“I know it sounds like utter bullshit. Believe me, I’ve been where you are. But for your own sake, you need to accept this. As quickly as possible.”

Sloane looked up at Heather, starting to feel a bit desperate and pissed. She’d accepted the mystery of Aidan being her father—or at least her heart had. Her mind was far from convinced any of this shit was actually happening. Throw in fucking vampires, and this cocktail was getting real hard to swallow. Even for a writer.

“Look, Miss Kantos. Umm, Mrs. O’Neill—”

The woman smirked. “Heather will do. Though I expect right now you’re thinking somewhere more along the lines of you crazy fucking bitch.”

Sloane couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud, and it felt good. “Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Believe me, it does.” Heather grinned back at her and Sloane knew they were going to be friends, really good ones at that. Heather sat down, touching the back of Sloane’s hand. “But I swear I’m only trying to prepare you. I wasn’t kidding about being in your shoes. Seeing shit happen right before my eyes that my mind wouldn’t—couldn’t—fathom. It almost broke me.” She looked down at Sloane’s hand, squeezing it hard. “I don’t want it to break you.”

“For his sake.” The depth of the connection between this woman and her father was almost palpable. Heather looked up, dark hair curving over that lovely profile. She smiled.

“Of course. What is important to him is even more important to me, but I expect I’ll love you for your own sake soon enough.” She patted Sloane’s hand and got to her feet. “Until then, do try and make him happy.”

“I’m hearing an ‘or else’ in there.”

“I can’t imagine why.” This time, Sloane caught a glint of white in Heather’s smirk. She blinked.

“Making friends, Nobody?” Aidan was back. He’d slipped out of the dark so smoothly it was startling.

“You know me too well.”

He snorted, even as he snaked a hand around her stomach and pulled her back against him, leaning down so his nose brushed her hair. The way his whole body relaxed as he breathed her in made Sloane’s heart contract painfully and she had to avert her eyes.

Witnessing love that raw was beautiful, but almost too much, like trying to look straight into the sun at noon. They murmured to each other, but she didn’t attempt to listen in. Maybe shock was finally settling in, because all at once she was so damn exhausted breathing itself took all her energy.

It took her a while to realize Aidan was standing in front of her, his hand on her chin. She didn’t resist when he tilted her face up to meet his concerned gaze.

“She told you what I am.”

“Yes.”

He swallowed. “Well ye aren’t screaming and running away yet. Tha’ is promising.”

Her lips twitched, but it was a minute before Sloane could order her thoughts to answer his unspoken question. Aidan didn’t push, though she could see how each second cost him. “I don’t understand any of this. Why that . . . vampire tonight tried to kill me. How you can be my father when I have one I’ve known my whole life.” She hesitated. “I don’t understand it, but I do believe it. I’m one hundred percent positive you’re my father and that you love me.” She gave a short, wondering laugh. “It’s crazy.”

“Nae, tha’s the one thing tha’s no’. I do love ye,” Aidan said fiercely, his eyes blazing as he pulled her into his arms. “And I’ll do whatever is needed to keep ye safe, same as last time.”

“Last time?” she asked as soon as he released her.

Aidan frowned, then glanced at Heather, who shook her head.

“The details can wait; she’s dealt with far too much already tonight.”

Sloane had to agree, as a slightly hysterical laugh started bubbling up inside her. There was more? “Yes,” she said wearily. “Between the bullshit with Mac early tonight and then all this, I am about—”

“Mac?” Her father looked suddenly fierce. “Manannán, do ye mean?”

“How do you know Mac?” But something stirred inside her. I made a promise to your da long ago… Oh my fucking god. Surely not. But the look on Aidan’s face brought her thoughts to an abrupt halt.

“Aye. I know him.” There was something hard in her father’s voice, something that made her squirm.

“Now, Aidan—” The look he shot the woman that Sloane supposed she’d have to start considering her step-mother made her go silent at once.

Those crystal eyes turned back to Sloane. “Go on. What is Mac to ye?”

This was awkward. Aidan managed to absolutely radiate the whole protective father thing so thoroughly, that even though they’d know each other for all of twenty minutes, it was hard to get the words out. But the fact was, she was a grown woman. No reason not to act like one.

Sloane took a deep breath. “We’re lovers. Or we were. I’m not sure what we are now, to be honest. We had a bit of a . . .” her voice trailed off.

Aidan had gone pale, his eyes flashing as he cursed. Then cursed again. His expression made Sloane swallow and take a step back, watching as he fumbled for something in his pocket. Something small and shiny that glinted white. He lifted it to his lips and bellowed just as she realized it was a shell. Her eyes went wide. A tiny pink conch.

“Manannán mac Lir!”

The sea shifted behind Aidan’s rigid form, a form rising up out of the waves. A form swiftly taking on a familiar shape. Sloane sank back onto the bench again, knees shaking, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“I know it’s been a while, O’Neill, but like I told you the last time, there really is nae need to shout.” Mac blinked as he stepped onto the sand, looking from her to Aidan to Heather and back again. “Well, shite.”

“Shite, indeed.” Without further ado, her father’s fist ploughed into Mac’s face.

“Jesus, Aidan,” Heather breathed, but she didn’t make a move to stop her husband, even when he raised his fist again. Sloane could only sit on her bench, her fingers curling into the chilled wood, unable to process what she was seeing.

“One I will give you, O’Neill, but doona push it.” Mac staggered at the blow but remained upright.

“Push it? Push it? You swore to protect her. Protect her, mac Lir!”

I promised your da, when ye were very young . . .

“And I have, ye cursed bloodsucker!” Mac waved an imperious hand. “There she is, whole and safe.”

“And warming yer bed? Is tha’ wha’ ye call safe, mac Lir?”

For an instant, Mac looked ready to explode, his body becoming huge, almost monstrous, then his eyes met hers. All at once he was just Mac again. His gaze flicked back to her father, and Sloane could swear he looked a bit sheepish. “I was going to tell ye, O’Neill. I swear.”

“Ye swear,” Aidan sneered. “Ye’re no better than yer bleeding sister. When will I ever learn you canna trust the gods?”

“Gods?” Sloane said softly. Three heads turned her way at once, each one taking on varying expressions of concern.

“Umm, Sloane, this might be a bit—”

She lifted a hand and Heather’s voice cut off. Sloane kept her eyes trained on Mac. “What the hell are they talking about, Mac?”

Aidan shook his head. “She doona even know who ye are.”

But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? The man o’ the sea, Da. But he told me to call him Mac.

With a curse, her father threw up his hands. Sloane started to shake. Heather glanced at her and then moved closer to her husband, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Aidan. I think we should give them a moment.”

“Oh, I think they’ve had enough bloody time alone—”

Heather punched his arm.

“Oh aye. A minute then,” Aidan said grudgingly. “But mind, we’re no’ going far.”

He glared at Mac before the pair walked off down the beach, fingers intertwined, heads so close together they were nearly touching. Sloane wanted to keep watching them, to steal some of their peace and avoid any more shocks tonight. But she could feel Mac waiting and finally she made herself turn.

“What did he mean? Who are you really, Mac?” He blinked, then looked away, staring out over the sea. A sea gone glasslike and calm.

“What happened here tonight?” he countered.

It didn’t escape her he was avoiding the question, but she answered anyway. Or tried to.

“There was a man . . . thing. It attacked me, at least it was going to. Aidan stopped it.”

Mac turned almost as pale as Aidan had been earlier. He didn’t say a word, but his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“They said it was a vampire,” she said hesitantly. “Aidan is a vampire, too. He’s also my father, apparently. And Mac?”

“Aye?” he said hoarsely.

“I know damn well you already know all of this and I am really, really fucking pissed about that.”

He hesitated, then nodded once, his hands relaxing at his sides. “All right.”

“Really? That is all you have to say?”

“Aye. Ye’ll get yer answers, tha’ I promise. But right here, right now, tha’s no’ what ye need, is it?”

She blinked. He was right. She wasn’t up to hearing exactly what Mac was, or what her father had meant about gods, or what had happened between her and Mac earlier tonight.

There was only one thing she wanted right now.

“I need you to hold me and tell me everything’s going to be all right,” she whispered.

An instant later, she was surrounded by thick, muscled arms, the rumble of Mac’s chest against her ear.

“It’s going to be all right, machree.” She closed her eyes as those rough palms stroked her hair over and over. “Everything is going to perfect.”