Page 12 of Brutal Birthright

Rowan knew his brother was only concerned with one thing. His fated mate’s protection came paramount to everything else. Hundreds of students and academic staff were insignificant to him when all he truly cared about was Ruby’s safety.

His weakness.

“We need to put a section of the guards onto canvassing the wider region. Keep eyes round the clock on the villages in the area. See if we can find any information from the locals or catch wind of any other suspicious deaths that might be connected. Leave the forest perimeter checks to me. And we’ll need to find an expert who can translate the markings on the bodies found… speaking of which, have you heard from our fucking sister lately?”

Niall rolled his eyes.

Of course not.

Trying to predict the actions of Brigid of Nocturne was like trying to grab wind in your fist. Their youngest sister was the most gifted Seer in existence. But that didn’t save any of them from being constantly infuriated by her bullshit.

Especially when they could actually make use of her meddlesome presence for once.

“I’ll see if Ruby can track her down. She seems to have the gift of harnessing Bri’s wild spirit for a few moments, no?”

“Who fucking knows.” He clenched his jaw. Ready for this conversation to be over and to be left in peace. “If that’s all, then get the fuck out. Go get your dick sucked in the throne room or whatever it is that you two do all day, golden boy.”

“Ruby is going to have your balls if she ever hears you saying that kind of shit, and I will gladly be standing back watching while she does her worst.” With a deep rumbling laugh and a mock salute, Niall portaled away. Disappearing in a swirl of fine smoke as he shook his head to himself.

Fucking finally.

Leaving Rowan with the quiet he so desperately craved. He’d spoken more in the past thirty minutes than he probably had in the past week. Maybe even an entire month. His skin itched and felt too tight all of a sudden. Like some kind of twisted, black-hearted hermit crab, he wanted to crawl out and find a new shell to inhabit. Down here, among the bones of the dead, was one of the only places he’d ever been able to calm his racing mind in this place.

Bracing both palms on the table in front of him, he dropped his head down. Squeezing his eyes shut didn’t do anything to drown out the sight of her. The way his imagination ran riot at the mere thought of the little fae he most definitely should not be picturing moaning beneath him as he pounded into her.

But all he saw in his mind was those wide fuck-me eyes staring back at him as she wrapped her pouty lips around his length. Humming as he tapped the back of her throat over and over. Whimpering and begging to ease the ache between her thighs…

Fuck, he needed to pull himself together.

Somehow, Rowan needed to figure out how he was going to get through an entire year of training Oriana. Especially if he was going to do so without having a permanently hard cock.

He could portal anywhere.

Just up and leave right now.

In less time than it would take to sling a blade back into its holster, he could return to his home and be surrounded by the silence of trees and lush forest undergrowth, knowing there wasn’t another soul as far as he could see.

But instead, he found himself wandering back to the training arena—long after the class had ended, of course—because he had to find that idiot Finnic and work out what the fuck he was going to do next.

Before tomorrow, when his big fucking problem, dressed in tight training leathers that fit her curves to perfection and left absolutely nothing to the imagination, reappeared.

And if he’d noticed the girl, then no doubt all those horny little assholes in the class had noticed her too.

Rowan spotted the head of golden hair over on the far side of the space, crouched down and doing something with the weapons they’d approved for the students to train with. At least an even playing field was created by giving the whiny little shits rudimentary tools such as these to work with. No opportunity to hide or attempt to gain favour from behind an enchanted sword or use of magic.

They’d have to earn their ranking based on skill and skill alone. A fact which he was sure would break some of them before they’d even truly begun. Rowan was expecting at least half, if not more, to drop out before they reached the end of the first month.

He could sense the softness in them. None had ever seen the true horrors of battle. They hadn’t experienced the ghosts that lingered in the mind long after making the split-second decision to kill or be killed. Those were the kinds of choices that chipped away at a soul until there was nothing left.

War forged a being’s very identity. Going through the fire and coming out the other side bloody and bruised and changed for an eternity.

Knowing you’d taken a life was a unique burden that came with every slick sound of a blade cutting through flesh.

“There he is, the witch of mystery himself.” Brilliant white teeth blinded him as the fae turned and hit him with a broad smile.

Sweet fucking Spirits. It felt unnervingly like looking at a replica of his brother, Niall.

Maybe that was why he’d been on edge ever since he found out he’d been landed with Finnic. The guy was too much like the other blond-headed pain in his ass for Rowan’s liking.

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