Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood 4)

“I am not Nikolai,” the gentleman said. “I am not your husband. But I will prove to you that we are kin, that we once shared the same blood affliction.” The gentleman shrugged out of his coat, untied his cravat and threw them to the ground. His waistcoat soon joined the other garments before he parted his shirt to reveal the same branding mark that was seared into her hip.

Still gripping the lady firmly, Isla shuffled forward. “How did you come by such a mark?”

The gentleman shook his head. “Release my wife and let us go inside where we can talk.”

“I have the same mark.” The woman gulped, the action evident in the pulsating in her neck. “Nikolai hurt me, too, in the same way he did you.”

The mere mention of his name made Isla’s skin slither over her bones. “Do you know where my husband is? Have you seen him?”

The gentleman nodded. “Yes. And you will be pleased to know—”

The front door flew open. Lachlan and Douglas sprinted out, panic marring their faces.

Isla froze. She did not want Lachlan to see the monster she had become. The hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach grew to cavernous proportions.

Douglas took one look at her ugly eyes, and his face grew ashen, deathly pale. He turned to Lachlan. “It’s best ye stay inside. I’ll deal with this. Go. Go now and tell Malmuirie we have visitors.”

Lachlan ignored him. His confused gaze fell to the clothing discarded on the ground before shooting up to the gentleman’s open shirt. “Who are you? What do you want here?” Lachlan turned his attention to her. As he narrowed his gaze, it took a moment for him to express any sign of emotion. “Isla?” The sharp gasp was accompanied by wide, horrified eyes and a gaping mouth. “What … what is wrong with you?”

Douglas stepped in between them and grabbed Lachlan’s shoulders. “Go inside and we’ll talk about this later.”

Lachlan shrugged out of the old man’s grasp and stepped to the side. “What has happened to your eyes, to your teeth?”

She could not bear to look at him. His horrified expression reminded her so much of the last look to grace her father’s face. Feeling nothing but shame and mortification, she released the woman she’d held pinned to her chest. The woman scurried over to her husband who embraced her in his arms and kissed her tenderly on the temple.

Isla buried her grotesque face in her hands and sobbed. “I thought Nikolai had returned. My … my mind … I cannot think clearly. I do not know what is real anymore.”

“Nikolai?” Douglas snorted. He came over to her, placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Could ye not see yer mistake, lass? Hell, I’d know that heathen like I’d know my own mother.”

“Will someone mind telling me what on earth is going on?” Lachlan’s voice held no hint of anger, no hint of disgust.

He deserved to know the truth.

Isla sucked in a breath, let the air travel calmly through her body to bolster her courage. She straightened her spine, gave Douglas a weak smile.

“I am not human, Lachlan.” She came to stand in front of him, ignored the way his brows knitted together when he looked at her face. “I’ve not been human since Nikolai infected my blood. I have no choice but to live like this. I must drink fresh blood else I will die.” She ran her tongue over the points of her fangs. “I am the creature the villagers fear. I am their worst nightmare come true.”

He took a step back. “You killed their cattle for their blood?”

“No!” She shook her head vigorously. “Good Lord, no. Everything I have told you has been the truth. You saw the real culprit yourself. It is just that there is more to the affliction than I led you to believe.”

Douglas stepped forward. “She’s still the same lass you remember. You dinnae have to look at her teeth.”

She would have laughed at her old friend’s words had she not been so utterly heartbroken. As though powered by her sorrowful thoughts, the fangs she detested shrank back into their sheath.

Lachlan jerked his head in surprise. “My mind refuses to accept what my eyes are seeing.”

“This is who I am now, Lachlan. I cannot turn back time. I cannot go back to how things used to be. I am cursed, and there is nothing I can do but learn to live with my affliction.”

The gentleman cleared his throat as he picked up his coat and shook it out. “That is not entirely true.” He shrugged into the garment and took his wife’s hand. “I am Leo Devlin, Marquess of Hartford. And this is my wife, Ivana. We have travelled all the way from Bavaria to see you.”

“Bavaria?” Isla gasped. Good heavens. She did not know what was more shocking. A marquess stood in the bailey — a peer of the realm — and he had come hundreds of miles to see her.

The lady rushed forward, her warm countenance in no way reflecting any resentment for her earlier mistreatment. She took Isla’s hand and rubbed it affectionately. “We have come to tell you that Nikolai is dead. We have come to bring you the cure for your blood affliction.”

Chapter 7

Isla’s knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground.