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A guttural roar ripped from Adam’s chest as he lunged at his brother. Lips curled over his extended fangs, claws wide and set to flay his flesh. Hurling his full weight into Cain, his talons carved through his clothing, catching on skin and muscle. Screams erupted. Adam’s teeth tore through flesh and tendons. Blood coated his teeth and tongue as rage swallowed him whole. His mind set to kill.
“Adam!”
His incisors and claws ripped layer upon layer of raw open flesh, until the air saturated with blood, and his gums were drenched and dripping with torn bits of gushing life.
“Adam, you’re killing him!”
She’s mine! The snarled declaration reverberated in his head, but his mind was too far gone to communicate in words they’d understand.
Something grabbed hold of his back. Belligerent snarls ripped from his throat as he bucked and growled, swiping his claws at whatever tried to stop him. A territorial need climbed inside of him, a fever pitch sweeping through his blood, tightening his need to claim his mate.
Claws cut down his face, burning the flesh and exposing bone. Rivulets of blood flooded his eyes, propelling him into a blind fury. Ballistic clawing, scratching. Furniture flew and females screamed as several strong arms tried to contain him. The more they restrained him, the harder he fought.
Eyes on the target, he went after the limp form. There would be no satisfaction until the threat was dead, and she was his.
Teeth sinking into flesh, he whipped his head from side to side, ending him. His sides heaved as he released the limp flesh and muscle. A low purr ticked from within, as the scent of his mate’s blood mingled with that of his brother’s.
Through blurred vision, his brother rose from the floor. His shredded clothes and body oozed life. He put a bleeding hand in front of her and Adam attacked again. Propelling himself with all his strength and force, he took down his brother.
“Adam!”
Glass shattered, pelting his face and eyes in an explosion of shards. Something grabbed hold of his limbs and he thrashed, snapping his foaming gums and snarling teeth.
Fierce arms hoisted him against the wall. His head slammed into the plaster and his father pinned him in place, breath seething through sharpened teeth.
“Enough!”
Through the red haze of blood and rage, the roar slowed to a rush of rapids in his blood as his heart pounded out a furious beat in his pulse.
His father’s eyes locked with his. “Enough, Adam.”
He bared his teeth and growled, struggling to break free of their hold, but too many older, stronger males restrained him. Snapping his head side to side, he bucked and hissed.
Sobs mingled with screams. Tortured sorrow seeped into the adrenaline. When the identifiable swing of his mother’s heartache hit him like a pendulum, it tore his heart with it. Her wretched screams and agonizing shrieks carried from the yard.
He recognized Larissa’s horror. Tasted her panic.
His father’s worry and disappointment eviscerated him. But it was Gracie’s soft weeping from the corner that sobered him.
“Ganoonk, Adam.” His father’s hold trembled from strain. “You’ve done enough.”
Delicate, feminine cries emanated from the corner of the demolished room. His breath labored. His mind hummed to his accelerated pulse as it throbbed in his skull.
Gracie cradled something in her lap as she wept and rocked.
Bearing his fangs, he scented the air, searching for his mate. His attention jerked back to Grace and he roared.
“Hold him!”
The men tightened their grip, shoving him back into the wall with enough force to crack his skull and the plaster.
His mate’s blood pierced the air, calling to him. He could not refuse the scent. “Release me!”
“Stay back!” Grace’s panicked command stilled his struggled. “She’s hurt. Her pulse is too low.”
Adam hissed at the sight of her hands on his mate, the snarling beast inside of him demanding he claim her. Too many. They were too close to her. He needed to take her away from here.
His father grabbed his face and slammed his head into the wall, forcing him to look into his eyes.
“Do you hear your mother’s grief? You did that to her, Adam! Your rage makes you forget you are not the only male devoted to the women of this family! And your mate needs you calm. Look at what your actions have wrought. See the damage you’ve done.”
His chest vibrated with seething breath. The scent of his mate’s blood grew stronger, until it was all he could smell.
His mother’s cries rose in the distance. Choking grief strangled him.
“I can’t read her thoughts,” Gracie cried, her hand pressing to his mate’s face. Blood seeped through her fingertips as she cradled her head on her lap.
Hair, the color of fire, threaded with gold, caught his gaze. Annalise’s hair.
His mind turned like a dial, memories colliding into one. Annalise’s smile, her laugh, the way she stubbornly argued with him. Her lips. Her softness. The gutting weight of her tears. The taste of her happiness. The tart flavor of her temper. The musk of her lust. The decadent essence of her love.
She was bleeding. Bleeding. His mate...
His muscles bunched and he struggled. His father filled his view. “You must control yourself, Adam. She’s hurt.”
“Anna!” He grappled, desperate to break free and go to her. “Please!”
His father’s hands loosened. “Let him go to her.”
One by one, the other males loosened their grip and Adam crashed to his knees beside Annalise’s wilted form. “Give her to me.”
Gracie’s concern welled up like a tidal wave. Her apron wore Annalise’s blood. He pulled her limp body into his arms, the drenched material of her gown seeping onto his skin.
“Where is she hurt?”
“Her head and her arm.” Grace rushed to the dresser, returning with the pitcher. She tore her apron into rags, wetting them and sopping up the river of red that rushed from Annalise’s temple. “She’s losing so much blood.”
“Ainsicht...” He rocked her on his lap, cradling her close, listening for her pulse. The featherlight beat rippled delicately. He pushed into her mind, commanding her to open her eyes.
“Annalise, look at me. Do as I say!”
She lay limp and unresponsive in his arms.
“She can’t hear you,” Gracie whispered.
“She has a head trauma,” he cried, looking up at the men who he trusted to advise him. “What do I do?”
They stared back, not a single one offering a solution.
“Help me!” he screamed. “I’m losing her!”
“You have to give her your blood,” Gracie said. “Adam, she’s lost too much. You can still save her.”
His body convulsed with worry as he pulled Annalise’s failing body onto his lap, cradling her protectively to his heart. “Get the Bishop. Go now!”
His sister raced out of the room. The men crowded into the hall.
He pulled Annalise’s frail form to his chest and wept into her neck as blood continued to seep from her wound. “My love. Don’t leave me.” He buried his face in her hair, holding her tight as tears burned his face.
What have I done?