Page 126 of Yearning For Her

Lachlan’s grip strengthened as his eyebrows angled down. His claws bit into Kian’s flesh. “You are a pale imitation of me. A mockery, a faded echo. You should look upon me in awe. The blood that flows through my veins is power, it is authority!”

“It is a cruel joke played upon you by the Fates. Had your blood any true meaning, you would be in Tulthiras, sitting upon a throne. But you know they’ll kill you if you return, because you are a reminder that they are not perfect. That the control they flaunt is an illusion. That they can’t even master their own base urges. You are a reminder that they make mistakes, that their judgment is flawed. That they are not beings to be worshipped.”

Willow cried out as Lachlan shifted her to the side and leaned forward, grabbing a fistful of Kian’s hair. He stopped his face not an inch away from Kian’s. “You should be grateful for the opportunity to call me your master. But you’ll learn. Both of you will learn. Learn your place. Learn that you…are mine.”

His claws scraped Kian’s scalp as he tightened his hold on Kian’s hair. He smiled. “You have no idea how satisfying it is to finally see you on your knees for me, Pale One.”

Lachlan slammed his mouth over Kian’s, eyes falling shut.

That overwhelming sense of wrongness Kian had felt in the nightclub returned, a thousandfold stronger than before. His soul quaked with revulsion, thrashing as though to detach itself from his body, to escape from this affront to everything Kian held dear—this affront to his love, his fate. He looked past Lachlan, meeting Willow’s gaze.

Anger sparked in her eyes. The same anger he’d felt from her before, which had been burning beneath her fear. Anger and…determination.

Something unspoken passed between them. An understanding, a promise made heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul.

Willow’s life had been lonely and unhappy. She’d suffered, she’d struggled, she’d felt trapped. But she had chosen to leave that life behind. She’d chosen to claim a new life for herself, to run away from everything she’d ever known and find her happiness. And even when she’d been beaten down by the universe, even when she’d hit low points that might have broken other mortals, she’d held on. She’d kept going.

That look in her eyes told him she wasn’t done fighting for her happiness—not remotely.

Kian and Willow would have their lives, their love. They would have each other. And even a fae like Lachlan could not stop them.

Lachlan groaned deep in his throat and leaned deeper into the kiss. His hold on Willow slackened.

She slid her hands to Lachlan’s wrist and swiftly angled the knife away from her throat, ducking under his arm. Lachlan’s groan turned into a growl, and he broke the kiss, pulling away from Kian, but he wasn’t fast enough. Baring her teeth, Willow yanked down on Lachlan’s arm and shoved hard. The knife struck him in the ribs, sinking deep. She scrambled away from him as he cried out in pain and startlement.

Kian grabbed the other fae’s hair and locked him in place. “I wasn’t kneeling for you.”

Fear and pain twisted Lachlan’s features, making the glow in his eyes waver.

Crimson descended over Kian’s vision. The firestorm that was his rage surged and consumed him, and he welcomed it. Kian lunged at Lachlan, opening his mouth wide and yanking the other fae’s head back. As Lachlan fell backward, Kian sank his teeth into Lachlan’s throat.

Hot blood flowed into Kian’s mouth. He slammed Lachlan’s head against the floor and whipped his own away, tearing out a chunk of the other fae’s throat.

Lachlan’s cries became choked, gurgling, desperate, fists and claws striking and raking at Kian. Straddling his opponent to pin him on the floor, Kian hammered his fist into Lachlan’s face, forcing the fae’s head to the side and pressing it down. His other hand found the handle of the knife jutting from Lachlan’s ribs and twisted it.

Lachlan thrashed. His claws shredded the flesh on Kian’s arms, chest, and shoulders, and his magic blasted outward, an unrelenting current of power lashing wildly. Even without Lachlan speaking a word, his magic was oppressive and coercive—it demanded Kian cease his assault, demanded he submit, demanded he surrender.

“Have you learned, Hollow Prince?” Kian said. “The love from a single mortal heart has made me stronger than you ever could have become from their fear. You have no power over us.”

Distant pain echoed across Kian’s skin from the dozens of wounds Lachlan’s struggles had opened, and his soul strained against the magical onslaught, but he didn’t relent. No one would harm his mate and escape retribution. No one would threaten to seize her freedom, no one would make a claim upon her, without facing Arythion’s wrath.

Kian would never stop fighting for her. Whether mortal or fae, lowborn or royalty, he would shy away from no foe. For her, anything. Everything.

“She’s my mate,” Kian growled, ripping the knife free. “My Willow, mine!”

One of Lachlan’s flailing hands clamped over Kian’s, squeezing around the knife handle. The potent magic that had been roiling within Kian flared in response. Power rumbled through his blood, his bones, his soul, and Kian didn’t try to hold it back now. He let it all out, focusing it into a single command.

“Drive the blade into your throat.”

Icy terror seized the light in Lachlan’s gaze. His lips moved as though he was trying to speak, and blood bubbled from the gaping wound in his throat, which was already beginning to heal. Arm trembling, he pulled on Kian’s hand and the knife grasped within it—pulled it toward himself.

Lachlan watched from the corner of his eye as the blade dipped, drawn lower and lower by his own hand. Desperate, choking breaths burst from his lips, forcing more frothy blood from his ruined throat. Nostrils flaring, his entire body tensed as the tip of the blade reached his neck. He didn’t stop when the metal pierced his skin and crimson welled around the new wound. He only pulled harder.

“Now you know how it feels,” Kian rasped. “Now you know what it’s like to lose all your power, all your control. To be helpless. Now you know fear.”

Lachlan’s body shuddered as the blade sunk another inch, but the light of life remained in his eyes.

“Never again will anyone suffer the cruelty of your illegitimate reign, Hollow Prince.” Kian pressed his other hand over Lachlan’s and forced the knife down with all his strength, all his rage and fear, all his protectiveness and possessiveness.

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