The door slammed behind Sasha and the sound rammed into Ewan’s gut like a fist. He took a lurching step forward before he froze in place. He knew he should go after her, sensed her anger and hurt. But what then? What would he do … say … when he got to her? That he was sorry? That he didn’t mean to hurt her? That he hadn’t intended for his temper to get the better of him? Berserkers didn’t make apologies. They didn’t show weakness. But it hadn’t always been that way, had it?
Like every surviving member of their clan, Ewan had done his damnedest to disregard his past and detach from the crippling emotions that only served to weaken him. He’d forgotten some of his own instincts. Letting Gregor’s revenge and anger become his own. He’d given himself over to rage and sorrow and allowed it to change him. As a whole, the berserkers had lost themselves. Let time and grief erode what made them who they were like water wore away at rock to make deep canyons.
Gregor’s vendetta had damned near destroyed him and Ewan wouldn’t stand for it. He’d been fighting for so long, killing in the arenas in order to secure his freedom when what he should have been doing all along was inciting a revolution. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make a change. But one thing Ewan knew for certain: he couldn’t do it without Sasha.
Over the past several weeks, she’d become his solace. His safe space. And he’d shown his appreciation by keeping her at arm’s length. It seemed impossible, but Sasha had reawakened something in Ewan. Something buried so deep its presence felt foreign. He’d tried to convince himself that he came here night after night out of some sense of duty. To protect Drew and his own damned secrets and machinations. That somehow, Sasha didn’t figure into the equation at all save being something warm and inviting for him to stick his dick into. He’d tried to convince himself that she didn’t matter. That she meant nothing to him. He no longer believed his own lies, however. Sasha mattered. She mattered in a way that was almost incomprehensible to him.
She was the light home. Ewan still didn’t know what that meant exactly, but he knew it to be true. And because of that—because of her very existence—her life was in danger. From Gregor. From those loyal to him. From those fucking demons who thought they could get to him through her. From her own gods-damned coven. Talk about star-crossed. If they got through this without permanent damage, Ewan would be shocked.
Sasha was important. Without her, Ewan realized he had no chance of getting back what he’d sought to reclaim for decades: himself.
For centuries, the Sortiari had used them as their guard dogs. Three hundred years ago, in the guise of priests, they’d purged Europe and Asia of vampires and whatever else their leaders determined were a threat to the course of fate. They’d allowed their instincts to be dulled and replaced with the Sortiari’s magic and weaponry. Ewan let out an angry huff of breath as he began to pace the confines of the tiny living room. He himself had been a weapon long before the Sortiari came along. He didn’t need magic or anything else to make him deadly.
The battle arenas had reminded him of that.
Gregor knew too much. Expected too much. Ewan’s only option was to keep Sasha close. As much for her own safety as to protect his own secrets. He’d set something in motion that night when he’d approached her, so full of himself, high on the win, and determined to have her. He had to see whatever this was through to the end. He couldn’t let Sasha walk away. It was too late for that. They were both in too deep.
As he locked up Sasha’s apartment and headed for his car, he was struck by the thought that he wasn’t the only berserker that had lost touch with his natural born instincts. If Gregor had even an ounce of sense, he’d realize Ewan could help him systematically take down each of the city’s covens with little to no effort without Sasha’s help whether indirectly or not. Through their shared time together, Sasha had ingrained tiny bits of memory and experience into Ewan’s DNA. Berserkers didn’t recognize their mates in the same way other supernatural creatures did, but nature made up for that by allowing them to bond in other ways. Scent, touch, sex—anything he’d experienced with Sasha that involved his senses—helped to build a database that integrated with every tiny particle that constructed him. He’d simply forgotten how to access and utilize that information.
Sasha had awakened something in Ewan and he wasn’t about to discount the importance of it.
Time and history had maligned the supernatural world’s opinion of berserkers. They’d been painted as brutes. Killers. Violent. Mindless beasts. Creatures of war. But beyond that, before that, they’d been protectors. They kept safe at all costs what belonged to them. Ewan was beginning to believe that in some small way, Sasha was his. His to protect. And he wasn’t going to let Gregor or anyone else stand in the way of that.
He squeezed into the tiny beat-up Civic and started the engine. The damned thing coughed and spluttered like it was on its last leg and Ewan cursed under his breath. He put it into gear and pulled out onto the street as he emptied his mind and let instinct guide him. Sasha’s routines would be etched in Ewan’s subconscious without him even realizing it. All he had to do was let that part of his brain take over and lead him where he needed to go.
Forty minutes later, Ewan pulled up to a vast estate nestled on a nice chunk of property just outside of the city. A large iron gate, complete with guard station and high fencing, enclosed what he surmised was just over two acres of land. The main house was an enormous Spanish-style mansion, big enough to house a few dozen vampires and dhampirs. He pulled off onto a side street a hundred or so yards away and killed the engine. He didn’t doubt the vampires were serious about security, but he could negotiate almost any security without being detected.
Ewan moved like a wraith through the night. A shadow carried on a breeze, he didn’t stir a single blade of grass as he leapt over the perimeter fence. He moved with blurring speed to the front door and paused. It would take little effort to simply kick the door down and find Sasha. But a little diplomacy probably wouldn’t hurt. He put his fist to the heavy oak door and knocked.
A berserker paying a visit to a vampire coven. Hell had indeed frozen over.
The door swung wide and Ewan was met by a tall, muscular vampire with dark skin and eyes. An air of authority surrounded the vampire and Ewan couldn’t help but wonder if this was the male who’d turned Sasha. The male’s brow furrowed with momentary confusion, as though his brain couldn’t reconcile what his eyes told him. The confusion turned quickly to shock and then outrage as he took a defensive stance and bared his fangs.
“I don’t want any trouble. I’m here to see Sasha.” Ewan almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded. He didn’t want any trouble? All his kind had done for the past several centuries was to stir up trouble with vampires.
The vampire’s gaze went bright silver as he let out a low hiss and attacked.
Well, fuck. Ewan should have expected a little hostility. The vampire was faster than Ewan expected. It had been a long damned time since he’d been face-to-face with one in a volatile situation. He’d been fighting lesser creatures for the Sortiari for the past two hundred years, various supernatural creatures in the ring for the past few months, and none of them could hold a candle to the strength and speed of the male who came at him now.
A whoof of breath left Ewan’s lungs as he was slammed into the stone arch of the breezeway. It spoke to the quality of construction that the damned thing didn’t crumple down on top of them with as hard as the vampire threw him into the wall. Ewan wasn’t looking for a fight. The last thing he needed was to piss Sasha off even more by hurting a member of her coven. Even if he did want to beat the fucker to a pulp at the thought of him allowing Sasha to feed from his vein.
He didn’t want a fight, but that didn’t mean Ewan wasn’t going to defend himself.
“How many more of you are there?” The vampire wedged his arm against Ewan’s throat. His strength was impressive as he exerted enough pressure to cut off Ewan’s airway. Not exactly a solid plan if the male was expecting an answer, but then again, if this had actually been an ambush, it would’ve take a hell of a lot more than a chokehold to get him to talk.
“A-lone,” Ewan managed to force the word from his constricted throat. “Here … for Sasha.”
“You’ll die before you get even a finger on her.”
If he could have, Ewan would have laughed in the vampire’s face. He’d gotten a hell of a lot more than a finger on her. And she hadn’t exactly complained about it. Ewan reached between them and with an upward swipe, knocked the vampire’s arm away. He dragged in a deep breath and held it in his lungs before shoving at the vampire, sending him stumbling backward several paces. Ewan’s fists ached to swing out but he needed to establish that he’d come in peace. A hard pill to swallow for any vampire. Ewan could definitely use a little help to convince him.
Her name left Ewan’s lips in a forceful rush. “Sasha!”
She was here. Her scent permeated his nostrils and awakened his senses. His stomach muscles knotted, urgency rose up within him, as adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream. He needed her calming presence. Otherwise, he’d succumb to the battle rage that threatened to overtake him and he’d kill the vampire without even realizing what he’d done.
The vampire rushed at him again and pinned Ewan to the cold stone archway. He braced his hand against Ewan’s chin, forcing his head to one side. Fuck, the bastard was strong. From the corner of his eye, Ewan noticed the male’s lips pull back to reveal the wicked points of his fangs. Armed with the only weapon at his disposal, it was obvious what he intended to do: rip Ewan’s throat open and hope he’d bleed to death on the front steps before he had the opportunity to heal.
How very vampiric of him.
Fuck it all. Looked like he was going to have to bring the pain. He only hoped Sasha would forgive him …
* * *
“Saeed, stop!”
Sasha’s heart lodged in her throat as she rushed to the foyer. Ewan might have been a virtually unstoppable killing machine, but in the confines of the coven, he was seriously outnumbered. Saeed was formidable in his own right. A skilled assassin and warrior, and old enough to have fought many wars before Ewan was likely even born.
Saeed froze. He looked over his shoulder at Sasha, his expression one of utter shock. He loosened his grip on Ewan, but didn’t fully release his hold.
“Step aside, vampire, or I’ll move you myself.”
Shit. Ewan’s dark tone proved he was more than ready to throw down. Sasha raced to intervene, inserting herself between the two males before their encounter devolved into violence. Not in her wildest dreams could she imagine a worse scenario. What was Ewan doing here? How had he found her?
“Ewan.” She placed her palm on his chest, hoping that somehow the contact would calm the rage that built within him. His eyes darkened and his muscles tensed beneath her fingers. She didn’t know much about a berserker’s battle rage, but she did know that its all-consuming darkness terrified her. “You need to calm down. Please.” She’d seen him fight in the arena enough times to know that once that rage consumed him, he’d be impossible to stop.
“Sasha.” Saeed’s voice went low and deadly. “Move.”
Gods, the male ego. Sasha was almost tempted to do as they asked and allow them to beat each other to death. But the only thing a fight would accomplish would be to alert the other thirty-plus members of the coven who might be on the property to come to Saeed’s aid. His was one of the largest covens in the city. Ewan wouldn’t survive.
“Dios mio, Sasha! Get out of the fucking way!”
“Dear gods” was right. Sasha rolled her eyes at Diego’s frantic shout. She braced for impact as he raced from the formal living room to the foyer, nothing more than a smear of color, ready to protect her from the deadly berserker who managed to infiltrate their coven. In a knee-jerk reaction, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the freight train.
Instead of getting knocked on her ass, strong arms encircled Sasha. Ewan spun her, leaving himself vulnerable to attack while he protected her from the brunt of the impact. His frame was unyielding iron. A cage that surrounded her. Diego slammed into Ewan’s back at the very moment he spun away, with such force that it slammed him into the opposite wall. He let out a grunt as his arms cracked the stone, and still Sasha was barely jostled as he kept her safe.
“Are you all right? You’re not hurt?”
The warm timbre of his voice in her ears coaxed goose bumps to the surface of her skin. Superman had nothing on Ewan Brún. Her earlier anger melted under the scorching heat of his presence. That he put himself in the path of danger to protect her caused Sasha’s chest to swell with emotion. The tether that bound them gave a slight tug and she shrugged the sensation away. She didn’t have time to deal with warm, fuzzy feelings right now. The shit had hit the fan.
“Saeed?” A warm female voice joined the mix. Cerys, Saeed’s mate. Great. “What in the hell is going on?”
It was only a matter of time before multiple bodies converged on Ewan. Sasha needed to get him the hell out of here now. And the only way to call off Diego, Saeed, his mate, and possibly the rest of their coven was to tell the truth. So much for keeping her mate bond a secret. Shit.
“He’s my mate!” Sasha shouted above the din of panicked voices, praying everyone under the breezeway had the presence of mind to listen.
Time came to a screeching halt. Or maybe it just felt that way. Her declaration was answered with the sort of still silence that froze dust particles in place. Sasha held her breath as she gazed up at Ewan from lowered lashes. A crease dug into his forehead just above the bridge of his nose as his gaze delved into hers. Gods, if ever she wished she could hear someone’s thoughts …
“It’s impossible.” Saeed was the first to speak, to break the spell of her shocking revelation. “Berserkers are—”
“I dare you to finish that sentence, vampire.” Ewan cut Saeed off without taking his eyes off Sasha. “Your speculations and misinformation aren’t going to get you anything but killed.”
Sasha’s ears pricked as multiple footfalls echoed from the hallways and upper levels of the house. Supernatural hearing made discretion nearly impossible, even when soundproofing measures had been taken. Things were about to go from bad to worse.
She couldn’t see. Ewan refused to move even an inch and his massive frame caged her in against the cracked stone wall. He hadn’t moved a muscle, hadn’t removed his arms from the indentations they made, or even tried to protect himself. She had no idea what sort of attack was coming and there was little she could do to stop it.
“Saeed, he’s done something to her. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
Of course, Diego would assume Sasha wasn’t strong enough to take care of herself. The assumption that Ewan had somehow tricked her into thinking they’d been tethered made her fangs itch.
“It’s you who doesn’t know what you’re talking about, Diego!” Sasha stood on her tiptoes to try to look at him but Ewan was so gods-damned big it was impossible to see over his arm and shoulder. “My soul was returned and he anchored it. Do you doubt me, Saeed? Are you going to stand there and say that you didn’t instantly recognize your tether when Cerys returned your soul to you?”
A space of silence passed and she couldn’t help but feel a little smug. The mate bond was sacred. It trumped everything. Whether Saeed liked it or not. He had to respect and recognize Sasha’s tether. Nothing in their world was more important.
“I don’t understand how this could have happened.” The grief in Saeed’s tone cut through her. As though his heart broke for the situation she’d found herself in. She knew how he, and Diego, and the others would view it: as a death sentence. Bound for eternity to her most hated enemy and unable to cut the strings that tied them to one another.
They didn’t know Ewan, though. A sharp pain hollowed out her chest. Gods, she didn’t know him, either. Not really. Her soul knew his, though. It wouldn’t have secured itself to him without good reason. She had to trust in that bond. He could have killed her a hundred times over. Tonight, he chose to protect her even when he had to have known that neither Saeed nor Diego would ever harm her. There was more to Ewan than what their history painted of him. Sasha refused to believe anything different.
The footfalls grew louder as dhampirs gathered in the great room, the foyer, and spilled out onto the breezeway. Sasha’s stomach tied into an anxious knot and she sent up a silent prayer that the gods would see fit to let this conflict end peacefully. Ewan closed his body in on hers. Closer. Tighter. Forming an impenetrable barrier between her and everyone that stood beyond them. Would a heartless killer—a sworn enemy—behave in such a way?
No.
“I want everyone except myself, Cerys, Diego, Sasha, and her guest off the property until sunrise.” As coven master, Saeed’s command was law. The distasteful sneer in his tone when he referred to Ewan sent a fresh wave of anger washing through Sasha. No wonder the supernatural world considered vampires and dhampirs as classist and elitist. “Anyone who disregards this mandate will be subject to my authority and punishment. Do you understand me?”
A murmur swept through the small crowd of dhampirs and Sasha wished she could see their faces right now. The gossip was going to spread like wildfire. More than only the underground would know about their relationship after tonight.
Several tense moments passed as the dhampirs scattered. Not a single one of them dared to pass through the foyer, instead opting for one of the several other exits throughout the massive estate. Sasha didn’t blame them. A couple of months ago, she would have rather yanked her fangs out with a pair of pliers than to walk past a berserker warlord. Ewan was an intimidating creature. A mountain of sheer strength and unchecked rage.
When the sounds of the last door closing from the east wing of the house echoed into silence, Saeed spoke. “Diego, Cerys, and I will be in the study. Meet us there when you’re ready.”
His tone was all business and Sasha cringed. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation by any stretch of the imagination and she’d be surprised if by the end of the night, Mikhail Aristov himself wasn’t involved. So much for keeping her tether on the down-low. In the span of a few minutes, Ewan had blown that secret wide open. Great. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about …
“Sasha.” The deep timbre of Ewan’s voice resonated through her. “Are you hurt? I know you’re weak. Your arm—”
“I’m fine.” Her arm still burned like a son of a bitch and the skin was raw and puckered where it had yet to heal. But the effects of the hellfire were the least of her worries right now. “I need to talk to Saeed. I’ve put it off for too long and there’s no getting out of it now. You can leave if you want. There’s no reason for you to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Ewan’s tone invited no argument. “I’d like to see them try to make me leave.”
So would Sasha. Amusement tugged at her lips as Ewan relaxed and pulled away to look down at her. He truly was a magnificent male.
And she belonged to him.