Shatter - Sins of the Sidhe (19 page)

Lorcan walked by cages of crying souls and around a mass of human-sized bat-like creatures that were fighting in a huddle. Never looking back at her, Lorcan continued walking into his private bedchamber.

He knew she’d follow.

The room was made of black obsidian. There was a large mirror on the ceiling, which looked down onto a massive bed in the center of the room, complete with plush pillows, black satin sheets and metal chains. Shaking and sobbing, Rowan laid on the cold hard floor of his bedroom. Demons came creeping in and by his command, dragged her onto the bed. A job he would have preferred doing himself but alas he could not touch her yet, for he was still not flesh and blood.

Gaining power was a slippery slope for Lorcan. His body diminished each time he’d worked a new dark spell to gain more power or bring in new bodies to feed on. There was always a price to pay, so his own body had suffered much in order to gain other things he’d wanted, like the mirror, the bed, and the bodies in the other room. He felt the burden of those costs now; he so badly wanted to touch her. But he could do other things to her.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

Smiling, he watched as she lay shuddering at the mere touch of his energy. Rowan let out a cry of rapture drowned in sadness. “Shhhh. There is no need to run. You’re home now, my pet.” Lorcan looked down at her on his bed and smiled. Rowan was a lot like the glass art she made in her studio: Fiery, beautiful… and breakable.

Something was wrong. Devlin could feel it. Rowan laid stiff as a board lost in her dreams but Devlin had a terrible feeling inside of him. Instincts saying that what they were seeing wasn’t all there was. “We need to wake her.”

“She’ll wake when she’s done, Devlin. We can’t intrude during something like this. Breaking the link might risk our chances of her speaking with someone who can help us.” Ava never stopped her chirping of birds and the tweets were getting under the Druid’s skin.

Devlin began pacing, his nerves on edge. Something bad was happening; he could feel it even if he couldn’t see it.

In the large bed, Rowan felt like she was floating in a pool of black ink. What was she going to do? Her mind was still spinning with ways to attempt escape and her body had no intentions of going anywhere. Lorcan paced the room, debating on what to do to her first. Boots
thumping hard like battle drums on the obsidian floor, he was trying to decide: pain or pleasure?

So many options… so many effects.

He wanted to take her now, thrust himself inside her to satisfy his own greedy needs – but that was not possible. Yet. Her Sidhe eyes flashed hate and anxiety at him, stirring anger in his gut. She was all mixed up and he liked her like that. Scanning the room he weighed his options.

He could chain her up and draw some of her blood, but that thirst would not be quenched this night. His self-control wasn’t enough to make him stop before draining her dry. She was no good to him dead. Revenge? Yes… revenge would be fun. No doubt the bastard who claimed her is sleeping beside her in bed right now. Let’s have some fun. Give him a show. Demonstrate what real power is.

He stalked closer to the bed and gripped one of the chains tied to a post.

Rowan’s body convulsed and she tried to cling to the slippery sheets. The harder she fought, the weaker she got. Within minutes, her muscles went into spasms and her lungs felt squeezed. She needed to get a hold of something, find her focus, and figure out a way to get out of this place. She was dizzy, nauseous and out of sync again. Rowan froze in terror as he came closer to her on the bed.

“You’re hot, Rowan. Take off your shirt.”

She stared with hate in her eyes while her body reacted instantly to his commands. She was but a puppet for him. Rolling up to sitting, she ran her hands down her torso in a long caress, and she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her body.

“Very good, my pet.” Lorcan smiled like a wolf with a feast of fresh meat laid out before him.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Rowan squirmed on the couch, moaning sounds escaping her lips. She let out a sigh and then started hyperventilating. Devlin came to her side, expecting her to open her eyes any second. What she did was something else entirely. The lass ran hands down her body, arched up and peeled her shirt away. She let out another noise, this one was a half scream, half moan, and it was more desperate than the last.

Adam and Ava looked at each other with the same expression: Oh. Shit.

She was a vision, Lorcan thought. Her breasts perky and full, they were swathed in his favorite black lace. Her hair cascaded down her back, just beckoning to be pulled. She was staring at him, eyes full of rage and craze which only added to his excitement.

“Take off your pants, Rowan.”

She obeyed.

Popping the button and tugging down the zipper, she slipped her jeans down over her creamy thighs and freed her ankles. With a swift motion of Lorcan’s hand, her body stretched out on the bed and faced the ceiling.

“Now, touch yourself. Pleasure yourself, Rowan, and think of only me.”

She obeyed again, tears gliding down the side of her face and into her hair. Lorcan got onto the bed for a better view and watched her trail her fingers further down her body. Stopping at the band of her black panties, panting and frightened, she tried to fight herself as she hooked her thumbs into the sides of the fabric and slid them off. Her nerves were firing and everything felt overwhelming and too sensitive. The swish of the fabric as it slid over her hot sex had her almost blinded with need.

Tossing the black fabric to the floor, she traced up the inner part of her thigh and over her hot mound. She fought herself with everything she had, but it was no use. Her free will was gone. Overrun.

Sliding one finger inside the soft wetness of her folds, Ro’s other hand went up to her breast. She massaged with one hand while her other was plunging into wet silky skin. “Please, no, no, no, no.” She let out a cry of ecstasy and anger. Looking up, she watched herself ravage her own body.

Lorcan marveled at her while she writhed and fought herself. It was beautiful. Rubbing his hands together, Lorcan was hoping it was a sight no one would miss.

“What the hell is happening to her?” Devlin screamed and was desperately trying to get her to wake up. Short of slapping her, he didn’t know what to do.

She was a naked, writhing, hot mess on the sofa. Hands trembling, muscles straining, Rowan shook with tension like she was fighting to pry herself away from her own body. Failing, she cried out as she climaxed, her body bucked and one hand reached out and grabbed the pillow her head was on. She yanked it down and screamed angrily into the cushion. Her energy was sending out a windstorm of lust. Devlin’s body was reacting to hers and he was having a hard time with it. Trying to fight for control of his own needs, his heart was pounding in his throat while he struggled to breathe.

Rowan let out another screech, head tilted back, as she ground her backside into the cushions crying and pleading for mercy. It was maddening. Adam tore his eyes away from the sight. The act was making him uncomfortable on too many levels.

Ava looked at Rowan on the couch, and her eyes grew wide as she finally understood what was happening. The realization made Ava feel sick. “Someone is doing this to her. She’s fighting something we can’t see. Someone is making her do this. They want us to see that she has no control of herself.” Ava felt dizzy and was riddled with guilt and helplessness.

Devlin let out a loud growl and grabbed Rowan by the wrists and screamed her name. Shaking her hard, her body slammed up and down on the couch but she didn’t wake. Crying out, her eyebrows knit close together in pain and agony, Rowan let out a desperate sob and Devlin’s heart broke.

“Stop. Please stop. I beg you,” Rowan cried.

“Oh my pet, you haven’t even begun to beg.”

Lorcan lit the fires around the room until they were completely surrounded by flames. The heat was scorching and air was thick. Rowan struggled to breathe and gain control of herself. Focus. Focus, Damnit! Getting up on her hands and knees she had to take slow, even breaths or she was going to pass out.

“Now there’s a nice position.” Lorcan moved closer to the bed and circled around her like a prowling wolf. Fanning out his hands, he smudged the air against her from behind. Rowan let out a grunt and her body stretched for more. Her need was paralyzing and her urgency to fight back was crushing. Rowan clawed at the bed and stifled her screams into the mattress. Sweat beaded and rolled down her back. She felt like she was going to burn up in flames.

Lorcan’s laugh was deep and resonating. He was a man who knew exactly what he was doing and was impressed with his own skills.

Just then, two more black creatures came into the room and waited for instruction. One stationed at either side of her, they hoisted her up by the arms, obeying their master’s commands. Their long fingers burned her skin when they grabbed and scratched her and Rowan let out a shrill. The pain was excruciating. Sounds of approval came from all directions and echoed in the bedroom. The demons hoisted Ro up on her knees to face him. With her arms stretched out wide and her hair pulled back, Rowan spat fury towards the bastard.

Lorcan licked his lips. “Ah my pet, fear will taste so good on you.”

On his command, the demons began to lash out, burn, scratch, and bite at her. She screamed and cried for help, for mercy, for the pain to stop. But there was no mercy here. Her screams were only answered with more pain.

Devlin watched in horror as Rowan was now on her knees, arms stretched and screaming in pain. She looked terrifying.

“Stop. Please stop. I beg you,” Rowan pleaded. She let out another scream and tears trailed down her face.

Adam got closer to her and watched in horror as red angry burn marks gave way on her arms and over her torso. “She’s getting burned!”

Ugly red handprints and scratches were showing up one after another on her body and Rowan let out with a shrill that all but burst Adam’s eardrums. Ava sank to her knees and started rocking while she prayed. This has gone too far.

Desperate for help, Devlin sat in the corner of the room scanning every memory he had from their joining. There had to be something else he had missed. Something that was going to shatter this nightmare and bring her back to him.

Visions of Ro as a small child playing outside, blowing out candles on her birthday cake, running in the woods, fishing in lakes
. Ballocks! None of it was helpful. Searching, searching Devlin didn’t stop:
Ro’s sitting in a tree reading, high school graduation, college parties, laughing in her studio, dinners on the beach.
By the Gods, there must be something he can use! More and more memories flooded his mind until he was sick and dizzy. Then he slowed them down and realized something. Almost every single memory had someone else in it. There was another girl with Rowan. A blonde. Rowan had called her Brinley.

He had no idea how he was going to find this woman, but he had to try. Racing out of the house and towards his own, Devlin wanted to find Rowan’s cell phone. He’d start by calling every number until he found the girl in his head. She was connected to Rowan in some way. If he couldn’t reach Rowan, maybe this Brinley could.

Christine was sound asleep in her quiet bedroom. The baby monitor was humming with light static, the little red light glowing assurance that it was working. Christine was cuddled up to her husband in an attempt to warm up in the chilly room. She’d been thinking about the past a lot lately. They were moving out of state for her husband’s job in a few days. Packing up boxes and going through stuff in storage, she’d been doing a lot of reminiscing. Tonight, she dreamed she was in her old house.

“Mommy,” someone chimed. “Mommy, come play with me.”

The voice was her son’s and she followed the sweet sound down the hallway and towards her old bedroom. A black dog stood in front of the door denying her entry.

“Mommy, mommy come play with me,” he said from the other side of the door.

The door knob jiggled.

Something wasn’t right. Christine was getting scared.

“Mommy, let me out. Let me out.” The voice grew deeper and deeper, morphing into a sound that was not her son. “Let… me… out…”

The dog reared its head, hairs standing on end, as it started gnashing its teeth at the door.

Christine woke up with a jolt. Her arms covered with chills, she was trying to catch her breath while she scanned the room for danger. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing there.

Now, Christine is a practical woman. She is always looking for the logical explanation for things. Clasping her hand around the gold cross on her neck, she said a prayer. She never thought much of ghosts or the boogey man, regardless of her friends’ tales, but she didn’t dismiss them either. You didn’t have to see something with your own eyes to believe it exists. Some things you just know.

But something was wrong, she could feel it. And only one word popped into her head:
Rowan
.

Grabbing her phone, she dialed Rowan’s house and got nothing, her cell, her studio, nothing. She left messages and texts. Next she dialed Brinley. The phone picked up on the fourth ring and Christine explained to Brinley what happened in the dream. This was not a drama oh-my-gosh-it-was-so-scary dream. This was a holy-shit-something-bad-is-about-to-happen dream. Brinley tried to calm Christine down and promised to call her as soon as she found out something. Christine was a natural at being a Mother Hen about things, Brinley, on the other hand, didn’t get herself into too much of a snit over anything.