She took another step forward, towards the centre, towards her brother. Her heart pulsed too hard, her chest tightening around it. It hurt. Dear goddess it hurt. She forced herself onwards while Gilliad laughed. The mark on her shoulder flared white-hot.
And all of a sudden, he stopped.
His body stiffened, his eyes bulging and he dropped the knife. It fell with a clatter and he convulsed where he stood.
The pain fell away and the cloying darkness went with it.
Jeren stood very still, wondering for a moment—just a moment—if somehow it was all over.
Then Gilliad opened his eyes again.
Eyes, black and empty, like obsidian or oil, like windows onto the void. Eyes that stared at her nevertheless.
Eyes that were not his own.
“I can feel your approach like the coming of a storm, Jeren.” His voice rolled over her, just as the darkness had done, smothering her in his presence.
Not Gilliad.
Nothing so easy to overcome as her brother.
Khain smiled, a thin cruel smile that sat oddly on Gilliad’s face, a smile that belonged there no more than the eyes. The smile of the dark god himself.
Jeren’s bravery fled. Her body froze beneath his gaze and the sword hung from her hand, too heavy to lift.
Khain took a step forward, and stretched out his hand.
“I don’t think you need that anymore, my love.”
The mark on her shoulder warmed this time, a slow, insidious warmth that spread down her arm until her hand spasmed, dropping the sword. If fell with a clatter and lay, abandoned, at her feet.
Run, her mind told her. Run away. But she couldn’t. There was nowhere to go.
His hand closed on her shoulder and she sobbed as he pressed the material of her gown against his mark.
“Oh, they chose well in you. They chose so very well.”
His other hand reached out and she flinched as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. So tender and intimate a gesture had never been carried out with such threat.
Jeren’s eyes burned with tears. Khain trailed a fingertip along the line of her cheekbone, watching as her tears brimmed up, spilled over her lashes and trailed down her skin.
He caught one on his finger and brought it closer to examine it, staring at the dampness. He rubbed it against his thumb and then opened his mouth so he could taste her tears.
He closed his eyes, the skin around them softening with pleasure.
“Yes. Very well. A bride of noble birth, a spirit like fire and a passion that will fight and fight. Magnificent.” He released his finger with a pop and smiled as he opened his eyes again.
Jeren’s mind recoiled from the nothingness she saw there.
“Shall we consummate this, my love? Shall I take you and bind you to me for eternity?”
She tried to shake her head. She tried so hard the tendons in her neck strained like wires stretched too far. But she couldn’t.
God and goddess help her, she couldn’t.
Khain shoved both her shoulders and she fell back.
The ground slammed into her back, what little breath she had left forced from her aching body. He loomed over her. Still smiling.
No. This couldn’t be happening. No! A nightmare beyond nightmares.
But she’d seen a child. She’d seen a woman who didn’t really look like her, a shell of herself, presenting a child to River Holt.
His child.
Oh sweet Liath, no! I can’t, I won’t. Please, don’t do this. Don’t let this happen! Please!
Strength came from somewhere, strength she shouldn’t have. She rolled aside, pushed herself up on all fours and launched herself forwards, her only intent to run for the door, to get out and god help anyone or anything in her way.
Run! Run now!
Khain inhaled deeply—smelling her, tracking her—and gave a short laugh.
Save me, Shan. Drop out of the sky and save me.
But no one was coming. No one was ever coming. She stumbled over Leithen’s body and he groaned, his eyes fluttering back in his head.
Run!
She’d promised Doria. She’d sworn, she wouldn’t let anything happen to him. And here he was, slowly bleeding to death before her. Because of her. She couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t leave any of them.
A wire made of shadows lashed out at her, cracking like a whip it moved so fast. It snapped around her wrist, pulling her arm back behind her, jerking her off her feet.
Crack. Another seized her foot, dragging her back towards him. She screamed, scrabbling on the stone floor with her free hand, her skin scraping against it, her nails tearing. She couldn’t get a grip, couldn’t gain purchase.
He dragged her back towards him, inch by agonizing inch.
A third tendril of shadows lashed itself around her free arm, wrenching it out to one side. They flipped her whole body over, and another wire wrapped itself around her leg, immobilising her, stretching her wide.
Pinned out like a star, she could only watch him bear down on her, the malevolence torturing the face she had once known as well as her own into something new and terrible.
“No, please no.” Her words came out in a rush of air.
Khain knelt down, that awful smile still twisting Gilliad’s mouth. Leaning over her, he pressed his body to hers, his hands making light work of her clothing. She closed her eyes against him, her teeth biting the inside of her mouth, blood choking her.
His mouth forced hers apart, his kiss brutal while his touch began her violation.
This is not me. This will never be me. She tried to fill her mind with other things, with anything, tried to push reality away, anything, anything to make it stop.
With a soft boom like the shockwave of an eruption, fresh shadows filled the chamber.
Khain cursed as he released her. “What is the meaning of this?”
He rose with a grace that belied his semi-human appearance. Flexing his hands to fists at his sides, he turned to face the blossoming darkness.
The shadows parted, the Fell materialised and in their midst, someone else. His pale skin shone in the darkness. His silver eyes gleamed with rage, with knowledge of betrayal. His braids whispered as he lifted his head and stared at her. At them both.
Shan.
“Well, well,” the thing that had once been her brother sneered as he spoke. “Company.” The Enchassa appeared at Shan’s side, and more of the Fell. They fanned out, hostile eyes blazing.
“Let her go.”
His voice only barely registered with her. It was Shan. Her mate, her lover, her husband. Shan.
And he’d come with the Fell.
Chapter Fourteen
Shan fought to stay still, to remain calm, though inside his mind he howled at the sight of Jeren pinned out like a sacrifice. He wanted blood, he wanted vengeance. His sword called to him. It wanted the same. And so did the Fellna now.
He could sense it, feel it like a fluttering in the back of his mind, like a second pulse in his veins.
The desires, the needs of the Fellna swarm which had claimed him.
He could feel their wants as his own. And they could feel his. As part of the swarm, everything was shared.
He wanted Jeren. He wanted to taste the blood of anyone who harmed her. And so did they.