Sneak peak at book three in the Guardian Series:

1

Sean

It’s the pounding in my head that wakes me. Rolling onto my side I slit my eyes and throw my arm over them blocking the blazing sunlight. Fuck, I drank too much. Gritting my teeth, I open my eyes again slowly and try to figure out exactly where I am. It only takes a moment to realize I passed out on Aislin’s couch after the celebration. Two suckers got married last night. I’m happy for them but no thanks nothing like that for me. Lying still I take a few deep breaths trying to convince my body not to throw up.

The sound of skin peeling off leather force me to turn my head to my right, Michael has taken off his shirt in the night and is now sweating puddles in this crazy humid weather. I swallow a few times at the sight of the six Hurricane glasses that sit empty on the table between us. Now I understand why those two wicked women were laughing at us last night. Emma had warned us to go easy, Aislin just kept handing us more.

A groan draws my eyes back to Michael, he is pushing his dark hair out of his blue eyes and glaring at me. I slowly begin to push up, gulping more air. He shakes his head slowly holding it.

“Me head is going to split right open, ye bastard.” his voice is filled with humor and pain. A dainty giggle causes us to whip our heads to the kitchen. “Oh Jazus.”

I narrow my eyes on the one standing there sipping some of Aislin’s beloved coffee. I squeeze my eyes closed tightly, trying to remember her name. She is a friend of the girls, one they know from Emma’s old neighborhood and the French Quarter. She looks like a pixie, every color of the rainbow in her clothes and hair. Piercings in her nose, ears and no telling where else and tattoos cover her exposed skin. If I remember correctly, she handed us more than one of the drinks that put us here.

“How ya feelin’ this morning… well day? Bless your hearts we warned ye.” She mimics our accent mixin it with her thick southern one.

“Hauld ye tongue woman.” I grimace as my own voice makes my head pound harder.

“”I made you my very special, very secret hangover cure. If you can manage to get over here.” Her grin makes me nervous and I stay where I’m at, but Michael crawls to his feet, moaning the whole time.

She hands him a cup when he finally reaches her side, he sniffs it and gags. She just nods her head and pushes it toward his mouth. He glances at me and then gulps it down, heaving the whole time.

“I knew you would be first to drink it.” She smiles at him.

“Did you see it in your cards.” My tone is harsher than I mean.

She shrugs at me before looking back at Michael, her eyes narrow on him. He is watching her just as closely. I don’t like the feel of this. We are Druids and we believe in magic. Hell, we have to given everything we’ve seen in our lives but this is different.

I stand and cross to them drawing her gaze, she picks up and hands me a cup. I look at it.

“Drink it, Sean. I feel better already.” Michael’s eyes haven’t left her. “So, Cora… what do you see?”

“I see a white raven, brother killing brother and the beginning of the end.” Sadness fills her eyes as she looks between us. I look at her and I know she sees my anger. I don’t try to hide it.

“Don’t look to us to fulfill your vision. I would die before I would harm him.” I growl it out at her, I might not be able to change into some fucking animal but I have beast in me. Michael nods in agreement.

“I only tell you what I see. I will say some of those who were here yesterday could have affected my powers. Especially the one with gray eyes, he is one to keep an eye on.” Her voice is filled with confusion and a hint of lust.

Michael chuckles before speaking, “Yes one should always keep an eye on The Trickster.”

Cora gasps understanding dawning in her eyes, “The Trickster, Loki?” She whispers, glancing around. I shake my head yes as Michael grins. We both figure one more person knowing the Old Gods walk among us isn’t going got hurt anything besides Cora could be helpful.

I realize my head is already feeling better and I look around. Cora is studying Michael’s chest with interest, I’m not sure if it is his muscles or the tattoos. I get my answer as her finger flits out and traces an intricate Celtic knot on his right pec just below his collarbone. Her eyes glaze over as he watches her silently, suddenly her head flies back and her eyes open wide and a blood curdling scream is forced from her throat.