Page 19 of Highlander’s Curse (The Daughters of the Glen #8)

Fourteen

N one of this was going at all as he’d planned!

Flynn slammed his fist into a large rowan tree, jerking back in surprise as pain flared through his fingers. The dark red stain oozing from the torn skin of his knuckles served as evidence of what he should have remembered.

He’d taken her blood only days before. Magic-tainted blood that negated the natural state of nothingness he’d endured since he was cast out of Wyddecol.

For untold centuries all full-blood Fae, including him, had existed in the Mortal world, stripped of their Magic, cursed to neither commit nor experience violence.

Such an act of anger or intent would result in their bodies turning to mist.

Until Adira, courtesan to his master, had discovered the effects of ingesting blood, that is. Blood brought them the power to be whole again. And if that blood came from one of the half-Mortal Fae descendants, it also carried Magic.

Bloodlust , it had been called in the ancient tome Adira had found, a designation he’d never understood until recently.

He’d tried to fight the addiction and he’d lost. But now, with the Magic flowing through his veins, he wondered why he’d ever resisted giving himself over fully to the demon Bloodlust.

Abigail Porter belonged to him. He’d gone to too much trouble and expense to find her only to be thwarted by some young stallion she fancied.

He’d hoped to accomplish his goal in a rational, civilized manner, but now that seemed much less important than it had before. He would have Abigail. He would have her blood, with the Magic and power it imparted. For as long as they both lived, she belonged to him.

If that meant taking her by force and eliminating his competition, he was more than prepared to do whatever was necessary. The choice would be theirs, not his. Whatever happened from this point forward was not his fault.

Lifting his injured knuckles to his lips, he brushed his tongue over the blood, the tang of the Magic no more than a faint aftertaste now.

He’d have to act quickly, before the effects of her blood were completely gone from his system. That, or he’d need a fresh infusion.

A chuckle burbled up from his chest, bursting forth in full-throated laughter that seized and shook his entire body.

As if timing mattered. In truth, he would have a fresh infusion no matter what!