Page 87 of Midnight Conquest

And then, Finlay meeting Davina. Seeing her smile for the first time, hearing her laugh, marveling at her intelligence and wit. The way his heart had leapt when she’d laughed. The way it had soared when she’d said yes tonight.

His intentions were clear, his affections genuine. He wantedDavina as his wife, not just because of her holdings or her wool business, but because he admired her. Respected her. Desired her.

Broderick reeled back, his hand dropping to his side. His breathing turned ragged, his fangs aching as they pressed against his lower lip.

The lad was perfect. Bloody perfect.

With a snarl, Broderick grabbed Finlay by the shoulders. The lad’s eyes flew open, wide and confused.

“MacDougal?” he murmured groggily, his voice thick with sleep.

Broderick sank his fangs into Finlay’s throat, piercing the skin with brutal precision. Warm, sweet blood flooded his mouth, rich with the taste of the lad’s memories, his hopes, his desires.

Broderick drank deep, delving further into Finlay’s mind, his life. Every thought, every memory only confirmed what he already knew. The lad was everything Davina deserved. Everything Broderick could never be.

The realization only fueled his rage. His grip on Finlay tightened, his instincts screaming at him to drain the man dry, to erase him from existence.

With a growl, Broderick tore himself away, blood dripping from his lips. Finlay gasped, his hand flying to his neck as he stared up at Broderick in terror.

“W-what…what are you—”

Broderick pressed his palm to Finlay’s forehead, his mind pushing into the lad’s consciousness with practiced ease. Finlay’s eyes rolled back, his body slumping against the bed as Broderick wiped the encounter from his memory.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the lad’s desires, the warmth he felt for Davina, the joy her presence brought him. Brodericktried to pull them away, to unravel them from the fabric of Finlay’s mind.

But it wasn’t that simple. The emotions were too deeply rooted, too sincere.

Still, Broderick left him with a message. A warning.

“Leave her alone.”

The thought, caustic and commanding, embedded itself deep in Finlay’s subconscious.

Broderick straightened, his chest heaving as he stared down at the unconscious man. Finlay’s face was pale, his breathing shallow, but he would live.

He licked Finlay’s blood from his lips, and before his fangs receded, he pierced his thumb and smeared his immortal blood over the wounds at the lad’s neck.

There wasn’t much Broderick could do about the blood staining his nightshirt.

He lingered a moment longer, watching Finlay’s chest rise and fall with shallow breaths. Then, with a bitter sneer curling his lips, Broderick slipped into the shadows.

He scaled down the side of the castle, then over the perimeter wall, the scent of blood still on his lips. The night air, piercing and cold, bit into his skin, but it could not cool the fire raging inside him.

As he ran off into the darkness, a guttural growl roared from his chest.

The forest swallowed him whole, the trees crowding close as if to witness his fury. He pressed onward, deeper into the wild, where no eyes could see the torment that twisted within him.

She deserves better than me.

The unbidden thought festered in his mind, a barb he couldn’t tear free.

But neither could he surrender.

Not yet.

∞∞∞

The study was eerily quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth. Tammus dipped his quill in the inkwell, his hand steady despite the late hour. He scrawled his signature at the bottom of the draft and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath.

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