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Broderick stood amidst the hush, his chest heaving, thoughts tangled. Why had she orchestrated this? Why him? Why now?

Her betrayal had brought him to the edge of death…and now, he owed his life to the very man who had taken everything from him.

“Live to fight another day, Rick” Angus taunted. “Be a worthy opponent.”

Broderick glared into the mocking eyes of his enemy. A long stretch of silence wound between them, thick with opposition. The souls of his brothers, their wives, and their wee bairn called for vengeance from the darkest regions of his soul. “Do the deed, then,” Broderick snarled. “But ye shall regret yer decision.”

Angus chuckled and waited for Rasheed’s approval, who stood staring at the absurdity of this scene. With barely a nod from the Elder, Angus pounced on Broderick, pulled his head back with a fierce yank on his hair, and sank his fangs into Broderick’s tender neck.

He bellowed and clawed as Angus gashed his throat. However, the pain coursing through his body and the burning of his neck soon vanished in place of the euphoria of feeding, just as he had felt with Cordelia, and Broderick slumped in Angus’s arms.

The contact with Angus stretched into a deep abyss. Cordelia usually probed his mind when she drank from him, but heexperienced none of that with Angus. Broderick slipped deeper toward death, his life draining away. Angus may drain him of life and kill him after all. Perhaps there was peace in that.

At long last, Angus broke contact and lowered Broderick to the floor. Rasheed stood by and handed Angus a black-handled dagger. Slicing his wrist, Angus fed the open wound to Broderick. But Broderick couldn’t get his mouth to respond and accept the Vamsyrian blood pouring down his chin. Best he should just refuse and die anyway.

“Ye made this choice!” Angus barked and re-cut his rapidly-healing wrist. “Open yer mouth!”

Before Broderick could revel in the triumph of defeating Angus at the last, the smell of the blood assailed his senses, and he opened his mouth to receive immortality. He drank deep and gasped when Angus pulled his wrist away to cut it anew.

“Aye, Rick,” Angus coaxed as Broderick latched his mouth around the cut, swallowing gulps of the life-giving liquid.

Strength returned to his body, a soothing sensation moving through his veins as the blood worked its way into his limbs. His throat tingled. Angus yanked his hand away. Broderick, still weak, lay marveling at his new-found acute senses. The heaving breaths of the returned Vamsyrian guards across the room fluttered against his ears; the lingering aroma of Cordelia’s verbena touched his nose; the veins in the black marble table seemed to glow, the hairline fractures visible with his new sight.

Angus turned to Rasheed, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a black kerchief. “Why could I no’ read his thoughts?” he asked, his tone laced with suspicion. “Why could I no’ glean all his memories?”

Broderick jerked and convulsed on the floor, as Rasheed contemplated him.

The elder narrowed eyes. “I don’t know.” He exchanged concerned glances with his peers.

After a long moment, the Elders filed out of the room through the same door in which Cordelia disappeared, none of them uttering a word. Angus stood over Broderick’s body, which shook with fever from the Vamsyrian blood purging the last of his humanity.

“Brothers for all eternity now, forever bonded by blood.” Kneeling beside Broderick, Angus whispered, “I will give ye this time, Rick, to learn what ye’ve become. Use the time wisely. Once ‘tis over, Iwillhunt ye.” Rising, Angus nodded and whirled toward the exit.

“No’ if I find ye first,” Broderick rasped and grinned through the pain. As Angus disappeared from the Council Chamber, Broderick’s smile faded into a scowl, his mind already turning toward the reckoning to come.

Chapter One

Stewart Glen, Scotland—October 1514

Davina swung down from her mare, boots thumping on the packed earth as the autumn wind blew a strand of her auburn hair across her face.

The kitchen door banged open. Her handmaid rushed out, lifting her skirts, face pale. “Thank goodness you’re home!”

“Rosselyn?” Davina handed off her reins to Liam, who offered a crooked grin and led the horse away. She hadn’t even crossed the threshold before chaos swept her into its arms.

“Please don’t be cross with Fife,” Rosselyn begged, wringing her hands. “He didn’t mean—”

“How was I s’posed tae know?” Fife barked, pacing in the kitchen, his face red with frustration.

“Everyone knows but you!” Myrna snapped, bouncing a wailing Cailin on her hip.

Davina sighed and stepped forward, arms out. “Give her here.”

Myrna passed the babe off, just as Cailin’s wee stomach heaved again. The mess splattered down Davina’s bodice.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Fife blurted.

Davina bit down a groan and rocked her daughter gently. “All is well, Fife. Back to the stables with you now.”