Page 124 of Yearning For Her

Kian’s feet slammed onto the concrete as he landed, sending a jolt through his bones. Leaning into the momentum leant by his flight, he raced across the last couple yards of the walkway and bounded onto the porch, barely slowing as he reached the front door.

Willow echoed through his mind, her name repeating with each thump of his heart, growing louder and louder. He could feel her now. He could feel her ahead, could feel her fear.

The door was unlocked. Kian shoved it open and burst across the threshold.

His mind assessed the scene before him in the space between his rapid heartbeats. A trail of crimson spatters and smeared, bloody footprints led to the kitchen. Glass shards, flowers, and scattered petals lay in a puddle of water on the kitchen floor. And there, upon a stool at the island counter, sat Willow, with Lachlan looming beside her.

Her clothing was torn and stained with blood, more of which stood out starkly against her too-pale skin.

A torrent of emotion crashed over Kian as his gaze met hers. The fear and anguish radiating from her gleamed in her eyes, but something else briefly broke through—relief.

Kian charged toward her.

“No, no,” Lachlan said, curling an arm around Willow to press a kitchen knife to her throat.

Her breath caught.

Kian froze, having only made it a few steps into the house. A sickening combination of fire and ice coursed through him, becoming more pervasive and intense with each moment. He couldn’t bring himself to move, not while she was threatened, but everything within him railed against standing still.

“Release her,” he growled.

Lachlan smirked beneath his burning red eyes. When he spoke, his words buzzed with charm, thickening the air. “Close the door.”

The weight of Lachlan’s voice pushed in on Kian from all directions. He felt its insidious tendrils caressing, scratching, and scraping as they sought a way in, but he gritted his teeth and remained in place. “Release her.”

Lachlan’s smirk faltered for an instant. “She’s proven quite resilient thus far, Pale One, thanks to the lifeforce you gifted her. But do you truly wish to find out if she’ll heal after I slice open her throat?”

Kian locked his gaze with Willow’s again. Her eyes were so big, so full, brimming with so many emotions that he never wanted her to feel. Without looking away, he stepped backward and pushed the door shut.

The sounds of it striking its frame and the latch catching boomed with profound finality.

“So you are capable of obedience,” Lachlan said.

Fear and fury continued their tumultuous dance within Kian, building so much pressure inside him that an explosion was inevitable. Every one of his muscles strained against the urge to go to her, and his soul itself clawed at his willpower, fighting to get to his mate.

Clenching his fists, Kian looked Willow over. Despite her fear, the state of her clothing, and all the blood, he didn’t see any open wounds. That was miniscule comfort. “Are you all right, Violet?”

Willow pressed her lips together and drew in a breath before forcing them into a small, trembling smile. “Been better.”

He’d thought it impossible for the ache in his heart to deepen, but her response proved him wrong.

“My brave, strong mate,” he rasped.

Lachlan snarled and grabbed a fistful of Willow’s hair, forcing her head back. Her hands rose, grasping his forearm, but she didn’t struggle. A drop of blood welled on the edge of the knife at her throat. Tremors rocked Kian’s limbs as he fought to remain in place, battling his own powerful drive to protect her, to avenge her pain, to fulfill his promise and keep her from harm.

“How dare you address this lowly beast with more respect than you’ve shown your better?” Lachlan’s magic rippled in his every word, lashing out aimlessly. “You should be calling me your king, should be begging my forgiveness for your transgressions!”

Kian’s lips peeled back, baring his fangs. His claws bit into his palms, and warm blood flowed from the wounds, but the pain was nothing compared to that caused by the sight before him. An inferno of rage spiraled through him, flooding his limbs with scorching, impotent strength. His magic, stronger than it had ever been, swirled within that maelstrom, crackling like lightning through the flames.

All that power, and for what? It couldn’t help Willow now. It couldn’t overcome Lachlan.

He could sense Willow’s heartbeat, racing just as fast as his own. He could sense her anger, too, underlying her fear, and he knew that despite everything, she was far from broken.

His eyes lingered on Willow’s for another heartbeat. In that moment, he hoped his gaze expressed everything he longed to say.

I love you, Willow. You are my everything. I am sorry for this. For all of this.

Then he forced his attention to Lachlan. “What would you have of me?”

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