Violent lines slashed Breac’s face. He caught her hands, jerked them behind her back.
Pain screamed up her arms.
“I see my cousin has done more than filled your belly with his spawn,” he seethed. “He told a human what is forbidden.”
“Mayhap,” she replied, “but I saved his life, whereas you tried to murder him.”
He grunted. “As if any will hear your claim.” Breac withdrew a strip of cloth from a side pocket, secured it around her mouth with a hard yank. “Lass, if I were you, my worries would not be for Aedan, but for the few moments left of your pathetic life.”
“Nay!” Rowan screamed, but the cloth muffled her cry.
“Enough.” A crowd gathered as Breac hauled her up the steps to the keep. Curious stares mixed with excited whispers.
Her body trembling, she scanned the bailey, then looked toward the gatehouse where they’d entered a short time before. It was now blocked by the growing horde.
Breac raised his hand.
Expectant silence descended upon the throng.
“This night I bring disturbing news.” Breac’s voice boomed within the castle walls. “In my search for The MacGregor, I found this woman, who is responsible for our laird’s disappearance.”
“How can a human have any power over a vampire?” a vampire near the front yelled.
“Aye,” several vampires grumbled in agreement. The doubts on the faces of those within the crowd showed they were far from convinced.
Breac scanned the throng, bronze eyes narrowing. “This lass is not a simple human, but a witch!”
“A witch powerful enough to bewitch our laird?” a wizened man near the front challenged. “The MacGregor is many centuries old, his power legendary.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
“How can a witch,” the vampire continued, “however strong, cast a spell over Aedan?”
At their doubts, hope filled Rowan. Aedan’s people loved him, respected him; they would not abandon him because of a few words cast by his cousin.
“Like you, I too held doubts, until I discovered an astonishing truth!” Breac placed his hand over her belly. “Aye,” he roared as he glared at those before him, “she carries our laird’s child!
Outraged gasps echoed from the crowd.
“Nay,” a woman rushed out, “ ’tis an untruth!”
Breac shoved her before him, his hold cruel upon her wrist. “Lass, is it not true?” he called out. “Do you nae carry the child of our laird?” He leaned close to her hear and whispered, “Nod in agreement or die now!”
Tears burning her eyes, Rowan nodded, willing to do anything to buy time until Aedan could arrive.
“ ’Tis truth,” a woman near the back hissed.
“Aye,” a man nearby choked out. “The blasted she-devil has enormous power.”
Outrage exploded within the crowd, and satisfaction settled upon Breac’s face.
Nauseous, Rowan turned away from Breac. Why would he not be pleased? He wanted to become their laird, would do whatever was necessary to become the clan’s leader, including trying to kill his cousin.
Except, Aedan lived.
A fact he knew, a problem he was determined to extinguish by convincing his people Aedan was bewitched, not of sound mind. But when Aedan appeared, he would expose the truth, and Breac’s treachery would fail.
“A witch,” Breac continued, dragging her from her desperate thoughts, “one who believes herself cunning. Her personal goals must be lofty indeed.”
“What would a witch be wanting with our laird or his child?” called an elder with a scarred face in the front.
Breac turned toward her. “To claim the power of being his wife. But never will she achieve her twisted goal.”
A rugged-looking vampire in the back stepped forward. “Where is our laird?”
“I am still searching for him. Worry not, I will find him. But—” Breac gave a frustrated shake of his head. “—I dinnae know how to break the spell she has cast upon The MacGregor.” He nodded toward several elders at the side of the crowd. “Oh, wise ones, ’tis guidance I seek.”
Angry brows furrowed as the white-haired vampires huddled and whispered amongst themselves.
With a slight limp, a tall vampire stepped from the group, his face drawn. “My lord, we know of no way to break the witch’s spell.”
Breac blew a hard breath. “As I feared.”
Feared? Anger slammed Rowan at the lies Breac had told, the gullibility of Aedan’s people to condemn their laird without proof! Was their loyalty to their laird, a man who would sacrifice his life for them, shredded with fears of a powerful witch? She waited for others to challenge Breac. She could see that many were far from convinced, but they remained silent.
Eyes filled with tears, Breac scanned the crowd. “ ’Tis with great sadness and regret that I inform you, if our laird still lives, his mind has been tainted by a spell that may be impossible to remove. And,” he said, his voice trembling, “if indeed my cousin returns, he must be turned away. If he refuses . . .” He shook his head as if he dredged the words from a battered soul. “Our laird must die.”
Chapter Seven
Aedan must die? Blackness threatened, but Rowan clung to consciousness—barely.
Grief ravaged the faces of the vampires below, as whispers rumbled amongst the crowd. But as the moments passed, Rowan could see their struggle with doubt fade. One by one, in unspoken agreement, they accepted Breac’s lie that Aedan could no longer continue as their laird.
Sir Wayrn stepped forward, the weight of this grave matter lining his face. “Breac, will you lead us?”
Breac drew himself up to his full height, scanned the crowd, his face hewn in a somber cast. “Aye, ’tis my honor, one I take with a heavy heart.”
Rowan fought to break free, glaring at Aedan’s cousin when her every attempt failed. Damn him, somehow she had to stop him.
As the crowd’s vile cures tainted the air, Breac shoved her before him. “The witch will pay for her treachery. Before the oncoming dawn, she will die!”
“There is no need to wait,” a vampire with a scar across his jaw said, his fangs lengthening. “Toss her down. We will see to her death.”
Cheers rose from the throng, and hunger burned in their eyes.
“She has made us suffer by cursing our laird and friend, and suffering will be her fate,” Breac stated. “Have a fire built within the center of the bailey.”
No! Rowan struggled against Breac’s hold; one of his fingernails dug deep into the pulse at her neck. She stilled.
“Is it your wish to die now?” Breac hissed. “I assure you, if I slashed your neck and cast you into the crowd, my people would gladly feed upon you. I believe ’tis their wish.”
Heart pounding, Rowan shook her head.
Wood clunked.
She glanced across the bailey. Vampires piled branches at the center. Small limbs were quickly covered with sturdy logs, which would burn for hours.
“You see your penance ahead, a death that will be painfully slow,” Breac said with a laugh, the boom of his voice echoing out to the crowd. “Let me keep you waiting no longer.” He shoved her down the steps.
The vampires parted before them, cursing her, yelling inventive tortures to add before her death.
The stacked wood grew as they closed in on her. Tremors rippled over her skin at the thought of flames scorching her.
Strong arms eagerly claimed her from Breac’s hold. “Bewitching our laird,” Sir Wayrn charged. “A fitting death for you.” He slid ropes around her wrists, her legs, jerked tight.
Hemp bit into her flesh. Focus. Aedan!
Silence.
No, their blood connected them. He had to hear her! Aedan, help, they are going to burn me!
Where are you? Rage echoed within his voice as it burst into the mayhem swirling in her mind.
Caorann Castle!
Mist exploded a pace away. Aedan stood within the fade
of white, his face carved in furious outrage. Striding forward, he tore off Rowan’s gag.
Air, fresh, cool, slid down her throat.
Breac whirled, cursed. “Guards, light the fire!” He dove onto Aedan.
Pain tore through Aedan’s body as his cousin drove him against the ground.
Straddled atop him, Breac reached toward his chest.
Outraged his cousin would dare attempt to tear out his heart, Aedan caught Breac’s wrist. Bones cracked, shattering beneath his raw force. “Bedamned your betrayal!”
“Aedan!” Rowan screamed.
Aedan glanced over.
Vampires had cast torches at the base of the wood stacked below Rowan. It caught, roared to life. The stench of smoke filled the air.
By the sword’s blade! He catapulted his cousin back, shoved to his feet, and lunged toward her.
In midair, Breac tackled him. With a powerful force, his cousin hurled him against the keep.
Shouts of warning echoed through the bailey as their clan encircled them, creating an arena for them to spar.
With a curse he glanced toward Rowan.
Her face paled against the growing flames, her eyes betraying the belief she would die.
Nay! Aedan shoved Breac away, bolted toward the flames, the crowd parting before him. Heat singed the air; smoke billowed around him, the stench of it thick. Aedan severed the ties holding Rowan and leapt with her well away from the dangerous spew of flames.
“You are safe,” he whispered, cradling her against his chest.
“Aedan,” she whispered, her body trembling, “I-I thought I was going to die.”
Unease rippled through the throng as the vampires watched them.
Aware that until he’d dealt with his cousin, she was far from safe, Aedan set her down. “Stay here. I must—”
Feet plowed into his chest. Aedan stumbled back.
Breac’s lengthened nails dug into Aedan’s flesh as they rolled upon the earth. His blood and Breac’s melded with dirt.
“You will nae save her!” his cousin yelled.
Using Breac’s momentum, Aedan rolled him onto his back and pinned his arms. Chest heaving, he glared at him. “She has done naught!”
“Aye, she has tainted you,” he spat, “left you crazed and unfit to be our laird.”
Several vampires nearby watched Aedan with suspicion, and sadness poured through Aedan. In his lust to become laird, his cousin had become twisted, lost in his greed for power. Worse, Breac had poisoned the minds of their people, with lies he must dispel.
Regardless of their bond of blood, as long as Breac remained at Caorann Castle, he would seek to undermine Aedan’s position if not attempt to kill both him and Rowan. Though they had spent their youth together, lads who had played tricks on others as they’d grown, then men who’d turned to each other for advice, it changed naught. However much he loved his cousin, Breac must leave.
“You are forbidden ever to return to the Highland Coven,” Aedan commanded. “And fortunate that I have not killed you for your attempt on Rowan’s life, or for the lies you have spoken.”
Breac hesitated, then tears blurred his eyes. “God’s teeth, Aedan. What have I done?” He looked away. “You are my blood, yet . . . Shamed I am. More than you will ever know.” Several tears fell. “Please, I beg you, give me one more chance.”
Aedan remained silent. Before this day he would have. Nae any longer.
Breac’s body grew limp as if he’d given up, as if he understood the travesty he’d committed. However much Aedan detested Breac’s banishment, ’twas his cousin’s actions that had made it imperative. He released his cousin, shoved to his feet. “Be gone.”
Without comment, Breac dragged himself to his feet. After one last look of regret, he stumbled toward the portcullis.
Exhausted, tired of the treachery from his own kin, Aedan turned to Rowan. At her tired smile, his heart warmed. She would—
Air burst from his lungs. Breac’s elongated nails sliced his back. Furious, Aedan turned.
The blur of his cousin flashed past.
Rowan screamed.
Aedan whirled.
Breac stood before the roar of flames, his body marred by cuts and bruises, a malignant smile deforming his face. At his feet, Rowan’s body lay twisted, her neck slashed, her blood pumping upon the earth.
Aedan stared in disbelief at the woman he loved, the woman who moved him like no other, the woman his cousin was trying to kill. Anger so hot, so feral it held its own life, filled him. He lifted his eyes to Breac.
“For this you will die!” With a roar, Aedan attacked his cousin, each slash of his flesh satisfying, the burn of betrayal guiding his every swing.
“You are unfit to lead us,” Breac seethed as his blow sent Aedan stumbling back.
“Nay,” Aedan snarled as he sprang forward, damning each second lost before he could reach Rowan. “That honor belongs to you!” He slashed his cousin’s chest, reached in, tore.
Shock fragmented Breac’s face as he looked down. Blood, dark and ugly, spilled from the ragged flesh. Inside, an empty cavity gaped where once had lain his heart.
As if in slow motion, Breac lifted his head, stared at the pumping red mass upon Aedan’s palm. “What have you done?”
“Killed a traitor.”
A feral smile wavered upon his cousin’s face. “I may die, but so will the lass and your child.”
With a curse, Aedan threw his cousin’s heart into the air. He focused. A swirl of mist enveloped the heart, and then it exploded in flames. The stench of blood permeated the air. Sickened, damning what must be done, he turned to the body of his cousin. Breac’s eyes were now empty, staring at nothing.
Aedan focused.
Mist swirled over Breac’s body, then flames ignited, the heat intense, the smoke thickening to a dense haze. The flutter of a cool breeze tumbled past, and the churn of white cleared. Where once his cousin had lain, only a blackened outline remained, all that was left of a man he had loved since they were young lads.
Rowan! Aedan ran to her, knelt at her side. Her wheat blond lashes flickered open.
A frown shimmered upon her face. “Ae-Aedan?”
Her pain-filled whisper cut deep. On a rough swallow, he took in the gash across her neck, her blood congealing upon the earth, her eyes growing pale as she struggled to breathe. His body shook as he drew her into his arms.
She was dying.
Nay, he could not lose her now! He stared at the sky bright with the pulse of stars, at the heavens so filled with life. Whoever he needed to beg to spare her life, he would.
He stroked his thumb across her brow. “I am here.”
“I-I love you.” Her lids wobbled as she struggled to keep them open. “If I do not—”
“Do nae speak. You must save your strength.”
Rowan closed her eyes, fought the wash of agony, the lure of blackness that offered relief. It would be easy to give in, but to do so would be to embrace death.
Death?
Nay, immortality.
Hope spiraled. “Aedan, co—convert me into a vampire. It is the only way to save me, to save our child.”
Strain etched his face as he took her hand, pressed a kiss upon its palm, his own shaking. “If I try,” he whispered, his voice raw with self-condemnation, “you may die.”
“What?”
“There might be another way,” he said. “ ’Tis possible you can heal yourself.”
Heal herself? Another wash of pain rolled through her. Rowan rode the tide until it ebbed. “You ar-are making little sense.”
“At the cave,” Aedan explained, his words rushed, “when we made love, I discovered you are part fey.”
“Part fey?”
“Aye. Your ancestors are from the Otherworld. Your ability to heal is more than a gift, but a consequence of your heritage. Fairy blood holds the ability to heal.”
Her eyes widened. “I am a fairy?
“Half.”
“Ho-
How . . .” She fought the meld of confusion and pain, but clung to his impossible claim. “How can one be half fairy?”
“Rowan, at this moment ’tis unimportant.” He brought her hand to his cheek, pressed his own atop. “You must look within yourself, draw from your inherent strength, from your ability to heal and repair your wounds.”
“I . . .” Her world blurred. She gasped, struggled to breathe.
“Rowan!”
Aedan’s voice echoed from a distance. She clung to his outrageous claim. Her lifetime of difficulties trying to fit in with her clansmen, her instinctive knowledge of where a person was wounded and the herb to heal all made sense now. ’Twas simple: How could she fit in when she was not of this world?
“Rowan!”
From far away, a desperate voice echoed. Hands rubbed over her skin, and then the coolness of a cloth swept across her neck.
Use the powers of the fey to heal yourself!
Murky blackness weighted her chest as she fought to breath. Could she heal herself? Rowan focused on points within her body where the pain built, discerned what must be done.
Heat grew within her, a slow spiral that sent waves of tingling along her skin. The sensation of tissue weaving together filled her.
“Aedan?” she whispered.
At her feeble words, Aedan’s heart stumbled. “Rowan?” Though she’d embraced her fey powers, had begun the healing process within, he sensed her body’s struggles. She was bleeding out faster than she could repair the damage.
She could not die!
As if to mock his wishes, her skin grew deathly pale, and the heartbeat of their child became pathetically weak.
Regardless of her fey blood, she was not strong enough to repair her damaged body. In but moments, Rowan’s and his child’s lives would end.
The crowd edged closer, their whispers rising to an uneasy murmur.
Furious, Aedan glanced up, surveyed their belligerent eyes and scowling faces. His people held doubts of his lucidity, were unsure because of the lies spewed by his cousin suggesting that he was caught beneath Rowan’s spell.
Why had he not suspected Breac from the start? He exhaled. Because he’d thought of him as a brother, had never believed his cousin capable of such treachery. And like those around him, he’d been wrong.
Born to Bite Bundle Page 97