Chapter 24

Ronan was shaking with effort when he woke. The Synestryn lord’s hold on him was growing stronger. Ronan wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to maintain control. As it was, it took him several long minutes to shove back the swelling rage and need to kill that pulsed through his veins.

He needed to feed. He was weak from fighting, weak from keeping the demon at bay.

The smell of food drove him upstairs. Rory lay sleeping on the couch, her pink hair spread out across the leather arm. Her pulse beat in her neck, so steady and strong it made Ronan’s mouth water.

He glided toward her, seeing the light from his eyes spilling over her in an icy glare. He knelt by her side and lifted her toward his mouth.

The hiss of steel being drawn stopped Ronan cold.

“Bad idea,” said Cain from behind him.

Rage surged through Ronan, combining with hunger until there was no room left for rational thought. “I need,” was all he could spit out.

“Need someone else’s blood. She’s off-limits.”

Cain didn’t understand hunger. Not truly. He knew pain, but not weakness—not the grinding need for something he was constantly denied.

Just one drink. That’s all he needed to keep him going so he could seek out another source of sustenance. He would be careful. Gentle.

Ronan lowered his head. The cold prick of steel burned at the nape of his neck.

“Back off, Ronan. That demon is fucking with your head. This isn’t you.”

It was him. The real him. Shivering and weak with hunger, craving something so rare that the fleeting bits he got were barely enough to keep him going—more like teasing hints meant to torture him with what he could never have.

But he understood Cain’s quiet threat. He believed it. Theronai males were unreasonable when it came to the blood of their women.

Ronan set Rory down and turned to face Cain. “I’m too weak to hunt. The demon within me . . .”

Cain sheathed his sword and rolled up his sleeve. “Take only what you need to go hunt. Not a drop more. I need to be strong enough to fight.”

Ronan took what he was offered. Cain’s power flowed into him, fueling his mind enough for the fog of bloodlust to dissipate. As soon as he was able, he pulled away from the larger man, closing his wounds.

“I must leave now,” said Ronan, being careful not to look at the temptation Rory posed, lying there like an offering.

Cain nodded. “We’re hunting for the demon tonight. Call if you want to join us. I know you want him dead as much as I do.”

Ronan wasn’t so sure. As much as he should have wanted the demon dead, part of him was growing fond of the dark presence crouched in his thoughts. He knew that wasn’t right—that he shouldn’t feel that way—but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The longer Raygh was in his head, the more familiar they became. Maybe if he just stopped fighting, it wouldn’t be so bad. Raygh had power. Oceans of it. He was rarely hungry, and when he was, he took his fill.

What would it be like to be sated? Truly full?

Ronan had no idea, but if Raygh could help him find out, then perhaps he wasn’t completely evil.

* * *

Cain watched Ronan go, knowing the man was running out of time. Having been near the end himself, he knew what that looked like. The desperation and fear. The realization that time was not an endless river flowing past, but a shallow kiddie pool too small to hold all the things he really wanted to do with his life.

And there had been something else in Ronan’s eyes that had bothered Cain. A kind of acceptance. Almost submission. The Sanguinar hadn’t even fought him for more blood.

Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good. And while Cain was a long way from trusting anyone the way he had Gilda and Angus, he actually liked working with Ronan. He wasn’t all creepy and mysterious like so many of the Sanguinar. He was more pragmatic, and that was something Cain respected.

The last thing he wanted was for Ronan to lose his battle with the demon and go crazy. Because if that happened, Cain worried that he might actually have to use his sword on the man, rather than merely threaten to use it.

Rory still hadn’t moved. He’d helped her to sleep. He was sure she’d be angry about that, but he knew what she’d face if she didn’t take care of her body. He’d fought by Gilda’s and Angus’s sides for enough centuries to know how it worked, and he’d rather Rory be angry than to have her simply run out of steam at a dangerous time.

He would have liked nothing more than to stay here and watch her sleep, but there wasn’t time for that. The longer that demon roamed the earth, the more threat he posed. And while he would have preferred to tuck her away somewhere safe, that wasn’t going to work. Not only was there no place he could take her without risking the inhabitants of Dabyr, he also didn’t trust anyone else to protect her the way he would—down to his last breath.

So, Cain tucked her in the car, buckled the seat belt, and hit the road.

He drove toward the system of caves closest to where Rory had first had her control ripped away by the demon. There were no guarantees that this was the place, but it was as good a guess as any.

Maybe once Ronan fed he’d have some better ideas about where to look.

The vehicle the Gerai had left for Cain’s use was smaller than he liked. His head kept bumping the headliner as they bounced along the country road. His shoulder brushed Rory’s every few minutes. Her scent filled the confined space, tempting him with memories of what they’d shared.

He would have rather spent the rest of the night lying with her, coaxing as much pleasure from her body as she could stand, but that was a dream for men whose mates accepted them. Rory wanted his power, and she’d even wanted his body, but she didn’t want him—at least not in the way that really counted.

Still, if the power he gave her drew her to him, then that was the lure he’d use. He refused to give up on her. There was too much at stake.

As they drew closer to a small town, she began to shift in her seat and make little whimpering sounds of discomfort.

Her visions. They seemed to be growing stronger if the tension vibrating through her was any indication. Every time a car passed them, her whole body jerked in her sleep. Finally, Cain took her hand in his, hoping his touch would make it stop.

A car in the opposite lane swerved to miss some roadkill, and Cain had to swerve off the road to avoid collision. He’d instinctively put both hands on the wheel, and in doing so, he’d stopped touching Rory.

She came awake with a start, and he could feel the clammy pulses of shock buffeting their link.

“Where are we?” she asked after a few seconds. Her voice was low and sexy with the remnants of sleep.

“Heading east, to where you first felt the demon’s presence.”

She opened the bottle of water sitting between them and drank deeply. “I think we’re getting closer.”

“How can you tell?”

“That cage Ronan built? I feel it rattling now.”

Oh, hell, no. If the beast got loose, there wouldn’t be a thing Cain could do to stop it. There would be nothing physical for him to kill. She would become the threat, and no matter who was pulling her strings, he knew he wouldn’t be able to strike her down. The best he could do was knock her out, and he wasn’t even sure that would work.

Cain pulled over on the side of the road. There was little traffic, but enough that it rocked this little toy car as it passed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He pulled out his phone. “Calling for backup. I think it’s a bad idea for you to go after this demon. I’ll call for someone else to guard you while I hunt for it.”

“What? I’m not sitting around with some babysitter. I’m not afraid, you know.”

“Yeah? Well, I am. I’m scared as hell that Ronan’s cage will fail and you’ll lose control again.”

“So? If that happens, knock me out. It worked last time.”

“I’m not taking any chances. The demon has to die, but you don’t have to come with me. I’ll find someone who will be willing to guard you with his life.” Morgan, perhaps. Or Nicholas. Both men were fierce, noble warriors. Both would come if Cain asked.

What if one of them was the man she was looking for—the savior who freed her from her visions? What if she was compatible with one of them?

Cain couldn’t let that sway him. He hesitated for only a second before he sent out a text asking for help.

“Whoa. Just hold the fuck on. I’m the one with the demon-in-a-box. Not you.”

“Yes, but your safety is my responsibility.”

From the way her face turned a mottled, angry red, he was guessing that was the wrong thing to say.

Her eye twitched. “I haven’t been anyone’s responsibility in a long time. I’m a grown woman and I will make my own choices. Especially when it comes down to deciding what to do to evict the prick in my head.”

This was going to end badly, and yet he couldn’t think of a single reasonable thing he could say to refute her. She was an adult. It was her head the demon inhabited. The longer they argued about it, the more danger there was of the beast breaking free.

Nicholas’s texted reply came back fast. Dabyr on lockdown. No one can leave. Will come as soon as possible.

Lockdown? texted Cain.

Long story.

Are any warriors nearby who can help?

Only Ronan.

Looked like they were on their own.

Cain managed to keep his voice calm despite the churning need to scream her into submission. “What do you want to do?”

“Find the fucker. Kill it.”

“You make it sound simple. I assure you it’s not. Especially if Ronan’s protections are failing.”

She stared at him, her dark gaze hard. A flicker of insecurity made her chin wobble, but it was gone before he could be sure he’d seen it.

“Then how is it?” she asked. “Tell me what to expect. Show me like you did before.” She thrust her chin out at him, as if daring him. “Go ahead. I can take it. Whatever scary things we’ll see, whatever nasty hordes we’ll face . . . I can take it.”

Maybe she could. Maybe she was as tough as she thought she was. But he didn’t want to put any of that in her head. He wanted her life to be safe and happy and filled with clean, beautiful things. Not demons and monsters and the remnants of ravaged children. He’d seen enough of those things for both of them. He needed her life to be better.

Just as he’d tried to make it better for Sibyl. He’d fought her every attempt to play a role in the war. The few times he’d been forced to take her into danger, it had nearly killed him. And the night she was stolen . . . Cain still had nightmares.

He’d wrapped Sibyl up tighter, forcing her to stay safe, and the first chance she’d had to leave, she’d taken it.

What if Rory did the same thing?

That was his mistake. All this time he’d been trying to keep Rory out of danger. But if she was to be a true partner—the way he wanted her to be—she couldn’t sit behind and wait for him to come home from battle. She had to be by his side, fighting and killing and facing all the horror associated with those acts.