I pressed the blade against her flesh, watching as it sliced through cloth and flesh and muscle and bone with ridiculous ease. Her eyes went wide, and pain began to fill the void. Yet it never touched me, held at bay by either the anger in my soul or Jack's steely presence.
I drove the knife deeper, ramming it through her sternum, lodging the point deep in her heart. Blood began to seep across my fingers, blood that was warm and sweet to my nose, stirring excitement through my veins.
No, no, no, part of me wanted to scream, but I pushed it away ruthlessly, concentrating on Caelfind, watching her eyes, waiting for the moment of her body's death, and the realization that she would never be free.
The knife began to disintegrate, and smoke seeped from the wound, lodging the silver deep inside. Pinning her spirit, the way Talon's spirit had been pinned.
Only she didn't scream the way he'd screamed. She merely smiled and waited, her thoughts filled with pain and yet amused.
Until the moment her heart finally gave out, and her body slumped to the floor.
Then she screamed. Screamed like a banshee, until her fury filled my mind and made it almost impossible to think.
Tell me how to rid this world of your master.
My words were little more than a pebble standing against a cyclone, yet still she heard.
He can only be banished by a priest. A priest of Aedh.
And your brother is one?
The last one.
Well, not exactly the last. But perhaps the last still retaining flesh form. And the dragons?
Behead them.
Can't they take over another body, as you can?
She hesitated, twisting in fury. No. Not without my help. Now, release me, as you promised.
I laughed—a harsh and hateful sound—and began to pull back. All these years of serving a dark god, and you still believe in promises?
Her fury followed me, nipping at my mental heels like a rabid dog until the force that was Jack stepped in and stopped her cold. I fell out of her mind, feeling like I was falling from a great height, and found myself on my knees, on the floor, trembling and shaking and sweating.
And then I felt the warm stickiness of blood across my hand, smelled again its metallic sweetness, and my stomach rose.
I pushed onto all fours, scrambled over to the waste bin, and lost every scrap of food and liquid I'd eaten during the day.
When there was nothing left to lose, I collapsed back against the wall and sucked in great gulps of air. It felt like I'd gone ten rounds in the training ring with Gautier, with every inch aching and bruised, and my head pounding. The only thing that was missing was the actual bruises.
It was a good five minutes before I had to strength to even open my eyes. Jack leaned against the rear wall, his hands on his knees as he sucked in air, the skin on his arms paler than I'd ever seen them and his fingers little more than skin and bone. Which just proved how much strength it had taken to hold Caelfind.
My gaze slid on to the stone circle. Maisie's body lay slumped in the middle. Blood gleamed darkly off the front of her shirt, and the thick scent had my stomach twitching again.
Or maybe it wasn't the scent of blood. Maybe it was just the realization of how easily—how very easily—I'd spilt her blood and ended her life.
I might tell myself that I would never be the killer Jack wanted me to be, but the truth was, that skill was already within me.
I could kill, and kill easily, when I had to. When I wanted to. When I needed to.
And do it without thought. Without remorse. And for no other reason than wanting to get home and get some sleep.
Bile burned my throat. I put my hand over my mouth and swallowed heavily, then forced myself to remember the lives Maisie and her cohorts had destroyed.
Because while I might hate what I had done here today, while I would probably suffer nightmares about it for weeks or months to come, the truth was, if it saved just one life, then part of me could not regret it.
As for the part that did… well, at least that proved there was still hope left. Today might have proven that the killer Jack wanted me to be already resided within, but accepting that part of my soul—becoming comfortable with it—was still a ways off yet.
And I had to be thankful for that. Had to cling to it, as fiercely as I could. It was my only hope.
Jack pushed upright with a thick groan. His face was gaunt, cheekbones prominent. A man in serious need of a good feed.
And the dark hunger gleamed in his eyes.
"Control it, boss," I said softly. Warily.
"If I wasn't, you'd be lunch rather than sitting there making stupid statements."
I grinned. "Good to see your sense of humor doesn't leave when the bloodlust rises."
"It will if you keep blathering. Get your butt home, and get some rest, Riley. I'll finish off matters here."
My gaze slid to the body on the floor—to the dark pool of blood beginning to thicken near her body.
Knew it wouldn't go to waste.
I shuddered, and got the hell out of there.
Four hours sleep was never going to be enough, so when the alarm went off at six it was damn lucky it wasn't flung across the room. But the natural irritability that came with lack of sleep increased tenfold when I realized I wasn't alone in my bedroom.
And the warm sandalwood scent told me who it was.
I rolled onto my side. Quinn sat near the window, surrounded in halo of fading sunshine, a dark silhouette of male perfection. Mother nature at her perverse best—for while the bod may be beautiful, the nature of the man left a hell of a lot to be desired.
Though I guess he'd probably say the same about me. And would probably be right.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to thank you," he said, voice soft and oh so sexy.
"For what?" I flung off the sheet and got out of bed. Quinn's gaze slid across my skin like liquid heat, and my hormones reacted accordingly.
"For doing what I could not. Capturing and containing Caelfind."
I picked up a T-shirt from the floor, gave it a sniff to check its freshness, then pulled it on. "We would have all saved time and effort if you'd been honest with us from the start."
"You don't understand—"
"No, I don't," I said, as I stomped out to get coffee. It wouldn't help put out the low-burning fire caused by both Quinn's presence and my own nature, but it sure couldn't hurt my grouchy mood. "There was nothing stopping you from telling me that night the priest made his appearance. Only your own ornery need to do everything your own way."
"There's the pot calling the kettle black," he muttered.
I shot him an annoyed look. Even though he was no longer surrounded by the blinding halo of sunlight, he still looked little more than a shadow because he was dressed from head to foot in black.
Even his dark eyes were shaded. Wary.
Some perverse part deep inside was mighty pleased about that. The other part, the part heated by the growing nearness of the full moon, just wanted to grab him and shag him senseless.
Because right now, the wolf within didn't really care about hurt or anger or anything else. Not when the moon fever was surging through my bloodstream. But once the full moon had come and gone, she would care. She would hurt, and she most certainly would regret having given in yet again.
I couldn't do it. I had to hold firm, no matter what.
Dammit, I had a wolf who cared for me. A wolf who didn't abuse my trust or my feelings. A wolf who longed for the same sort of future as I did.
That should be enough.
It was perverse—insane—to want more.
And yet, deep down, part of me did.
"Look," I said, my voice holding an edge of anger that was aimed more at myself than him, "if you're here to argue, you can just march right out of my apartment. I'm not in the mood right now."