Chapter 41 Thorne
Once our little banshee is nothing except a trembling, spent mess.
I get her some clothes and watch as Braiden gets her dressed before I scoop her up and bring her into my room, laying her gently on my bed.
Her lashes flutter shut almost instantly, exhaustion pulling her under.
She needs her rest. I’ll allow her that.
But me? No. My mind burns, restless, demanding answers.
The male I once dismissed as nothing but human, now thrums with something dark.
Power clings to him, coils around his frame like smoke rising from embers.
I need to know what the fuck it is… and why it calls to me.
Unable to resist, I can’t stop staring at Braiden. Every inch of him hums with a power older than anything I’ve ever felt. I conjure some clothes with a flick of my claw, amused at the way he drags them on, as if they offend him. The fabric clings to the dirt and blood still smeared on his skin.
With an unknown curiosity, I stalk around him, letting the weight of my gaze press heavy. He feels it. I can see it in the tightness in his jaw, and the way his shoulders roll back, bracing. But he doesn’t break eye contact. Bold.
“That power,” I say, tasting the word like its wine, bitter and rich on my tongue.
“It wasn’t there before, was it? You were nothing but human flesh, weak and breakable.
” I lean closer, close enough that the air between us hums, alive with whatever the fuck is now thrumming in his veins. “But… now…”
My nostrils flare as I drag in a slow breath. My lips curl, in a part grin, part threat. “Now you reek of something old and ancient. Definitely not human, and not anything I’ve crossed paths within centuries.”
Studying him like a specimen I’m half tempted to dissect; I tilt my head. “So, tell me, Braiden,” My voice drops to a growl. “What the fuck are you?”
Braiden’s eyes narrow, a storm brewing in their depths. His fists clench at his sides, as if he’s preparing for a fight.
“I don’t know,” he spits, his voice rough, jagged with truth and defiance. “I didn’t ask for this… however… I’m not afraid of you, Thorne. Whatever this power is… it’s mine now.”
The corner of my mouth curls upward, sharp amusement sparking through me. He thinks not knowing makes him untouchable.
In a blur I’m on him, my claw locking around his throat. Not choking just pressing just enough for the weight of my strength to remind him what I am. His pulse thrums against my palm, savagely. It snarls against my touch like a caged thing.
Braiden doesn’t flinch. His lips pull back and for the briefest second, I see the shadow of something else move behind his eyes. Something not his.
“You really don’t know…” I murmur, leaning close, my horns brushing against him. “But, you burn with it. That makes you dangerous. To me. To her.” My gaze flicks briefly to my banshee, then back to him. “I don’t like unknowns.”
Power radiates off him in jagged waves as I squeeze his throat harder. The surge biting at my claw like fire. My grin sharpens. “However… I do like a challenge.”
Fuck, I expect him to break or at least to falter, instead the air thickens. It slams into me like a storm. Braiden’s eyes ignite, not glowing exactly, but not human either. They are burning white, the colour melting into his emerald green. The veins in his neck bulge and his chest heaves.
Ansin a tharlaíonn sé. (Then it happens.)
Power lashes out of him, vicious and wild with no finesse.
It’s just a raw, ancient force. It tears through the space between us, rattling the walls, cracking the stone floor beneath us.
My hold on his throat burns, actually burns, as if I’ve grabbed molten iron.
I snarl and rip my hand back, smoke curling from my palm.
“What the fuck!” The words tear out of me, and I can’t disguise the edge of shock laced in my tone.
Braiden stands there, his fists shaking at his sides.
The air ripples around him, alive with that primal energy, and it’s not just power, it’s hunger.
Ravenous hunger that doesn’t belong to a mortal.
He glares at me, defiant, but there’s something darker behind it, something even he doesn’t understand.
For the first time in centuries, I feel my own blood stir with something I thought was long gone.
Eagla. (Fear.)
He stalks closer, that wildness crackling around him, heavy with the scent of raw power. My body reacts as a trail of heat licks down my spine. I force myself to stand tall, to meet his burning gaze.
“You think you can glare at me like that?” I taunt, though my voice comes out rougher than intended. “You don’t even know what you carry inside you.”
His laugh is dark, humourless. “Maybe not,” he says, stepping into my space, close enough that our chests nearly brush. “But, I know it scares the shite out of you.”
Desire ripples through me and I know I should push back at him. I should rip that smirk from his face. Instead, I find myself staring at the tension in his jaw, the way his veins pulse in his throat, the sheer force of him standing this close. I’m torn between striking him and grabbing him.
“Careful, diabhal,” he murmurs, his lips curling dangerously. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’ll think you want something.”
My breath hitches, betraying me. God damn him.
The air between us is fire, thick and suffocating. His breath brushes my lips, his eyes daring me to move. My chest heaves with fury. Braiden’s hand fists in the front of my shirt and his mouth crushes against mine. Less a kiss, more a battle.
My claws find his shoulders, and I snarl into him, pulling him closer instead of shoving him away.
My teeth clash with his and all I taste is iron and rage, as if we’re bleeding into each other.
The power in him hums against my skin and I shove back, forcing him to stumble a step, but he doesn’t let go of me.
He only grins, that wicked, feral grin that makes my blood heat and my cock ache.
“Thought so,” he rasps, his lips swollen. “You wanted it.”
“Careful,” I growl, grabbing his jaw in my claw, forcing his face up to mine. “You’re playing with fire.”
“And you love it.” He smirks as his grip on my shirt softens. Not gone, but different. Less force, more need. His eyes burn into mine, not with rage, but with a hunger that mirrors my own. My breath catches, and for the first time, I don’t fight it. I don’t fight him.
“Braiden…” I murmur, his name spilling from my lips like a sin.
He doesn’t wait. His mouth finds mine again, however this time it’s devastatingly tender in a way that makes my chest ache. The kiss steals the fight right out of me. His lips move against mine as though he’s been waiting for this, his tongue teasing until I groan and melt into him.
My claws, once ready to shove him away, slip into his hair instead, tangling in the dusty strands, pulling him closer. He presses into me, his erection rubbing against mine causing my body to shiver uncontrollably.
“Fuck,” I whisper against his mouth, my voice trembling. “You shouldn’t feel this good.”
His forehead rests just under my horns, our breaths mingling. The corner of his lips curve in a smile both dangerous and devastating.
“Maybe,” he says, his voice rough, “you were made to want me.”
The last thread of restraint snaps inside me. There’s no more thought, no more hesitation. Only the need, chewing away under my skin, burning through my veins.
Braiden lifts me as though I weigh nothing, pressing me back against the wall, his body caging mine in heat and muscle. His mouth devours mine, slow and hungry. I gasp against him, clutching his shoulders. My claws digging deep as if I could anchor myself in the storm.
His hands roam, up my thighs, across my hips, gripping me as if I belong to him, as though he’s memorising the shape of me with his palms. My body arches to meet every touch.
“Say it,” he growls against my throat, his lips trailing fire along my skin. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, the confession tearing from me as if it’s been buried in my chest all along. My voice breaks, every part of me meaning the words.
A shudder runs through him, and his lips crash against mine again, harsher now. His power hums under my skin, vibrating through me, pulling me under until I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.