Page 19

Davina’s breathing seized, and Broderick realized he’d been clutching her tighter, his frustration bleeding into his touch. He forced himself to ease his grip, though his voice hardened. “How am I tae trust ye when ye keep throwin’ up yer defenses?”

Davina stiffened and tried to push away. “There are some things I don’t want anyone privy to…least of all you.”

“Do ye want my help, or nay?” Broderick’s jaw flexed.

She wasn’t ready to admit whatever secret she was guarding like the crown jewels—not yet.

“Ye’re askin’ me to risk my own neck in a hangman’s noose with your little schemes. How do I know ye aren’t settin’ me up to take the fall?”

She gasped, outrage flashing across her face. “I would never do such a thing. I swear, all I need is for you to help me scare off these men.”

And yet her voice trembled again. A vibration of guilt—or hesitation—he couldn’t ignore. Broderick’s immortal instincts, refined over six decades of lies and betrayal, whispered the truth—whatever she was hiding, it had to do with him .

“Then what are ye afraid I’ll find out when I read yer mind, lass?”

A flicker of panic—just a flicker—flashed in her eyes before she masked it with defiance. She wouldn’t give in. Not without a fight.

He’d been betrayed before. Once by a woman whose lies left his family butchered. And again, by the beauty who lured him into the cold embrace of undeath. And now this one—what would she cost him?

He closed his eyes, focusing on the tether of their touch. Gently, he pushed his will toward her.

“Let me in,” he murmured the gentle command. His words caressed around her psyche, rich with the compulsion he’d honed across the years. “Open yer mind, Davina.”

She stiffened, her brows knitting. Her body leaned toward him despite her resistance. Her lips parted. Her breath caught. For just a moment, he thought she’d yield.

Then she jerked back, shaking her head, her mind snapping shut like a slammed door.

The silence between them throbbed.

And Broderick knew—if he wanted the truth, he’d have to drag it from her himself.

Or taste it from her blood.

“I can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I won’t.”

Broderick’s jaw worked, frustration clawing at him like a beast denied. He couldn’t compel her. She was stronger than he’d anticipated—her will a fortress of iron, unyielding and sealed tight .

The Hunger surged, searing and insistent, churning in his gut. His fangs throbbed beneath his gums, aching to pierce, to drink. Her pulse beat so close to the surface, he could nearly taste it—the secrets buried in her blood.

He could tear it from her. Fear could break down any mental defense. All he had to do was bare the monster inside, the creature he’d unleashed upon lesser souls. One glimpse of that horror, and she would fall.

But not her. Not Davina.

He wouldn’t use fear.

Without her willing submission, though, feeding meant revealing what he was.

Unless…

His gaze dropped to her mouth, the quick rise and fall of her breath, the delicate tremble in her frame. She wanted him. He saw it in the flush of her cheeks, the flutter of her pulse, the way her lips parted ever so slightly each time he drew near.

The scent of her arousal.

She may not trust him.

But she wanted him.

His own fury twisted into something darker, hotter. Possession laced with hunger. If he didn’t use fear, perhaps he’d use something else.

“You dinnae trust me yet,” he growled, rough and full of promise. “But ye will.”

He cradled her face in both hands, thumbs skimming over her cheekbones as he leaned in. Their foreheads brushed. His lips hovered a breath away.

“Relax,” he whispered, the word a soft command cloaked in tenderness. “Let me show ye how trust feels.”

His fingers sank into her thick, tawny hair, and he claimed her mouth.

The kiss was not gentle. It was fierce, consuming. He pulled her tight against him, groaning into her lips, his body hard with need. His mouth moved with ruthless reverence—across her eyelids, her cheeks, the tip of her nose—before returning to devour her lips again.

She moaned, opening to him, and he dove deep, his tongue claiming, tasting.

And there it was.

The faint sweetness of blood—her blood—from the cut on her lip.

He groaned, the sound torn from his chest as he splayed his hand over the small of her back, dragging her hips to his. His thigh slipped between her legs, anchoring her against him.

Her yearning fed his hunger, her body a lit match to the powder keg inside him.

His mouth moved to her throat, tongue tracing fire across her skin, and still, he didn’t stop. They clung to one another, desperate, reckless, lost in the heat of a union that might consume them both.

Broderick breathed her in, devoured her slowly.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew—if this kiss deepened, if he tasted her again—he might never stop.

But he did.

With a guttural groan torn from his chest, he forced himself to tear away from her lips and struggled to cage the storm inside him.

The scent of rose oil clung to her flushed skin, mingling with the sweet tang of blood from her wounded mouth.

His head spun. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to wrest back control, to stave off the dizzying spell she cast with every heartbeat.

Broderick’s ragged breathing was a warning in itself. He crashed into another kiss—this one harder, hungrier—his body strung tight with need. Davina’s excitement, laced with fear, lit his senses on fire. It made restraint a razor’s edge. That fear…it wasn’t just arousing. It was dangerous.

It fed the Hunger.

A slicing, familiar pain flared in his gums. His mouth watered. Fangs ached to drop. His tongue longed to taste what her blood whispered.

And at that moment, he didn’t care if he could wipe her mind afterward.

He opened his mouth, fangs descending.

“ Bonsoir , Broderick!” Veronique’s lilting voice pierced the tent, sweetened with false innocence. “We have returned.”

A snarl burst from his chest—low, guttural, not entirely human. His head snapped toward the tent’s entrance.

Veronique gasped.

Aye, she’d seen it. The molten silver in his pupils. His fangs bared and gleaming. The predator unmasked.

“Get out, Veronique!” he snarled, his voice thick with gravel, rage barely leashed.

Davina stiffened, hands splayed against his chest. She pushed him back, breathing fast.

Veronique fled. The flap snapped shut behind her.

Broderick clenched his fists, pulling the Hunger back into its cage, forcing his body to obey. He didn’t open his eyes until the fire faded, until his fangs receded.

But when he turned back, the spell had shattered.

Davina stood across the tent, cloaked once more, arms wrapped tightly around herself. The spark in her eyes, the soft heat he’d seen, was gone. Her walls were back up, and he felt them slam into place like a portcullis .

The distance between them now felt like a chasm.

“Are you going to help me or not?” she asked, her voice cold, curt.

Broderick raked a hand through his hair, huffing through his nose.

She made it difficult to think, difficult to decide if he wanted to strangle her or protect her.

The bruises on her face stoked his protective instincts, but whatever secret she was keeping burned a hole in his heart.

The fact she kept such a tight hold of it drove him to agree.

“Aye,” he said finally. “I’ll help ye.”

Relief flickered across her face, but she quickly masked it. “How much?”

Broderick arched a brow. “Straight to business, eh?”

Davina reached into her cloak and pulled out a small leather pouch. She tentatively closed the distance between them and handed it to him before backing away.

Broderick stared at the pouch for a moment before tossing it onto the table with a casual flick of his wrist, the coins clinking together as it landed. He folded his arms.

“A down payment,” he said. “I’ll get th’ rest when th’ job is done. But I want somethin’ else.”

Davina’s brows knit together, suspicion flashing in her sapphire gaze. “What else?”

He moved toward her slowly, with lethal grace. Her back straightened as he approached, and she retreated until the edge of the tent stopped her. He towered over her, his wide presence crowding her space, his eyes locking onto hers.

“You,” he growled. “In my bed.”

Her breath shivered out between parted lips. Panic flared in her eyes, and she tried to sidestep him, but he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. His other hand rose, brushing the side of her face, tracing the edge of her bruised cheek.

“And ye dinnae leave it,” he continued, his tone softening as his thumb grazed her split lip. “Not until I’m satisfied.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. A faint flush crept up her neck to her cheeks, and despite the panic in her eyes, her body betrayed her. The thick, musky scent of her desire rose between them.

His nostrils flared. She could lie with her mouth all she wanted—but her scent never lied.

He leaned in, voice deep and rough. “I can smell how badly ye want it, Davina. How badly ye want me. ”

His thumb brushed her lip again, and she held her breath. Her lashes fluttered for a brief moment, her body leaning ever so slightly toward him, as though drawn by an invisible tether.

But then, as though snapping out of a daydream, she jerked back, her arms crossing over her chest. Her cheeks flushed deeper, but her eyes blazed with defiance. Broderick cursed silently as she still resisted his compulsion.

“All right, then. I’ll agree to your terms,” she said, her voice trembling. “But only if we can convince my uncle that you’ll be present during my visits with the suitors.”