Page 54 of Beauty

But I won’t. This piece of me will remain buried no matterhow insane I go. There will be no first blood for me. There will be no firstwoman. There will be no sex.

My soul’s mate is gone and with her all that would have beensweet. Now there will be only death and wasted blood and revenge.

My sword thrusts again and again. Two guards and then threeattack, ignoring the corpses. Pain blooms in my side, but I push it away. Thesavage joy of battle is all that matters. They all fall to my sword and one tomy bare hands. Oh, I enjoy that one. I love the cracking of bones and thesplitting of skin.

I hid it all because I feared my mate would think me amonster, but my mate is gone and the worlds can quake for all I care now.

I feel drunk—on the death, on the blood, on the power. I amLachlan McIver, King of the Dead.

“Well done, Your Highness.” The phooka sits on the thatchedroof of a house directly in front of me. I can see eyes staring my way.Terrified villagers who hide behind their shutters and likely pray I take no noticeof them. “You killed them all. No more guards left to eviscerate. Are youplanning to start on the farmers? When you kill them all, you can move on tothe children.”

My sword trembles as my hands shake. The need to kill is anactual presence in my system. It flows through me, warring with all otherinstincts. I can feel my corpse warriors standing behind me, waiting for mynext command. Waiting for me to tell them who to kill next.

The phooka wrinkles his nose, his tail twitching. Claws dragalong the roof making a nasty scratching sound. “There are four right in here,Your Highness. Four souls for you to take. A man. A woman. Two children. Thinkof the blood. Think of the screams.”

Something about the little devil’s voice makes me shiver. Orthe fact that I can suddenly see myself slaughtering children. This is why Ishoved my warrior half so far down. I am a monster.

“Lachlan!”

I let the sword drop, turning. My heart is pounding. Bron isdead. None of it matters. If I continue, I’ll kill the families in theirhouses. I’ll plunder and pillage and then call their dead bodies to serve me.

And it won’t bring her back.

I look at my brother. I failed Shim as well. Without ourmate, Shim will fade. I’ll go mad. I’ll have to be put down.

I failed everyone.

Shim stands in the middle of the square. The fire thatpreviously burned there is gone, only ashes surrounding the pole where theybound her. I always envisioned her in bondage, my hands tying her lovingly toprepare her for play. This is a perverted vision of what should be loving.

Bronwyn’s delicate body lies in Shim’s arms, her limbsutterly limp, her head falling back. The sword slips from my hand. If anotherattacks, I’ll let death come. I’ll join my mate.

Shim hoists her up, cradling her to his chest. “Lach, wehave to go. Where are we going to go? We need a healer. Something’s wrong withme.”

Everything is wrong. Bron is gone.

“Lachlan? Shim?” A feminine voice cuts through my misery.

I turn and, for a moment, my heart softens. She wearsdifferent clothes, peasant clothes, but I know this woman. She’s my sister. MyGilly, the girl who laughed with us, brought us our first horses.

Saved our bondmate.

I failed Gillian, too.

She stands there, staring between us, dark eyes confused asthough she can’t believe we’re here. “Where is the army? Father sent a force.He had to send a force, right? Where are they? We need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, Gillian.” My heart feels like it willburst with the agony of my grief. “You have to put me down. I can’t handlebreaking with Bronwyn. Please, Gillian, if you ever loved me, kill me now. Savethese people.”

Gillian’s mouth drops open. “Goddess, Lach, you’re beingridiculous. Now tell me where the army is and how we get off this plane. We canhave our family reunion later, brother.”

Shim falls to his knees, taking Bron with him. “She smellsso damn good. I can’t resist. Lach. I need her.”

I watch as my brother’s eyes bleed to pure black, and thewhites push out. Shim’s fangs lengthen until they fill his mouth, tipping overhis lips.

Mating fever.

How can Shim have mating fever for our dead mate?

Bron’s hands shake lightly, and then I hear it, a soft,sweet moan.