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No, no, no.
I rushed through the door and promptly stumbled to a stop. Beau stood along the edge of the room with his gun leveled on Killian.
Was it Killian?
I recognized parts of him but others?
I didn’t recognize my husband. He was wild and monstrous with a mouthful of fangs and claws growing out from where his nails should’ve been. Those pretty eyes I loved so much were gone, swimming with a faint midnight light. Magic? Did he have magic? That same dim light ran through the veins in his neck and hands.
The roar that ripped through him was rage-filled and terrifying. It shook the walls and rattled the glass.
It was Killian, but it wasn’t.
It was like he wasn’t in control of himself—whatever he was.
“Come on, Killian. Show me what a monster you are,” Beau said, his gun pointed straight at my husband. Oh, God. Beau planned to kill him.
“Hey!” I screamed. I banged hard on the door to get their attention. I didn’t have a plan for what I was going to do when Killian’s attention zeroed in on me. I just couldn’t let Beau kill him.
Another roar.
Another stutter of my heart.
I ran.
He chased me.
I heard the gunfire and hoped to hell every bullet missed Killian.
I headed straight for the water because if anything could break through to Killian, it was that. Panting and growling followed, drifting down my neck. I forced myself to run faster—every muscle screaming at me and my lungs burning.
The water broke my pace as I crashed into it. The blast of cold made me gasp. Killian waded through the water right behind me. The wet sand slowed him enough for me to get in front of him.
“Are you a fuckin’ moron?” Beau shouted at me from the shore.
“Oh, fuck you!” I screamed back and immediately stood between the two of them. “You’re not shooting my husband!”
Killian growled at me. His body coiled tight, ready to lunge.
“Your husband don’t know who the fuck he is!” Beau snapped. “I’m tryin’ to keep him from killin’ your stubborn ass!”
I could make that work.
“You are Killian Byrne,” I said softly as he loomed closer. “You like apple cider donuts and slow dancing in the kitchen.”
Another rumbling snarl. I bit back a small sob. I wasn’t giving up.
“You have five brothers,” I continued while he took another step toward me. “And you were raised by your mom alone.”
He bared his teeth wider.
Please, let this work. Please, let this work.
“Your favorite holiday is Christmas, but only because you love taking walks to see the lights and going to the holiday market,” I told him. “For our first date, you took me to the holiday market in Copper Spring. You were so nervous that you spilled hot chocolate all over both of us.”
He flinched. It was small, but it was there. Progress.
“On my seventeenth birthday, you gave me a straw ring, and you told me that you were going to marry me.”
