I knew the second I closed my mouth that I had revealed the secret I’d been harboring in my heart since I’d woken from our shared dream.
“Love?” Knox was too damn observant for his own good.
“Shut up,” I grumbled back. “My feelings aren’t a subject for discussion.”
I peered out the carriage window at the passing scenery. London was always a bustling town—filled with people going to and from—both the upper and lower classes coexisting. They didn’t acknowledge that they all walked the same paths and needed each other to maintain whatever level of lifestyle they enjoyed.
“So, do you really want to try again?” Knox asked, his fingers drumming against his knee as he studied me.
“With Catriona?” I replied absentmindedly.
He burst out laughing. “No, with the sole reason you journeyed to London. You wanted to ask the seer if she could shed any light on the gypsies and where they were hiding.” Knox shook his head at me, a look of bewilderment on his face. “Or does that no longer matter? Maybe I should give up my attempts to break the curse as well. You know . . . now that you’ve found love.”
I banged hard on the roof of the carriage, demanding that the driver stop immediately. I kicked at the door, making it fly open.
“I’ll say this once: whatever I may feel for Catriona is not up for discussion or ridicule. Nothing and no one will stand in my way, do you understand? My first priority—my only priority—will always be to undo that bloody curse and then destroy those who dared harm me. Everything,” I thundered passionately, small flecks of spit flying from my lips, “everything I do—that I order you to do—is for that one purpose. All I have is my revenge, Knox. I would caution you to never forget that.”
I expected him to argue back, or to at least act indignant that I’d chastised him, but he did neither. He actually grinned wider, and it made me wonder who was the crazier of us two.
“Good to hear that, master,” he replied, acting submissive by bowing low. “The apothecary had many of the ingredients I needed for my new experiments. It would be a shame if they went to waste because you’ve been struck with Cupid’s arrow.”
And with that, Knox reached over and closed the coach door, signaling the driver to continue on.
“I’m sure you presented my case well, but refusing a servant as opposed to a master and gentleman . . . I would feel much better talking with her footman myself.” I relaxed back into the seat and gently smoothed out the creases forming in my trousers. “I can be quite persuasive.”
As we jostled toward the seer’s Cavendish Square residence, I vowed that I wouldn’t leave until I had gained what I wanted.
And should she continue to refuse?
Then I would take what I needed by force.
Chapter 11
The tension in the carriage was practically palpable.
Gone were the plans to spend a few days in London, introducing Catriona to society, and showing her that I could be the reformed “monster” she wanted. While I wasn’t promising her sonnets and a showering of hothouse flowers, a night listening to a popular opera singer would have gone a long way toward softening the damage I’d already done.
All plans came to a crashing halt when the front door of Lady Hannah’s home slammed shut in my face—denying me entrance to talk with her.
The force I’d threatened to use was extinguished as easily as blowing out a candle. Before Knox could pull me back, I had pushed against the door with my body, determined to rip it from its hinges if needed.
A pulse of explosive magic zapped across my body, sizzling the hair on my arms with its current and almost throwing me off my feet and down the steps onto the street. It made sense that the famous seer had taken the necessary precautions to protect her residence, but it didn’t help my wounded pride any.
A crowd quickly gathered at the gate, watching with astonished faces when I repeatedly tried breaking through the spell that now barred my entrance.
It had been a humiliating waste of energy, but that hadn’t kept me from my repeated attempts. It wasn’t until Knox finally dragged me away, whispering the need for decorum, that I remembered who and where I was. Word would spread like wildfire and make me the brunt of the gossip mill’s mockery.
Amidst my cussing and vehement promises to burn the damn town to the ground for this slight, Knox had gotten me back into the carriage. We returned to Mrs. Pickering’s seamstress shop without another word spoken and retrieved Catriona. Arrangements were made to have the new clothes delivered to Smithersby Field, and we were gone within the next hour.
Since then, I’d sat fuming in the coach, staring out the window while Knox and Catriona quietly talked to each other. Every now and then I caught a furtive glance from her, but after a while, she gave up trying to ease me into a lighter conversation.
As if to match my mood, a dark storm was rolling in from the east, making it all the more important for us to reach our destination. The roads were treacherous enough without having to navigate around potholes filled with water.
Knox seemed to have the same thought as he studied our surroundings. A crease lined his brow, and for what seemed like the hundredth time, he massaged his temple gingerly with his fingers.
“What?” I barked, noticing that his concern wasn’t lifting.
He didn’t answer immediately, instead leaning forward to get a better look outside.
“Something doesn’t feel right, Marcus,” he murmured, loud enough that I caught his response. “I know you’d rather continue traveling until we reach home, but I can’t shake the feeling that we would fare better if we traveled during the day, and not during this storm.”
I glanced at Catriona to see if she also felt the same. She remained tight-lipped, but her features gave away her similar worry. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, crumpling the material of her dress.
“We should be safe, Knox,” I answered, peering forward to where the driver sat, controlling the horses with his leather rein. “If we push the horses, and don’t stop as often, we should arrive with no problems. Unless you’re truly worried about a mere storm?” I ribbed him, knowing it would gall him to admit his fear.
“Does that look like a mere storm to you?” he countered, challenging me. “It looks as though the gods themselves are angry and have unleashed their wrath on us petty mortals.”
I exhaled sharply. “When did you become so dramatic? You sound more like a woman than a man, your delicate sensibilities all aflutter.” I raised my voice until it sounded more like Catriona’s than mine. I was in no mood to be argued with.
“Damn you,” he answered angrily, his gaze narrowing on me. “I would follow you into Hell itself, Marcus, and that may make me a fool, but mark my words—there’s an ill wind out tonight, and we need to find shelter.”
“Do you agree?” I turned my focus to Catriona. “Do you believe we’ll be struck down by lightning if we don’t find a place to spend the night?”
She raised her hands in defense, as if she could somehow hold off my frustration and annoyance. “Will you not listen to common sense? If you’re not afraid of getting caught in the storm, are you at least aware that the darker it gets, the braver ruffians will be as they see us traveling the road home?” Then with that steel and spitfire nature I’d grown to admire, she threw in another consideration. “Is your pride that important that you would risk your life—our lives? What of your holy mission to bring down the vengeance of heaven against your enemies? You can’t do that if you’re dead, Marcus. Please, take a deep breath and think.”
I slammed my mouth shut—unable to see a way to counter her opinion. She was right, and it rankled me down to my very last nerve.
“She’s right, and you know it, master,” Knox added, his own sarcasm evident as it dripped from the title he used for me. “You have a right to be angry. What you don’t have the right to is taking risks with everyone else’s lives.”
I let out another drawn-out breath, my fists clenchi
ng and unclenching. Before I could change my mind, I caved, and banged on the roof once more. “Driver, stop at the next town so we can find shelter.”
“As you wish,” came the muffled reply.
“Thank you.” Catriona rested her hand lightly on my arm, the warmth of her touch breaching the barriers my clothes provided. “We can start again tomorrow and together,” she added, making sure I understood that I wouldn’t be alone. “Together we’ll find a way to meet with the seer. I promise you that I won’t rest until I can help you. Both Knox and I stand with you.”
It was her humbled compassion that broke through the bitter fog I’d cloaked myself with, and I finally relaxed. She’d somehow managed to reach deep inside and find the right words to calm me.
“We’ll leave at dawn,” I grumbled.
“And not a second later,” she promised, an enchanting smile tweaking the edges of her mouth.
Knox huffed his disbelief, and he reclined in his own seat, arms crossed over his chest. It would seem his own pride had been pricked with my buckling under the words of Catriona, but he would have to get over it.
With the decision made, and the tension in the carriage slowly dissipating, I closed my eyes, the rocking of the coach lulling me softly into a light sleep.
Catriona’s scream filled the air, causing my heart to immediately sink with dread.
The coach had come to a stop only moments ago, and as my eyes flew open, I saw that we were no longer traveling the dusty road alone. Assailants with faces darkened by shadow approached by horseback, their murderous shouts disturbing the peace we’d been enjoying.
Despite my protests to continue on with the hopes of outrunning the attackers, we’d been brought to a halt.
One look was all that was needed between Knox and me. We were no strangers to danger—of protecting ourselves from those with nefarious plans. There was no doubt in my mind that those rapidly surrounding our carriage weren’t merely asking for directions.
A sense of foreboding settled over me and with a quick nod—paired with a knowing glance—to Knox, we both flew out of the carriage fully prepared to unleash our fury at being disturbed.
The scent of blood on the air slapped me in the face, and it triggered my throbbing hunger. I didn’t always let the darkness that I kept heavily restrained deep inside me free. But the second I caught that familiar coppery scent, mingling with the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I launched myself at the closest assailant to me.
He was no match for the strength I fired at him. As he lay bleeding on the ground, my fangs punched out from my gums, but there would be no time to feed.
I assessed the situation.
Knox was currently trying to hold off three attackers with clubs, his feet kicking out while one of the men struggled to hold him. Rage like I’d never seen from my friend radiated from him, and it was all because two other attackers were dragging a screaming Catriona away from the coach to where their horses stood, waiting.
In the second it took to calculate a response, I ripped off my jacket so the tight item wouldn’t hinder my movements. With hands curled up into fists, I threw myself at those beating the hell out of Knox—my hands pounding against soft flesh over and over again.
“Catriona!” Knox bellowed, surging toward her. “Marcus! They mean to take her.”
Her kidnappers were almost to their horses when I abandoned helping him and leveled the full weight of my fury toward them. Horses whinnied and reared back as they sensed the beast inside me surge to the surface.
Her look of relief was fleeting when one of the brutes manhandling her released her and came thundering at me—his knife extended, slashing through the air.
“Release her!” I ordered, my voice loud above the ruckus. Its volume rivaled the thunder rumbling in the distance. “This will be your only warning.” I swung at the older man with straggly brown hair, mud used to obscure his features and darken his eyes. “You have no idea who you are dealing with.”
My fingers grasped tightly on his arm, and I pulled hard, catching him off guard. With hands that now resembled claws, desperate to rip out his throat and gouge the eyes from his head, I let go of whatever humanity I’d managed to safeguard, and fully embraced the monstrous nature that had plagued me all these years.
I didn’t hold back.
I had no desire to restrain the demon.
With a ferocity unlike anything I’d ever experienced, I slashed at the man, disarming him easily, but instead of using his knife against him, I bared my teeth—intent on ripping the flesh from his bones myself.
Horror blazed in his eyes, and I reveled in it.
He knew he was facing death. I would personally deliver him to the gates of Hell for ever thinking he could take from me what was mine.
Blood sprayed everywhere as chunks of flesh fell to the ground.
Weakened by the intensity of my counterattack, the man made the sign of the cross, offering a brief prayer to a God I knew would not be listening. As far as I was concerned, he had better chances of survival by petitioning for my mercy, not some invisible deity in the sky.
But I was in no mood to dispense mercy.
As Catriona continued to scream and fight for her freedom, I gave one last kick and slash at the man in front of me and stepped over him as he toppled to the ground—dead.
In a cold, still voice that carried over the melee, I stooped down long enough to retrieve the knife and pointed it at the fool who held my wife.
“Are you next?” I paced toward him, my steely gaze never leaving his stoic features. “Tell me, shall we bury you beside your dead companion?”
I wiped at my face, my fingers coming back wet with blood. Without thinking, I licked at the ichor, receiving strength from the taste. My response was met with a look of disgust as Catriona’s sole kidnapper now grasped her tightly from behind, slowly backing up to his horse.
“I am saving her from you,” he growled, spitting on the ground. “I know who—what you are.”
“Marcus,” Catriona begged, desperately trying to break free so she could rush toward me. “They knew we would be traveling tonight. They were waiting.”
I took the briefest of seconds to look at her—to really look at the woman who had first been such a hindrance, but had over time worked her way into my heart. I’d been a fool to deny that happiness didn’t have to be sacrificed in order to honor my vengeance. All these months, I could’ve savored our time together, instead of acting like the bastard I’d been.
“I know,” she mouthed. That’s when it hit me—I may have held her at arm’s length, but Catriona had used her time more wisely. She’d quietly been studying the man she’d married, learning to read my body language so she could better understand me. And now—when what she needed was for me to be her hero—I realized that was exactly what I wanted.
Revenge be damned.
She was now the driving force behind my wanting to be a better man, even if that meant living with the curse for the rest of her days.
“Catriona,” I roared, and with a strength I hadn’t felt since before the alleyway, I stalked toward her, ready to gut the man who restrained her.
My focus zeroed in on him.
All sound seemed to fade around us.
My heart thudded loudly in my ears, my chest trying to adjust to the raggedness of my breathing.
I was death.
I was retribution.
I was a man defending the woman he loved.
“Marcus!” It was Knox who yelled now, from somewhere behind me. I didn’t turn, however, not willing to give the bastard holding Catriona a chance to gain the upper hand. If he reached his horse, he could whisk her away in a heartbeat—each stride taking her farther and farther away.
“I will gut your bitch,” the man hissed as he pressed the knife’s blade into her stomach. “Like the filthy swine she is.”
“Marcus!” she screamed again, her eyes wide as saucers, and with what little energy she had left, Catriona ra
ised her hand, pointing to something behind me.
I didn’t think. Later, I would relive this precise moment over and over—my failings repeating in different ways as I agonized over what happened next. Instead, I turned about to see what had caught her attention.
Everything slowed.
Knox was racing toward us, a wild desperation radiating from his features.
In front of him by a few strides came a bulky mammoth of a man with his fist cocked back, aimed at my head.
It was all the distraction they needed.
The giant collided with me, knocking us both to the ground. Knox reached shortly after, and began pulling to get me free.
“Not me, you fool!” I exclaimed. “Protect her!”
But it was too late.
I watched in absolute horror as Catriona was whisked up onto the horse’s back, and with a loud crack of the reins, disappeared into the dark surroundings with the gloating ruffian.
A gurgled laughter broke the spell.
“She wasn’t yours, shimulo.” His lips were curled up into a smug smirk. Blood streamed from the open cuts on his head, the scent dancing around me like a siren.
“She is mine!” I thundered, cocking back my fist and striking him with every ounce of strength I possessed. “Where did you take her, gypsy?”
His use of the word had told me exactly who our attackers had been.
“To freedom.” He laughed again, and this time spat in my face. “Which is more than you gave my brother Nikolai.”
Vengeance.
Why did it always come back to it?
“Marcus, we can still follow. Forget him. Let’s go.”
For as long as I lived, I would never forget the expression the gypsy wore as I used his body to gain my balance and stand. It was a mix of ruthlessness and gloating satisfaction. In his mind, we would never reach them in time to stop whatever plans they had for Catriona.
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