Page 165 of Taken By Touch and Torment

Rune made absolutely no reaction as he absorbed the impact, only glaring up at Brennan in a silent promise.

Brennan made a gesture to the group of soldiers, and half the lords moved in tandem, surrounding Durian in a rush of vampiric speed.

The lords who hadn’t moved didn’t intervene.

Durian shouted orders that fell on deaf ears, and for a moment, the room went pitch black. All I could feel was my own heart beating hard and fast in the emptiness.

Demonic whispers assailed my eardrums, speaking of Lillian’s divine will, her wrath for anyone who opposed her chosen.

It didn’t take long for the darkness and voices to cease, thrusting us all back into the bright reality of the palace.

I blinked multiple times, almost wondering if I was still trapped in a vision or a dream.

Because Durian now joined Rune in bondage. The aggressors of this coup surrounded their ex-leader as he struggled against the spiked shackles around his wrists and ankles. They didn’t humiliate him with a spiked collar, much to my disappointment.

The harder Durian fought and writhed, the quicker the poison entered his system. Rune, on the other hand, knelt perfectly still. He was meditative, almost like a monk. It was fucking eerie how much power he could retain even when he’d been captured by enemies.

“As I was saying,” Brennan continued. “Durian can no longer be trusted to rule. He is not of his right mind. If we still hope for kingdom support, let alone to reunite our own people and army, then we need a capable, fit leader. Someone who gets results.” He lifted his chin, pointing down at Rune. “I have proven my effectiveness, and I’ve done it for years, despite the credit Durian has stolen from me.”

I did this. All of it. I rewrote history, altered the course of an entire people. I changed the terms of a war that had once seemed inevitable, destined to tear apart the island I loved and condemn thousands of mortals to death.

I killed for this. I got my soulmate captured for this.

And by the gods, I would see this through.

Rune vibrated with rage. He ground his teeth as his eyes traced over my exposed skin—Durian’s psychopathic art—my body as a canvas, and whips, blades, canes, and hands as his divine instruments.

“Durian is not a prophesier,” Brennan said. “He is not a man of the goddess. He is not chosen; he is a vampire just like the rest of us. He is nothing more than an ambitious illusionist and propagandist who comes from a long line of men destined for insanity. There is a reason his family line fell out of power. And there is a reason I’m the one with royal blood in my veins.”

I took step after step toward Brennan, and he tracked me as he spoke.

“I am destined to rule, not because of some fabricated book. But because I am the man who will clean up all of Durian’s blunders and lead the born into our new epoch of prosperity and power.”

I reached Brennan’s side, Rune now only two feet away. He stared forward, eyes unfocused, jaw set.

Brennan looped his arm around me, and I winced. Brennan glared at Durian, his lips curving in manly bravado and triumph.

I had to admit, it was satisfying to hear Durian screech, writhing violently against his bondage until the poison pushed him into a catatonic state.

Brennan looked down at me, and I mirrored his smile.

“I told you that you could trust me,” he said softly.

Another respected lord began to speak, fervently in favor of maintaining order and backing Brennan. There were more than a few vampires that stared at their disgraced leader in mourning, unsettled by his state of incapacitation.

But no one moved to free him.

I filled my eyes with admiration as I held Brennan’s gaze. “I always knew this was your destiny, since I first laid eyes on you.”

Brennan’s strong hands gripped my face. He smiled like a general who’d just won the most important battle of his career.

With Rune at our feet, Brennan crushed his lips to mine. And as his tongue explored my mouth, I forced my lips to cooperate.

I reached for Brennan, deepening our kiss, using every pair of eyes on us to fuel the bursting, vengeful, mysterious darkness poised to strike.

When he pulled back, a soldier approached, carrying two sets of keys. Brennan stashed them smoothly in his pockets, his arm looping around me again as he faced the stunned crowd of vampires.

I caught more than a few glares of distrust directed at me. I was no mind reader, but I could surmise the prevailing sentiment was something along the lines of: whore.

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