squarely in the chest, knocking him back
and off his feet. He was dead before he hit the ground. Meg felt the
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anger that suffused young Beck’s being. His father tried to pull him to
safety, but Beck had pulled his sword and opened his senses for the
first time. It had been instinctive. His eye followed the logical track of the arrow. He rolled out of the way of the next one to come after him.
Meg felt a charge of excitement as he shot to his feet and pursued the
assassin. She heard his father’s anxious cries.
She felt the blood on his hands when he caught the assassin. He’d
ignored the man’s cries for mercy. Beck’s beast was loose, and he had
no mercy. The large man had taken something Beck valued. He’d
taken from Beck, and he would never do so again.
It was the first time Beck realized his father was afraid of him.
Meg groaned as the scene in his head changed. Sex, she sighed.
This was Beck’s outlet.
A woman named Sorcha, one of his mother’s ladies, had taken it
on herself to teach him. She gave him permission to do what he
wanted, and Beck had taken her at her word. He’d dominated her.
He’d owned and possessed her. He fucked her when and where he
wanted, and she obeyed. It took the edge off his rage knowing
someone soft trusted him. Only Cian ever trusted him. Even Bronwyn
looked at him with fear sometimes. Sorcha had begged him to fuck
her. She cuddled in his arms afterward. That time was sweet, too. He
enjoyed taking care of her after.
Meg felt the pain of his father hitting him with the flat of his
sword. He’d done it in front of fifty of his strongest soldiers. He’d
humiliated his son for his perversity.
Beck had sworn to never give in to those urges again.
Then all was blood and carnage.