Page 81 of Midnight Conquest

Before he could make sense of this, another presence entered the room.

“Davina,” a voice called softly, warm and inviting.

Broderick’s head snapped up, his body tensing. A man stood at the doorway of the room, his golden-brown hair gleaming as his pale green eyes fixed on the woman lying beside Broderick.

Whoever the bastard was, he was handsome—too handsome—and the smile curving his lips was far too familiar.

Davina stirred in Broderick’s arms, her gaze shifting to the stranger. She smiled, her expression soft and welcoming.

“Davina,” Broderick growled, pulling her closer.

But she slipped from his grasp, rising from the bed and sauntering toward the man, her naked body glowing with the blush of their lovemaking.

The stranger reached for her, his hands sliding over her curves with a possessive ease that made Broderick’s blood boil. One hand palmed her ass, the other kneaded her breast as he kissedher—open-mouthed, deep, and shameless.

Red-hot fury erupted within Broderick. A feral growl tore from his throat as he launched himself at the man, tackling him to the ground. His teeth sank into the stranger’s throat, the sweet taste of blood filling his mouth as he ripped it out savagely.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Broderick awoke with a start, his body slick with sweat, teeth clenched, arousal throbbing with maddening insistence. The dream lingered, vivid and taunting, as jealousy and rage coursed through him like venom.

“What the hell is it with this woman?” he snarled, throwing the furs aside and he shot to his feet in the cave. His jaw tightened as the image of Davina in another man’s arms seared through his mind.

He dressed quickly, his movements jerky, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. He nestled his sword against his hip for a small measure of comfort. The walls around his heart surged back into place—higher, thicker, impenetrable. He wouldnotlet her get under his skin. She was supposed to be a means to an end—someone he’d bed, purge from his system, and forget.

“Finish this,” he muttered. “Get rid of the suitor, take yer payment, and move on.” Yet, as the words left his mouth, they felt empty.

He secured the top of his hair with a leather tie at the back of his head and dashed from the cave.

The Traveller camp was alive with motion. Villagers and Romani mingled in the clearing, laughter and bartering risingabove the low hum of music and footfalls. Broderick stormed through, his long strides swallowing the distance to the caravan, his scowl darkening with every step.

“Broderick,” Veronique purred, stepping out of the fortune-telling tent. Her blouse hung loose, the neckline scandalously low as she slinked toward him.

His glare was a thundercloud. “Get into the vardo. Put some clothes on. Now.”

She huffed, jerking her blouse higher across her shoulders, and stomped up the steps, slamming the caravan door behind her.

He didn’t spare her another glance.

Amice sat by the fire, calm as ever, her keen eyes tracking him with quiet knowing.

“Why do ye let her dress like that?” he snapped.

Amice snorted. “You speak as if she actually listens to me.” She shook her head, poking at the fire with slow, deliberate strokes.

Broderick crossed his arms, jaw tight. “What?”

“You cannot hide from it,mon fils” she said low and unflinching.

He narrowed his eyes. “From what?”

Amice lifted her gaze to meet his. “What you are feeling for Davina, my son,” she replied in French. “She is your soul mate. You are fighting your destiny.”

His growl was low and dangerous. “I dinnae believe in destiny.”

“I know, but it is there all the same.” Amice stood and approached him, laying a warm hand on his forearm. “I have seen it, Broderick. In the cards, the tea leaves, my dreams. Your souls have been joined for millennia. Why do you fight it?”

There was no use arguing with the old woman and her superstitious beliefs. But it didn’t mean he was going to relinquish his glares.

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