Conquer the Highland Beast: The Vampire Dylan Macgregor (Hearts of Darkness) (12 page)

“Oh-my,” she murmured against his chest. “S-so th-that’s what all the fuss is about.”

“A-aye.” He struggled to catch his breath while he ran his palms up and down her back, occasionally cupping her perfect round ass. She was flawless in every way. “Allow me to see to your needs,” he insisted, rolling her to her back. “Stay still and rest.” The peaceful, contented look on her face indicated his words were a waste of time. She was spent and content just as he intended.

She didn’t move. Her arms remained outstretched, her legs splayed opened, and her head was thrown back where she’d landed. Her hair spread around her with one red lock resting across her face. He brushed the curl aside, suspecting she didn’t have the strength. He rose and walked to the creek to fetch water for her. When he returned, she had turned on her side and fallen asleep, naked under the warm blue sky. She looked like the fae she’d descended from.

As he kissed her awake, she rolled into his embrace, hiding her nakedness. Evie, the bold, had suddenly become Evie, the modest, and that wouldn’t do. “I need to clean you with water I brought from the
brook and then dry you with the cleansing cloths I keep for wounds.”

She shook her head but he insisted, “There’s no need to be embarrassed, Evie. It is my duty and honor to attend you for the gift you have bestowed upon me, lass.” He turned her onto her back and lifted her knees so he could wipe away the evidence of her virginity and their act of love from the insides of her thighs. While he cleaned her, he spoke of her rare beauty and she blushed to her hair roots.

As he finished up, he covered her with his tartan. Her skin was turning pink, and he wasn’t sure how much was embarrassment and how much was sun exposure. “We should get in the shade,” he said and held out a hand.

Evie took it and before she rose she said, “Thank you, Dylan…for this and for making my first time so
verra pleasurable. H-how…”

“Aye? How…what?”
             

“How soon can we do it again?”

Her eyes opened wide as she watched the effect her question had on his shaft.

Dylan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Uh, I think we should wait until you are fully healed inside before trying again.”

“Aye, but are there other enjoyable pursuits we can practice until then?”

Her innocent question brought all sorts of ideas to mind, and his cock enthusiastically responded.

“We should go soak in the brook and think on it. The cooler water will be soothing.”

And
perhaps it would keep his erection under control.

Evie smiled and opened her thoughts. He saw what she had in mind for him and realized a glacier-filled river couldn’t put out the flames she ignited within him. He was doomed to be forever fighting for self-control around her.

Tracking Haruld

Traipsing through the forest on the MacMann lands, Dylan worried if this trip would end no differently than the others. When his scout returned with the news Haruld still occupied the keep, the rumors Dylan heard months back from Jamie proved to be true.

Leif sat beside Gareth and sharpened his sword. “When do you think we should attack, Da?”

“Before dawn tomorrow.” Gareth looked at Dylan for approval. “It is only fitting.”

They’d finally tracked down the uncle who’d killed those Dylan loved and held most
dear. At sunup, the day before his twenty-first birthday, Dylan vowed to return the favor.

The day he’d awaited for so long came with a downpour. The heavy rain turned the trails into mud as his men approached from the
east to the valley. They’d camped there to finalize the attack against Haruld.

With Jamie’s help, he and his men followed the underground passage into the keep. Once inside the fortress, using the benefit of surprise, securing it was easier than he expected.

It didn’t hurt that some of the servants and villagers recognized Jamie MacMann and came to Dylan’s aid to overthrow Haruld and his men. Most of the poor, attacked with farm tools, but the numbers helped.

Within minutes of entering the castle, Dylan tracked down his uncle in the master’s bedroom, trying to collect his treasures. While his men battled in the hallways and death rained down all around, Dylan held Haruld captive at the top of the balcony with the tip of the Macgregor sword to his throat.

“I recommend you do not breathe let alone move, or your death will come more quickly than even I expect.”

Haruld cursed and muttered threats beneath his breath as Dylan forced him downstairs and outside to watch the men battle until the last of the screams silenced. Quiet descended, and all that remained were the man’s violent curses.

Dylan narrowed his eyes as the last of the dead were burned to ash and allowed his anger to seethe with the memories. Before he took his uncle’s life, he wanted to spare a moment to reveal his true nature.

He drew Haruld’s attention by pointing the berserker sword back in his direction. He allowed his eyes to turn from sea green to the color of molten churning lava. His muscles filled with blood and power, growing larger before his uncle’s startled glare.

“You? The measly runt of your father’s loins? You inherited the legacy of the berserker line?”

“Aye, and something else as well, Haruld.” Dylan stepped closer to whisper the secret he kept. “My mother was not a mere Druid witch. She was a Halfling who gave up her fae power to be with my father. Though she’d been stripped of most of her powers when she left the fae kingdom, she did leave me with this one simple gift, dear uncle...”

Their eyes met and Dylan released his dark fae magic sending his thoughts deep into Haruld’s mind, sharing the horror, fear, and pain he’d suffered that fateful night as a little child. Dylan allowed madness to fill his uncle’s mind until the pain scrambled the other man’s brain. Finally, when Haruld had been reduced to a sobbing wretch, Dylan broke the connection to speak above the other man’s terrified screams.

“Release him.” Dylan ordered the men to untie him and Haruld’s eyes bulged. Glancing quickly all around, he appeared wary once the ropes were cut, and he stood alone before Dylan.

“Take the dagger out, Haruld and arm yourself, man.” Dylan pointed to the dagger that had once belonged to his father—the one in the leather sheath hidden inside Harlud’s stocking. Dylan brought his powerful fists up and flexed his hands.

Unsheathing the huge, spectacular broadsword at his back, he pointed it at the Macgregor dagger in his uncle’s sheath.

Haruld squinted his eyes to take in the details on the sword’s hilt and screamed, “The Macgregor Sword. Where did you find it? It’s been missing for half a century.”

“Nay. On his
death bed, your father, my grandfather instructed my father to hold it in secret for me. I’ve kept it hidden and safe since, as instructed.” Dylan smiled.

Haruld looked even more crazed, but took the opportunity to pull the dagger free and step back as soon as Dylan’s men released their hold on him.

“Now, I believe yer holding somethin’ which belongs to me,” Dylan said.

Haruld lunged at Dylan quick as a cat, but with one hand and a
quick swipe, Dylan took back what was rightfully his. The dagger dropped to the ground with Haruld’s right hand.

Haruld screamed and rocked back and forth holding the stump to his body. “Crazy witch and her spawn.”

“No witch! A fae princess capable of dark or light magic, and I am the spawn of her lover—the man who passed on his father’s berserker rage to me.

“I should have let them have you.” He spat on the ground. Haruld bent, clutching his arm tighter and sneered. “After you blacked out, I ordered my men to leave you be.”

“You made a mistake, Haruld. You thought I was dead. You should have made sure of it.”

“This is the thanks I get. I kept you from being violated.”

“Really? I felt violated, nonetheless.” Dylan let the smile on his lips linger and quietly asked, “And what of my mother, or the lives of my father and brothers? The people who lived within my village? What of them, Haruld?”

Visions of that night flashed before his eyes, memories too vile to bear. He closed his eyes and let the rage take him. “What about my SISTER?” he roared.

“Didn’t ye hear me? I stopped my men from misusing you, boy.” Haruld’s last word ended in a high-pitched scream. “You owe ME!”

“Aye.” Dylan sneered at the man with disgust. “I do.”

Haruld was correct. Dylan did owe him, and he was going to repay him with more generosity than he deserved. Dylan raised his sword and brought it down quickly, beheading his bastard uncle.

After he gutted the body, he left it behind as carrion. “Do not touch him or his things,” he commanded his men, pointing his sword at them all. “Leave him to rot.”

The debt had been settled to Dylan’s satisfaction. The men could keep anything else of value and sell what remained of Haruld’s men into slavery. Their families wouldn’t fare well, but it would be a better fate than his had been at Haruld’s hands. Still, something didn’t sit well with Dylan. The innocent shouldn’t suffer for the sins of men.

He’d think on it later.

After the Battle

“You all right, lad?” Gareth asked later that night and clapped Dylan on the back. He tried to return his cousin’s smile, but Gareth noticed his reticence and forced him to meet his gaze.

“Aye.” Dylan, empty and void of feeling, stared upon his uncle’s carcass. The elation he expected after taking his revenge never surfaced. Instead, the death sat like a rock in the pit of his stomach. “The moment is not as I expected,” he squirmed beneath Gareth’s scrutiny.

“Ach, lad, it never is.” Gareth poked him in the chest. “Now is time for you to think to the future, to restoring your own keep, and to the woman you will wed.”

Dylan let the vision of the peaceful future fill him with hope and pleasure. The first he could ever remember feeling in all the recent years. He forced a smile. “It’s an excellent picture you’ve painted for me, Gareth.”

“Then, are you ready for a celebration?”

“Aye. I believe I am.”

“I’ll find the cellars while you round up every able bodied man in the area and ask them to join us. That should make the men and the villagers happy, and you a verra popular laird in no time.”

Dylan shook off his feelings of regret and nodded. “A sound idea, cousin. Let Jamie proclaim it. The keep is his.”

“Are you sure, Dylan? You’re entitled.”

“What need have I of this keep, when I must repair Benocght and bring back the fields and animals for my own people? I must find a way to earn gold to restore my island. Jamie has advisors, and his lands are intact. He will fare well.”

“Aye, you have a point, lad.” He pounded Dylan again. “Don’t hesitate to ask for my help, lad. Aedithe and I love you and that lassie you are to marry as if you were our own.”

Dylan grabbed the man into a tight bear hug. “Gareth, the
feelin’s are returned on both our parts. Have no doubt, we appreciate how you cared for us and have helped us reach this day.”

Two months later

The clans’ homecoming was met with jubilation, and the news of Dylan’s success traveled ahead of them. Although he managed to keep a smile on his face for the sake of his men, Dylan felt none of the exhilaration that should have been a part of his victory. As he rode into Gareth’s keep, the women came to greet their men—tears in some eyes when they spotted the wounded. Although he hadn’t lost any men, there were many injuries. Fortunately, the MacMann keep boasted one of the best healers in the country and the injured fared well.

He rode on and searched the crowds looking for Evie. When he finally noticed her in the back, looking brilliant in her emerald green dress with all that light shining from her soul, he ached for her tenderness and the peace her light would bring to his restless nature. With the darkness surrounding him, the simple light had little to no effect on him. He would need her more personal light to heal his soul.

His cousin’s gaze met his when Dylan turned his attention back to his men. Alongside him, he felt Leif bristle. “Yer eyes are black, Dylan. Do not go to her.”

The accusation in Leif’s expression was clear. He had been right all along about Dylan’s soul. It was dark and growing darker each day, along with his inability to care for anyone. His berserker nature needed the killing to survive and it wasn’t fair to Evie to keep seeking her light after every battle.

He’d promised to love her, but he couldn’t any longer. He could not stay. Nor could he bear to lose her. She deserved more—the love of a husband she wanted, the children she craved, and the family she’d lost.

He pressed his knees to move his horse forward. “We will celebrate on the morrow. Tonight we will rest.” Dylan stared back at Leif and realized he could give her all of that, and yet even knowing the way she and Leif cared for each other wasn’t enough to cause Dylan guilt or regret.

He dismounted and handed his horse’s reins to Leif’s youngest brother, sparing one dark glance over his shoulder in warning to Leif.

He reached out for Evie. She was Dylan’s and he would keep her. Damn the man’s eyes! He took her hand roughly and began to pull her.

When she winced, Leif risked shouting his name, bringing Dylan back from the edge with a quiet reminder, “Dylan…have a care.”

The man knew his mind better than he knew it himself. Dylan wanted to be gentle, but the berserker within him hadn’t released him since before the first battle.

He picked Evie up and carried her to his room in order to keep from accidently harming her. He wondered if she could see his darkness growing within him. “Come with me lass, the deed is done, and I have need of you.”

“Thank you for fulfilling your promise.” She reached out and cupped his face in her hand. She tried to soothe him with her touch and her empathic gift. “What worries you, Dylan?”

“The lingering bitterness and the fact that revenge brings no satisfaction is a hard lesson, Evie. The retribution I sought eludes me,” Dylan admitted. The revenge had left him cold and empty. Guilty.

“Did you kill his children?”

“Nay. But there were casualties during the battle. We sold Haruld’s surviving men and any family they brought with them into slavery. The master who bought them is a kind man and assured us they would be well looked after. Most of Haruld’s men still live, and I gave the victory to Jaimie MacMann. He’ll take back his father’s clan and keep everyone together.

“Then what troubles you?”

Protecting the downtrodden wasn’t enough for Dylan anymore. The cost of his revenge had inadvertently caused the blood of innocents to be spilled. The guilt stained his heart and haunted his mind. He could keep that much from her, but not the truth about their former home.

“We can’t return to Benocght Castle. The keep has suffered the ravages of time. Too much
pillaging, and too many villagers have died for our home to thrive. The fields lie fallow and the villagers who remain are too poor to support the keep. The animals are gone, the crops are scarce, and able-bodied men are off looking for work elsewhere. The island is wasting away.”

“What will we do?”

“When Haruld returned there last spring, he stripped the people of everything. You would be wise to remain here until I can earn my fortune and return with it.”

“I don’t mind returning and working with the others to bring Benocght back to its former glory.” She had assumed her stubborn look, and Dylan braced for an argument.

“It may not be possible, yet. I have requests for my services and men who will aid me. There are many wealthy men who will pay for my sword arm.” He scrubbed a hand across his mouth and clenched his jaw. “I must go.”

“I’ve missed you. I need you. What of our handfasting?” She gripped his arm tightly. “You just returned—”

“If you want to be released from the handfasting, I’ll understand,” he whispered.

“Is there someone else?” She appeared stricken, staring out at the waves.

He looked at her and wondered the same thing—knew for a fact—there was. Leif.

She turned and placed her hand above his heart. “Here?” Her small hand looked so delicate against his chest. So fragile. Almost as fragile as the lives of all those he needed to save—as fragile as his tenuous relationship with her. Was it love or their fae heritage that drew them together? Was Dylan even capable of releasing her to Leif if he believed he was a danger to her well-being? He’d been lost in thought as he studied her alabaster skin.

“Dylan?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

He lifted her hand to his lips and savored the feel of her soft skin
and the lavender scent before he tried to answer her question. It would be easier if he could open his mind to her and allow her to see the truth of it, but he wouldn’t chance endangering her with the darkness. Instead, he released a ragged sigh and looked deep into her eyes. He took a moment and repeated her question, “Another?” He shook his head before he answered, and clasped her hand to his heart. “No. No one.” There was no other, just the battle.

Just the dark…

A smile slowly brightened her face, but Evie wasn’t fooled easily by his words. He watched her eyes flicker with knowledge before she glanced aside. Her eyes saw more than he could hide.

No, perhaps there was no one in his heart but her, yet that heart was growing blacker each day, and he couldn’t bear to think he was defiling her fae light with his darkness.

“Then come. I’ll bathe you and take you to bed, Dylan. We’ll figure out what’s to be done with Benocght in the morning.”