Promises that, just maybe, forever existed in the cradle of her thighs.
And then she had come. If he’d thought her beautiful before, it was nothing compared to her magnificence at the peak of ecstasy.
But as he watched her ride out her high, his mind came back to him in starts and stops.
He’d kissed her. She’d embraced him. He’d drunk from her. And he’d been about to fuck her standing right there in the center of the room as he devoured her lifeblood down his throat.
And to top it all off, his hands fucking tingled.
No. No.
Kael paced and tugged at his hair, spitting out a stream of expletives and plaintive pleas for guidance and assistance in his native tongue. “Cén bhrí atá ann? Cad é cuspóir an Céilí Dia ann?” If only the gods would answer him and explain his purpose—and why he felt so lonely fulfilling it.
Ancient grief joined the raging river flowing through him and filled him with the need to destroy. He glared at the offending goblet of Shayla’s blood, but couldn’t bring himself to waste something so precious. Instead, Kael whirled, nearly upsetting a long mahogany console table, and unthinkingly cleared it in one violent swipe of his arms. Candlesticks and a vase of flowers clanged and crashed against the floor.
The ornate door exploded open and a trio of massive bodies filled the entryway, guns and blades drawn.
“My lord?” Liam rasped, his eyes wild as he surveyed the room. Braeden and Daire followed suit, braced for a fight.
Kael shared a blood connection with the highest-ranking warriors that gave them the ability to sense his emotions, so he wasn’t particularly surprised by their appearance, though the last thing he wanted was an audience for his stupidity.
He glared at the bewildered men. The scene was almost comical. Liam, still in his full regalia associated with the feeding ritual, Braeden and Daire dressed only in boxing shorts, their taped fists revealing they’d come directly from a sparring match in the compound’s massive training facility.
“Jesus, smell that,” Daire whispered to Braeden as he lowered his weapon.
Kael leveled his narrowed gaze at the young warrior. Braeden placed a warning hand on his mouthy brethren’s chest.
Liam watched the exchange and turned to his men. “All is well. Leave us.”
Braeden bowed his head and stepped back through the door first. “Come on, Daire,” he bit out.
Daire inhaled deeply, taking the myriad scents still so thick and fragrant in the room into himself. Finally realizing everyone was waiting for him, he shook his head, bowed it and retreated.
Liam secured the door before nailing Kael with a questioning stare.
The king turned away and resumed pacing and ranting under his breath.
“My lord, how may I be of service?” came Liam’s voice after a while.
“You can leave.”
“I cannot.”
Kael flashed in front of him. “You can very well fucking leave.” His fangs elongated as he lashed out.
“I will not!” Liam stepped forward, apparently refusing to be cowed. “You really want to do this?”
They hadn’t come to blows in ages, but it had happened before. The king bored his gaze into Liam’s, but finally stepped back.
Liam eased his stance. “Where is she?”
“Gone,” Kael said as he looked down at the ground. His shoulders sagged as some of the fight went out of him. Everything just felt so…wrong.
“Did you—?”
Kael rolled his eyes at Liam. There was no way he didn’t smell that goblet of blood. “What do you think?”
“And, why—?”
“Christ, what are you? The Inquisition?” He drilled his angry stare into his brother in arms. Guilt flooded him. Minutes passed. “I hurt her.” He shook his hands where they hung by his sides, the phantom tingle still racing through his nerves.
Liam tracked those movements, his brow cranked down low, and frowned. “What happened, Kael?”
The thought of recounting all the ways in which he’d failed Shayla exhausted him. “It doesn’t matter.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Liam sheathed the silver dagger and holstered his weapon. “I’ve known you my whole life. You would never hurt a female. Not intentionally.”
“What do you want from me, Liam?”
He held out his arms. “I want to know why you sent her away. Why her lifeblood sits there wasting. Why you are more distressed than I can remember seeing you in aeons.”
“Oh, for the love… Fine. Her eyes were mismatched…one green, one blue. I covered them, because they were too damned fascinating. And then the hypnotism didn’t work. And she felt the cut of my blade, endured it without complaint. And I…I didn’t even fucking notice her pain. Then, as if she hadn’t proven herself worthy, she implored me to partake of her blood anyway, despite the way I’d failed her. I kissed her, Liam. And I drank from her. And then…”
It had felt so damn right.
But now she was gone. Her absence weighed on his shoulders, depressing him, squeezing his chest. Oh, the way he’d dismissed her… He groaned and scrubbed at his face with rough palms.
Liam gaped at Kael’s rush of words. “You drank from her?”
“Did I not just say that?”
“Kael, did you claim her? Is she—?”
His heart clenched. “Of course I didn’t. I cannot.” He met Liam’s questioning gaze. Held it for a long moment. Tried like hell to resist the dark realizations fighting to rise up from his psyche, demanding to be embraced, believed, voice.
Kael swallowed roughly as a war waged inside him—between duty and desire, rightness and need, decision and destiny. He shook his head against the growing urge inside him to hope, to try, to be brave enough to take a chance.
“Liam,” he finally whispered, “I did not have to claim her. Somehow, I could…I could tell…” He shook his head again.
Liam sucked in a breath and his eyes went wide.
Though the righteousness of the admission nearly drove him to his knees, Kael still resisted the truth of it. He sighed, a sound full of defeat and resignation. “As I said, it does not matter. She’s gone. And it is better for her that she is.”
“Do not be a fool, brother.”
“Watch your tongue, Liam.”
The warrior ran his hand through his brown hair, then stalked close until he grasped Kael’s shoulder. “Don’t assume you know what’s best for her. Bring her back. Let her choose.” Kael dropped his gaze, unable to witness the hope on his brother’s face a moment longer. “You must, Kael, you cannot continue this way.”
Kael shoved the hand away and stepped back. “I do not see you seeking out a mate. Or most of the others.”
Liam scoffed. “I have not found her. But I look. As for the others, you are their role model. They follow your lead.”
Kael’s gaze cut to Liam’s. “What?”
Liam heaved a breath. “You heard me.”
Confusion morphed into outrage, and then into gut-deep guilt. Of course his warriors would follow his lead. Which meant that the decreasing population of their kind…was in part his own fault. Newlings couldn’t be born without his warriors finding mates.