Chapter 23 #2
Brychan took a step towards me, dragging Jazz along with him.
“I heard you have no control over the sick power you got from your father. Good luck trying to do anything with that.” Brychan shoved the edge of Carnwennan away from his hand.
He turned his attention back to Jazz and leaned his face close to theirs.
Jazz recoiled, but he yanked at their shirt, forcing their faces together.
“Next time, fight your own battles with that power you stole.”
Releasing Jazz, he gave me one final look over before storming off, slamming his shoulder intentionally into Jazz's as he passed.
My body, taking things into its own hands, reacted in an instant, and I lunged towards him. But Jazz's hands gripped my upper arms and pulled me aside.
“This evening has already been enough of a disaster. Let's not make it any worse.”
My power seemed to pause and listen in that moment, but I wasn't totally convinced it was because Jazz had told me to stop, or if it acknowledged that Brychan was no longer a threat.
I put Carnwennan back in its sheath and nodded at Jazz. They linked their arm around my own and led us back towards the gathered crowds of people.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Brychan join a group of other Wielders, all dressed in green, one of them I recognised as Mared. They all wore shit-eating grins as they whispered and giggled among themselves.
As Brychan gave us one final look over his shoulder, he smirked with delight before spitting on the ground in the direction of Jazz and me.
My temporary resolve snapped like a bowstring, and without a second thought, I was flying towards the fucker, dagger at the ready.
Time seemed to slow as Brychan was flung backwards by some invisible force, his arms pinwheeling.
On the ground behind him, positioned exactly where he was going to land, a hole of black glittering shadows ripped open.
He came to a stop mid-air, hanging only a few inches above the swirling vortex to nowhere.
“P-please, no, no!” he begged as he looked between the opening and my face.
A ripping sound came from his shirt. Looking down, I could see that I was holding him a few inches above the hole, Carnwennan pierced through his habit.
He grappled for purchase, but there was nothing he could grab other than the edge of my dagger.
The more he moved, the further his clothing split, and a diabolical laugh that wasn't my own rumbled out of my chest as the final threads of his clothing began to fray.
Soon, he would be lost to the nothingness, the same as Seren had been, but no one was going to knock me unconscious and bring him back this time.
“When you meet your maker in the Otherworld, tell them I sent you,” I said as the final threads ripped, sending him tumbling into nothingness.
My power and whatever this rage was inside me cackled with delight as I watched his terrified face fall towards the opening I had created.
Just as the shadows started wrapping around his neck and face, Brychan split in two. A duplicate of Brychan was thrown to the right and landed on one side of the black opening. The other Brychan was thrown to the left, missing the shadowy hell I had created for him entirely.
A snarl ripped from my throat and my arm instinctively reared back over my head, ready to sink Carnwennan into his heart.
But a lasso of water snapped up from nowhere, wrapping around my wrist. It squeezed hard enough that I had to drop my dagger. Another tendril wrapped around my torso, pinning my arms to my sides, and I was lifted through the air before slamming against a firm, muscled body.
The shadowy opening I had created dissipated, and to my left, Jazz dropped their raised palms as Brychan's two forms merged back into one.
I thrashed against the person holding me, teeth snapping, but they only tightened their watery grip. Looking up, I was met with Dylan's azure eyes, which gleamed with amusement.
“Hello, cariad.”
“You,” I seethed.
He dropped his voice low, leaning in closer so only the two of us could hear. “I would love nothing more than to watch you rip his throat out with your bare hands, but I know you'll regret it in the morning.”
My power, who had been thrilled that he'd shown up, now snarled at his suggestion to rein it in. It didn't take kindly to being told what to do, and I was almost drawing blood as I clawed at his arms.
Brychan scrambled to his feet, and when his eyes landed on Dylan, he staggered backwards, nearly landing on his arse again.
“She's looking forward to finishing this in the Anoethau, Brychan. Next time, I won't hold her back.”
Brychan's gaze darted between the two of us, as if he contemplated taking both of us on, but thankfully, he saw sense and backed away. His friends stood only a few metres behind; they all gave us one final sneer before disappearing into the crowd of people.
Dylan spun me in his arms, and my hands instinctively found his chest once I was facing forward.
“Take some deep breaths with me,” he said as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
I wanted to protest his suggestion, but I wanted to put a lid on the rage inside me more.
As I looked around, numerous pairs of eyes watched us.
Being seen wrapped up in the arms of Dylan, the Ail of the Western Coven, wasn't going to do me any favours, but I couldn't deny the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my palms did wonders for my rage.
His fingers traced slow circles on my lower back, and within a few minutes, I felt like myself again.
“Better?” he asked as he cocked a brow.
I nodded and pushed away from him, putting some much-needed space between us.
He moved as if he was going to reach for me, but then thought better, tucking his hands into the pockets of the loose trousers he had changed into instead of his usual tartan skirt.
“Do you want to talk about what just happened?” Even in the dim light of the fire, his eyes sparkled like bottomless pools.
The things I would do to take a dive in those.
Shut it, I hissed back at the voice inside.
The image of a middle finger flipping me off appeared in my mind's eye.
I ran a hand down my face, trying to compose myself. I probably looked half insane to Dylan as I internally argued with the voices in my head.
I tried to focus on some factual things first. Jazz was nowhere to be seen, and my dagger was missing. I probably should have been more concerned about the missing weapon than I was; truthfully, I was a little glad someone had decided to take it off my hands.
In a failed attempt to sit down on the log Jazz and I had been perched on earlier, I managed to miss it completely and found myself on my arse in the tall grass. Ungracefully, I rolled onto all fours, and before I knew it, I was being scooped up into someone's arms.
“Put me down this instant! I don't need to be carried, I can walk perfectly well.”
The bastard took my command literally and dropped me in the grass like a sack of flour. The world above me swayed, and I knew it wasn't from the fall but rather the copious amounts of gin I'd consumed.
Still, I sprang to my feet and brushed off my dress before taking a step forward and tripping over the hem, ending up on the floor once again.
“Are you done trying to prove a point?”
A hiccup escaped past my lips. “Leave me be, I'll just sleep here tonight.” I tucked my hands under my head, rolling onto my side.
“D?n give me strength! How many times are you going to fall on your arse before accepting my help? You can't sleep out here, cariad.”
“Stop calling me that, I'm not your love.”
A smirk played on Dylan's lips, and I'd be a liar if I said it didn't do things to me, things like make my underwear very, very wet.
I slammed my eyes shut so I didn't have to look at his stupid, pretty face anymore.
When I eventually cracked an eye open, I was looking into Dylan's ocean eyes.
“Not you again,” I mumbled.
His chest rumbled with laughter. “Considering I just picked your arse off the floor, I would be a little more grateful than that, cariad.”
I was hoisted up, but he didn't cradle me in his arms like he had earlier. This time he slung me over his shoulder like a sack of coal and I found myself face to arse with his…well, arse.
“Put me down!” I screeched, kicking my legs against his solid chest.
He re-adjusted me in his grip, and I was suddenly all too aware of his warm hands against the bare skin of my upper legs.
“You know, this isn't the first time I've had to carry you to bed. I hope it won't be the last. I could do without the backchat, though.”
“What do you mean this isn't the first time you’ve carried me to bed?”
He laughed, a deep rumble that had me pressing my thighs together for some friction.
“After the little skirmish you had with your cousin that resulted in me having to knock you out before you swallowed the whole castle in darkness, I felt a little guilty.
The least I could do was help get you to bed once you were unconscious.
It wasn't like your cousin or grandmother were jumping at the chance to help you.
And a little selfishly, I couldn't stand the thought of one of Bron's sentries putting their hands on you.”
As Dylan started to make his way up the staircase to my room, the bouncing sensation of the steps made my stomach roil, and bile made its way up my throat. I covered my mouth with my hand as I took deep breaths to ease my nausea.
“This is my best dress habit — please don't throw up on it. Can't imagine Bron will be pleased to find me shirtless in her home during the early hours of the morning.”
“You're the one who slung me over your shoulder like you were taking out the rubbish. If I vomit, you only have yourself to blame.”
Maybe I should have vomited on him so he had no option but to take his habit off.
Dylan's laugh echoed off the walls of the castle, and it occurred to me that I might have said that last part out loud.
With a thud, Dylan kicked my bedroom door open, and I was placed down gently on my bed.
I tried to reach for him, but he was on the other side of the room and pulling the door shut before I knew it.
I hadn't even had a chance to thank him for helping me back, even if his methods had been heavy-handed.
That night, I only dreamt of him.