War of Hearts

by S. Young

  Then finally she heard the murmur of voices.

  Ashforth’s and Devon’s voices became clear as they entered the hall.

  A door slammed.

  That was Thea’s cue.

  “What is going on that is so urgent?” Ashforth snapped.

  Thea stepped out of the drawing room, the creak of the door announcing her presence.

  Ashforth whirled from glaring at his son to wiping his expression off his face when Thea stepped into the room. Ever the master bluffer. “What is she doing here?”

  “She’s here to make you pay for what you did to my mother,” Devon said, the words robotic.

  His father turned to him, incredulous as he gestured to Thea. “You believe her lies?”

  “I believe the guards who witnessed the escape. I’ve known for years what you did to Mom.”

  Shaking his head, Ashforth took a step back. “It was an accident.”

  A BOOM buffeted against Castle Cara, followed milliseconds later by the shattering of the stained glass window. Shards sliced through the air and Thea ducked, covering her face, feeling tiny little stings all over her arms that healed as quickly as they’d opened. Her shirt sleeves were covered in tiny little tears.

  Heart pounding and disoriented, she stood, hearing a roar of sound through the hole in the wall where the window had been. There was popping and crackling amongst the roar … like a blaze.

  There had been an explosion, Thea realized.

  Ashforth staggered to his feet as Devon pushed out of the doorway of the great hall, a satisfied smile on his face.

  “What did you do?”

  Devon shrugged. “I blew up the boat. All the guards in the castle are dead; everyone on the boat and dock are most likely dead. And your vamps are locked in the wine cellar. You’re on your own, old man.”

  “Why?” Ashforth looked grief stricken.

  “You made me stand by while you tortured Thea. You hit me when I disobeyed you. You intimidated Mom, and all the time with this sob story about how your father was such an abusive bastard,” Devon spat this time, no longer calm, no longer in control. “You’re so far fucking gone, you don’t even realize you became the monster you were trying to fight.”

  “I love you,” Ashforth whispered. “That is the difference between me and my father. I love you. I’m doing this for both of us.”

  “You’re doing this for yourself.” Devon looked to Thea, defeated. “Whoever this is, it’s not the man I remember as my dad.” He stepped back, giving her space. “End it now.”

  She was a blur of speed and light across the room toward Ashforth, channeling the little girl terrified of this man, so she could give her the closure she needed. Thea was so focused, so sure it would be an easy battle, she never saw it coming.

  One minute she was on Ashforth, her hands on his neck, about to snap it—make it clean, make it quick, more than he deserved—when the fire blazed through her ribs just below her heart.

  The breath left her, and she felt the energy around her flicker as her legs gave way with the agony. Glancing down, she saw the iron dagger stuck between her ribs.

  Even as the pain made her want to die, Thea felt relief. He’d missed her heart. She glared up at him from her knees as he shrugged his suit jacket back into place like she hadn’t just tried to kill him.

  “Well, this is unfortunate.” Ashforth shook his head.

  Thea yanked out the blade, gasping. “You missed. You fucking maniac.”

  “Yes, but you’ll be weak enough for now until I can deal with you.”

  “Wrong.” Devon stepped up behind his dad, the muzzle of the silencer against his temple. “That’s not how this ends.”

  No! Thea shook her head. No, she couldn’t let Devon do this. And not because it would deny her right for revenge. She didn’t need revenge. She just needed this to be over and Ashforth would never let her go. There was no other way. He had to die.

  But Devon would not live with his father’s blood on his hands.

  Pushing through the weakness caused by the iron blade, Thea shot up, pushed Devon out of the way, her super strength sending him flying across the room, and she turned on Ashforth.

  Wary, obviously out of weapons, he took a step back, hands in the air. “You can’t do it. You won’t let Devon do it, so how do you expect to?”

  “I won’t let him live with your death on his conscience.” Thea shook her head. “He will be better than you, and he can’t do that with that kind of legacy.”

  Melancholy filled Ashforth’s eyes. “Thea—”

  Three moves.

  That’s all it took.

  A step toward him. A punch through flesh, muscle, and bone. And he gaped in shock, like he hadn’t expected it. Thea fisted his heart, not surprised to find it small. “You never had any use for it anyway,” she whispered.

  Then the third and final move.

  She tore Ashforth’s useless heart from his body.

  The light dimmed from his eyes and he dropped with a juddering thud. Thea let go of the warm, bloody muscle and wiped her hand against her jeans a little desperately. She shuddered, feeling cold.

  “You did it.”

  Turning, Thea watched as Devon limped toward her.

  “I’m sorry.” She gestured to his leg. She hadn’t meant to push him so hard.

  He waved off her apology, his eyes on his father. “I heard what you said.” His voice was soft, his eyes glazed over with shock. “Thank you.”

  “Devon, we need to get out of here. If we’re found—”

  “Don’t worry.” He shook his head. “I set this place to blow in ten minutes.”

  Thea’s eyes rounded. “What?”

  He didn’t look at her but fell to the ground beside his father’s body. His shoulders shook. “I wanted it all gone. All evidence of what he’s done. The vamps who helped him … they’ll die too.”

  “But the castle …” Thea gestured to the hall. Maybe it shouldn’t be her first thought, but this was a medieval castle. It seemed like sacrilege to destroy hundreds of years of history because some asshole took up residence in it.

  “Fuck the castle. Fuck Scotland.” Devon sniffled. “I’ll meet you outside. Just give me a minute to say goodbye.”

  Thea wasn’t particularly happy about leaving bombs to detonate, killing vampires and destroying a piece of important Scottish heritage. But she also didn’t know how to defuse a bomb and she only had ten minutes to get whoever was left in the castle out.

  Thea looked down at Ashforth’s body. There was no time to process his death. It would have to wait. Hurrying from the hall, she searched the castle. The vamps couldn’t leave but any werewolves could.

  Sadly, the ones she found, Devon had already killed. Including the guard whose neck she’d broken. Devon had returned to the pantry to put a bullet in him before he searched out his father.

  Rushing out of the entrance, down the uneven concrete steps, Thea felt the heat from the large boat ablaze down at the dock. She dashed across the courtyard and took the steps down onto the dock, wary of how close the flames were getting to the wooden structure. She found a man and a woman, but they were already gone. Bodies floated in the loch beyond the boat. Thea damned Devon to hell. Why did he have to kill everyone? Wasn’t Ashforth enough?

  A shout carried across the water and Thea turned from the blazing boat to shore.

  “Thea!”

  “Conall,” she breathed, hurrying toward the opposite end of the dock. People gathered on the shore.

  The Pack.

  And Conall was getting into a speedboat with James and Callie.

  Relief flooded her. She waved and Callie waved back. She could feel Conall’s intensity from here.

  Footsteps from behind drew her around. Devon limped down the planks toward her, his expression grim, his cheeks tearstained.

  “Help is coming. Unless you want to tell me how to defuse those bombs, we need to get everyone as far away from here as possible.”

&nb
sp; Devon stared out at the approaching speedboat and then turned back to Thea. He stumbled and Thea reached out to steady him.

  He grabbed onto her, and she pulled him upright. “Devon, are you okay?”

  He shook his head, his eyes meeting hers. “I needed you to do it. I couldn’t do it.”

  “I know,” she reassured him. “I know.”

  More tears slipped down his cheeks. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t blame you. You saved me … but you also ruined me, Thea. Just existing … you ruin lives.”

  Hurt shattered through her. “Devon …”

  His expression hardened. “It has to end.”

  Pain exploded through her heart seconds before Devon stumbled back, sobbing.

  Agony ripped through her chest, taking her to her knees again.

  Thea glanced down, her hands wavering uselessly over the iron dagger Ashforth had slammed into her ribs, missing her heart.

  Devon hadn’t missed.

  “THEA!” she heard Conall’s roar in the distance.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks.

  It really was the end.

  30

  “That’s Devon!” Callie shouted over the speedboat’s engine. “Ashforth’s son. Creepy as fuck too, just so you know!”

  Conall narrowed his eyes on the man as they approached Thea. “Thea spoke affectionately of him. He’s like a brother!”

  His sister grunted at his side.

  When they’d arrived at Loch Isla, they heard the explosion before they saw it. Upon skidding to a halt at the dock across the loch from Castle Cara, they’d all jumped out of their vehicles to see the boat on fire.

  Confused as to the goings-on, his wolves advised they hold back but Conall got into the speedboat James was happy to commandeer. He hot-wired the boat just as Conall saw Thea appear on the castle’s dock.

  Alive.

  She was alive.

  He couldn’t wait to get to her, and Conall hoped for Ashforth’s sake, he was already dead.

  “Conall, Devon’s hand.” Callie gripped her brother’s arm, fingers biting into his skin. His gaze narrowed on Devon.

  Even from this distance, he could make out the silver-gray blade.

  Pure iron.

  Panic slammed into him with the force of a cannonball. “THEA!” he roared in warning.

  She couldn’t hear him.

  She couldn’t fucking hear him.

  He lunged forward, rocking the boat. “THEA!”

  Devon plunged the blade right into her heart.

  “THEA!” His bellow echoed around Loch Isla, his rage almost like a sentient being, echoing and swelling over Castle Cara.

  Vik’s voice came to him like a fist through his chest. “If you stab a fae in the heart with a knife of pure iron, they cannot recover. It is a slow, painful death for the fae.”

  Thea’s legs gave out on the dock, her body slumping forward as she stared at the knife in her heart.

  Thea.

  No.

  “No,” he exhaled, trying to catch a breath beneath the crushing pressure in his chest. “No.”

  Conall’s eyes flew to Devon, who staggered back from his mate.

  He was going to kill him.

  His claws protracted, his muzzle lengthened, his jaw cracked with the partial change, and his wolf teeth grew, filling his mouth with razor-sharp weapons.

  James turned the boat as it neared the dock, kicking up water, and Conall leapt across the distance between the boat and dock. It was a jump no human could have made. His feet hit the wood with such force, a plank cracked. But Conall didn’t care. He couldn’t see anything but Thea dying and Devon …

  The man, Ashforth’s son, stared at him wide-eyed.

  That’s the only movement he had the chance to make.

  Conall was on him before he could speak. A slice of his claws up Devon’s belly to disable him and then he clamped his teeth down on his neck and tore his throat out with animalistic satisfaction. Dead instantly, the traitor fell off the dock and into the water below.

  “Conall!”

  He whirled, muzzle covered in blood and gore, and saw Callie bent over Thea as James docked the speedboat.

  Conall could feel the fire from the boat behind him, hear its crackling blaze, still going, ready to light up the dock at any moment.

  What he couldn’t bear to feel was the grief desperate to take hold.

  Because that was admitting there was nothing he could do.

  That meant admitting Thea would really die.

  He staggered toward her, changing back from half-man, half-wolf, and wiped the blood from his face as he fell over his mate.

  “Thea …” He reached for her, caressing her cheek.

  She was so pale.

  Too pale.

  Looking down at the dagger in her heart, he didn’t know if it was best to keep it in there or take it out.

  “Thea.”

  Her lashes fluttered and with a groan of what sounded like deep-seated agony, she forced her eyes open.

  “Thea.” He braced over her, pressing his lips to hers, gently, so gently. “What do I do? I dinnae know what to do.” Conall was not a man who cried. The only time he’d shed a tear had been when his parents died, and even then, it had been in private. Yet he could not stop the wet that blurred his vision. “You cannae leave me, lass, so tell me what to do,” he choked out.

  She parted her lips, straining to speak. “C-Conall,” she began to choke, and he raised her head up gently, despair filling him as she spat out a thick glob of blood. “G-Get off. Bomb. Castle. G-Go.”

  What?

  His eyes flew to Callie’s.

  “Conall.” Callie reached under Thea. “I think that means bomb in castle. We need to go. Now!”

  Together they lifted Thea onto the boat, his heart wrenching at every moan of pain she emitted.

  “Should we not take the dagger out?” Callie shouted over the noise of the speedboat as they sped across the water. “She cannae heal while it’s in.”

  If he took it out … if he took it out, that meant …

  Callie seemed to understand. “I’ll do it.”

  Conall nodded, grabbing Thea’s hand. He bent to whisper in his mate’s ear as Callie wrapped her hand around the blade’s hilt. “My love for you is infinite, Thea Quinn.”

  Thea jerked with a guttural groan as Callie wrenched out the dagger, her eyes flickering open again. She gazed up at him, her love visible through her pain. “B-Bite,” she gasped. “C-Conall … b-bite …” Her eyes closed, and she went so still, Conall’s heart dropped. He reached for her, his fingers at the pulse in her neck. It was faint but still there.

  “James, warn everyone to get back!” Callie called to him.

  His beta yelled “bomb” to those on shore but Conall was too focused on Thea to see if his pack heeded the warning. “Bite?” he muttered to himself.

  “A fae of Samhradh House fell in love with her werewolf consort. The tale goes she couldn’t bear the thought of immortality without him and asked him to bite her.”

  “You mean … change her into a werewolf?”

  “Yes. Exactly. And it worked. She was no longer a true immortal.”

  Conall ran a shaking hand through his hair as he stared down at his mate.

  He wouldn’t do it before because …

  “When a very weary prince of Earrach House discovered this, he asked to be bitten too. He didn’t want to be immortal anymore, and the cauldron couldn’t truly end his suffering. So the wolf did it but the fae died.”

  Thea was dying anyway.

  “Conall, let’s move!” Callie shouted.

  With hope flaring, he slid his arms under Thea’s limp, cooling body and cradled her as they leapt off the boat onto the dock. The car park at the dock was clear, his pack at least three hundred yards away on the other side of the road that ran along the base of the hills.

  He ran, cradling Thea, using his full speed as he, Callie, and James tore across the car park to safety
. They’d almost made it when the sound of the world ending filled his ears.

  At least that’s what it felt like as he stumbled to the ground, turning at the last second to protect Thea as he landed on his back.

  The sky filled with black clouds and flickers of fire and debris. Conall sat up, checking Thea for injury. She was so still, he frantically searched for a pulse.

  It was fading.

  There was no time.

  People called his name, cried out, shocked by the explosion, but Conall only had eyes for his mate. He laid her gently on the ground and forced his jaw to lengthen, for his muzzle to grow again, his wolf teeth to fill his mouth.

  “Conall, what are you doing?” he heard Callie ask.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled down the neckline of Thea’s torn sweater to bare her collarbone. He then gently settled his mouth over the arc between her neck and shoulder and bit down into her sweet flesh. She shuddered underneath him as he made sure his teeth sank deep into her.

  Pulling back, he forced the shift again, wiping Thea’s blood from his mouth.

  He stared at the brutal, bleeding, swelling puncture wounds he’d made.

  His bite wasn’t healing.

  Was it too late?

  “Conall?”

  He looked up at his sister, who was eyeing him like he might have lost his mind.

  “She’s fae, Callie. Thea is fae. And an iron blade through the heart kills a fae slowly. There is no coming back from it.”

  Her eyes darkened in sorrow.

  “But there’s a story that a werewolf once bit his fae mate and she turned. She was no longer fae. She was …” He looked down at Thea. “She became a werewolf. No longer immortal.”

  “Conall, we need to go.” James kneeled beside him. “We have to get the pack out of here. We cannae be implicated in this.”

  Nodding, Conall lifted Thea into his arms. “Get everyone back to Torridon. Call Brianna, see how fast she can get there.”

  Brianna MacRae was their pack doctor; she lived and worked in Inverness.

  Most of their cars were undamaged by exploding debris; those that weren’t, they tore the license plates from and left them. Conall carefully laid Thea across the back seats of his Defender. Her body bowed slightly between the seat gap but there was nothing for it, much to his distress.