MacRieve

FORTY-SEVEN

“Chloe, lass, stay with me! Stay awake.”

She was in a bed, felt like it was spinning. Her pain was worse, her nausea unbearable. She could barely process what she’d just heard.

MacRieve knelt beside her, clasping her hand in both of his. Before she’d passed out earlier, he had appeared crazed. Though he seemed more in control now, underneath he still seethed with something. “We’re at your aunt’s. In the Ubus Realm. We’re about to get you fixed up.”

In a bleary voice, she said, “I don’t have an aunt.”

He slid one hand under her head, gently lifting it so she could see two women standing at the foot of the bed. She recognized them from the wall at Glenrial! They were so beautiful; both looked to be about her age.

“You do now, love. This is your aunt Gisela”—he pointed out the black-haired one—“and your cousin Nieve,” he said, indicating the brunette.

“I-I have family?”

“By all accounts, it’s . . . extensive,” he replied, but she couldn’t read his tone. He didn’t sound disgusted. After what he’d told her earlier, he should hate all succubae.

“Um, hi,” Chloe murmured to them. She tried to wave, but couldn’t lift her arm.

“Rest easy,” Gisela said, and again Chloe was struck by how caringly these two looked at her. So far from malicious and evil. “You’re safe here. When you’re better, we’ll tell you all about Fiore and Webb.”

Had she really said Webb had considered killing his own daughter? Even more hazily, Chloe thought she’d heard that Fiore had died by his hand.

Gisela glided over to a counter, peering down at a shallow dish. “For now, you must concentrate on getting better.”

“I feel even worse. What’s wrong with me?”

“Good question,” MacRieve said. “We’re about to find out.”

Gisela gave a sidelong glance toward her daughter. “The odium curse.”

MacRieve swallowed audibly, his hands tightening on hers. “What does that mean?”

“She’s gravely ill. As I suspected, she’s . . . at a critical point.”

“Critical p-point,” Chloe said through another wave of shudders. “Dying?”

When Gisela didn’t deny it, MacRieve said, “Nay, I doona understand this! She’s no’ injured. She’s no’ wasting away.”

“No, she’s received nourishment,” Nieve snapped. Even in Chloe’s condition, she could tell Nieve didn’t like him. “Indeed, it’s poisoned her.”

He exhaled a shaky breath. “I knew it was me who caused this, but I doona know how.”

Nieve said simply, “Some part of you must’ve hated her.”

Given his history, of course MacRieve hated me.

Gisela frowned at her more blunt daughter, then said, “In the Lore, most powers are tempered with weaknesses. Yes, succubae—and even cambion—have the ability to bind a male to them with venom. That’s one of our powers. But the male must want that bond as well.”

“I doona understand.”

Makes two of us.

“The venom reverses itself if one of us was to mate an unwilling man more than once. Once might be forgiven, might be the difference between life and death. But after that, every time she takes from him, she’ll sicken in the same way males do after taking on venom.”

“That’s why she has the symptoms I had when bound to Ruelle.”

These women knew he’d been envenomed? Had they heard his earlier confession?

“Exactly. A male sickens from withdrawal, a succubus from excess. The odium curse prevents males from becoming enslaved by strew and envenomed against their will.”

“This dinna happen with Ruelle.”

Gisela cast him a pained look. “Because back then, you believed you loved her, did you not?”

A strangled sound rose from his chest. “So I poisoned Chloe.” He absently brought Chloe’s hand to his face, brushing it over his cheek.

Longing for his mate’s touch? She wanted to stroke his jaw, to tell him that everything would be okay. But she was too weak.

“Considering what you suffered, you were understandably averse to your mate,” Gisela said. Then she turned to Chloe. “The good news is that you’ll make a full recovery, if we act quickly. We have consorts here to help you, some who’ve proven most potent. Rest easy, niece, all you need is untainted nourishment.”

“Consorts?” Chloe looked at MacRieve. She didn’t want to sleep with another man; surely MacRieve would stop this!

His jaw slackened as Gisela’s words sank in. “You want me to sit back and allow another male to take my woman?” His head suddenly jerked as if he’d been slapped; probably his Instinct yelling at him.

She could imagine what it was saying right about now. —Fuck no.—

“It would be a great honor among the consorts here to mate Fiore’s daughter. Chloe could be well with her first taking. If not, then certainly by her second.”

Twice?

MacRieve shot to his feet, inserting himself between them and Chloe. “Have you lost your minds?”

Nieve said, “If you loved her, you’d do this for her. You’ve gotten her sick, and you’re too selfish to do what’s right. Think, wolf—if nothing’s changed, you’ll simply poison her again. She won’t survive it.”

Gisela said, “It would likely kill her.”

That gave Chloe pause. She didn’t want to die—partly because she didn’t want him to die. And after what he’d told her tonight, she couldn’t imagine him wholeheartedly, unreservedly having sex with her, taking on her venom. In a faint tone, she said, “MacRieve, I don’t want another man. But I don’t . . . I can’t take any more . . . poison. And I feel like . . . I only have so much time left on the clock.”

He turned back to the bed to gently cup her face. “Let me see you well. If this is how I keep you alive, then no man could be more willing. I will do anything to keep you.”

Nieve added, “Even if you’ve neutralized the hatred, your beast would kill her on the night of the full moon. She’s too weakened to withstand it.”

Chloe gazed away. Her bones still felt like they were shattering; what had been a pleasurable romp with his beast before would be torture now. “I can’t . . . too much.”

“Chloe, my beast will no’ rise. I know you have no reason to trust me in this, but I’m asking you to believe in me anyway.”

Gisela shook her head. “The moon is dawning even now. A mated Lykae can’t suppress his beast through sheer will alone. It’s simply not possible.”

He bared his teeth at her. “Just because it’s never been done before? Tonight, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“You gamble with her life.”

“First of all, it’s our lives. If she dies, I’ll follow her. Second of all, you’ve never seen a Lykae with more cause to be gentle with his mate.” As he tenderly collected her in his arms, he appeared haunted with regret.

What had happened when she’d been out?

“Mother, you’re not considering this?” Nieve’s hand landed on . . . a sword hilt? “Your brothers will be furious.” She moved to block the door.

“I believe your people owe me this,” MacRieve said. “I’m taking my mate home. Now, get out of the bluidy way.”

Undaunted, Nieve said, “Chloe needs to decide.” In a flash of movement, she unsheathed her sword, pointing it at him. “This is her life, her decision.”

“Aye. It is.” He drew Chloe close to his warm, bare chest, pressing her against his heart. When he gazed down at her, it sped up. His eyes were gold and filled with an emotion she’d never seen in him. “It’s no’ my responsibility to feed you—it’s my goddamned privilege. Let me do this.”

“But my venom. You’ll have to take it this time.”

“Listen to me, mo chridhe. I crave any bond with you, will scour this earth for more. I want my body bound to yours, my soul chained to yours. Any tie I can find, I’ll bind us even tighter. We’ll have marriage, bairns, a new line between us!” In a hoarse voice, he said, “I can do this. For us, I can. I’m pleading with you, lass. Believe in me . . . ?”