Page 116 of Brutal Birthright

Fiadh’s magic continued to wrack Oriana’s body with pain. Forcing her to contort and bow under the pressure. Each strangling hit that went through her figure hunched over on the ground at his sister’s feet was like a knife to Rowan’s own gut.

That was the final thread to his composure snapped and gone.

Surging forward, he hacked through a melee of grey flesh and slashing claws. These fucking monsters were nothing but an inconvenience, but one that he had to fight his way through nonetheless. All around him, the slick sounds of flesh slicing open and the heat of battle flooded his senses.

The familiar tang of blood hung in the air, so thick he could feel it coating the inside of his mouth. Lingering on his tongue like an unwelcome memory of all the centuries when this had been the only force driving him forward each day.

Rowan slashed the neck of one of the Snatchers, narrowly avoiding long blackened claws as the creature swung out towards his shoulder. As the slimy body crumpled to the ground, he hacked clean through the neck, relishing the swift kill, then, on an upswing, immediately sliced through the body of another daring to come near.

There was no finesse to this onslaught. Just hacking and swinging with all his might. Without use of any magic, this was an all-out bloody brawl amongst a swirling cloud of reddened dirt.

The others followed his lead. Vampires moved in flashes, in and out of his vision, as they dispatched hundreds of bodies, using their speed to tear throats out and wrench heads off to be tossed in the dirt. One of the vampires appeared to be a monstrous form himself, more shadow than solid flesh as he tore a bloody path through the battle lines.

But Rowan’s focus was only on one location. Straight ahead. He carved a decisive line through the midst of the melee, keeping his attention on her and only her.

Oriana was still alive. Thank fuck. But with every step he drew nearer, his pulse thundered harder with renewed fear biting deep. What if he came so close but was ultimately too late.

Had all those nights dreaming of his sister’s death been a precursor to this very moment?

Fuck. His feral roar matched the moment he ploughed through the last of the bodies. Slashing and decapitating with a ferocious energy that surged from somewhere deep inside his chest. Right now, he had his sights set on the small figure bent over on the ground, with blackened edges to his vision tunnelling him into laser focus on her.

His Oriana.

He needed her to be safe.

But Fiadh’s Ampher magic was unstoppable. Even if he’d been able to use his own magic, Rowan knew he’d be no match for her. Whether here in this realm or their own. He yelled as the force of it plunged into his body and had him collapsing to his knees.

“Very impressive, brother. You always did know how to rule a battlefield.” Fiadh stared down at him with black eyes. Indifference haunted her voice as power surged out of her and filled the air like a pulsating rhythm.

“Oriana.” He grunted. So close now he could almost reach out and grab her by the arm. But the space between them might as well have been a giant chasm for how powerfully bound his sister had them both. Stuck at arm’s length away and unable to move a muscle.

She tilted her head sideways in the dirt at the sound of his voice so that their eyes locked. Tears streaked grimy black lines down her face, and her vision was unfocused. But she could hear him. Somehow, she’d made it through whatever torture his sister inflicted and remained conscious. That made his heart thud doubly hard in his throat.

Fiadh was a dead woman walking.

“Such a shame our gutless sister is once again going to ruin innocent lives for her own selfish gain.” Fiadh crouched down beside Oriana and stroked some of her hair from her face. Then, sunk her fingers deep and tugged her head back roughly. Forcing her to bow under the strain.

Rowan spat out a torrent of violent curses and death threats. Promises of all the ways he would ensure Fiadh suffered for another two centuries when he got his hands on her.

Meanwhile, the bitch laughed. Her face was entirely unrecognisable from the sister he had once known so long ago. Nothing but a cold, menacing shell of the girl who had once been proud to show him the rocks she collected or the flowers she had plucked.

This sadistic creature was going to be gutted and fed her own intestines until she choked on them.

“I think even that punishment—while creative, I’ll give you that—might be a little harsh, no?” A familiar voice appeared at Rowan’s shoulder.

“Brigid, fuck, you need to get out of here.” He growled. Staring up into the sparkling blue eyes and elfin-looking face of his younger sister, who had appeared by his side out of thin air.

She shooed him off with a flick of her fingers laden with gold rings and glanced around with a hint of amusement on her face. Taking in the sight of the rest of their family fighting their way through the remains of the army of monsters at his back.

“Well, Fiadh. You’ve caused quite the scene, no?” Brigid stepped daintily past Rowan and perched on the edge of a reddish boulder. Drawing her gold dress to one side in the process. As Fiadh straightened up and surveyed the other women, he realised his two sisters couldn’t be more different in this moment. One looked to be the harbinger of death and destruction for them all, while the other resembled a curious ray of sunshine.

And Rowan felt his stomach violently flip as he recognised this scene. Down to the exact outfit Brigid was wearing. The way her sleek black hair sat around her jaw. Each ring garnishing her elegant fingers.

He’d seen those fingers clawing at the dirt.

Each night, that mess of black hair had thudded to be ground beneath the force of his blade.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here.” He hissed at Brigid. Every part of him screamed and tried to tear in two, all in an effort to get to Oriana, but also save his sister from whatever fate was about to deliver on a cruel, crimson tide.

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