Before Bronwyn opened her eyes, she sensed she was being watched, and with the nauseating smell of blood magic strong in her nose, it wasn’t too hard to guess who was watching her.
Bronwyn didn’t know why Rhiannon was in the room, but that she was, and Alexander not warning of her approach couldn’t be good.
She opened her eyes to a new morning with Rhiannon leaning over the bed and watching her and Alexander. Not one line, wrinkle, blemish or even freckle marred the eggshell perfection of Rhiannon’s skin. Her dark eyes were ringed with thick, dark lashes, and her eyebrows were on point enough to make a YouTube beauty influencer weep with envy.
“Clever wench.” Rhiannon smiled at her, perfect teeth within the pillowy fullness of her red lips. “You have used his feelings for you well.”
Bronwyn sat up, not wanting to show her underbelly to this freak. “I thought that was your thing.”
“And so spirited.” Rhiannon laughed. “It makes this so much more interesting.”
“You’re sick.” It oozed out of Rhiannon’s every pore. “You’re a sick, evil woman.”
Rhiannon shrugged and cocked her head. She stroked the side of Alexander’s face. “He is so beautiful, isn’t he? I made him this way. The perfect breeding machine.”
She didn’t see her son as any part of her, but merely a tool to get what she wanted. And what Rhiannon wanted was Bronwyn pregnant by Alexander.
Bronwyn’s stomach lurched, and she dug her nails into her palms to keep the fear off her face. Rhiannon would love to know how frightened she was. There was only one way Alexander was getting her pregnant, and her mind veered away from the horror of that happening to her. The double horror of it being this man, a man whom, despite everything, she had feelings for, almost drove her into panic. “Alexander won’t hurt me.”
“You say that as if he has a choice.” Rhiannon tapped his cheek. “Wake.”
Alexander’s eyes shot open, so dark it was impossible to distinguish his pupils. He stared straight ahead.
Rhiannon leaned closer to her and sniffed the air. She stood with a smirk. “You are ready. It is the right time.”
“What?” Bronwyn scooted away from Alexander. He hadn’t so much as blinked since Rhiannon had woken him. “Alexander?”
“By all means, try and reach him.” Rhiannon laughed. “I shall enjoy watching you try and fail.”
Bronwyn shook his shoulder. “Alexander, it’s me, Bronwyn.”
“Some misguided sense of fair play persuaded me to see if he could get the job done without my insistence.” Heels tapping on the wooden floor, she strolled away, and sank into a large armchair by the empty hearth. “But I had underestimated your influence on him. He has become disappointingly sentimental.” She examined her nails with a frown. “I chose his sire so carefully for being duty first and sentiment later.” She sighed. “The strongest and the best, or so I thought.”
“Alexander.” Bronwyn shook his shoulder harder. Somewhere in there was the man who had made her laugh, teased her, kissed her, made her feel like she was finally alive. “I know you’re in there. I know it.”
She reached for water.
“Uh-uh.” Rhiannon chided and wagged her finger.
A backlash of putrid blood magic slammed into her and shot through her like putting her finger in an electric socket.
Bronwyn didn’t care. She couldn’t let this happen. Her hands on his chest warmed with her healing magic, the smell of honey and sage surrounded them.
“I said no.” Rhiannon flickered her fingers, and more blood magic scoured Bronwyn from the inside out. The heat in her hands vanished and she was left doubled over and retching. “Do you know how long I have waited for the right witch, the one in the prophecy?”
“That’s not me.” Bronwyn dragged in air, trying to push herself up again. “I didn’t even know about the prophecy.”
“Oh, it’s you.” Rhiannon smiled at her. “That bitch Goddess stirs for the first time in hundreds of years. Roderick and Maeve have been woken to protect you. And he knows.” She pointed at Alexander. “From the moment he caught sight of you, he’s been like a dog with a bitch in heat.”
Alexander liked her for who she was, not because of some insane prophecy. She knew he did. The tenuous, fragile connection between them had to be real. She wished she had as much conviction as she put into her voice when she said, “You can’t know that.”
Rhiannon laughed. “You have no idea what I can and cannot know. Clueless as to what I can and cannot do.” She shrugged, the red silk of her blouse catching the light. “It matters not. On the small chance you’re not the one, then we’ll know as soon as your child is born. Either way, you will have served your purpose.”
Bronwyn slammed her hands on Alexander’s chest.
He lay there staring at nothing.
“Wake up,” she yelled. “You hear me. I know that somewhere in there you hear me.”
“As distasteful as this will be, I can take no chances.” Rhiannon grimaced. “I will stay here and make sure the job is done properly. You’re in your fertile time; this shouldn’t need to happen more than once.”
“He won’t do it. He couldn’t.” But despite her words, Bronwyn scooted off the bed. She didn’t know where she was running to, but she had to get away.
Rhiannon clapped her hands.
Alexander blinked.
“Take her,” Rhiannon said. “She is yours.”
Alexander moved with lethal speed. Here was the warrior Roderick had warned her about.
She ran for the door.
He caught her around the waist and hauled her back.
“Alexander,” she screamed, clawing at the arm around her waist.
His free hand fastened around her throat, forcing her head back. A thin trickle of blood escaped his nostril. He was trying to fight Rhiannon.
“Fight her, Alexander. Come on.” She kicked and writhed against him, but he was impossibly strong. “Please, baby, fight her. For us.”
And Rhiannon watched with those awful dark eyes that didn’t move from them.
“Please.” Bronwyn’s voice rushed out on a sob. She stared into the lifeless black of his eyes. No trace of her Alexander was in there, only that thin red smear beneath his nose to give her hope. “Please, Alexander, you don’t want to do this. Please.”
He threw her on the bed.
Bronwyn rolled and lunged for the far side.
Like iron, his hand fastened on her shoulder and yanked her back. Pain shot through her deltoid as she tried to resist, but he slammed her back down on the mattress.
His face was an impassive mask above her as he pinned her wrists together and yanked them over her head.
He was going to rape her, while Rhiannon watched, and there was nothing she could do about it.
The bedside lamp was out of her reach. There was nothing she could do.
Rough fingers yanked at her jeans button.
She was sobbing and begging, pleading with him to see her, know her.
And Rhiannon watched, sitting in her chair with her legs crossed.
A large man appeared behind her.
Bronwyn stilled and blinked him into focus.
Roderick.
Raising a huge metal war hammer Roderick slammed it into Rhiannon’s head.
She slumped forward, blood spattering her chair, her silk blouse, the wall behind her and Roderick.
Roderick hit her again with a nauseating squelch.
Alexander collapsed on her, his dead weight pinning her down.
Alexander’s weight made it hard to draw a deep breath. “Roderick?”
“Bronwyn.” Roderick’s voice came closer, and then she was free of Alexander’s body. Roderick reached her for. “Blessed.”
Bronwyn opened her mouth, but inarticulate sounds came out, and she couldn’t shape them into words. She scrambled for Roderick. He was real and he was there, and he would save her.
“Come, Blessed.” He lifted her in his arms, his voice gruff. “I have you.”
“How?” She gripped his neck and held. She was never letting go. “What?”
“Later.” Roderick carried her past the bloody mess that was Rhiannon.
“Is she dead?”
“Not likely.” He kicked the door open. “But you are my first concern.”
Alexander lay on the bed like a broken rag doll, and she couldn’t leave him. “Alexander.”
“Once you are safe, he dies. They both die this night.” The awful finality in Roderick’s voice broke through her terror.
“No.” She wriggled in his hold. “He’s under her control.” Just like she had been. As much a victim as she had been. “Roderick.”
He growled as he ran with her in his arms through the cottage. “Do not ask that of me.”
“Please.” She couldn’t leave Alexander like that. “You need to bring him too.”
“No.” He kicked open the front door and cool, moist air enveloped her.
Suddenly there were other arms and familiar faces. Niamh looking concerned, Maeve was crying and holding out her arms. And the Land Rover sat idling outside the cottage with Sinead at the wheel.
“Get in.” Sinead slammed her palm against the side.
Bronwyn dug her heels in. Every part of her wanted in that Landy and away, but she couldn’t leave Alexander. Rhiannon had been right about that. For better or worse, she and Alexander were linked. She looked at Roderick. “Please.”
“Fucking, sodding shit, hellfire and damn!” Roderick deposited her in the Land Rover and motioned Maeve and Niamh. “Get in that car and don’t fucking move.”
Bronwyn scrambled into the back, and Maeve and Niamh bracketed her.
With a loaded look at Roderick, Maeve nodded. “Bring him but finish it. It ends this night.”
Roderick nodded and disappeared inside the cottage.
“I’ve got you.” Niamh wrapped her arms around Bronwyn and held her. A large retriever popped up from where he’d been lying and put his head on Bronwyn’s lap. The fear and the horror of the last few days unraveled faster and faster and her tears melted into loud, wracking sobs as Niamh held her tight and rocked her.
The back door to the Landy opened, and Roderick tossed Alexander at their feet like a bag of bones. The thunk of Alexander’s head on the Landy floor made Bronwyn wince. Even though she knew it wasn’t him that had tried to rape her, Bronwyn recoiled.
Roderick and his bloody hammer headed back to the cottage.
Rubber squealed against asphalt as three cars screeched to a halt. Doors opened and bodies leaped out, converging on the Landy.
“We’re out of time.” Sinead revved the engine. “Get in here, big guy because I don’t fancy fighting that lot.”
Another car lurched to a halt and more bodies ran for them. Three, five, ten, more than she could count as they ran for Roderick and the Landy.
“Roderick,” Maeve yelled. “We must be safe first.”
For a moment, it looked like he hadn’t heard. He stood there, legs braced, war hammer clutched in both fists as the first person reached him. He swung and hit something with a sickening wet smack followed by a crack of bone and an agonized scream. Roderick spun and connected more flesh. The converging attackers slowed, but kept coming.
Roderick spun and ran.
Sinead had the vehicle moving as he jerked open the passenger door and threw himself in. He tossed his bloody war hammer on the dashboard. Revolting bits of skin, hair and globs of flesh spackled the head. “Gave her an extra crack for good measure when I went back to get him.”
Sinead patted his shoulder. “Good job.” Then she punched the gas and Bronwyn lurched into Niamh.
“Get out the bloody way,” Sinead yelled as she barreled the Landy straight for the knot of people.
Closing her eyes, Bronwyn braced for impact.
With a few more expletives and some quick jerks left, right and right again, the Landy surged forward down the road.
Clutching the dashboard, Roderick glanced behind them. “They do not pursue.”
“Probably checking on Rhiannon.” Sinead glanced in the rearview mirror, took a traffic light at a rolling stop and plunged them through a roundabout and onto the highway.
“Blessed.” Roderick trained his pale blue eyes on her, his face gentle. “You are not harmed?”
“Not too much.” Bronwyn mopped her face with a tissue Niamh had handed her. “More frightened than anything else.” She had been so surprised to see him standing behind Rhiannon with that war hammer. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Of course.” He shrugged. “You are Blessed, and I am coimhdeacht.”
Niamh toed Alexander with her foot. “What’s the story with him?”
“He tried to rape me—”
“Motherfucker.” Sinead jerked the Landy to the side of the highway.
A truck roared past them with a blast of its horn.
“Sweet Goddess, preserve us.” Maeve looked pale enough to pass for paper.
“Get him out.” Sinead jabbed a finger at Alexander.
“He didn’t mean it.” Bronwyn couldn’t quite touch him yet. “Rhiannon has some sort of hold on him. She could make him do things. He said she had some kind of magic tether around his heart.”
Roderick and Sinead looked at each other. With a grunt, Roderick shook his head. “Drive. I can always kill him later.” He shrugged. “It would be more satisfying if he was awake in any case.”
“Good thinking.” Sinead eased back onto the highway.
“Was it the prophecy?” Maeve frowned, her eyes filled with concern.
Bronwyn nodded. She didn’t want to talk about that stupid prophecy ever again.
“We couldn’t be sure.” Biting her lip, Maeve sighed. “There is so much we don’t know and need to discover. We can be certain of very little.”
“We can be certain that I missed a golden opportunity to separate Rhiannon’s head from her neck,” Roderick said.
“That’s a bitter pill for you to swallow, big guy.” Sinead squeezed Roderick’s shoulder. “But you’ll get her next time.”
Roderick nodded. “That is another certainty. There will be a next time.”
“And next time bring a sword.” Sinead stared at the road. “Take her head right off, that will.”
“I prefer the hammer.” Roderick picked up his hammer and cleaned it with a cloth he found in the seat well. “And I shall learn to use a gun.”
Tense silence filled the vehicle. There was so much to discuss and come to terms with, but none of them seemed inclined to break the silence. For now, they had survived, and Bronwyn was with her coven sisters heading for Baile.
One thing was sure, she couldn’t relax until Baile’s ancient stone walls surrounded her. “How far are we from home?”
“Two hours, three max,” Sinead said and looked at her through the rearview mirror. “Try to get some rest.”