Hypnotizing Beat

by Katherine McIntyre

  They moved too fast to gauge from her floor-level vantage point. Yet she knew that voice. She kept the memories of what he’d said to her in his silken tone buried deep in an impenetrable part of her heart. Danica focused on rocking her wrists back and forth even though the cords scraped across her sensitive skin.

  Blood sprayed against the concrete in front of her, and Danica froze.

  The redcap swayed on his feet before crashing to the ground. The thud as he hit trembled through the whole room. A second later, his opponent crouched in front of her.

  As soon as her eyes met his, it didn’t matter if his form was stretched out and gaunt like the time in the Lotus Garden, or that his skin had turned ashen—she knew that soft, haunted gaze.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, bringing out his blade to free her from the cords. His presence was a warm blanket on a winter’s night, and a breath of relief shuddered from her. As he slipped those large hands around to help her up from the toppled chair, she sank into his embrace, drawing in the scent of hickory and leather, of him, amidst the tinny blood. By the time she straightened with him, Trevor had returned to a normal height, and his skin transitioned back to his normal golden brown.

  Danica leaned against him, her legs shaking so hard she could barely stand. He braced her with his hands wrapped around her waist, and it wasn’t a minute before his lips found hers. She kissed him with the force and fury of everything she’d restrained all this time. Trevor had come for her. She’d taken the leap, and he hadn’t let her down. Heat stung her eyes as she savored the sweet taste of him, as she forgot the bitterness of her fear and basked in the sharp joy of the adoration she felt for this stunning survivor of a man.

  Danica could keep kissing him forever, mesmerized by the rhythm he whispered on her lips, a motion that carried the words they both couldn’t communicate. However, her sister remained in a cage, and if Trevor had arrived, the rest of the band must be here too, stirring up chaos.

  When she pulled back, he stared into her eyes with this searching, worried look that broke her heart.

  “Hey,” she murmured, running the fingertips of her good hand along his cheek, his chin, needing to feel the smooth touch of his skin. His palms felt like fire through the flimsy layer of clothing, and she willingly burned. “He didn’t ruin me. Just don’t touch my pinky.”

  Trevor lifted her damaged hand, scanning over the mutilated pinky. Danica winced at the movement. His expression darkened with a rage that belonged to drunk-driving accidents and lonely screams down dark alleys.

  “Alberich’s going to die,” Trevor growled, even as he remained gentle with her hand, helping lower it back by her side.

  “How the hell did you guys make it past his dozens of hired heads?” Danica asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. Their band was meant more for bar brawls than fights against mercenaries.

  “Kincaid must’ve delivered on his deal,” Trevor said, weaving his fingers through the ones on her good hand as he tugged her towards the door. “The King’s men showed up searching for Alberich. They want to lock him up, which means we’re running out of time if we want to get to him first. While I can hope we ruined him for good, who knows what Kincaid pulled, or what Alberich might be able to buy his way out of. I can’t risk that monster living another day.”

  “Ditto,” Danica said, following him when they exited the room. Her gaze drifted down the hall to the ballroom she’d been dragged from. Lenora would still be inside there, but if fights broke out all around them, her sister would be safest behind bars right now. “Where do you think he would’ve gone?”

  “He’s looking to escape unnoticed,” Trevor said, his jaw thrust forward and those dark eyes flashing with determination. “There’s only one place he’d be heading.”

  Before, she’d felt hope ripped away like roots from the ground, but as they strode down the hall hand in hand, it all rushed back. Resolve flooded through her, the drive to fight—not just for her sister, but for her own future, one that would contain Trevor Arceneaux. He led them in a different direction than the ballroom, a left hand turn along one corridor, and then a sharp right.

  “Thanks, Trev,” she murmured beside him, squeezing his hand.

  He didn’t look her way, but he nodded in response. “We’re going to have a long talk when we leave here about the fact you lied about your sister getting kidnapped. And then I’m stealing you away for the next century or so.”

  Danica swallowed hard, her throat tightening with emotion. As much as she hated the vulnerability that emerged around her sister and Trevor, they’d both earned their places in her life a thousand times over. “Yeah, I deserve that.”

  “Don’t think I didn’t understand what you did though,” he said, his voice softening, even as he focused on guiding them down the hall. “I trust you, D.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, annoying liquid rising to her eyes. When she was done here, she’d remove her tear ducts so the traitorous bastards couldn’t pull this shit on her. “I trust you too,” was all she could manage. To the two of them who’d spent their entire lives avoiding attachments, who’d been burned bad early on, trust meant more than love. They passed the open door of a kitchen, the bright fluorescent light spilling out onto the hallway. Danica tugged on Trevor’s arm. “Where are you leading us?”

  “The servant’s entrance. It’s meant to keep the lowly members of his staff out of sight and out of mind,” Trevor said, his long legs in undulating movement as he quickened his pace. “It also makes the perfect place to escape unseen while the King combs his manor.”

  Up ahead, the corridor ended at a massive silver door.

  As they approached, Danica’s nerves simmered, then boiled. Her pinky throbbed, her heart ached, and conviction tightened her throat. When they arrived in front of the door, they came to a halt. Danica leaned forward, pressing her ear against the cool surface. From inside the room she could hear light shuffling, the scrape of footsteps.

  “Well, someone’s inside,” she mouthed, meeting his eyes.

  Trevor may as well have been vibrating with the way the air around him buzzed. His gaze sharpened, and his breaths steadied, a pulse she could feel between their locked palms.

  She met his gaze. “No stupid risks,” she whispered. “We’re both making it out of here alive.”

  His lips narrowed into a thin line, and for a moment, her heart lurched like she’d slammed the brakes. Except he then squeezed her hand tight and nodded before pulling his away. Trevor rested his palm on the knob.

  He tugged the door open.

  Unlike the other opulent rooms in this manor, the mudroom featured slate tiles along the floor, plain russet walls, and a stack of wooden shelves lined with a cluttered mess of tools and bags. Coats hung from a rack, an array of muddy shoes beneath it, leaving streaks along the floor. A large eggshell-white door lay on the opposite side of the room, and two figures approached the exit, one dressed in his finest on-the-run suit, the other half his size and hobbling along.

  “Take another step forward and I’ll bury this dagger into your back, Alberich,” Trevor called from the doorway. He aimed the blade in hand, his forearms tensed and ready.

  Both Alberich and Crags froze mid-step.

  For the first time since she’d met the man, he wasn’t surrounded by a crowd of cohorts set to do his bidding. No, those cronies barred the way between the King’s men and his escape.

  “Come and face me, Alberich,” Trevor said. “I won’t stab a man in the back, even if he’s no better than naga spit.”

  “Crags,” Danica warned as the brownie turned around first. The hunched over man stared at her with resonant terror glowing in his beady eyes. “If you want to survive this, step away. This man isn’t worth saving.” She had his attention, so she rolled her dice. “The King’s men have arrived. If he isn’t dead by our hand, they’ll kill him next.”

  Slowly, Alberich turned around to face them.

  His mouth was pinched, and he kept his chin
thrust forward as if it might shield the fear gleaming in those crimson eyes. Even in the wake of his obvious dread, his brows bled nobility, and his posture remained in that rigid aristocratic stance. Alberich reached to his side for whatever weapon he hid. Guaranteed, the man hadn’t attempted to flee without any.

  Trevor strode forward, keeping his steps even and his dagger pointed at Alberich in case the man tried to bolt for the door. His gaze swept over his former master while his lips pressed in a calculating twist.

  Danica didn’t want to fight Crags, but if he leapt in defense of his master, she wouldn’t have the choice. She clenched her fist, following close behind Trevor. After a mere day of Alberich’s treatment and the countless justifications she’d made in the name of survival, she understood the brownie more than she wanted to. As their eyes met, years of the same fear reflected back. He tilted his head in the slightest of nods.

  Trevor stood mere steps away from Alberich, who hadn’t budged.

  That’s when Crags leapt onto Alberich from behind, the brownie’s dark eyes wild. His mottled nails sank into Alberich’s throat as he attempted to strangle his master. Crags’ gaze locked onto Trevor’s.

  “Here’s your chance,” was all the brownie managed to squeeze out before Alberich grabbed him from behind. His eyes were desperate, pleading even as the poor creature winced. Alberich latched around Crags’ neck and gave a vicious twist.

  The snap rang audible through the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Trevor could only watch as the life blinked out of his former cellmate’s eyes.

  For years, he’d been disgusted by Crags, his cowardice, and the fact he remained with Alberich even after he had been offered an escape. However, in watching the fragile life snuffed like a twig crunched underfoot, Trevor understood.

  Edge-of-a-precipice terror had kept Crags in line, yet in his final moments, he’d shown more bravery than Trevor did all those years running. He’d sacrificed his life to offer them the chance for retribution.

  Trevor was closing the distance between them before Alberich’s hands ever left Crags’ neck.

  Bile rose in his throat. His hands began to shake. Free. Free, free, free. The first night after he had escaped, he crouched in the alleyway, long legs pulled to his chin and repeating the word until it scraped against his tongue. Until it rasped in his throat like the resonant hum of his banshee’s wail. Until it burned in his chest like a first new breath, like he was reborn.

  Crags dropped to the ground, a crumpled heap where once the man had been sharp, those eyes inquisitive. The brownie lay slumped on the floor, his years of service, all the loyalty not amounting to a second glance from the monster who murdered him. No more. Trevor would not let Alberich ruin any more lives.

  Alberich stood a foot away, lowering his hands.

  Trevor’s knife hadn’t lowered. The pointed tip of his blade still aimed at his former master’s skull. However, if he tried to play safe by hurling the knife, it would give Alberich precious few seconds to run. Trevor couldn’t waste Crags’ sacrifice. He closed the distance between them and swung his executioner’s blade down.

  Alberich didn’t have the time to race out of the way. He dodged back, but the tip of Trevor’s knife snagged into the man’s fancy suit, ripping right through the crisp lapels. Trevor tugged his blade back. Alberich groped for his side and pulled out a gun. This close, he couldn’t miss.

  Trevor thrust forward with the knife again, right beneath the ribcage. The tip sank in, past fabric, past flesh even as Alberich tried to swerve back.

  Alberich couldn’t pivot and shoot, so he fumbled for the trigger. Danica dove in to smack the man’s wrist, forcing him to readjust. The leannan sidhe darted back out again, circling and waiting for another opening. Trevor wouldn’t stop. Not now. Even if the man shot him right in the gut, he would keep attacking until Alberich fell with him.

  Trevor’s other hand curled into a fist, and he let it fly. His knuckles slammed against Alberich’s jaw, sending the demon reeling. He didn’t shake it out. He swung his fist again.

  When he’d sat in the cage, Alberich had loomed. His presence stretched throughout this manor until it suffocated. Even after he’d escaped, the man’s influence, the pawns his money could buy had the same effect—the shadow that stretched five times as large as the man itself.

  However now? This man was shorter than him, less muscled. When you took away all the money and influence, Alberich didn’t loom. He cowered. The wet thump sounded through the room as his fist landed home again. Again. Again. The pistol dropped from Alberich’s hands to clatter onto the floor as the cruel sidhe bastard tossed his hands up in defense.

  Trevor thrust out with his fist, and when Alberich’s arms lifted to cover his head, that’s when he swung with his blade.

  The dagger sank deep into his former master’s stomach, and Trevor dragged it across with a sickening squelch. His blood spilled out, along with other fluids that dribbled from the open slice. Alberich staggered back, groping at the open wound like he tried to hold himself together as he looked at Trevor. The wound was a death sentence as sure as Trevor’s wail had predicted. They both knew it.

  “How … could you?” The words slipped from him, a confused helplessness in them. “You … belong … to me.”

  Trevor kicked him square in the chest. The man toppled, blood staining his once-pristine suit. Those crimson eyes flickered open and shut. “I never belonged to you,” Trevor said, looming over him. “None of us did.”

  Alberich curled up on the floor, clutching his stomach, as if he could stop the pool of blood fast pouring out from him. Trevor didn’t budge, holding his dagger aloft even as it dripped. Alberich’s gasping breaths turned to wheezes, until—nothing. The hand gripping his stomach went slack, and those crimson eyes clouded.

  Trevor stared at his former master, the man who haunted his nightmares for years. He should feel triumphant. He should feel joy. Yet all that swept over him when he stood over the broken body of the man who had terrorized him was the hollowness of a cemetery. Blood coated the bottoms of his boots, but he didn’t budge, unable to look away from the monster who’d caged him for so many years lying dead on the floor.

  He should feel safe—yet the ever-present paranoia dwelled in his veins.

  Danica slipped her fingers through his, her touch reaching straight to the heart of him.

  “You did it,” she murmured, squeezing his palm tight. Trevor dropped his dagger, the metal clattering on the floor. He pulled her forward, drawing her tight to his chest. She leaned against him like she belonged there. Killing Alberich didn’t give him the satisfaction he had imagined through the years. However, the scent of lemongrass and the affection gleaming in Danica’s green eyes caused his heart to stutter. Like the first bud unfurling after an eternal winter, he felt hope.

  “None of that matters,” he said, resting his chin on her head. “I’ve got you. That’s the reason I came here.”

  A couple of wet spots bloomed on his shirt, but he didn’t comment. He’d let her keep her pride.

  Danica let out a shaky breath. “So, the conversation we had at dinner the other night,” she said, diving right into the deep end. She looked up at him, even though her eyes had grown a little glassy. “Are we doing this?”

  Trevor dipped down to capture her lips in his. The feel of her in his arms, the honeysuckle taste of her—he basked in these things even as he stood surrounded by the broken bodies of Crags and Alberich, blood leeching into the floor. This kiss was new, gentler somehow, more real in the wake of their threat eliminated. It was a promise.

  He broke away, and a grin spread across his face, one he could feel crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I want you, Danica Maslanka. I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life. So yeah, if you’re game, we’re doing this.”

  She stepped to her tip-toes and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. Her gaze glittered when she pulled away, a mischievous smile on her face. “I�
�ll have you regretting this in days,” she said. “You know I’m a talker, right?”

  Trevor arched a brow. “Do you see who I live with, cher?”

  “Fair point,” she responded. “I’ll have to up my attempts in the face of competition.”

  Her eyes kept meeting his with a shyness he’d never seen before in her. After they’d spent so long dodging around their feelings, he could barely believe they’d reached this point. Devil be damned, after so long running, he could finally stop. Trevor’s throat tightened, and he pulled her tight to his chest, letting the gratitude wash over him like warm rain.

  They had survived. They survived, and now he could live.

  Footsteps sounded from the end of the hallway, drawing their attention to the door.

  Trevor leaned down to snag his dagger off the ground. If they were Alberich’s hired men, they had no more reason to fight—no one would be paying them. However, he didn’t want to risk it against those who lived on a shoot first, talk later approach. Danica’s shoulders tensed. The echoing sound of the footsteps grew louder and louder. Whoever approached must’ve spotted the open door.

  Jett burst through the door first, followed by one of the centaurs.

  Trevor lowered his dagger, and relief filtered through his veins. “Problem solved, J,” he called out, tilting his head in the direction of Alberich who lay lifeless on the ground.

  Jett shook his head, true panic alight in his eyes. “Yeah, you haven’t heard what Alberich did.”

  Trevor’s stomach dropped. The siren rarely let his fear show. Jett gave him a subtle look, which he soaked in. The stunt Kincaid pulled must’ve caused some upset.

  “You killed Tymarch Alberich?” the centaur asked, his hooves clipping on the floor as he passed Trevor and Danica to observe the body.

  “In self-defense,” Trevor claimed, as if that might matter.

  “Good,” the centaur said. “The traitor was either going to die here, or at the hands of the King.”