She felt the blood on his hands when he caught the assassin. He’d ignored the man’s cries for mercy. Beck’s beast was loose, and he had no mercy. The large man had taken something Beck valued. He’d taken from Beck, and he would never do so again.
It was the first time Beck realized his father was afraid of him.
Meg groaned as the scene in his head changed. Sex, she sighed. This was Beck’s outlet.
A woman named Sorcha, one of his mother’s ladies, had taken it on herself to teach him. She gave him permission to do what he wanted, and Beck had taken her at her word. He’d dominated her. He’d owned and possessed her. He fucked her when and where he wanted, and she obeyed. It took the edge off his rage knowing someone soft trusted him. Only Cian ever trusted him. Even Bronwyn looked at him with fear sometimes. Sorcha had begged him to fuck her. She cuddled in his arms afterward. That time was sweet, too. He enjoyed taking care of her after.
Meg felt the pain of his father hitting him with the flat of his sword. He’d done it in front of fifty of his strongest soldiers. He’d humiliated his son for his perversity.
Beck had sworn to never give in to those urges again.
Then all was blood and carnage.
She smelled the smoke and felt Beck’s heart pumping with rage as he realized his father was dead. There was a tiny part of him that reveled in the old man’s death. He was king now. He was in his rightful place. No one would tell him what to do or how to act again. If they did, he would take care of it. He would be king not by right of ascension, but because he could kill anyone who questioned his place. Torin had given him this gift.
Meg felt his disgust at the thought. He was torn by his own nature. His father had abused and humiliated him, but Beck had loved him anyway.
The sword Beck held as he surveyed the decimation of Torin’s guard was the sword of the rightful King of the Seelie. He had used it to kill a hundred of Torin’s advance guard. He’d sliced through them with an easy efficiency. His body hummed with anticipation of more. He enjoyed it. He liked the blood and the feel of his sword penetrating flesh. He loved the dance of battle.
Through the smoke he saw Torin. He was surrounded by guards. It was easy to kill them, too. More were coming. Beck could hear them. They were making their way through the chaos toward their leader. It wouldn’t matter. Beck circled his uncle. Torin would be dead as they walked into the great hall, and then they would join their brethren.
Torin wasn’t willing to go down easy. He held his sword, and his eyes were no longer arrogant. “Even now, my soldiers are hunting your brother. They will cut him down where he stands.”
Beck’s blood was up. “It will not kill me.”
Torin looked disturbed by that statement. “It will, eventually. He is your brother.”
Beck smiled. He knew it was a ghastly thing. Beck nodded to the throne where his father’s body lay, still and cooling. “There lies your brother. Perhaps we are more alike than you think, Uncle.”
Torin, who had always been a pale imitation of his younger brother, twisted his unhandsome face into a mask of jealousy. “The crown should have been mine. My father always favored Seamus. It should have been mine.”
Beck pointed to his father’s crown. It lay on the palace floor, covered in his father’s blood. “There it is, Torin. Take it if you can.”
Torin looked between his nephew and the bloody crown he had slain his kin for.
Then Meg felt it. She felt Cian cry out in Beck’s brain. She felt his panic and anguish. Cian reached out for the only person he had left, and Beck felt the call in his soul.
It went against everything in Beck Finn’s nature. His instincts cried out to kill the pretender. Beck’s prey stood before him, quaking in his boots. There was no question about the outcome of this fight, even as Torin’s backup stormed through the doors. He could kill them all.
And lose Cian.
Deep in his heart, Beck knew that he wouldn’t care once Cian was dead. It would free him in some ways. He could be the predator he’d always known himself to be. He could kill and kill and kill until someone was strong enough to take him out.
But Cian wasn’t dead. He was alive, and he waited for his brother to save him.
Beck could avenge his father. He could save his kingdom and all of its people, or he could save the only person in the world to ever trust him, the person who carried all the good parts of his soul.
“I will return one day, Torin,” Beck promised. “I will return, and I will kill you. Never doubt it.”
The years sped by, each more desperate. Beck was alone. He was alone even as he took lovers. He was alone even as he and his brother tried to build a life. He was alone until he walked into a marketplace and found his heart waiting for him.
Meg sobbed as she came out of the bond. She threw her arms around Beck’s neck and clutched him. “I love you. I love you so much.” She looked into his deep gray eyes. They were still filled with uncertainty. “I would have no other.”
Beck squeezed her tight. “I hope you mean that because you won’t have another. You’re mine, and I won’t ever let you go.”
He pulled her hair back and took her mouth savagely. He needed to imprint himself on her. She’d been so open. He couldn’t have imagined how good it would feel to truly bond with her. She had seen all of his bad parts, everything he loathed about his own nature, and she accepted him with a whole heart. He knew she had seen the very things he had been scared of her seeing, but instead of rejecting him, she told him she loved him.
“I love you, Megan,” he rasped against her ear. He pulled her tight against his chest. He loved the warmth of her skin. He loved the trust she placed in him. It eased his soul. He looked behind her. Cian had gone pale. He sat back against the headboard. Meg might have accepted him wholeheartedly, but Cian seemed to be having trouble. “Ci? Whatever you want to say to me, just say it. It isn’t anything I haven’t thought about myself.”
Meg looked back toward Cian and reached her hand out to bring him into the circle. Beck worried that he would refuse, but after a moment’s hesitation he threaded his fingers through Meg’s.
“You didn’t kill him because you had to save me,” Cian said quietly. “He was right there. It wouldn’t have taken long.”
“If I had taken even a moment, the secondary front would have been on me,” Beck tried to explain. He knew Cian would be upset that he’d let their parents’ and sister’s killer live when he could have slain him. “I would have been too late. It was selfish.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Meg disagreed.
“By saving Cian, I saved myself,” Beck replied simply.
“No, brother,” Cian said, emotion thick in his voice. “I don’t believe it. I was there, just as Meg was. You didn’t want to lose all that was me. You value the person I am. Goddess, Beck, I never knew how bloody hard it is to be you.”
“You valued Ci over your father, revenge, and your own nature,” Meg explained. “Don’t expect us to turn away from you for making that choice.”
“I always trusted you, Beck,” Cian vowed. He pushed his chest against their wife’s back. “Nothing I felt tonight changes that. It just makes me proud to be your brother.” He grew very serious. “You don’t want to go back, do you?”