“Move woman.”
“No.”
Rowan didn’t back down, or back away for that matter. She thrust her chin out, staying as steady as she could, and looked up at the fierce black winged God. And yes, in that moment, she thought he was every bit a God as he did.
“Please! Do not kill each other. There is no use,” she begged.
Rowan kept her back to the Druid while she looked up at the dark warrior with black wings and eyes like ice. Her body had no armor on now to protect her. She’d come between them vulnerable, bullheaded, and at great risk of being killed. That other switch had flipped inside Rowan in that moment; she was in her dead zone once more.
Devlin’s mind whirled with confusion and anger. He tried to talk to Rowan through their connection, to get her to move out of the way, but it was hard to focus. His own battle rush was surging through his body like a raging river of bloodlust and he couldn’t gain his composure as quickly as he needed to. Between that and the energy he’d spent giving and blocking hard blows with his enemy, his body was starting to feel the strain. Devlin reached out to touch her, to pull his wife behind his body to protect her, but she stepped away from him.
Devlin’s heart stopped. He tried to seek her mind, but Rowan had slammed the door shut, cutting him off completely. By Danu, what was she doing? He tried to search her face, but her look was unrecognizable to him.
Eyes green and spiteful and a face like stone, Rowan walked away from Devlin, and stepped closer to Lorcan instead. “I won’t have you die for me,” she said.
Lorcan laughed arrogantly, “My pet, why would you think I would be the one to die? Have you so little faith in a true Sidhe warrior?”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” she bowed then, eyes only for Lorcan, “my King.”
Pride consumed him when he heard her say those words. Lorcan let out a laugh that echoed off the walls. She was everything he could have ever wanted, all wrapped up in a tight, hard, submissive bundle of flesh, lust, and hate. By the Gods, she was perfect. With a flick of his hand, Lorcan signaled another swarm of demons to bring Devlin down and carry him off like they did Adam. They covered him like a pack of jackals and started dragging the Druid away. Lorcan would finish him off later; right now he had eyes only for the dark beauty before him.
“No!” Rowan said, holding her hands up to stop them. Her eyes darted to Devlin and her gaze was cruel and unwavering. Never blinking or faltering in her stance, she smiled wickedly back at Lorcan and said those three magic little words. “Let him watch.”
Rowan felt power ripple down her body and didn’t know if it was coming from herself or the Sidhe in front of her. Wherever it came from, it felt good. Really good.
Lorcan’s eyes flared in response to her. Those words coming from her sweet mouth sent a shiver down his spine. Desire and fear was trickling off her skin and smelled like fruit with cream to him. It was a scent that was promising to taste delicious on her. Anything will taste good on that woman, Lorcan was sure of it.
He stalked closer to the tiny beauty. He was all sex, power, and animal. A hungry animal. A starved animal. “You smell like food, Rowan. Are you food?”
Ro did back away now. She didn’t feel like food the way he was looking at her. She felt like liquid. Warm, thick, and sweet.
“Lorcan, I…” she didn’t know what she was going to say in that moment because too much was rolling through her head. She’d already opened her elephant mouth and now her hummingbird ass needed to think of a plan. But the energies in this space were making her mind hazy and her body felt too hot.
Part of Rowan wanted to run. But run to Devlin or run to Lorcan, she honestly didn’t know in that moment. Part of Rowan also wanted to stay. But stay here in the cold comfort of the darkness she’d known for most of her life, or stay in the heat of the moment with her body pulsing with magic and energy? It was a tug of war in her head and both ends were promising much power.
Did Rowan want power? She hadn’t even thought about it until right this second. And honesty is always best, especially with yourself. Yes. Rowan wanted power. Her bones were craving it, aching for it, and here was where she could harness more power than she’d ever felt in her life. It was all right here, waiting to be taken.
Something called to her bones in this place just like it did the day she’d come offering blood if something would come out to her so long, long ago. Rowan understood it now. She hadn’t been searching for souls when she came into these woods when she was younger. Rowan had been searching for power. And she felt that same familiar pull now. She felt it in the air and was eager for more of it.
She licked her lips. Rowan’s mind was racing, bones thrumming and skin tingling. Power. Yes, power, she was so hungry for it now. Positively starved for it.
But how could she get it? She wasn’t going to drain the souls. Not an option. They were to be set free, no matter what else happens. The souls must be freed. But there was other magic here, she could feel it; it was deep and resonating in the walls, floors, and very air. It felt forbidden, dangerous, and wonderful. Familiar. Rowan shook the thought from her head. Fuck. Her eyes were starting to burn. Everything felt disconnected. What was she doing here? Oh yeah, Lorcan.
She knew her purpose: kill Lorcan.
Rowan was struggling to make her body and mind cooperate. She was getting out of sync. Her mission was to kill Lorcan, but she wasn’t so sure that was the right thing to do. He felt good to her, too good, too normal, at least her kind of normal. He was like home to Rowan in a different way than Devlin was. Devlin. She tried to steal a quick glance at the Druid she loved. He was being swarmed and suffocated by angry black creatures crawling and clawing all over him, holding him down.
A decision needed to be made. Rowan’s body was crumbling under the pressure and she quickly retreated back into her dead zone again. She needed to think about this. Fast.
Rowan licked her lips again, trying to figure out her next move. She glanced to the sword Lorcan still held, strong muscles taught and grip tight on the hilt. He was nearly eight feet tall of primal power. His wings expanded domineeringly, tattoos moving around his skin, twisting and entwining into different designs. She couldn’t stop staring. He was magnificent.
Over to the side, Devlin was yelling and fighting to get the ferocious demons off of him. Rowan didn’t hear his shouts. She heard nothing and no one. And she only saw the black angel in front of her. Watching her. His power caressed over her skin like a warm bath of delightful sins. It made her want more. Need more. She was hungry.
Lorcan watched her watch him. She was turned on, he could tell. He smelled her scent again, breathing her fragrance in, filling his lungs with it; it still smelled sweet, but there was another scent lingering underneath it. He realized she was ravenous for something, and her other senses were weaker with the need of whatever it was she was starving for.
Affectionately, Lorcan reached down to hold Rowan’s face in his large, bloodied hand. Her skin was hot under his touch, and the heat made his body react instantly. His eyes roamed her body. What did she need? He’d give her anything, he thought to himself. There was nothing he would deny her. Fire and passion? Done. His heart? Already hers. The world? In due time. Power? Hmm, yes, yes he would, he’d give her power. The more the better, they’d be an equal match, in all things.
That revelation was an eye opener for Lorcan. He didn’t know he’d turned soft until that very moment. She made him feel things that were foreign and nonexistent to the Sidhe. ‘Twas concerning. Disappointing, actually. He’d have to work on that. There is only one who needs to be submissive, and it wasn’t going to be him.
He growled. Lorcan would not be the soft one. He’d not be weak. Lorcan was hard edges and razor blades; she’d not smooth him down to something less deadly, less feared, less anything. Rowan was the one who shall be broken and remade… and broken again. Damn the woman, she muddled his senses too much. The idea that she was strong enough to d
o so rode him on the edge of caution and curiosity.
Lorcan searched her face and raked down her body. He didn’t know what she needed right then, but he damn sure knew what he was needing: Her. Under him. Now.
As if reading his mind, Rowan grabbed Lorcan’s hand, pulled the sword from his grip and sent it clanging to the ground. Feeling her body ache and very soul thrum, Rowan’s fate was sealed and she knew it.
This is where she was meant to be.
This is where she belonged.
Her destiny was always linked with the man in this room. No amount of power would change that. Her spine was cold and hard, like the well-crafted blade hidden between her shoulder blades, and it made her shiver with delight.
Talking with her hips, hands steady in his strong grasp; she stepped backwards and guided Lorcan slowly away from Devlin. Never breaking her eye contact with the black-winged Sidhe, she licked her lips slowly, eyes bright green with her power and lids heavy from needs that have not been met. Yet.
“Come, my king, let us show the Druid what real power looks like.” She pulled his arm and the Sidhe went where she lured him. “Let him watch. I want him to watch as you take me, Lorcan. Let the Druid see and suffer while you’re inside me.”
Lorcan closed his eyes as he let those words run down his body and straight to his cock. He knew Rowan was the one. Knew it since the day she called to him in the woods, her power was caged then and still it pounded down these walls. Lorcan knew Rowan’s true nature, knew her for what she really was: ruthless, merciless, and cruel. He’d chosen his queen well. By the Gods, he loved her.
The demons held Devlin down. It took all fifteen of the creatures to disarm him, force his body to his knees and hold his face towards the show in front of him. Heartbroken and soul shattered, Devlin watched his wife go so willingly to the enemy.
By the Gods, this cannot be! He tried to yell her name, but two of the demons shoved their boney hands over his mouth, gagging and silencing him. His eyes watered from the stench and taste of their skin. Och, like death and rotted flesh wrapped in old leather dipped in motor oil.
Rowan didn’t pay any attention to what was going on with the man on the ground. She still had eyes only for the God with the wings. Lorcan. His name rolled in her head like lava creeping over rocks, melting and burning everything it touched. Her face, where he’d hit her so hard, was still sore but starting to heal. Lips bloody, her cheek red and swollen, she looked up at Lorcan like he was a gift from the Gods.
Tenderly, Lorcan wiped the blood from her mouth with his thumb, “I am sorry to have hurt you, my pet.” It was only a half truth, he liked making her bleed.
“I deserved it, did I not?”
Rowan smiled then, eyes challenging his. She ran a hand over the freshly healed wound she’d given him not moments before. His muscles bunched and flexed under her touch. She smiled at the effect she had on him.
“Perhaps I should apologize for my bad behavior,” she licked her lips again and then stretched her arms up high on his broad tattooed shoulders and scraped her nails hard down his torso as she went down on her knees in front of him. The simple act had Lorcan growling in pleasure and he threw his head back in satisfaction. He grabbed the back of her head and ran his fingers through her hair, ready and eager for her mouth to wrap around his pike.
Devlin couldn’t watch. This was too much. He’d rather die a thousand torturous deaths than live one more second like this. I love you. Till the end of my days, I love you. Her voice came as a rushing whisper to him. Startled, he looked up at her. His wife was a terrible beauty. Rowan was on her knees, staring up at Lorcan while his own head still arched back with his eyes closed reveling in her touch.
Rowan knew her fucking place in this world. She’d been blind for far too long. Walls up, secrets kept, promises broken. There was a reason for everything, and she knew the reasons now. Power. Being here felt good, it felt right, and now she understood why, it offered her something she’d always wanted: more power. Her decision has been made. She was going to do this.
Rowan broke down the last of her walls, the ones not even Devlin could climb, the ones made of denial, lies, and regrets that were so entwined and fortified they were camouflaged in her mind as excuses, fears and nightmares. Those walls kept the power in, not out.
Rowan dropped the last of her barriers like heavy metal doors in her body. BAM! The hissing cicada noise that filled her ears was silenced; the screaming and wailing from the other rooms, silenced; the world around her was gone. She breathed in deep and let that tremendous surge of energy course inside her. Lorcan was not the lava that burned and melted everything.
She was.
Rowan was fire. Burning, claiming, scorching, and consuming. She let that heat fill her up, let it sear her lungs, singe her skin and burn her eyes. She was made for this. She looked up at the Sidhe whose hands were still tangled in her hair, so eager for her burning touch. He was infinitesimal compared to her. His magic was parlor tricks. Trivial. He might be powerful, but Rowan was more.
She looked around the room, searching, searching, searching for her anchor. Without it, she was going to burst into flames and be left as ash of her own making. Devlin was still struggling demons of his own, but she felt the pull of him on the outskirts of her mind. Thank. God. She clung to that and hoped like hell it was going to be strong enough for what she was about to do.
Rowan felt many emotions, and she embraced them all in that moment, picking the one that felt the strongest. Rage. She looked up at Lorcan whose hands were on her head, who was still oblivious to what she really was, who still thought he was a king, and who was still under her spell. She knew her place, and it was not on her motherfucking knees.
Every ounce of hate, resentment, and anger poured out of Rowan in that moment. She welcomed it, burned with it, let it wash over her and through her in tidal waves.
It filled her up. Consumed her.
She used that rage now, let it roll around and burn inside her. Flashes of memories came to her in snaps, and all of them were nothing but tears, wrath, blood, scars, and pain. Lorcan had done it. Done all of it. Rowan saw death and despair and it wasn’t going to be hers. Or Devlin’s. Or Brinley’s, Adam’s or Ava’s. She would be the Death Bringer this night.
Rowan had one shot at this.
Hatred the color of thick, black blood filled her eyes and she could taste the heady scent of bloodlust in the air. Fueled with fury, face twisted in a menacing scowl, Rowan reached up behind her and unsheathed the Beagalltach. The blade sang loudly as she swung it around, joyful and bright, ready and thirsty.
It happened in a flash.
The echoes of the blade’s music ringing in the air snapped Lorcan out of his fantasy. Lorcan looked down at Rowan, his fingers still tangled in her hair, confusion in his eyes as she thrust the singing blade into his gut with a blurring speed. The world seemed to stop for a moment and nothing happened for a heartbeat or two… then the dominos fell one by one.
Lorcan fell to his knees, pain blinding him with the blade buried to the hilt in his body. He tried to pull it out, but it was no use, the weapon was embedded too deep and the pain was all too real. Lorcan started screaming, wings spread wide, hands gripping the hilt, and his body was going nowhere but down, down, down.
Rowan stood up and screamed at him. She wanted to hurt him more. Make him suffer slowly and horribly. She was no longer sweet and loving, she was dark and deadly… and feeling greedy. One thrust was not enough to ease the bloodlust that consumed her now. She wanted to tear him to shreds, rip him limb from fucking limb. Splatter his brains on the walls and strangle him with his own entrails. Her mind was screaming a mile a minute of all the punishments and horrendous deeds she wanted to do to the bastard writhing in his feeble attempts to free the blade from his body.
The motherfucker deserved a thousand painful deaths; he had taken things that were not his to take, tried to snatch her best friend and worst of all,
that son-of-a-bitch tried to kill the man she loved. Rowan’s mind was a clusterfuck of fury and madness, and she could see nothing but red. She wanted more. More power, more hate, more pain, more vengeance. Her fires of anger and malice were blazing within her now.
Burn, Burn. Rowan’s emotions rose up and out, spilling into the room they were still in. The blaze at the door to the bedchamber spread wildly around the rest of the room in response to her.
Burn, burn. Rowan felt the heat rise like her anger and she welcomed the flames with joy. The room was a blazing inferno matching her own heat roaring within.
Burn, burn. Rowan was going to burn. She was screaming with her blaze. Enticing those flames higher and hotter.
Some of the demons let go of Devlin, scampering away to safety, afraid of the wild flames and the woman’s dark fury. Devlin did not move. He, too, was caught in her heat and under her spell. She looked towards him for one second and then back to the Shadow Lord. She kept screaming her rage.
Shatter - Sins of the Sidhe Page 31
