the Druid’s Assassin, Gareth’s boss and brother by choice, loved the woman. That had certainly influenced him, as well. As Regent to the Assassin and his Arcanum, second in command in all things, he’d made an executive decision. Dylan’s happiness trumped the man’s loneliness. So Gareth didn’t fight back, instead allowing the woman to run him through with a sword. A large sword. Bloody bad idea that had been.

He kicked at the earth again, and it did, indeed, sigh.

His fear intensified at the sound, one so familiar to the breathy voice that haunted him both waking and asleep.

Death.

Phantoms.

The goddess.

War.

Gareth shuddered and took a step back as he considered the scarred soil.

How much stronger was the connection between life and death if a man experienced death and rebirth in the same spot? How tightly bound would he be to the place if the Goddess of Phantoms and War herself told him she’d see him here again come Beltane?

There wasn’t an easy answer. He only knew that each time someone crossed this patch, his entire body shuddered with repulsion. His breath stalled. The goddess breathed into his ear, her voice as chilling as mortals believed it should have been hot.

“Beltane.”

Always the same singular word, and always uttered with the same undisguised intent.

She’s coming for me.