I recognized the body of the man lying upon the marble floors of Anaya’s throne room. From where I stood, I could only see his back, but I knew those broad shoulders and the dark hair instantly.

Gatlin Saint John, lying in a pool of his own blood.

I went to him, my footsteps echoing in my ears. I dropped to my knees beside him, ignoring how his blood seeped into the fabric of my black britches, and took his shoulder to turn him over. Milky, unseeing eyes stared back at me. His skin so pale it was almost white.

He had bled out here, alone.

My heart pounded as I scanned the rest of the room. Another body, followed by another, and another, lined up only feet apart. I didn’t want to go to them, but I knew I needed to. If, by some miracle, any of them had been left alive, they would need my help.

I shoved back the grief that threatened to suffocate me, and forced my leaden feet into motion.

The next body belonged to Lucian. His dark hair was slick with thick blood. He had been struck in the head--and hard. He, too, was as lifeless as Gatlin. But there was something in the expression of his twisted features that made my throat constrict.

Fear.

He had known fear before he died, and that chilled me to the bone. If ever there had been a fearless male, it was Lucian Saint John. Refusing to contemplate the horrors that might have put it there, I moved on, trembling from head to toe.

Connor was next. Sweet Connor…He was face down in his own blood with a sword protruding from between his shoulder blades. Somehow, none of them had been able to shift and heal in time. I wondered if poison had been at work here.

I swallowed back tears as I moved from Connor’s body to the last.

Michael.

He lay on his back, eyes closed. A spray of blood had spattered his jaw and neck, and I reached out tentatively to pull down the collar of his tunic. A deep gash from ear to ear glared angrily up at me. Torn ragged flesh disappeared as I released the collar and stumbled back, dragging Gatlin’s blood from my knees across the marble.

Every one of my sister’s beloved mates was dead.

What had happened here this cruel night?

But even more terrifying was what awaited me as I turned toward the throne that sat against the wall.

There sat Anaya, her form--still ripe with child--was draped across it like a broken doll. Her head lolled off one side while her legs had been slung off the other. A vine of blood snaked down her arm and still dripped from the tip of her finger to the floor.

Bile blazed a path to my throat as I let out a scream, but I didn’t hear it. I was surrounded by a thick silence as I stumbled to my feet and hurried toward her.

Taking her pale face in my hands, I shook her gently at first and then harder as I wept.

“Anaya,” I pleaded, tears pouring down my cheeks, “please.”

But no amount of pleading was going to change it. She was dead, just like the others.

I crumpled to the ground and pressed my forehead against hers. Sobs shuddered through me as I knelt beside her, whispering her name, over and over, willing her to come back to me.

So wrapped up in my grief, I didn’t realize I was not alone until a dark shadow passed over me and something cool and sharp touched my neck.

“Sweet Iris,” a raspy voice whispered from behind me, “what shall I do with you now?”

“Kill me,” I replied, tipping my head back. I felt no fear, no anger. A blessed numbness had settled over me. I had made a vow to myself to protect my sister and I’d failed her. What was there to live for now?

Silence hung between us as I waited for this stranger to flick his wrist and slit my throat the way he had Michael’s. It would be quick.

“Not yet. I want you to know the true feeling of loneliness. I want to take it all from you, the way your sister and her lovers did to me.”

I tried to make sense of the words, but my brain felt slow and sluggish. It was only when he grabbed my shoulder and yanked me around to face him that it all fell into place.

A golden-haired Adonis stared back at me, his face as beautiful as it was cruel.

Sebastian Du Monde.

“You’re…you’re dead,” I whispered, trying to stand now as I stared at the man who had reigned terror upon my people for decades before my sister had stopped him. “Anaya defeated you.”

“A lost battle, maybe,” he conceded, his lips stretching into a smile so maniacal and hideous, it made me wonder how I’d ever thought him handsome. “But the war continues. And believe me, Iris, my revenge has only just begun.”

He gestured out at the throne room with a harsh laugh, waving his arm in front of him like he was drawing back a curtain.

I didn’t want to look. I’d already seen the horror that awaited.

“No,” I whispered, pinching my eyes closed.

“Look,” he hissed, and this time, as if my movements were controlled by an unseen hand, my head turned. “Look!”

My eyes fluttered open to be assailed by a new scene before me. A scene that stole my very breath. And this time, when I started screaming, I wondered if I’d ever stop…

 

The horrible image faded as strong hands shook my shoulders. I was sobbing and I kicked and thrashed until I struck something hard that had me stilling. Someone grunted in pain above me, and then exhaled a jumbling torrent of curses.

“Iris,” he called. “Iris! You’re alright, lass, open your eyes!”

I forced my lids open and found myself staring up at a square, bearded jaw and big brown eyes. A tousled mane of auburn hair framed the handsome features, and I blew out a shaky breath when I remembered where I was.

The inn, and Titus was above me, looking down at me with deep lines of concern cut into his forehead.

“Bloody hell, lass, you scared the life out of me,” he said, his grip still tight on my shoulders.

“I-” I tried to speak, but my throat closed and all that came out was one short, desperate sob. I shook my head and the tears started. Closing my eyes, I tried to roll away from him, but he gathered me close and pulled me up into his lap. He held me against his chest and stroked my hair with one hand as he let me cry. Even though I clung to his shirt, pulling it tight in my fists and soaking it through with salty tears, he never moved away or wavered. He just let me cry until it was all out. And even when the sobbing stopped, he continued to hold me, his fingers running gently through my hair.

“There there, lass, everything is alright. I’ve got you. Was it a night terror, then?”

I was still incapable of words, so I just nodded against his chest.

“You’re okay,” he cooed in my ear, “nothing has changed. You’re safe. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. No. There was no way I would be able to tell him what I had seen in my dream. I was having a hard time coming to terms with it on my own.

The bloody images were still imprinted on my brain. The specter of Sebastian Du Monde had killed my sister and her protectors. And then?

I buried my face into Titus’s massive chest and sucked in a shaky breath.

The dream had faded but I would never forget the sight of the bodies. Piled up like so much garbage. Eryk. Titus. Dimitri. Mathias. And more. Women, both old and young, and children…

He had killed the men I had come to care for, and their families, too.

I swallowed the knot in my throat and pushed the image away.

When I finally had myself under control, I leaned back and looked up at him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Sorry? Don’t apologize, lass. Nightmares are a reflection of our deepest fears. It’s no wonder you’re shaken. It’s been a hard time, and for that, I’m sorry.”

His words hit me in the gut, the truth in them sending my brain reeling.

I’d been devastated at the sight of Anaya and her mates, but given my fears for her and the past with Du Monde, the dream made sense.

The way I’d felt when I’d seen Titus and the others? The way I’d felt when I’d thought I’d somehow failed them and their families?

Had been just as horrid. Like the twist of a fatal knife just before death. Excruciating.

I fisted my hand into the fabric of Titus’s shirt to center myself…to remind me that he was still there.

Was I in love with these men?

It couldn’t be. They had stolen me from my home. They had ruined everything. My sister was only vulnerable now because they had taken me. None of this would be happening if…

But none of that mattered. As I breathed in Titus’s musky scent and took comfort from the slow circles his hand traced on my back, I knew the truth. I was in deep and getting in deeper by the second.

I met Titus’s soft brown eyes once more. Right or wrong, I felt safe in his arms, and the way he looked at me chased away some of the lingering fear and grief still heavy in my chest.

I would find a way to make this right. I didn’t know how yet, but it would be near another week before we reached our final shore. During that time, I’d find a way to fix this so that no one I cared for had to be hurt.

I had to.

“Will sleep be out of reach for you now?” Titus asked, fingers playing absently with a strand of my hair. “The sun will be up in a couple of hours. We can stay up and talk, if you wish. I could fetch us some tea.”

“I’m not sure,” I said, my voice hoarse and quiet from all the crying.

He took my hand and entwined his fingers with mine, sending a welcome shot of heat through me that chased away the chill. Then he lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. His lips were much softer and warmer than I had expected, his beard sending a pleasant ripple over my skin. “If I could carry the pain for you, lass, I’d do it. I can’t stand to see you hurting.”

What I did next seemed to surprise Titus more than it surprised me.

I pressed my body up against his, crushing my breasts into his chest, and held his face in my hands as I kissed him hungrily. He sat motionless in my grasp for a brief passing moment, and then his arms wrapped around my body to lower me down to the bed beneath him.

Our lips never parted. He kissed me with a wild need that matched my own, his tongue darting between my lips to taste me. He tasted like spices and ale. He smelled of sage and cedar.

As we kissed, I took the hem of my tunic and pulled it over my head. Our lips parted as the fabric passed between us, and as soon as it hit the floor, he was upon me again, exploring my mouth, while his hands caressed my now exposed breasts.

I began shimmying out of my leggings. I worked them over my hips and down my thighs. By the time they were around my knees, Titus had already settled his hand at the heat between my legs. His fingers were rubbing me in slow circles, sending a rush of wetness to meet them.

I moaned into his mouth and buried my hands in his thick hair.

He slipped a finger inside me. I moaned again, my hands sliding down to clutch at his shoulders as he curled his finger in my channel in a come-hither motion. Something about the movement tore a gasp from my lips and left me in a breathless state of need.

That familiar tightness was back, and Titus seemed to be aware of it as he continued his exquisite motions with his finger. He broke away from our kiss to lower himself down to suckle my nipple, drawing it between his lips and rolling his tongue over it as he groaned encouragement.

All at once, I lost control. My body spasmed and my toes curled. My eyes closed and every muscle tightened until the tension exploded and I cried out his name in ecstasy.

By the time I had recovered, Titus was on his feet, and was undoing the belt around his hips. His kilt fell to the floor and he pulled his white tunic over his head.

His body made my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. He was a work of art. His muscles were heavy and thick, creating bold lines in his arms, chest, and down his stomach. Golden brown hair curled on his chest and carved a trail down the middle of his stomach, around his navel, and to the prize between his legs that made my head spin.

“On your knees, lass,” Titus said huskily.

Legs trembling from the wave of pleasure he had bestowed upon me, I did as he said. Once I was on my hands and knees, he took hold of my hips and pulled me closer to where he stood at the side of the bed. He opened my legs so that he could stand between them.

I had never been on display like this before. My ass was in the air and my legs were spread for him. He could see everything.

His hand touched me and I jerked away from him. I was so sensitive.

“Stay where you are,” he grated, touching me more slowly this time.

His fingers traced my pulsing slit until I was sure I would have to beg. I needed to feel him inside me. I needed that closeness now more than I ever had before.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice hitching in my throat as he glided over my sensitive center.

He held my ass in his hands, squeezing the muscle there, as the tip of his shaft rested against me. He pressed into me, entering me slowly, stretching me to fit him with controlled patience. I could hear his breathing, steady but hoarse, as he pressed in deeper and deeper.

I bit my bottom lip. A similar pain from when Eryk had taken me was there again, but less intense. As Titus slid his thick cock deeper, the pain ebbed slowly away and turned into something else. Something that only wanted as much of him as he was willing to give me.

When I had taken all of him, his hands moved up to my waist. He held me against him and moved inside me slowly. His breaths now were not so steady.

One hand moved to the middle of my back, where he followed the line of my spine with calloused fingertips until his hand rested between my shoulder blades. He pushed me down until my cheek was upon the blankets, then he took my waist again, and when he decided I was ready, he began thrusting in earnest.

I gripped the blankets beneath me, balling the white fabric up in my fists as he withdrew and entered, working me over until I was forced to muffle my cry in the blanket. His rhythm quickened until I couldn’t hold on any longer, and I released the tension that had once more built up inside me.

He felt the fresh wetness between my legs and he groaned. The deep, masculine sound of it turned me on even more.

“Harder,” I whispered, sparing a glance at him over my shoulder.

His features tightened into a mask of need as he obliged, plowing deeper in long, hard strokes.

His thighs slapped against the back of mine until our rhythm became frantic. Wild.

I began to whimper as my muscles tensed and my channel clenched around him.

“Oh, god!” I moaned. And then it was over. Light exploded behind my eyelids as I came, pulsing around his girth.

He stiffened behind me before plunging forward one last time and groaning my name as his cock bucked and jerked inside me, filling me with his hot seed.

Minutes later, when the last of the tremors subsided and we could breathe again, Titus fell to the mattress beside me and I lay on my side so I could face him. His eyes wandered up and down the length of my body before lingering on my lips. He reached out and cupped my cheek in one hand, and then leaned in to give me the most tender kiss. Had I not been so tired, I probably would have climbed atop him and rode him until we both shattered again.

“You are a wonder, Iris.”

I smiled and pressed my cheek into his palm. I kissed his wrist and his eyes never left me. There was something about his stare that made me feel so special, and so safe, that I would have been content to lie with him for an eternity.

“I think I can sleep a bit longer now,” I said.

“As can I. Come,” he said, gathering me in his arms once more.

I nuzzled into him, inhaling his scent and reveling in the warmth of his flesh upon mine.

Here, wrapped up in him, the horrors of my dream could not reach me…for now.