Rowena's Revenge (Broadus Supernatural Society)

by Theresa Marguerite Hewitt

  I push through the pine needles to be shoulder to shoulder with Blaine, the hate and anger rolling like waves all over the small clearing. The Berserkers all give me a nasty grin, a few of them snapping and snarling as another laughs. They think I’m weak; how perfect. They hate me in an instant, and I can feel the greed and hunger for power driving them, fueling their anger toward Blaine and I.

  Pulling my sword from its sheath, an audible intake of breath goes through the group of hostile wolves, making me smile wider. They can no doubt smell the silver laden folded steel, the sun reflecting off of the blade, making a few of them squint in its magnificent beauty. It’s a death dealer, a life taker, and it is mine for the wielding.

  Blaine and I share a look, his smile filled with wicked promise, and his laugh fills the now silent air. What looks to be the leader of the Berserkers lowers his head, issuing an angry growl right before leaping in the air, coming right for us, and I crouch down, preparing for the others to join in.

  Back to back, Blaine tosses the attacking wolves away just as the leader lands before me, yipping and howling as my blade bites into his shoulder and leg faster than he can defend. I swipe smoothly, the feeling of the razor sharp blade cutting through the Were’s flesh like a warm knife through butter, making the ever present evil side to my blood rear its ugly head, and I can feel my teeth sharpen and elongate, giving those who may really pay attention a glimpse at my true physical appearance. The green hue to my skin, my long, bony fingers, the sharp point to my ears, and the long, dagger sharp teeth that fill my mouth, but as soon as I can feel the dark power I reel it in, pulling the façade the Fae have granted me with over my features and focusing in on my enemy once more.

  My blade is dripping red with the Were’s blood as he turns to run back into the woods, feeling the bite of my blade once more in the back of his calf, and the blow sends him to one knee. His loud groans of pain are joined with those of his brethren, and my heart races with the adrenaline filling my veins. There is really only one thing better than a good fight; great sex, but I’ll have to wait for that until my mate is ready.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here!” Blaine yells at my back, and I spin to see that the other three Berserkers are joining their friend, slinking off into the woods, but they won’t lick their wounds for long. Wolves are tenacious creatures; chasing a kill until they win or they are dead.

  I sheath my sword and take off after Blaine’s running form, catching him in a blink of the eye just as a heart shattering scream fills the air. A familiar scream that makes my blood freeze, and we both pick up speed. Blaine looks back to me with a fear filled, anger laced face as we leap the group of fallen trees, the snow and wind picking up and whipping us in the face.

  I can feel the dark magic lingering in the wind, trying to seep into my blood and spark its evil nature to life as the fight had, but I shake it off and the road comes into view. The black haze rolling over the bright white snow lets me know it’s a Warlock we’re dealing with and Blaine growls, swinging his arms around in the air to try and dissipate the annoying clouds.

  A black cloak wearing man has my Rowena by the throat, holding her off the ground in front of the Landrover I had specifically told her to stay inside of. I lose all sight of myself and I can feel my real nature, my denied Elvin Prince, spring to life at the thought of losing my mate a second time around and I snap, racing right for the form choking the life from her. I can hear her struggling for breath, her legs kicking at the man’s chest as his laughs fill the air, and I aim for his waist, my shoulder connecting with his hip and forcing him down.

  He grunts against my hold and filters through my arms as I fall to the ice covered pavement, his feet reappearing right before my face and I look up, the rage and anger still fresh in my veins. I know this face, I think to myself as I see his orange, glowing eyes and the black scrolling tattoo covering the left cheek up into the forehead. His dark hair is disheveled beneath the heavy hood, and I see the blue flames sparking from his fingers as he brushes the strands from his vision.

  “Penton,” he smiles at me, brushing his hands together and over his shirt to get rid of the snow. “Well, isn’t it nice to see you after, what, three hundred years?”

  “Who?” I start to say, and then I remember his face, especially the glowing orange of his eyes and I jump to my feet. “Cearbhall?”

  “Ah, so you do remember me? Good. Now you’ll know who to curse when you mourn you’re missing mate.” I go to lunge at him, but stop when I hear a car engine roaring to life and heading my way. I jump back, spotting the smug smirk on Cearbhall’s lips right before the front end of the Landrover rams into him, sending him to the pavement as the front tires roll over him.

  “Get the fuck in!” Blaine shouts, leaning from the driver’s seat and swinging the passenger door open. I don’t hesitate, and leap into the vehicle, pulling the door shut as he speeds away and the back tires thump over the fallen Warlock.

  “Who the hell was that?” he asks, his fear filling the cab as fast as the cooled air from the still warming heater.

  “That was really, really bad news,” is all I say, looking into the back seat and spotting my shivering mate. She needs me, and I need her. I need to hold her to make sure she is still here. To make sure he hadn’t gotten to her in the split second he was with her, and I crawl between the front seats, pulling Rowena onto my lap as I settle in the middle of the bench seat.

  I can sense his eyes on me, the hazel color reflecting the sunlight in his stare from the rearview mirror, but I’m not in the mood to talk. I pull Row’s face close to mine and kiss her cheek, brushing the hair from her eyes and tucking her legs up close to her body to try and warm her. I can’t let anything happen to her. I’ve waited hundreds of years for her, and I’m not letting anyone take her away.

  Not again.

  ~~~~

  Cearbhall

  As I hear the roaring of the engine as the blasted vehicle that ran me over speeds off, I can’t help but groan at how sore I am going to be after this. Damn Penton and his mutt of a companion.

  “Sir?” The familiar, pathetic, whine of a voice comes from my right and I sit up, still in the middle of the cursed road in this hellish little corner of the wilderness known as Maine.

  “I am okay, Gandion.” I slowly stand, brushing the snow from my cloak and hair. I look to my servant and see his lazy eye wandering off toward the direction Penton took off with my prize, and I snap my fingers in his face, gaining his attention.

  “Why don’t we just go after them like we do anyone else you want, Sir? Use our magic to track them and capture them?”

  I sigh and roll my eyes, waving my arms toward the woods, summoning the Berserkers under my control to come back to me. I don’t care if they’ve been injured; I need their speed and tracking skills. Plus, they have people skills where I am lacking.

  Well, not really lacking; it’s just that I could care less what these pathetic excuses of life think of me. They are beneath me. I am Cearbhall, centuries old Warlock, and I am on the brink of completing my destiny. I just need that pretty little snow leopard and her fire, and then I will be able to change the world into what it should be; a dark, magic filled realm where supernaturals are the overlords and humans are the slaves.

  Looking back to my slave, I have to sigh heavily again at his anticipation filled look, staring at me and waiting for my reply to his question. “Gandion, did I forget to put in some of the brain matter when I reanimated you back in the Revolutionary War?”

  “I’m not sure, Sir, I can’t remember anything after being shot and before the lightning,” he replies like he always does when I ask him the same, mockingly rhetorical question.

  Throwing my head back and rubbing the space between my eyes, I relate the plan to him again, for the hundredth time as we make our way back into the woods. I really do need to find, or make, some servants worthy of my presence.

  “We cannot just go after her because of a few things, Gandion. Fi
rst, she is part Fae and Kade watches over all of his blood line. If I fall under his radar, I am as sure as dead. Second, she is part of my destiny; she must come to me willingly and sacrifice her fire. Then, and only then, will the circle be complete and I will own her body, mind, and soul.” The thought of having that little minx as my own, to do with what I want and when I want, strikes a chord that I haven’t been bothered to notice in over a hundred years.

  “You won’t kill her, Sir?” He asks with a child-like wonder, and I smile down at him as he limps beside me, trying to keep up. He is dumb, but he’s loyal to a fault and I have to hand it to him; he’s helped me defeat more of my enemies than I’d like to admit.

  “No, I won’t kill her. After she gives me her fire, her mind will be mine to occupy and she will be my willing slave. The men she is with on the other hand, will suffer every kind of torture I can think of. Especially my dear friend Penton; we have some history to hash out.”

  Another good thing about Gandion is that he knows when to keep quiet, and as we trudge through the snow, spotting the Berserkers waiting up ahead for us, he leaves the conversation alone. He starts to hum some nonsensical tune as my mind floats back to when I first met the Prince of Elves.

  There had been a huge influx in dark magic, calling me to a small village in the Highlands of Scotland where I met the Prince of Elves, Penton, and his siblings, including his brother, Bronton. They were a rowdy, evil pair; leaving deflowered virgins and dead cattle in their wake, but when Penton met Helen, everything changed.

  The fire haired beauty stole his will to be who he was, and he wanted to marry her; the disgusting idea of someone of his stature and power trading his birthright to live a mortal life with a woman enraging his entire family. His brother had come to me then, asking for my help in seducing and capturing the alluring and innocent Helen. Our two evil minds had laughed and plotted, going through all of the village’s wenches while we planned poor Penton’s heart breaking.

  I had been the one to approach sweet and beautiful Helen as she shopped in the market, telling her that Penton wanted to meet her by the secluded creek at dusk, and being naïve and head over heels in love, she just agreed and went on her merry way. She never knew what was coming as she hummed to herself when she approached the hidden Bronton and I. But, as soon as the blonde haired brother of her love appeared, she knew something was amiss.

  I’ll hand it to her, Helen never screamed as we ravaged her body, taking her innocence and leaving her bleeding as we laughed and contemplated what to do next. She never cried out until the first touch of Bronton’s sword brushed her bare flesh, and after that she never quieted. I had to gag her with a piece of my cloak to make her shut up as the Elf skinned her. I loved that cloak too.

  Helping Bronton thwart his brother’s plan to leave his legacy behind gifted me an enormous amount of black magic powers, backed by the power of the Elves, and over the centuries I have grown as a Warlock. It is kind of ironic that I should run into Penton again and that the fire hearted Rowena is his mate.

  I suppose the Fates never want him to be happy.

  CHAPTER FOUR:

  Rowena

  “You won’t be able to resist me,” the deep growl rolls over my face as the pressure on my throat tightens, glowing orange eyes burning into my face as I struggle. I don’t know why, but my flames are sputtering and sparking, struggling to fight against this dark haired, face tattooed man as he lifts me off the ground by my throat.

  “You’ll come to me. You’ll be mine,” he hisses into my face, his scent bathing me in the feeling of evil and darkness. My snow leopard hisses and tries to react by shifting through my skin, but the dark magic forces her back down, her cries of anguish bringing tears to my eyes as his fingers tighten again around my throat.

  “No,” I choke out, spitting in his face. I don’t know who he thinks he is, but no one will own me; I am my own person. I kick at him, the force of my movement forcing his grip to firm, and I choke some more, the heat filling my face and the black creeping into my vision.

  ‘Where are you, Blaine? Penton?’ I scream out in my head, coughing and kicking at this bastard again as the light headiness from him choking me starts to set in. I muster all my reaming strength, screaming out loud for real, the force of it making my throat raw as the man before me scowls, shaking me, and my flames finally come to life.

  The heat shocks me and I’m startled awake, the dark of the cab only lit by my fading fire as Blaine and Penton stir around me. My breathing is heavy and the strong arms locked around me tighten, pulling me into a hard and warm chest, so I loll my head back, resting it on a shoulder as the scent of apricots swirls around me. My head is still buzzing from the nightmare when a hand rests on my knee, and I open my eyes to see Blaine, his face illuminated by the cars radio with his brows furrowed.

  “Kitten, are you okay?” he whispers, his voice husky from the sleep I must have roused him from. His earthy scent hits me as my eyes shift into their feline form, gathering the light to see him better. Oh hell, does he look yummy right now. A rush of desire finds me and I lean forward, stopping so that my nose is only a breath away from his and I can tell I shocked him, his eyes going wide as his nostrils flare.

  “No,” I breathe out, rubbing my nose along his lightly as a purr rolls through my throat, causing Blaine’s eyes to flash the glowing hazel of his wolf, showing me he can smell the desire that is thundering through me. Hands on my waist make me mindful of the third person in the car, and I grind down onto Penton’s lap, wiggling my hips and grinning when I hear him groan. I grab the front ties of Blaine’s sweatshirt hood and pull his face to mine, crashing our lips together as his wolf growls.

  I grip the material of his sweatshirt and yank him between the drivers and passenger’s seat, falling back into Penton’s chest as Blaine’s chest lands in my lap, our lips still connected and searching one another ferociously. He shifts as I bite down on his bottom lip and I feel his knees cage in my feet before he pulls away, his glowing eyes and heavy breathing making my blood heat, and my core yearns for him, needing him. I lean back against Penton’s chest as his hands roam my clothing, pushing the bottom of my shirt up as his fingers lightly trace the bared skin, the simple touch making me moan; the tingle of his touch making my legs shake in anticipation.

  “I don’t know if I can do this, Kitten,” Blaine’s voice breaks my steamy little exchange with Penton, and I look down to him, still kneeling on the carpet before me as I can’t help but grind down onto Penton’s lap, the still growing evidence of his arousal rubbing against the ass of my jeans.

  “What do you mean, B? This is what we are, isn’t it?” I lean down into him, rubbing my cheek along his. My leopard purrs louder and the sound vibrates through my skin and throat as I pull his earlobe in between my lips, tugging on the small metal loop. He grunts and I feel his hand make its way under my shirt and up my back, snapping my bra free as he turns my face. Our lips are touching, but he’s teasing me, moving back every time I move in to kiss him. I let out a frustrated moan as he smirks, the bastard.

  “I will leave you two alone,” Penton says, and I feel him pick me up off of his waist. I turn on him, placing my knees on either side of his hips, pinning him to the seat while straddling him. I can feel the bulge of his erection rubbing into my core and the lingering thought of him sends a wave of magic over me like I’ve never felt before.

  It tells me that he wants me, bad; so bad that the heat that flows from him sparks my own flames to life. He needs me, but not just physically, he needs me to bond with him; for our spirits to claim one another.

  I need this man too, and it scares me. I need both of them. I’ve never admitted to myself that I needed anyone before, not even when I was alone on the road, drifting from town to town. But now, sitting in this dark SUV parked on the side of the road only God knows where, I need them to be mine.

  “You will not leave,” I say, trying to muster all of the magic and lust flowing within me into one co
ncentrated ball and I push it toward him, feeling him tense against the seat and his pupils dilate. I run my fingers lightly over his face, caressing his jaw and rubbing my thumb over his lips as I purr contentedly, pressing my hips into his as Blaine’s hands remove my boots; his talented fingers working into my feet making me smile as I look at Penton.

  His white blue eyes are glowing just like I bet mine are and they flutter shut when I grind down into him once more, not hiding my own groan of pleasure as his trapped cock rubs against my crotch, and I can’t take it anymore. Yanking down the zipper of his jacket, I grip the front of his shirt and tug, ripping the buttons free and hearing them hit the window and leather of the seats around us. Blaine laughs as his lips meet the arch of my foot, sparking a wave of both heat and goose-bumps to fill my skin as I run my hands over Penton’s bare chest.

  The smooth, hard lines of his muscles are like touching a statue; so perfect and strong. As my fingers trail over his abs, feeling them bunch and flex, Penton’s hands grip my face, pulling my attention to his and his glowing eyes. His breathing is as ragged as mine when my hands reach his waistband, trailing along the jean material as his lips hover over mine like he is unsure whether or not to kiss me. I guess he makes up his mind when I free the top button of his jeans and he pulls my mouth to his, not waiting to sweep his tongue in and explore.

  His confident and sensual strokes make me feel as if we’ve been down this road before and his touch as he grips my hair with his left hand makes me feel complete. A strange vision of lush green, hilly landscape rolls through my mind as he bites my bottom lip, soothing it with a quick swipe of his tongue before returning to claim my lips as his. A slow, melodic drum beat fills my ears as his right hand roams down my neck, between my breasts, and down my stomach, brushing the slice of bare skin on my belly between my jeans and top, causing me to shiver in excitement.