Haunting Desire (20 page)

Savage fury filled Tiarnan and blazed within his belly. He saw nothing but Paidric’s twisted face as he hurled his ax. In the same swift move, he wrenched the sword from the grasp of the man pinned behind him, flipped the angle, and brought it hard and back, impaling the man against the tree. The sound of the blade piercing flesh,
thunking
into the hard wood on the other side, fanned the flames in Tiarnan until it seemed they lifted him, bringing him higher, skewing his perspective. He yanked the blade free and faced his attackers with a howl of vengeance.

The ax had found its mark and stuck, handle still quivering from Paidric’s skull. Running at the clot of Cathán’s soldiers, Tiarnan wrenched his ax free and started swinging, weapon in each hand. He’d mowed down five men before they’d had the chance to see what was coming. Their blood sprayed in a wild storm as severed heads and chopped limbs littered the ground. Those who’d been chasing the stranger with his satchel and queer collar stopped at the screams of their comrades and came to their aid. Tiarnan welcomed them into his wrath.

He seemed to tower over them, his ire lifting him higher. The others tilted their heads back, mouths open as they stared at him in horror. He didn’t give them the chance to act on the impulse to run. No sooner had their terror made its way to their feet than Tiarnan was on them, blades flashing as he leaped over corpses to hunt them down. His sword became an extension of his arm, his ax a part of his hand. He swung both with all his might and zeal, heedless of the glancing blows the lucky ones managed before he killed them. He took down men with one swipe, killing them before their screams could leave their lips. Their blood showered him and he reveled in it, each drop a tribute to his own slain people.

He fought tirelessly, indomitably, violently until finally he reached the last enemy, whom he trapped on the forest floor with a pounce and a triumphant shout that echoed among the trees, sending birds to flight in a burst of black wings.

“Tiarnan!”

He heard his name, but the white-hot frenzy in his brain would not respond. The man beneath him was screaming, and the sound flowed with Tiarnan’s blood, making it faster, hotter, more potent. He wanted more screams. He wanted more terror. He wanted to take this man apart piece by piece until his agony matched that which lived in Tiarnan’s heart every day.

His name again, called more urgently as men crashed through the bushes and at him.

Tiarnan clamped his hand around his prey’s throat and then rose, dragging the man to his feet as he choked and gasped for air. Tiarnan swung, ready to slash his blade at the newcomers, ready to cut them to pieces and bathe in their blood. He swiped at his eyes, knowing he was already red with the gore of his victims. Wanting more of it.

He threw back his head and bellowed to the sky, to the gods, to the cursed land.

“
TIARNAN!”

This time his name pushed against some sense of awareness buried so deep within him that it now struggled to surface. There were three men standing in a semicircle in front of him, each with his hands out in a placating gesture. They were armed, but not brandishing weapons. Tiarnan snarled, snapping his teeth as he looked down on them. They seemed so small, so puny. So ready to die.

The man whose throat he gripped struggled, holding on to Tiarnan’s arm with both of his hands as his feet scuttled above the ground.

“Tiarnan, that’s it, look at me,” the dark-skinned man standing in front of him was saying, and a tickle of recognition hit Tiarnan’s thoughts. “That’s right, T. It’s me, Jamie.”

The man took a step forward as he spoke, and Tiarnan snarled again ready to leap. It felt as if every hair on his body stood on end and the air around him shivered with the storm of his passion.

The man named Jamie froze, hands still raised with palms out. “It’s me, T. You know me. You know me.”

He said it over and over until finally the voice penetrated the thick and vicious storm that held him.
Jamie.
The dark man was Jamie. Tiarnan shifted his gaze to the one next to him.

“That’s right,” Jamie went on in that crooning, soothing tone. “That’s Reyes. You know Reyes. He’s your friend. Zac is your friend. I’m your friend.”

Tiarnan sucked in a harsh breath, suddenly enraged once more. He had no friends. No people. Nothing but this bloodlust that enveloped him.

He jerked the hand that still held his captive. Roared into the man’s terrified and purpling face.

“We need him, T,” Jamie said. “We need to question him. Don’t kill him.”

But Tiarnan couldn’t process so many words. All he knew was that this man had threatened him. Threatened someone else . . . someone . . . The image of a woman filled his head, her skin golden in the firelight, stripped and beautiful beyond anything he’d ever beheld as she straddled his hips, wrapped him in the blistering tight heat of her body. This man had threatened
her
.

It filled him, eviscerated him, devoured the last human thought until all he felt was threat and the need to destroy it. The ax hit the dirt at his feet as he spiraled down to something more primitive than weapons and how to use them. With his hands, he brought the man up and around until he held him eye to eye.

The purpling face screamed at him, but Tiarnan couldn’t hear it. He covered the face with one hand, crushing the bones with his fingers as the other hand tightened until he felt the cartilage splinter and the last breath cease.

Only then did he drop the ruined body. Only then did he draw a breath that didn’t sear his throat. The hazy feral wave eased just a bit and Tiarnan saw his hands, enormous and bloody. He held them up to his face, seeing the familiar scars, the lines of his palm, the shape of his fingers. Yes, they were his hands and yet . . .

“Fuck,” Jamie said. He turned to the man standing beside him and asked, “Did you see any others? Did any get away?”

“No man, I don’t think anyone could. . . .”

They all looked at Tiarnan again. He stared back at them through his spread fingers, now truly recognizing who they were.
Jamie, Reyes, and Zac.
He felt a dull ache in his skull, a throbbing that seemed to come from a great distance as he stared down at them. They seemed so far away.

“T, you with us?” Reyes was asking. He took a step forward.

“Stay back, Reyes. He’ll kill you.”

Kill Reyes?
Why would he do that? He cocked his head, looking at the three of them. They were closer now and that relieved him, but he couldn’t say why. The throbbing increased, pounding like a hammer in his head.

“Nah, check out his eyes. He’s coming back.”

Coming back. From where?
He turned to Jamie again, finding that he didn’t have to look down anymore. The other man stood at eye level, but his face was set into a mask that Tiarnan couldn’t read. Scattered on the ground all around them were bloody bodies, some hacked to pieces, others cleanly killed. Something had happened here. Something had . . .

A movement came from behind the three men, and Tiarnan tensed, felt that savage beast inside him rear, but it no longer had the strength to bare its teeth. Zac reacted first, pulling his weapon and spinning to find the man dressed in black and white with his satchel standing behind him. He had his hands clasped on top of his head and he went to his knees in instant submission. He fastened his terrified gaze on Tiarnan and something in his expression rocked Tiarnan back. Did he know this man?

“Who are y’?” Tiarnan managed to ask, but his voice sounded gruff, pitched so deep it barely seemed human. His vision swam, and he braced himself against a tree and then tried again. “Who are y’?”

“My name’s Mahon. I’m Kyle Mahon,” the man answered. “And you would be Tiarnan of the Favored Lands.”

The old title from a time and place that seemed another lifetime wiped the last vestiges of rage from Tiarnan’s mind. But before he could form a response, before he could ask this Kyle Mahon any of the tumult of questions he had, there came a scream that split the forest like a scythe.

It was Shealy, and before the echo ended, Tiarnan began to run toward the terrified sound.

L
IAM carried Ellie as he set a brisk pace through the tangle of woods and away from the men and whatever conflict awaited them. She knew the young man would rather be back fighting at his brother’s side than escorting a woman and a child, but he didn’t say it. Only the tension that stiffened his shoulders when a shout echoed in the thick foliage betrayed him. Both of them strained to hear something more, to know what was happening with Tiarnan, but the farther they moved away, the quieter it became.

Shealy did her best to keep up with Liam or at least to not slow him down, but it was hard to focus on what was ahead when she didn’t know exactly what she’d left behind. Who had Jamie seen in the woods? There were too many enemies to count in this place, and it could have been anyone from Cathán himself to the mysterious Druid that Tiarnan had told her about. At least Jamie said he’d seen men approaching and not another creature. She couldn’t imagine facing one of those again. Still, even if it was
only
men, they’d be greatly outnumbered. She couldn’t help but be afraid for them.

“Yer all right there, Leary?” Liam asked as he began to climb.

She shook her head at his teasing tone and use of Leary—a nickname that seemed to be sticking.

“I’m okay,” she answered, but her legs cramped and she had a hitch in her side that felt deadly. She was hopelessly out of shape and all the running and the climbing she’d done in the past two days made every muscle and joint ache.

The trees had thinned without her noticing and Shealy saw that they’d entered a rocky area that rose steadily up. Were they near the cliffs where the wolves had caught them? The landscape appeared similar, and yet the hills didn’t peak so high and she couldn’t hear the sea. The air had a different feel to it, more arid and scented of rich dust and earth, not fish and salt. Up ahead she saw three stones balanced one on top of the other.

Liam skimmed across the treacherous terrain without thought to where he should put each foot, but Shealy had to focus on every step or risk slipping and ending up flat on her ass . . . or her face. Neither scenario held much appeal. They’d just reached the balanced stones when suddenly Liam stopped and held out a hand to steady her as she drew up beside him.

He hushed her with a finger to his lips in a gesture that made him look exactly like his brother even though their physical resemblances were few. His expression, his bearing, his intensity had Tiarnan written all over them.

He pointed to an area below, and Shealy crept up to the boulder blocking the way and looked down. A man on horseback appeared to be giving orders to others she couldn’t see from her position.

Two men held a woman between them who kicked and fought as they kept her prisoner.

Instinctively, Shealy moved forward, thinking only that the woman needed help. That if not for Tiarnan, she herself might have been in the same situation.
Captive.
Liam jerked her down just as the men below glanced up. Heart pounding, she waited in silence, wondering if they’d seen her, waiting to be discovered. The moments stretched, cranking the tension in the air into something unbearable, but no one investigated, no sound of footsteps climbing reached them.

After what seemed ages, she whispered to Liam, “Do you think it’s safe now?”

Cautiously he inched up and looked. “They’re leaving,” he murmured.

Shealy peered over the rocks again just in time to see the men riding away, taking their prisoner with them. The sun was in her eyes and she couldn’t tell much about the riders, but if they were Cathán’s men . . .

“Aren’t we going to do something?” Shealy asked.

“What would y’ have us do? I want to help the girl, too, but Tiarnan told me to watch over y’. I’d be putting all of y’ in danger if I charged down there.”

“I know, but . . .”

“As soon as the others join us, we’ll go,” Liam said.

“Maybe we should follow them, though. Maybe they’ll lead us to my dad.”

Liam nodded, seeing the logic in what she said, and she could see the argument waging behind his eyes. Then he looked from Shealy to her sister, who sat quietly between. “We cannot risk it. If something were to happen to either of y’ . . .”

Shealy wouldn’t win this fight. Looking at Ellie, she knew Liam was right. If something happened to them, both Tiarnan and Liam would hold themselves responsible. She’d seen the heavy weight Tiarnan already carried. Adding to it was not an option.

Quietly, Liam led them to a spot close to the trio of balanced stones, where a smooth platform offered a place to wait, concealed from anyone below. He lowered himself down and Shealy sat next to him, taking Ellie from his arms once she’d settled. He’d carried her a long way and his fingers must be all but numb by now, but like his older brother, Liam didn’t complain.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” she asked Ellie.

Her little sister hadn’t spoken a single word since shouting “
No”
at the monsters when Shealy had scooped her up from the carnage, but her bright eyes followed every movement. Shealy was certain that she understood what went on around her.

“She’ll come around and start talking again,” Liam said, reaching into his pack and pulling out some dried meat and a hunk of bread. Unwrapping the offerings, he shared them with Ellie and Shealy before taking some himself.

“I wasn’t sure if she knew how yet. I don’t know how old she is . . . if she’s too young.”

“Well, half the time y’ have to guess what she’s saying, but she talks. Yer mother used to tell her stories. Tell us all, truth be told. She had a gift.”

Shealy swallowed hard, remembering that about her mother. She could weave a trip to the market into a tale of excitement and intrigue.