Rowena's Revenge (Broadus Supernatural Society) (16 page)

His eyes burn bright orange as he looks around me, waving
the hand that isn’t around my throat behind him into the woods and blurry,
black figures sweep by me; a horrid, decaying scent fills the air and I know
they are Ghouls going after my mates. I scream out to warn them, but it’s cut
off as his finger close around my windpipe, making me cough, and I dig my
fingers into his hand.

I want this mother fucker to let me go, and I kick at him
with all the strength left in me as he lifts me off the ground. I hear fighting
ensuing behind me, the clang of Penton’s sword striking bone and the hair
raising growl of Blaine in Berserker form making my leopard hiss in need to
fight with them; to help defend them.

“Show me your flames,” he yells, his spit landing on my
cheeks as he grinds his teeth in anger. No way am I letting this asshole try
and suck the life from me again, and I spit right in his tattoo surrounded eye.
His nails dig into my throat and I scratch at his arm, clawing away as my
flames start to spark my leopard to life and my nails elongate into claws.
“Show me.
Your
.
Flames!”

He growls the last word, pressing his lips to mine hard as
more howls fill the air. The breeze picks up and the scent of wolves, lots of
them, wafts around me.
Cearbhall’s
tongue licks my
lips before his teeth bite down hard, breaking the skin and making me cry out
against his mouth as I slap his face and neck, scratching when I can gain the
strength as I feel the pull of his magic on mine.

“You took me away from him once,” I cry, slapping him
repeatedly, “but I’ll get my revenge, for Helen and I, and you will die. Even
if I’m not the one to kill you; you’ll die today.”

Something hairy, moving at the speed of a freight train
crashes into us, forcing
Cearbhall
to release me and
I fall into a bare rose bush; the thorns cutting into the still open wounds I
suffered in the car wreck. I can barely lift my head, but as I roll onto my
side and into the snow, I watch as Blaine’s black Berserker form lurks over a
stammering and scrambling
Cearbhall
.

I see the spark of flame appear in
Cearbhall’s
palm and I reach out for Blaine, wrapping my hand around a small tree trunk to
drag myself through the snow, calling his name. “Blaine! No!” I scream and he
turns, bathing me in the hazel glow of his eyes, his snout covered in blood of
the Ghouls and his teeth bared in anger. He looks over me for only a second
before scooping me up and tossing me farther away into the trees.

His howl of pain echoes on the wind as I land in a deep
drift of snow and I feel the deep burn in my chest, radiating over my skin. It
joins the other pain from the deep gashes and small cuts all over my skin and I
scream out, grabbing at the snow to try and drag myself back. My mates need me.

Taking a handful of snow, I drag it across my face to wipe
away the blood so I can see. Before me is a war; Werewolves, Berserkers, and
shifters of all kinds are fighting the Ghouls, blood staining the snow all over
the small patch of trees and the road. Roars, howls, and yells fill the air.
The silver of Penton’s sword glints in the meager sun as I see him go after
Cearbhall
, dodging the thrown fireballs with amazing
agility.

Grabbing onto the first stable thing I see, I pull myself
along in the snow until I have the strength to get to my knees. My left leg
still vibrates with pain and I can see my pant leg is soaked in blood, but I
keep going, shuffling on my hands and knees around the trees back to help my
mates. Penton’s sword is flashing in fast strong strokes as I get to Blaine’s
side, reaching out for his vibrating form as it fights to stay in Berserker
form through the pain of the softball size scorch mark on his chest.

I grab his hand, tangling our fingers and hoping he feels
the power from my flames I am trying to send him. His grip relaxes only a
second later. The rapid vibration and stir of his wolf settles and he shifts
back to human form, his breathing labored.
Cearbhall’s
laugh fills the air, making the hair on my arms stand on end and my leopard
hisses when his orange stare falls on me.

Penton’s sword is through the Warlock’s chest, and he is
just standing there laughing as my astonished mate staggers back, his eyes wide
and his mouth agape. His long, bony fingers wrap around the handle and he
slowly pulls it from his body; no blood or remnants staining the blade.

“You fool,” he chuckles, tossing the blade aside. “As I told
your kitty; the only way to kill me is if you die by the hand of a loved one. I
live because of the dark magic still burning within you. Your bloodline gave
birth to what I am, and it is only when it is totally eradicated that I die,
but that will never
happen
.”

I can hear the thought roll through Penton’s mind and I cry
out to him, gaining his attention. “You can’t, Penton.” His eyes meet mine and
I can see the vision of him taking his own life flash through, bringing tears
to my eyes. “No,” I cry, shaking my head at him as he picks up his sword.

“I have to,” he says, and it’s like everything is in slow
motion.

Cearbhall’s
magic blasts into his
back and he falls to his knees, grunting in pain just as a black Werewolf leaps
over him, taking the Warlock down to the snow. The green eyed wolf snaps his
jaw, baring his teeth and drags his claws along
Cearbhall’s
chest, ripping his clothes and tearing into his flesh. The flames spark in his
palms again and a wave of regret hits me, flowing from my Berserker; who
releases my hand.

Turning, I see Blaine is on his feet, already over by the
kneeling and reeling from pain Penton, the silver blade in B’s closed fist. He
can’t. He won’t. My head starts to shake wildly on its own and I try to get to
my feet as everything seems to freeze. I can feel the eyes on my mates.

“No,” I try to scream, but all that comes out is a cry as I
try to get up; try to get to them to stop this craziness.

“I’m sorry, Row,” Blaine says, looking right at me with a
sadness that breaks my heart. “I’m sorry, Brother,” he whispers to Penton,
getting a nod in return before bringing the blade down, driving it through the
top of Penton’s back and out through his chest.

I can’t breathe. My heart has stopped beating and I’m
gasping for air.

He doesn’t cry out or yell, he just grunts, grabbing for
Blaine’s hand and squeezing it while I’m dying. I see Blaine clutch his chest,
kneeling as Penton falls into his lap. I feel every struggling heartbeat. I
feel every ripple of pain.

I’m screaming, but I’m outside of my body. I can see
everything; the entire scene. Blood covers absolutely everything and no one is
moving. Pieces of Ghouls are littering the road and snow as wolves and shifters
change back to their human forms. There are even vampires mixed in this motley
crew. They are all standing there, watching one of my mates gasp his last
breath as my other holds him.

Do something!
I scream at all of them, but no one
reacts. No one even turns, and the anger, fear, pain, and loss
rips
through my chest. I scream with all of my might until
there is no longer a sound coming out and I’m close to passing out. My flames
burst to life, raging over my skin and melting the snow around me as my pain
fuels them.

They die out as I start to feel weak. I feel like tearing
open my chest and pulling my heart out would be the only way to feel any relief
from the pressure building, squeezing my soul, reminding me that there is now a
missing piece.

A sharp, vibrating pain brings me back to reality and I’m
lying on my side in the slightly melted snow, screaming wildly as I thrash
around. My arms and legs are flailing, slamming into the ground. Tears stream
down my cheeks endlessly as the blood mingles with them from the still gushing
gash on my head. Arms wrap around me and B’s earthy scent surrounds me. I hit
and slap at his chest, letting my short human nails dig into him as voices
whisper around us.

“How could you?” I scream, beating my fists on his chest and
shoulders as I feel him lift me from the snow. I don’t want him to touch me,
but he pulls me close, holding me so tight that it hurts, and I feel the sobs
run through his chest. Turning my face up to him, I see the tears filling his
blood and dirt covered face. “How could you?” I whimper.

“It had to be done,” he chokes and I sense people standing
around us. The familiar cinnamon scent surrounds me, and I sink my head onto
B’s shoulder, letting the nausea, dizziness, and loss I just suffered wash over
me. Before I slip off and give into the dark recess of my mind, I hear B issue
a sobbing, “I’m so sorry, Row. I’m so fucking sorry.”

So am I, Blaine.

The hole in my chest, where my heart was less than ten
minutes ago, burns with anger and sorrow, but not toward you; no, not toward
you. I don’t hate you. I hate myself, I hate
Cearbhall
,
and I hate that fucking bitch named Fate.

Blaine

February 14, 2017

Fuck, I hate this. My life, her life, is a living hell now
because of what I did. I killed Penton; her mate, my ‘brother’. I fucking
killed him.

The pain still lingers in my chest at the spot where the sword
protruded from his chest, but he never cried out. He begged me to do it as he
knelt in pain from
Cearbhall’s
fire ball at his back;
he fucking begged me. As I sit at this fine, hand carved table in the kitchen
of the cabin he had the Pack build while he was bringing us here, I can still
hear his words running through my mind.

Please, brother, please do it. Hurry! I can’t have him
take her from me, from you, again. This needs to end, and it needs to end now.
Please, brother, do it for her,
he said as the fighting ensued around us,
and I knew he was right. He had said something before about how he hated that
the dark magic of his bloodline still lingered within him and he wished there
could be a way to get rid of it. But I didn’t think it would be like this.

Now my heart is broken for my mourning mate. Rowena has
barely gotten out of bed since that day. She just lays there, staring at the
ceiling or out the window facing the pond down below near the tree line; the
same pond that sits behind her sister’s house, whom we live right beside. She
cries herself to sleep most nights, and then wakes up to cry some more during
the night.

I haven’t dared more than just to hold her since then,
because I can feel that she wants nothing to do with me romantically or sexually
right now. Most of the time when she speaks to me, which isn’t often, it’s just
to ask why?

Why did I do it? How could I? Most of the time I know I
can’t give her a good enough answer, so I just walk away, which I know only
makes it worse. We need to talk to get through this, but when I try, nothing
that I deem worthy ever comes out, so I just don’t bother.

Her sister, Siofra, has been by to visit every day, bringing
her lunch while I work at the auto shop in town with her husband and mates,
Conall, Abe, and Dyson, along with a few other Pack members. Siofra, or as
everyone calls her, Fry, still holds out hope that Penton will come back, but I
just ignore her when she starts talking that nonsense.

I killed him. I drove the sword through his chest and saw
his blood spill over his shirt. I felt the pain myself and cradled his head in
my lap as he gasped for breath. He’s not coming back from that. This ache in my
heart, and my depressed mate, are proof of that.

A slight knock raps on the front door and I put the rocks
glass of bourbon I’ve been milking down on the table and make it through the
quaint little living room to peek through the side window. Standing there on
the front porch is the tall as fuck, broad as hell,
I-think-he-might-be-able-to-snap-me-in-half, Shamus; Rowena’s father.

“What can I do for you?” I ask as I swing the door open,
ushering in the chill of the wind and the slight snow flurries blowing around.
The Druid smiles at me, nodding before stepping over the threshold and shaking
his shoulders of the snowflakes.

“Is my daughter feeling any better?” His voice is low, but
the Scottish twinge still lingers, flowing over the arm’s length between us. I
nod toward the slightly open bedroom door with the pitch black behind it, and I
see his eyes linger on it before he clears his throat. “Ah, well, are you
headed out to the Pack gathering tonight?”

“I don’t think so,” I mumble, remembering that tonight is a
full moon and the annual Pack Valentine’s party at the bar owned by Conall’s
family, and my wolf stands at attention, whining and ready to run in nature. He
wants me to shake off this funk, this hurt, but it’s easier said than done when
someone who has a piece of you dies. True, Penton was more attached to Rowena,
but that night when they bonded, the magic flowing between the two of them drew
me in too, all of us felt it.

“Ah, Lad, I think you should go. It would be good for your
wolf to run with the Pack.” Shamus runs a hand back through his long, half
black-half silver hair and then slaps me on the shoulder, the power and weight
behind it making me grunt slightly. “The lass will be fine if you go.” He nods
toward the bedroom again with a slight smile and it makes me wonder what is
going through the ancient man’s head.

“I can’t just leave her.” I shake my head, while waving him
away dismissively. Does he really think I’ll just up and leave my mate? Fuck
that. Scoffing, I walk across the room and grab my glass of bourbon, swirl it
around in the glass, and throw it back, my wolf growling in delight from its
warmth as the liquid slides down, seeming to radiate into my limbs.

“Like I said, Lad, she won’t be alone,” he says again,
sitting down in one of our dining chairs, making it creak and groan under his
weight. I shoot him a look, but he’s too busy staring at the bedroom door.

Does he hear something I can’t? Can he see something? “What
the hell are you looking at?” I ask, placing my glass back on the table with an
unintentional slam and the ice jumps around inside.

“I’m just remembering, Lad,” he says with a slight smile,
but I see the sadness in his eyes. The same white-blue eyes that Rowena has,
that Penton had.

“Yeah?
Rememberin
’
what?” I ask, and the sarcasm flows through my voice. Shamus raises his
eyebrow, but doesn’t look at me. He just chuckles and leans forward in his
seat, clasping his hands together over the table and knocking his knuckles
softly into the wood.

“I’m remembering the way Penton’s face lit up when he heard
his one true love was alive again. I’m remembering the way he couldn’t wait to
go to her, to see her, to touch her.” He pauses and the sadness I saw before,
it overflows and my wolf can feel it, making him recoil just a bit to keep the
hurt out. His knuckles tap a little harder on the table and his now worry
creased face looks up to me.

“I regret not being in her life when she was younger,
especially when she needed me. Hell, I did both of my girls wrong, but I’ve
tried to make up for it with Siofra. Hopefully, so far, I’ve succeeded, so I
need to make it right with Rowena, too.” He stands abruptly, coming over to
invade my personal space as his chest bumps mine. “Know that what you did was
right, but that some things are meant to be, and even the darkest of magic
can’t keep them apart.”

With that he’s gone, and by that I don’t mean he turns and
leaves out the front door, I mean he just plain disappears.
Poof,
gone.
The fucker does this all the time, and I’m left blinking like a
dumbass as my brain tries to register. My thinking is if you’re going to come
in the front door, leave out the front door. And what the hell was that he
said? Fuck, my brain is all in a jumble from the magic floating around, left
behind by his departure, and I throw my hand up around my face to try and
dissipate it.

“You should go,” the sweet, meeker than usual voice comes
from at my back and I spin, totally surprised to see Rowena standing in the
doorway of the bedroom, leaning on the frame.

Her hair is all a mess and my blood starts to pump as her
orange and clove scent reaches me, wrapping around every inch of my being and
calling to me, making my wolf issue a tiny growl of pleasure. But as I look her
over, I have to keep his whimper of distress in. Her eyes are bloodshot red
from crying, her nose and cheeks red to go along with it, and the purple and blue
bags under them attest to her not sleeping for at least the last week straight.
I want so much just to reach out and pull her into my chest and hold her, to
cradle her face into my shoulder and tell her it will be okay, but I get the
feeling she will just shy away from me.

I do reach my hand out and cup her cheek, pushing the stray
strands of her short, silver-white hair away as my thumb brushes her skin. Just
this meager touch sends my senses into hyper drive and my pulse rages, sending
the blood pumping to my groin as I curse myself. She leans into my touch
slightly, her eyes fluttering shut as her hand covers mine, but then she pulls
it away, cupping it in front of her as her eyes meet mine.

“You should go. Be with the Pack,” she says, her voice scratchy,
and I see the moisture building on her lashes. The tension running through her
is like an electrical current and I can feel that she doesn’t really want me to
leave, but she knows it is good and that my wolf is going stir crazy. “I’ll be
fine.”

“I don’t wanna leave you alone,” I whisper, squeezing her
fingers as she still holds my hand in front of her, swinging it slightly at the
hem of her tattered sleep shirt. The flannel is soft against the back of my
hand as she sweeps one hand up to brush the hair from her eyes and I wish in
that second that the flannel was the soft skin of her flat stomach and that we
were tangled in bed instead of standing here. A rush of desire thunders through
me again and I see a blush grace her skin. She feels it too.

“I’m not alone,” she adds, pushing the door open behind her
to reveal a regal looking woman with floor length orange hair standing at the
window, the moonlight bathing her and casting an eerie light on her white
dress. I have no idea who this woman is, but as she flashes me a perfect smile
a feeling of ease flows over me, and I somehow know that Row will be perfectly
fine if I leave her. I open my mouth to ask who, but Rowena stops me, waving
away my question and placing her hand on my chest. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Promise?”
I ask, raising my
eyebrow at her as her eyes meet mine.
Will we talk Row, or will I come home
to find you curled up in bed, sobbing, like so many nights and days before
this?
I say in my head, knowing that she can get my apprehension in a
heartbeat.

“I promise, B.” She gives me a half smile that fades all too
fast, and I cup her cheek again, pulling her from her leaning state on the
frame to only a whisper from me. Our bodies aren’t touching, but I’m close
enough for my body heat to sink into her skin. She sighs and, fuck me, it’s a
heaven sent sound.

“I’ll be back just after midnight. Call me if you need
anything, and I mean
anything
,” I emphasize my meaning, and she nods. I
want so much to pull her face to mine and claim her lips, but I feel the hurt
pumping through her with every beat of her heart so I just place my lips
tenderly on her forehead, wrapping my hands into her hair. I love her with
every cell of my being, and I press my lips a little firmer when her hands come
onto my forearms and I feel her relax. I put my nose on hers and whisper, “I
love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, and I kiss her cheek quickly.

There is a new lightness floating around this cabin as I
grab my jacket and pull it on, looking back to Row and seeing that woman at her
back with her arms over Row’s shoulders. That woman seems awfully happy, almost
too happy, and as I look into her white-blue eyes she winks at me, throwing me
off kilter completely.

“Be back later.” I nod to Row as I open the door, the chill
of the Montana wind biting at my face.

“I’ll be here.” She waves and there is nothing left to say.

Down the porch and crunching through the icy snow, I’m still
trying to shake the almost giddy feeling that the orange haired woman bathed me
in as I walk to my loaned Jeep. Who is she? She must be part of something to do
with Shamus with the white-blue eyes she has, but how does Row already know
her?

“Don’t worry about it,” I say to myself, slapping my hands
onto the steering wheel. “Rowena feels safe, you felt safe, your wolf felt
safe. Just focus on what Row wants you to get from this night; freedom and a
good workout. Then we’ll head home and talk with our mate.”

Before meeting Rowena and going through all of this, you’d
never hear me be excited about just taking with a woman. Hell, love does
strange things to people, but I’m fucking liking it so far.

~~~~~

Rowena

Watching Blaine walk through the snow to the Jeep is tearing
my heart out.
Again.

This is why I didn’t want to let either man into my heart in
the first place. Penton was ripped from my life, just to kill off some
psychopathic bastard, and now I’m going to leave Blaine alone in this life to
soldier on. I’m glad he’s leaving happy, though, with the hope of coming home
and seeing me heal lifting his mood. I’d hate to see his real reaction to what
he’ll come home to.

“You shouldn’t have such nasty thoughts, child,” Siobhan
chides sweetly from her position behind me, sitting in a rocking chair. All I
do is scowl out the window, tucking my hands into the pockets of my tattered
flannel night shirt and running my fingers over the cool blade of the knife I
have tucked away.

“Stay out of my head,” I hiss, letting a few tears slip out
over my lashes. I’ve been a ball of anger, sadness, and depression since that
day at the side of the road and I can’t live like this anymore. Maybe if I end
it, Blaine will have the chance to live his life with someone who can love him
back with her whole heart. He deserves so much more than the wounded me.

“You know nothing of what others deserve,” the musical,
light voice is right over my shoulder and it scares me. A hand sinks into my
pocket, yanking the knife from my grip before I can react, and as I spin to
face her, Siobhan holds the small switchblade up in front of her face, smiling
at it. “This will not be needed,” and with that, she sandwiches the blade
between her hands and it slowly disappears right before my eyes, making the
hurt and despair rear to life again.