Burn for Me (Edanholme Book 1)

by Catherine Fitzpatrick

  her head.

  Cat stay in the house… Do not let them draw you out... The message was cut short with a

  deep grunt of pain. Covering her mouth with both hands she held back a scream of protest.

  “Princessin we have your mate.” Another grunt of agony seared at her skull.

  Cat was out of the house, running towards Drusal on bare feet before she realised what she

  was doing, running headlong into unknown danger. Sliding to a halt behind the flaring shield,

  emerald green eyes took in a wildly surreal scene of despair. Drusal was on his knees, hands

  secured behind his back. What little she could see of his face was masked in blood. A snarl

  tore at her throat, feral and vicious. Her mate was being tortured by creatures of the dark.

  Slowly she looked at his captors, imprinting their faces on the walls of her mind. They would

  all suffer an eternity of pain for daring to lay hands on him. All but one of the throng were tall

  Sidhe warriors, both beautiful and strong, dressed in leathers and armour they carried huge

  gleaming broadswords. Bows slung across broad backs, the warriors surrounded Drusal in a

  wall of living flesh. The howling mouthpiece was a caricature of Sidhe perfection, long tusks

  curved out from a disjointed jaw, distorting the words it bellowed in a barrage of profanity.

  Immense shoulders hunched forward over a barrel shaped body resting on stumpy legs. Deep

  black eyes locked onto her, the promise of torture and depravity in a soulless gaze.

  “Lord Vardon…” The monster back handed Drusal across the face.

  “This scrap of humanity resisted your fabled charms?” A howling laugh hissed through dirty

  brown tusks.

  “If you touch him again I will kill you…” Cat promised the hulking beast as she stepped across

  the barrier. Shouldering her way between the mass of bodies she knelt in front of Drusal to

  push lank strands of hair from his face. Tears flowing steadily she kissed his forehead tenderly.

  Grandmother did this to you? She pushed the thought into his mind.

  Drusal nodded, exhaustion and the ache of numerous wounds robbed him of speech physically

  and mentally. Running both hands into sweat dampened hair she willed him to sleep.

  The grotesque beast gripped at her upper arm with a clawed hand, dragging Cat to her feet.

  “The Queen grows tired of waiting for you little thing.” Spittle fell on her face in huge gobs,

  a disgusting wash of foul smelling slime that speckled her cheeks with an acidic sting.

  “Defiance is frowned upon at Withins Underhill.” Rancid breath coated the back of Cat’s

  throat in a miasma of cloying death, making her wish for her mate’s sweet scent.

  “Drusal has been ordered to fulfil the mating ritual in front of witnesses. If either of you

  refuse to participate, we all get to taste your body little thing…” The beast leered into her

  face. The Sidhe looked on in sick fascination. Leaning in close, spit smeared tusks caressed

  Cat’s cheek. She flinched away from the touch of foul perversion.

  “I will be first Princessin…” Eager to take the prize on offer, the beast sealed his fate.

  “I made certain Lord Vardon is not fit to carry out the Queens wishes.” A meaty chuckle

  of anticipation shook the barrel sized chest as he loomed over her. Cat was frozen in place.

  Fear for Drusal’s life had led her into a trap, one she had to break free of or they would

  both die tonight. With a sigh of resignation Cat reached up to tap the twisted tusks in a

  gentle dismissal of the beasts demands. Toes sinking into the moist earth she pulled forth

  power, shattering her glamour with a blast of force that knocked the beast off his feet.

  Iscatya blazed to fiery life in the night, a shining beacon of pure energy, a blinding pillar of

  crystal blue flames. Her mind delved deep into the putrid heap of depravity lying in a pile

  of twisted limbs at her feet. “Dardanos… The Devourer…”

  Iscatya spoke his full name, a title garnered from the frightened minds of silent warriors,

  thereby gaining control of the Queen’s torturer.

  “I am no stranger to the indignity of rape, beast man. Your attempts to intimidate me are

  pitiful at best, although predictable. I cannot bring myself to despatch you, you obviously

  know no better.” Her smile was at once sympathetic and coldly unnerving.

  Dardanos shuffled backwards, heading for Drusal’s silent form.

  “But, if you dare to touch Lord Vardon, I will gladly send your sorry ass to hell.” The gentle

  whisper held more of a threat than a knife at his throat. With a sweep of one hand Cat

  enclosed the beast in a field of force, a one man prison. Once he was immobilised she

  turned her attention to Drusal’s shell-shocked brethren. Darting flames flickered once

  then were extinguished. Iscatya stood before the nobles a sad smile hovering on her lips.

  “I know in my heart you had no hand in torturing my mate. But here you stand nonetheless.

  Guilty by association, or were you threatened with the same treatment if you refused?”

  She had to play on their hatred for the Queen, offer them an alternative life, rather than

  one of degradation. An existence free of the constant submission, to their liege lady’s foul

  sexual perversions. A chaos of alien thoughts raged through her mind, resistance to being

  forced to carry out the Queen’s unhealthy commands and shared pains at Lord Vardon’s vicious

  torture. All of it hit Cat in a mass of conflicted guilt. Concern for Drusal uppermost in her

  mind made her impatient enough to consider consigning every warrior to a frigid prison in

  the depths of Antarctica for all eternity.

  This had become a war between her and Queen Grandmother. Cat needed allies. Six Sidhe

  warriors were hers for the taking. She was Heir Apparent to a blood soaked throne. It was

  time to send a message to the Court, that in no way would she submit to cruel coercion.

  These few males were the source of strength to undermine Istirina’s despotic rule.

  Tall and proud, Cat unconsciously exuded the gentle nobility of her Grandfather, the Lord

  Teyrnon. The voice of reason came to her easily, empathy at the uprooting of strong males

  from lesser courts to aid a Ruler who demoralised their masculinity, gave Cat the ammunition

  to win them to her side. Touching the fingers of both hands to head and heart Cat bowed low,

  offering to the assembled males her allegiance, protection and love. Silently she vowed to

  make them safe.

  “My Lord Phelan… Would you greet me with your wolf?” Holding still she stretched her neck

  to receive a pack greeting. Cat knew instinctively how to make each greeting personal.

  Striding forward Phelan shimmered to wolf. Grey and black streaked fur outlined a huge

  animal with ice blue eyes. Massive paws settling gently on her shoulders, a strong jaw filled

  with lethal weapons gripped her throat in a bite that promised no more than a tender nip.

  More than happy to accept a hint of pain to gain their trust Cat reached a hand between furry

  ears bestowing the mark of a mated male on Phelan. A growl of total acceptance brushed her

  throat, his body and soul was now hers to control.

  Control was the furthest thought from her mind, Cat wanted help not blind subservience.

  Indicating he step back, she turned her attention to a huddle of restless males.

  Oh boy, Alex would just love this… So much testosterone for the taking…

  “My
Lord Turi, your Bear is impatient to tear my heart out. Be advised that I am not easily

  bested.” Cat shimmered into the form of a magnificent brown bear, jaws wide, waiting to

  take off his head if the huge warrior gave her no choice. With a grunt Turi raced at her,

  fangs and claws emerging, ready to inflict serious damage. Wrapping immensely strong

  arms round a proud male, Cat stilled his flight easily. Claws digging into the acreage of his

  chest she placed another mate mark squarely over a solid heartbeat.

  “You are mine….” Cat growled through white fangs.

  Head bowed Turi shimmered back to his true form, waves of sexual tension oozing from him

  in waves of ferocious need. The bear’s muscular physique rivalled Drusal’s to the extent her

  mouth watered with unbidden desire.

  “Stop it Turi… I am in no mood to play.” She snarled at him, fighting off the urge to take a

  little taste of a luscious male.

  With a flourish of fingers to head and heart, a warrior with chocolate brown eyes and a mane

  of blue black hair bowed low to his new mistress.

  “Thank you Lord Turi.” Aware of how dangerous this warrior could be to her heart, Cat let

  her gaze fall on the injured male who had tried to save her. “Drusal is my mate… I will take

  no other.” She let her words sink in.

  “Does he know that Princessin?” Turi growled in frustration.

  Head tilted to one side, burgundy hair once more flickering with writhing flames, anger

  roiled off Iscatya in a tide of intimidation that rocked the warriors back a step.

  “I offer you my apologies Princessin. We were led to believe our brother had been rejected.”

  A wave of glossy hair hid the swarthy skin of Turi’s face, head bent in a gesture of defeat.

  Understanding of why the elite of the nobles had accompanied Dardanos on his mission to

  capture a truant royal unfolded in her head. With a musical laugh she applauded their plan,

  hands snapping together in a loud crescendo of sarcastic noise.

  “One of you intended taking his place?” Blazing emerald eyes searched tense faces for the

  answer. “How foolish of you…” She had to finish marking the brothers, before helping a

  badly damaged Lord Vardon. It was a necessity, not a choice.

  Holding out her hand Cat invited a long lean warrior to come forward, blonde plaits trailed

  over his shoulders to conceal a plethora of weapons strapped to black armour.

  “My Lord Kynthelig you are a guide, I am sorely in need of guidance…” Turning his palm to

  face upwards, she placed a kiss on the ridges of toughened skin. A further mate mark was

  accomplished with no pain to either party. Soft onyx eyes blinked once in gratitude.

  “I perceive your plan Princessin and admire the foresight.” Taking a step back he offered her

  the sign of allegiance. Now here was a male she could depend on to take her back in fight.

  Touching the fingers of her right hand to forehead only, Cat swung her arm wide with a

  mischievous grin. “Welcome to the party Lord Kynthelig.”

  “My trust is in your strength Iscatya Edan-Fire.” He returned her grin with a smile that

  shamed the sun. So he knew of her true origins. An emerald gaze came to rest upon the twin

  siblings Charon and Fintan, fierce brightness and white fire, they revelled in her own defensive

  element.Turi stood rock steady at her left shoulder. His aura of possessiveness engulfed her

  in a world of domination. Looking back into chocolate brown eyes she smiled, a soft rebuke

  at a show of arrogance.

  Turi… Her voice whispered in his head. Learn that I am not available…I love your brother

  as he loves you… Do you believe I know your names, your strengths, from reading your

  minds…? Not that I couldn’t read your minds. Her laugh was only slightly malicious.

  Drusal told me of your bond as brothers of the sword. All he has ever done was try to save

  you from pain, granted he made mistakes along the way. None of us is perfect...

  Turi remember what you have shared with your brethren…. They will be the strength to

  guide your footsteps. I cannot always be with you, but your brothers can. Do not destroy the

  ties left to you, with a show of misguided smugness.

  With the lightest touch on her shoulder he backed off to stand guard over Drusal’s sleeping

  form. Her mental hug of gratitude brought a reluctant smile to the bear’s dark skinned face.

  Reaching out both hands to the twin brothers, identical cornflower blues eyes held her gaze.

  “Come burn with me…” Wrapping her fingers round their wrists, Cat released her inner flame

  to become a column of writhing blue flame. Simultaneously Charon was enveloped in a golden

  glow, his body a dense mass of molten lava, Fintan shimmered like quicksilver, a swirling cloud

  of white luminescence. The mate marks were seared into the flesh of the brother’s wrists, one

  right, one left. With a wild yell of exultation, gold and silver flames shot up and out from

  identical warriors in a display of pyrotechnics to rival any New-Year celebration.

  Cat was becoming anxious at the need to tend to Drusal. He would feel no pain as he slept,

  but his injuries warranted extensive healing. Coming face to face with the last of the Sidhe

  warriors she met the unblinking stare of a male with impossibly violet eyes, long hair fell over

  broad shoulders to reach a slim waist in a blanket of gleaming silver. Wow…

  Cat would love to introduce this hunk to Alex, just to see her keel over in a dead faint.

  Subduing an inappropriate giggle, she strode forward, feeling underdressed and faintly ill at

  ease, for the first time since she had hit the floor running. The slim elegance of this male was

  in complete contrast to his brawny brothers.

  “My Lord Teague, the Bard… I can offer no story or song that would please thine ear, for I do

  not have that gift.” Reaching out her right hand, Cat touched the small indentation at the

  base of his throat.

  “All I can offer is chance to be free of a life that must sorely wound a soul as refined as yours.”

  The last mark was set in place. Breathing deeply, a tear glistening in violet hued eyes, the Lord

  Teague dropped to one knee in reverence.

  “The music of thy words is gift enough for me Princessin.” The husky timbre of his voice was

  magic all by itself. A sudden rush of bodies surrounded Cat. Six warriors unsheathed their

  swords, digging the point of the blade deep in the ground. On bended knee, six foreheads

  resting on the hilts of swords, one name filled the night. “Iscatya Edan-Fire…”

  A chorus of male voices gave Cat her true name in an echoing bond of true allegiance.

  Making sure every one of her marked mates was paying attention, she offered them the

  sign of equality.

  “My friends call me Cat… Now get up, and let me take a look at Lord Vardon.” Anxiety made

  her voice sharp, Cat was obeyed with alacrity. With a sigh, she realised it was going to take

  more than a sign of equality for these males to embrace a world where pain didn’t follow

  hot on the heels of defiance.

  Falling to her knees, Cat examined the ligature holding Drusal’s arms tight behind his back.

  Laid on his side, eyes closed in sleep he looked peaceful, the way his shoulders twisted under

  strain, she knew there would be massive damage to muscle and ligaments.

  Turi came to rest at her side in silent support, dark eyes resting o
n the broken figure of the

  Queens Hound. She could have chosen any one of them to capture a lost Princess, he gave

  thanks to the Fates, he had not been on the receiving end of the torturers attentions.

  Running her hands over the bindings, Cat could feel nothing solid to untie or cut through.

  “What is this?” She whispered, unsure of how to remove magical handcuffs without also

  removing Drusal’s hands.

  “A spell of binding…” Turi grunted back.

  “I can see that….” Cat hissed through clenched teeth, holding back a withering blast at a

  bald statement of the obvious. “I meant, what is it’s structure?”

  “I know not…” His shrug was monumentally annoying.

  “Do any of you know how to remove this thing?” She almost screamed at them in frustration.

  A concerted shake of beautiful heads left her feeling inadequate. If she couldn’t release Drusal,

  how the hell was she supposed to defeat her Grandmother’s hold on a multitude of mates?

  Taking a deep steadying breath Cat sank the fingers of one hand into the earth, running the

  other hand over the fabric of the spell. Iron… She could taste the metallic tang at the back of

  her throat. Frigid cold numbed her fingers, as radiant heat met her own fire in a soft caress.

  The whisper of gritty wind entwined all the elements in a web of debilitating energy.

  Leeching the Iron back into the earth and absorbing the searing heat might just cause the spell

  to collapse. Using her body as a conduit Cat closed her eyes to concentrate on unravelling a

  puzzle that could backfire on her, killing or at the very least, maiming the male at her knees.

  It was a delicate and strenuous task, the complete opposite of the bludgeon she used to

  defend herself on a fateful night. A gasp at her side brought her eyes wide open.

  The last of the spell dispersed in an icy mist, Drusal’s arms fell limply to the ground.

  “Help me roll him into a more comfortable position.” Cat made the demand as she shuffled

  to place his head in her lap. Assuming what to her was a natural state, she faced the warriors