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“ Non .” She didn’t lift her eyes from the fire.

Without another word, he left the camp, his frustration burning hotter than ever, ready to take his anger out on the first deserving lout he found in the village before heading to Davina’s castle.

∞∞∞

“I know what the stories say about Orion,” Finlay said, leaning forward in his chair as he gestured animatedly with his teacup, “but I just don’t believe that an honorable hunter like him, who had the favor of Diana herself, would be such a cad.

I think Merope lied to her father when she said he…

” He paused, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “forced himself upon her.”

Davina, mid-sip of her tea, nearly choked. “Good heavens!” she exclaimed, setting her cup down with a clink. “Then what do you think the mythology meant by it?”

Finlay smiled, his pale green eyes sparkling with mischief as he tilted his blond head.

“Oh, I think Orion’s only crime was losing his temper.

Imagine it—he’s been toiling for the hand of the woman he loves, only to discover she’s been playing him for a fool.

I think he gave her an ultimatum: marry him or it’s over.

And when she laughed in his face, he got angry.

But force her? Nay, I don’t believe that for a moment.

Merope was a spoiled princess, and when she realized she’d lost her plaything, she told her father that Orion violated her out of spite. ”

Davina blinked, stunned. “That’s exactly what I thought!”

Finlay’s brows shot up. “You’re jesting, surely.”

“Nay, I swear ‘tis true!” Davina said earnestly, her excitement bubbling over. She leaned forward, her hands clasped around her teacup. “I’ve always thought the story was full of holes. Why would Diana favor a man capable of such a crime? It never made sense to me.”

“I knew you were clever,” Finlay said, grinning. “But this? You’re full of surprises, Lady Davina.”

Davina laughed, a flush of pleasure warming her cheeks.

She was surprised to find how much she enjoyed his company.

Finlay was handsome, with golden-brown hair and an easy smile that softened his angular features.

But it was more than that. He was witty and intelligent, and his sense of humor caught her off guard in the best way.

They had been sitting here in the Great Hall since this afternoon, sharing their love of mythology and philosophy, and he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by her knowledge.

It was refreshing.

She had been certain her uncle would present her with yet another pompous bore or brute, yet here was someone who surprised her at every turn.

Finlay’s grin widened as he leaned back in his chair, relaxing completely. “I must say, Lady Davina, this has been the most entertaining conversation I’ve had in…well, years.”

Before Davina could respond, the air in the room shifted. A dark, looming presence filled the doorway, and her heart skipped a beat.

Broderick.

He stepped into the room, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow over the floor.

His dark auburn hair, pulled back, was slightly mussed, and his piercing emerald eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

His expression was dark, his jaw set, and there was a tension in his frame that spoke volumes.

Davina stiffened. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left her chamber so abruptly the other night. She had thought he’d given up on her entirely, deciding she wasn’t worth his attention after all. Now, here he was, looking as brooding and imposing as ever.

His eyes flicked to Finlay, narrowing slightly. Then they returned to her.

Davina swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her teacup. The room felt colder somehow, the warmth Finlay had brought with his laughter abruptly extinguished.

“Ah!” Finlay exclaimed, standing and offering his hand. “You must be MacDougal. I’ve heard so much about you. ’Tis a pleasure to meet the man who’s been charged with protecting Lady Davina.”

Broderick’s gaze flicked to Finlay, and he slowly extended his hand. For a moment, the two men stood there, shaking hands, though it was clear Finlay was doing most of the talking.

“Um, Finlay McIntosh, at your service,” he said, though his voice faltered slightly under the weight of Broderick’s silence.

Broderick gave a curt nod, releasing Finlay’s hand before crossing his arms again. His dark eyes shifted back to Davina, pinning her like a hawk eyeing its prey.

“Broderick,” she said, rising from her chair. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

He narrowed his eyes, his stare unflinching.

Finlay shifted under Broderick’s glare, adjusting his collar. “Well…anyway,” he muttered, trailing off.

“MacDougal,” Tammus’s voice cut through the air as he stepped into the chamber. “A word, if you please.”

Broderick didn’t move at first. His eyes remained locked on Davina, unreadable and dark. Then, without a word, he dropped his arms and followed Tammus out of the room, his boots thudding heavily across the stone floor.

Finlay exhaled slowly and turned to Davina. “Does he always look like he’s about to throttle someone, or is it just me?”

Davina shook her head, her brow furrowing. “I’ve never seen him in such a foul mood.” Well, except when Forbes threatened her. She hesitated, glancing toward the doorway, then back to Finlay. “It’s strange. I haven’t seen him for a full day. I wonder what’s happened.”

Finlay smiled again, his easy charm returning. “Well, perhaps it’s better not to dwell on it. May I have another one of those biscuits? They’re absolutely scrumptious.”

Davina smiled despite herself and gestured toward the tray. “Help yourself.”

As Finlay reached for another biscuit, Davina’s thoughts lingered on Broderick. He couldn’t possibly be jealous…could he? She shook off the notion. Of course not. She turned her attention to Finlay and focused on mythology instead of the br ooding Gypsy in the other room.

“Have a seat, please,” Tammus suggested as he indicated the chair by the hearth.

“I’ll stand.” Broderick remained rooted to the floor, arms crossed, blood simmering.

That was the lad from his dream—the one with his hands all over Davina.

What in blazes were these dreams trying to tell him?

Too many details overlapped with the waking world to dismiss them as mere fantasy.

What did it mean about McIntosh? His fists tightened beneath his arms, barely suppressing the fury that surged at the memory of that man touching Davina’s bare ass and her perfect, full breasts.

“What has you in such a temper?” Tammus asked, settling into the chair behind the desk.

“Nothing.” Broderick drew a deep breath to steady himself. “What can I do for you, Lord Tammus?”

“Actually, nothing.” Tammus jerked his thumb toward the doorway.

“Davina and Finlay have been enjoying each other’s company since this afternoon.

I think we finally have a match. Which means you won’t need to be around her supervising their visits.

I have everything in hand now.” He leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“She seems very comfortable around him, don’t you think? ”

Broderick’s jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might crack. He forced his arms to stay crossed, though every muscle in his body screamed for motion. His voice, when he finally spoke, was measured and cold. “If you believe it best, my lord, then I will defer to your judgment.”

Tammus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at Broderick’s civility, but nodded. “Good man. I knew you’d understand. ”

Broderick offered a curt nod, his face a mask of indifference, though his insides were being ripped apart. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

“Of course,” Tammus said, waving him off.

Broderick pivoted on his heel and strode out of the room, his boots thudding heavily against the stone floor. As he passed through the foyer, his eyes were drawn—against his will—to the open doors of the Great Hall.

God’s blood, she was beautiful.

Davina sat at the table, laughing softly at something Finlay said. Her cheeks were a tempting shade of pink, her expression warm. Her smile, like the sun. Finlay leaned forward, his back to Broderick, gesturing animatedly as he spoke.

For a moment, Broderick couldn’t look away. His gaze locked with Davina’s, and her laughter faded. Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. She dropped her gaze to her lap, her fingers fidgeting with the folds of her skirt.

Broderick’s chest tightened. He forced himself to turn away, his strides quickening as he left the castle.

Broderick ran.

The forest blurred around him, the biting night air biting at his face, but he didn’t slow down. Each step pounded out a fraction of the storm raging inside him, though it wasn’t enough.

She deserves happiness.

The thought was like a knife twisting in his gut. And Finlay McIntosh—damn him—was perfect.

Broderick skidded to a halt, his chest heaving. The image of Davina’s smile, the sound of her laughter, echoed in his mind. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

With a roar, he lashed out at the nearest tree. The trunk splintered under the force of his blow, deafening in the quiet night. He struck again, and again, until the tree groaned and toppled to the ground.

Still, the rage burned inside him. The gashes in his hand healed in seconds, the flesh knitting back together without scars. He reached for another tree, his hands gripping the trunk. With a guttural growl, he yanked it from the ground, roots and all, and hurled it into the darkness.

After the crash and groan of the trees subsided, silence.

Broderick sank to his knees, his hands trembling. He tilted his head back, staring up at the stars. Orion’s constellation gleamed above him—as far away from him as Davina seemed to be, forever out of reach.

Broderick unleashed a primal howl, pouring every ounce of his frustration into the night sky, trying to expel her lingering presence from the depths of his soul.

∞∞∞

Angus wrinkled his nose as he drained the last drop of blood from the stinking, half-crazed thief and murderer, then let the lifeless body collapse to the ground. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, Rick,” he muttered, staring down at the man in the piss-soaked red shirt, the stench of fear and filth thick in the air.

He stepped out of the alley, putting distance between himself and the reek, and a slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. The thief and his partner had given him exactly what he wanted—confirmation that Broderick had been in Aberdeen nearly a fortnight past.

And better still, he now knew where Broderick was headed— Stewart Glen.

Aye, he had no idea Angus was on his trail. If he had, he wouldn’t be leaving survivors. These deranged wretches, babbling half-truths and desperate confessions, were breadcrumbs—and Angus had grown adept at following them.

It had been almost a year since he’d learned Broderick lived. Nearly thirty years he’d believed the bastard dead, buried beneath a false grave at that ruined estate in Glen Strae. Angus cursed himself again for ever believing it.

But no more.

This time, there’d be no grave, no escape. Only vengeance.

He believed Broderick had given up on their feud, on immortality, leaving Angus unsatisfied after all.

He’d thought Broderick a coward—either ending his life to avoid the inevitable confrontation or too weak to endure the path of a Vamsyrian.

A small consolation, perhaps, but not the victory he craved—Broderick’s head on a pike.

When Angus discovered it was neither, he’d been overjoyed.

His vengeance would finally be satiated.

But there was one thing Broderick had learned to do that caught Angus off guard—the ability to stop feeding and spare lives.

Such restraint went against the very nature and design of their kind.

Death was the purpose. The Hunger was meant to be insatiable, to ensure the soul racked up so many sins that redemption became impossible.

Choosing to become one of them was already an execution of the soul—what hope did any of them have of salvation?

And yet Broderick spared his victims.

Did he think these small mercies would tip the scale? That saving lives before he met his end would soften God’s judgment?

Angus growled, and his stride quickened, fury simmering beneath the surface. Broderick—ever the pretender. A hero in his own mind, full of lofty ideals and wounded pride. But Angus knew better. He’d seen the man beneath the mask.

These pathetic gestures of redemption meant nothing. Still, they had use.

The spared lived long enough to speak, to babble about the silver-eyed devil who drank their blood and left them breathing. They left behind tales. Signs. Trails.

And Angus followed.

He drank from those survivors, gleaning whispers of Broderick’s movements, his habits, his haunts. That’s how he knew Rick lived.

But Angus wouldn’t stop there. He refused to be bested—not even in this. If Broderick could tame the Hunger, so could he. He trained himself to resist it, forced his will to dominate the urge until he could stop mid-feed. It nearly broke him.

And yet…it worked.

For that, the smallest speck of respect lodged in Angus’s blackened heart. He crushed it as quickly as it came.

Hatred surged anew. Broderick knew who Angus was and still plagued him. He’d been handed everything Angus had been denied, and yet he wanted more.

“None of it was enough for you, was it, Rick?” Angus hissed, his fists tightening at his sides.

Angus’s entire life had been a mockery of what Broderick had achieved.

And yet, no matter how hard Angus tried to prove himself, Broderick shoved his nose in Angus’s position amongst his brothers, like a dog in its own excrement.

Rick even stole Angus’s idea of using immortality for revenge—no thanks to Cordelia. What a fiasco that turned out to be.

Angus inhaled deep to calm himself. Decades of unfulfilled vengeance were finally at hand.

The distant mew of a cat broke his thoughts. He passed through a narrow alley, his boots clicking against the cobblestone, and strolled onto the main road leading out of town. He gave a nod to a bleary-eyed fisherman passing by, blending effortlessly into the predawn haze.

Yards ahead, he veered off into the tree line, the dense forest swallowing him whole. The scent of damp earth and pine rose around him as he shed the last of his human pace, dashing through the underbrush with unnatural speed.

His long coat flared behind him like wings as he raced parallel to the road that led north. A smile curved his lips as he raced through the night.

Broderick MacDougal would never see him coming.