Page 70

Davina’s gaze drifted to the window. Beyond the glass, under torchlight’s flicker, she caught a fleeting glimpse of her household slipping through the secret passage. Faces gaunt with fear, yet alive. Safe.

A tremor of fragile hope bolstered her spine.

Directing her gaze back to Ian, she forced her steps to be steady as she returned to the table and picked up a strip of meat from the tray. Her hand quivered, but her resolve anchored her. She offered it to him without a word.

Ian’s eyes darted from her hand to her face, then back to the meat. Slowly, he opened his mouth, taking it between his teeth like a beast accepting a morsel.

“Did you resist him?” Ian asked as he chewed, studying her through narrowed eyes.

She lifted the slice of buttered bread, held it before him, then nodded.

“That’s my girl.” Ian grinned, the familiarity of his cruelty slithering down her spine. “I think I’m beginning to like this chap.”

Her voice trembled as she pressed down her rising bile. “I don’t think Broderick would like you very much, though. In fact,” she added, her breath tightening, “he hasn’t even met you, and he already despises you. Probably more than I do.”

Ian’s smile faltered, suspicion flaring in his eyes.

The knife she’d hidden under the table was already in her grip.

Davina exhaled, releasing her fear with her breath.

The blade plunged into his gut smoother than she’d imagined. Shock rippled across Ian’s face as he grunted, his hand flying to her hand holding the knife buried to the hilt in his flesh. Blood poured over their fingers, dark and wet, as fury twisted his features into a mask of hate.

“You fucking bitch!” he snarled, seizing her in a punishing grip.

Pain lanced up her arm as he wrenched her hand free of the knife. Davina cried out, raising her other arm in defense just as his backhand crashed into her.

The blow sent her sprawling to the floor, breath knocked from her lungs. She hit hard, the world spinning wildly around her as she fought to rise.

Ian hunched over, groaning as he yanked the knife from his belly. Blood poured freely, soaking his shirt in dark, glistening waves.

“I’m going to gut you from cunt to throat,” he snarled, flinging the knife aside as if it were a toy. He wrenched his dagger free from the table, brandishing it with murder in his eyes.

Davina scrambled to her feet, but the knife he’d cast aside was too out of reach. She seized the iron poker from the hearth instead and brandished it like a sword, her chest heaving, rage and terror a storm in her veins. “Come on, you bastard!”

Ian laughed mirthlessly. “I knew I’d get a good fucking tonight.

God, I love it when you fight.” He snarled and lunged, driving the dagger in a practiced thrust. Davina swung hard, the poker clanging against his weapon, deflecting the blow.

He grunted but kept his grip firm. Desperation surged through her, and she aimed for the arm clutching his wounded belly.

He caught the poker in his blood-slick hand, ripping it from her grasp with brutal strength.

Steel flashed as Ian slashed the dagger across her arm, and she screamed, stumbling back, clutching the burning wound.

His laughter rumbled low, dark with menace. “I’m going to take great pleasure fucking you as I cut you up,” he growled, circling the room.

Davina bolted for the door, but Ian intercepted her. She dodged backward, then whirled and leapt across the bed. As she reached the edge, his cold fingers clamped around her ankle, dragging her back onto the mattress.

The world tilted, spun, blurred. She kicked, thrashed, fought with everything in her.

The split second before she saw his hand raised, she braced for impact.

Her head snapped to the side, stars sparkling around her blurred vision, pain exploding across her cheek.

Disoriented, she blinked to clear the haze.

His legs pinned her arms, and she squinted at his figure straddling her.

His bloody hand encircled her throat, squeezing. Air vanished. Davina’s mouth gaped, her lungs screaming for breath as black spots danced at the edges of her vision. He released her to unlace his breeches, and she coughed, desperate breaths tearing through her bruised throat.

Then Ian’s froze and his mouth opened.

The blade of a sword erupted from his chest, gleaming wet with his lifeblood.

His eyes flared wide in disbelief.

A rough hand braced his shoulder for leverage, wrenching the sword free with a wet, sickening thwap .

“ Broderick! ” Davina’s mind screamed with a flicker of hope.

“Sorry tae disappoint ye, lass,” came a deep, gruff voice.

The auburn-haired stranger, broad-shouldered and battle-worn, tossed Ian’s corpse aside as if it weighed nothing more than a rag doll. The body thudded against the wall, splattering blood, and slumped, lifeless .

Davina gasped, chest heaving and still coughing as shock rooted her to the bed.

The man extended a calloused hand and beckoned her urgently. “Come on, lass. Get up. Broderick should be here any moment.”

With numb fingers, she accepted his grip. He hauled her to her feet—then, before she could think, he pulled her hard against him. His body, all hard muscle and violence, pressed tight to hers.

His pupils gleamed silver in the flickering firelight. A wolf’s grin spread across his face, revealing fangs sharp as daggers.

“Pleased tae meet ye, Davina,” he purred, his brogue curling like a serpent around her name. “I’m Angus.”

He sank his fangs into her throat.

Euphoria exploded through her, washing away pain, fear, and reason alike. Her knees buckled, and she moaned softly.

Davina weakly pushed against Angus. When his mouth released her, he turned her around, her back pressing to his chest.

“There’s a good lass,” he whispered in her ear, breath hot against her skin, as he pressed his wet wrist to her mouth. “Open up, now.”

She twisted her head aside, fighting him with what feeble strength remained in the wake of whatever robbed her senses, but he gripped her jaw in an iron hold, forcing her mouth open. Coppery wetness spilled onto her tongue as he pressed his wrist to her lips.

“That’s it.” He chuckled darkly. “Just a little more.”

Davina gagged, choking against the vile flood, but with her head pinned back against his shoulder, the liquid slid down her throat regardless.

It also soothed the pain from being choked.

His healing blood, no doubt, now that Davina knew what he was.

Blood. Dear God in heaven, he forced her to drink blood.

Angus lowered her onto the bed, leaving her gagging and spitting in frantic disgust.

Crimson streaks drenched the front of her gown. She swiped a shaking hand across her wet chin.

Standing before her, arms crossed over his broad chest, Angus watched her with a predator’s satisfaction, his fangs retreating behind a smug smile. “From now on,” he said, his voice silked with menace, “ye’ll call me master. Ye ken?”

Davina’s mind clouded, her thoughts thick as swamp fog. She tried to summon Broderick’s face, to cling to his memory, but it drifted beyond reach, as if sealed behind glass. Her lips parted of their own accord. “Aye, Master,” she heard herself say.