The Immortal's Unrequited Bride Giveaway & Excerpt by Kelli Ireland
Today we have a great excerpt from a paranormal romance by Kelli Ireland.
A love that endures beyond death itself…
Ethan Kemp is a healer, not an assassin. But he's found an unexpected home in the Irish stronghold that houses the Assassin's Arcanum—men who will kill to protect their Druid brethren. Too bad there's a ghost that won't give him peace…
Centuries in the grave, Isibéal Cannavan has longed to be reunited with her beloved. Finally, he's returned to her. She'd recognize Lachlan anywhere, even as an American warlock called Ethan. But her path to reuniting with him in the land of the living runs through hell itself, and she'll have to take Ethan with her…
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Ethan pressed the heels of his hands to his temples and slowly shook his head. “So much. All of it? At least most of it.” He slid down the wall at his back until he sat, knees bent and feet flat on the floor. “I need to talk to her to be sure, though.”
Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“I’m not sure how.”
Cool air brushed over his forehead, and Ethan knew she hovered at his side. Listening.
Letting his head fall back, he gently thumped his skull on the stone wall. “I remember her, us, growing up together. I remember days playing by the loch, nights by the campfire telling scary stories. I remember Iz curling up next to me for protection. Gods, I ate that up.” He smiled. “She knew it, too. She always seemed to know. “There was my first magick and then hers, our skills growing in tandem. There was our first kiss,” he mur- mured, closing his eyes, “and the night I proposed to her, thinking to be romantic. Our wedding day...and night. “Four years we were married, Rowan. Before that? I called her my own for every day I knew her as Lachlan. Marriage only added another level of knowing. Of... intimacy.” Ethan couldn’t stop the pained, animalistic sound that escaped him.
“And then?” Rowan asked.
Grief and rage and loss warred within him, none more dominant than the other, until revenge settled into the mix. “She was taken from me,” Ethan said with cold quiet. “Her life was cut short by Sean, a man who thought it his right to give and take as he saw fit. My brother,” Ethan spat even as he clutched his shirt over his heart and pulled. “He... Gods, save me, I saw...”
“Enough,” Rowan said gently, not looking at him but, seemingly, at nothing.
Ethan knew better. He looked in the same direction, resented that he couldn’t see her, hear her, touch her. Pressing his hand flat over his chest, he bowed his head. “I can’t even kill him, seeing as he’s probably already dead.” He sighed. “I can’t remember.”
A heavy, male hand landed on his shoulder. “Sean Cannavan was cast out of the Arcanum and shunned by all Druids when I was a wee lad. It was never known why by any of the elders. There’s a chance your brother lives, but if he does? He’s lost everything, Ethan. Sean was infamously banished. The decree set down by the Elder’s Council said he was never to be acknowledged by a Druid again. He was sent into a life of absolute exile, Ethan. Not much you can do that’s worse than that.”
Ethan smiled, slow and sure. “You’ve never seen me lose my temper.”
“No one’s heard from him in centuries. As far as I know, he’s presumed dead. How do you intend to avenge someone who’s already dead?”
He glanced at Rowan. “Helps to have a friend who sees dead people.”
“I won’t be responsible for helping you strike out blindly. Only heartache comes from foolishness.”
Ethan shot to his feet and gripped Rowan by the bi- ceps, ignoring the man’s pointed look. “If she was yours? If you could set to rights your own loss? And if not that, at least deliver some semblance of justice that might, might, let you sleep at night?”
Rowan went rigid as he closed his eyes. “Aye, man. I’d do whatever was necessary.” Then he looked at Ethan. “Whatever was necessary.”
“Then you’ll understand that I need to borrow your power. I need to talk to her.”
The giant Druid’s eyebrows shot to his hairline at the same time a cold gust of air blew over Ethan.
He spun toward the disturbance. “Isibéal?”
The window to his right exploded outward and rained glass down the side of the keep, the merry, tinkling sound in direct opposition to the violent war of emotions that raged within him.
Isibéal was gone.
Ethan stared out into the night sky and rested one hand over his heart.
He would find a way to touch her, hold her, save her from an eternity of nothingness and avenge the wrong done her—them—if those were the last things he did.
And they very well might be.
Kelli Ireland spent more than 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. Ever a fan of happily-ever-afters, she discovered 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.