“I don’t know how I feel about my sister being married to a murderer,” Aveen announced.
Tadhg threw a hand at me. “He killed seven.”
“Eight, actually.” But the difference was that Aveen had no desire to marry me. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe her interest extended deeper than physical intimacy at this stage. If she wanted to use my body until the day she died, I’d let her. I’d take whatever she was willing to give. “And they were all my fault,” I added, not bothering to hide my smile.
A bunch of drunk humans had lost the run of themselves and tried to attack me—four at once. Then their little friends got offended when I’d snapped their necks. They’d seen what I could do, and yet they’d fought me anyway.
Aveen’s delectable lips pursed into a pout. “You have to stop killing people, Rían. It’s wrong.”
What was wrong was her being so damned far away from me and wearing all those clothes. Good thing I planned on remedying that as soon as dinner ended.
Ruairi bit his lip with his fangs while Tadhg’s shoulders vibrated with laughter. A moment later, their deep cackles echoed around the room.
“I’m sorry, but have you met my brother?” Tadhg gasped, swiping at his tear-filled eyes with his dirty sleeve.
“For some reason, she insists on seeing the good in me.” Heaven only knew why.
“What good?” Tadhg snorted, giving me a shove. “You’re not happy unless you’re murdering someone.”
“I do love a good murder,” I said, only half joking because Aveen did not look impressed.If I told her how many times I’drefrainedfrom murdering people, she’d be proud.
My brother’s green eyes sparked with mischief. “What’s your favorite part? Is it the way the light fades from their eyes? Or the way they always look so surprised?”
They did look surprised. Why was that? How could a human in his right mind believe he could best us? “For me, it’s the coppery tang of blood. Positively delectable. The bloodier the murder, the better. Although the shite stains something awful. Just last week I ruined my favorite waistcoat.”
“Murder isn’t a joke,” Aveen insisted, gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.
Tadhg nodded as if he agreed, hiding his shit-eating grin behind his hand.
“Would it make you feel better to know the people I kill deserve it?” I asked.
“Mostly,” Tadhg whispered.
I kicked the asshole in the shin. If Aveen didn’t stop giving me that look, I was never going to get under her skirts. And I had wicked plans for her.
“Careful now, lads,” Ruairi said, still smiling his obnoxious smile. “She’s getting proper cross.”
I didn’t want her frowning. I wanted her smiling. Then again, perhaps I could use this to my advantage. “I like her when she’s angry.” Bedding violent Aveen lived at the top of my list of goals. It may have even been above vengeance.
Aveen’s shoulders rose and fell when she inhaled a deep breath. “What were you about to suggest before all of you went off on a murder tangent?”
I couldn’t very well tell her now that I knew how she felt about murder. Although, maybe if I explained who I wanted to murder, she’d no longer object.
Tadhg and Ruairi laughed, no doubt knowing exactly what I had been about to suggest.
The clock from the study struck the hour.
Ruairi slammed the wine bottle in his hand onto the table. “Shite. We almost forgot. Eava!”
“Eava! Eava!” Tadhg bellowed.
How could we forget? Poor Eava would be devastated. I joined in, a chorus of shouts echoing off the gray stones as we yelled for the old witch.
She suddenly appeared, boxing Tadgh’s ears first. “What’d I tell ye about roarin’ down the feckin’ castle walls like a bunch of heathens?”
She insisted on pretending she didn’t love it when we did this. If she’d hated it, she wouldn’t have stayed on past her normal working hours every Saturday night since we began almost fifty years ago, when Tadhg was in a mood over no one ever wanting to marry him. Now he’d been handfasted twice. And I had a feeling that when Keelynn came back, she’d marry the bastard again.
Aveen’s cheeks flushed as she searched our faces, no doubt thinking we were a bunch of loons.