Page 62 of Brutal Birthright

A realisation that suddenly made him even more aware of the presence of her still sleeping in the other room. His room.

His fucking bed.

Rowan tugged out the stopper to the bottle with his teeth and decided to forgo the glass entirely. Slugging back a long draw and relishing every burning drop as it slid down his throat. He allowed his head to tip back against the cushioned fabric and stared up at the open beam work in the high-pitched roof above him.

Outside, slate tiles covered the steep A-frame angle of the roof. He should probably check them for any damage that might need repairing before leaving again. Moss clung to those tiles in a way that he secretly loved because it helped make the place look even more like a part of the very forest it sat quietly within.

He’d been known to use his magic to help it grow a little faster from time to time.

As the whiskey drawled a lazy path through his veins, he studied the flames through hooded eyes. The lifeless eyes of the girl’s severed head stared back at him in a sickening reminder of his nightmares. Just how Brigid looked back at him, night after night.

Tipping the bottle back again, he savoured the oaky notes. The liquor eased some of whatever fucking vice had been threatening to crush his ribcage. His magic sensed Oriana was still knocked out. Whatever force had struck her had left her body sleeping off the aftereffects, and he let out a heavy sigh at the knowledge her world would turn to shit in the morning.

As he stored the bottle back in the cabinet, along with the unused glass lined up next to the unused dishes and cups and other useless mundane things sitting waiting for his eventual return, he mulled over what to do next.

Ultimately making a decision based on nothing but pure selfishness. Like a dragon hoarding treasure and threatening to breathe fire over all those who might dare thieve a single item from his lair.

Rowan slipped quietly back into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots. Toeing them off gently, before settling on his back. The bed dipped beneath his bulk, but not enough to rouse the girl from her healing slumber. With his hands folded over his torso, he stretched out his weary body alongside hers on top of the soft blanket. Listening to the way her soft breaths gusted over the pillow. Soaking in her tiny sighs and fingertip twitches that punctuated her breathing.

Lurking like a monster in the gloom next to the princess who was more than capable of slaying said dragon all on her own.

And as he drifted off to sleep, for the first time ever, he didn’t wake to nightmares.

Chapter 20

Ri woke up with a start.

Voices calling her name and hammering on her door roused her from a deep sleep. The kind that left her stumbling across the room feeling as though she’d been drugged.

Blinking to herself and muttering curses under her breath, she rubbed her eyes. Swaying on unsteady legs as she crossed the plush carpet of her room.

“Ok. Ok. I’m coming.” As Ri quickly twisted her hair into some sort of controlled mess on top of her head her magic reached out to unseal the entrance.

Only to be almost flattened. The wooden door slammed on its hinges and she was accosted by Ruby barging in like a stampede, followed by Niall. As he shut the door behind them, she caught a glimpse of Brynne’s face looking pale and several other sets of eyes peering in.

Had Brynne been crying?

A shiver ran the length of her spine.

Ruby was still wrapped tight around her. Babbling complete nonsense and stroking her hair and guiding her to sit back down on the edge of her bed like she was a fucking invalid.

Meanwhile, Niall prowled the far wall beside the window as if he were a caged animal. The darker side to his magic didn’t usually make an appearance, but there were distinct wisps of coal coloured smoke filling the air around his body.

“…couldn’t find you… not answering… your rooms were sealed…”

Ri rubbed her temples.

Why was her head so godsdamned sore? Did she fall or hit her head in training?

Wait, no. She hadn’t been training yesterday.

Her last memory was of the library.

Her blood ran cold, then red hot. Rowan. Him crowding her against the shelves at the back of the library. Rushing to get out of there. A mad dash to put distance between them after the way he’d marked her, then disappeared on her.

Goddess-fucking-damnit.

“Oriana, I swear to the bloody Spirits, if you don’t start answering my questions, I am going to gut you like a fish.”

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