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He’d already hung up.
A steady stream of curses left my lips as I stalked back toward the house, intent on filling the others in on what I’d just learned. Before I could go in, I was brought up short, angling away from the front doors and rounding toward the yard on the other side when the faint sounds of a scuffle reached my ears.Kingston and Alek must still be sparring.
But my frustration shifted to unease as the sound of their practice grew louder, more frantic. Something wasn’t right. That wasn’t a friendly match.
I blurred closer, hoping against hope I was overreacting. That it was simply training, as they had been doing every night since we arrived. But soon the scent of blood filled the air, and the low growl of a wolf on the edge of the change made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“Viking, I need a bow!”
My sister’s strident voice made my blood run cold. Rosie wasn’t a fighter—until she needed to be.
Panic gave me an extra burst of speed, and I finally rounded the corner only to be met with utter chaos.
At least ten fae warriors swarmed the grounds. Alek was in full berserker mode, bodily ripping the one in front of him apart. His eyes were black orbs in his blood-soaked face. Kingston had shifted and was taking down another. Rosie, having found high ground, already pinned several others to the earth by loosing arrows with supernatural speed and precision. As I approached, she notched yet another arrow and let it fly, the deadly shot landing in the eye socket of a fae on the edge of our property.
A flare of pride barely had a chance to swell when I spotted the assassin heading toward her.
“Rosie!” I shouted, running full tilt toward her. As he brought down the blade meant to deal a killing blow, I crashed into her, taking the brunt of the attack.
Agony ripped through my shoulder as the silver met skin, but it wasn’t a mortal wound. “That was your first mistake, mate,” I growled, gripping him by the wrist until bones crunched under the force of my hand. “And it will be your last.”
“Master Blackthorne—” Martin’s inquiry was cut off as he peeked his head out the French doors and took in the carnage.
“Get my father,” I shouted, dealing with my sister’s would-be murderer.
As I pulled him closer and my fangs descended, he seemed to recognize death had come for him. The knowing was there in the dilation of his pupils. The soft draw of his breath. The racing terror of his pulse. It had been so long since I’d let my monstrous side come out and play. I grinned, my smile cruel and cold.
“One last look before I send you to hell. Let my family home be the last thing you see and the Blackthorne name be your final thought.”
“P–please, d–don’t. Please spare me.”
Oh, how I loved it when they begged. “Hmm, I think not.”
“Stop playing with your food and finish it, Noah,” my sister snapped, notching her last arrow.
“Gladly.”
Yanking the fae’s head back, I brutally sank my fangs into his throat, employing none of my usual finesse. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted his last moments to be spent in fear and pain.
Once the frantic flutter of his pulse stopped and I’d drained him dry, I released his corpse, which fell to my feet with a familiar thud. My monster had missed his freedom.
Gaze sharpened from a fresh feeding, I took stock of the battle around me. A scant few remained alive, though two were missing extremities and wouldn’t be long for this world. Kingston and Alek both stood covered in fae blood. My sister’s arrows littered the bodies on the ground, and the one fae still standing tried to flee.
My father burst through the doors, eyes glowing, fangs on full view as he assessed the threat to his family. In one instant, he was in front of the running assailant, his hand around the man’s throat.
“My, my, this didn’t quite go to your plan, now did it?” He cocked his head and tutted at the fae. “Pity for you. But thank you for your service to the Blackthorne crown.”
The man clawed at my father’s fingers, trying to dislodge his hold. “I only serve my queen.”
With a heavy sigh, Father tightened his grip until the fae turned purple. “Not anymore. Why are you here?”
“The... child... we...”
Kingston’s wolf let out a growl that rattled my bones. If my father hadn’t already claimed the fae bastard, Kingston would have ripped him in two.
“Oh, you thought you’d come take care of her, did you? Arrogant. So typically fae. No one touches my family and lives.” But my father didn’t kill him. Instead, he squeezed until the assassin lost consciousness and dropped him to the ground. “Martin!”
When our butler stuck his head through the open door, Father simply said, “Dungeon. We haven’t had a fae donor in far too long. Make it last.”
