Beautiful Nightmare (Dark Dream 2)

I dropped Caroline to the floor and looked up at the hallway leading to the only woman that really mattered in that moment.

“Go get Bianca,” Carter murmured, jogging up the stairs to keep an eye on Caroline. “I’ve got this.”

I went.

I ran so hard my heart threatened to burst like an overripe tomato. Ezra, Henri and Walcott chased me up the stairs just in case I need them. Beckett had told me which door in the hall was Bianca’s and when I tested it, it was locked.

“Tiernan!” Bianca’s muffled yell came through the door.

I closed my eyes for one precious second, letting the sweet sound sluice through, dissolving some of my monumental wrath.

“Hold tight, sweet thing,” I shouted.

Henrik was already bending to try his lock picks at the doorknob, but I placed a hand on his shoulder to pull him away. Instead, Ezra and I stepped up to the door. I held up three fingers and counted down.

On one, we kicked at the wooden door.

It caved in on a crashing, creaking groan then slammed against the ground. I planted a foot in it as I darted into the room and came to an abrupt stop.

Because there she was.

My peace, my love.

Zip-tied to the post of that antique bed like an animal, forced to her knees to take the pressure off her wrists. Her beautiful dress was torn at one shoulder, scratch marks carved deeply into the skin there. I could see the crusted blood at the roots of her pale hair, the dried trail of it down the sides of her neck, one single line of it dripping all the way into the crease between her breasts.

And my vision went red.

I turned on my heel without thought, driven by the instinctual violence that Bryant had bred into me like a virus, a disease I’d never be rid of. Walcott and Henrik held me back, arguing loudly with me.

I couldn’t hear them over the roar of blood in my ears like the call of a lion. I was all animal. All beast. Ready to tear Caroline apart with my claws and fucking teeth.

“Tiernan,” a sweet voice called, pulling me back to myself slightly.

Still, I pushed against my men, elbowing Henrik to get past him.

“Tiernan!”

“She needs to fucking die,” I roared so loudly, I had no doubt that the bitch could hear me all the way down in the hall. I wanted to hear me and piss herself in fear. “Do you hear me, Caroline? I’ll fucking end you.”

Ezra stepped in front of me, his face in the gap between Walcott and Henrik. He raised his hands calmly, expression placid, and signed, “Bianca needs your kindness more than you need to hurt Caroline.

That, combined with one more ringing call of Tiernan from Bianca, diffused the rabid tension in my limbs. As my mind cleared, I felt almost shaken, weak and vulnerable.

Because I was.

It was a vulnerable thing to realize someone had hurt the one you loved. To understand that you hadn’t been there to protect them and they’d been mistreated.

My eyes burned, dry and hot as coals in my skull as I abruptly changed direction and jogged over to Bianca. Her eyes were massive, wide and fathomless as a winter lake under a midnight sky.

“Tiernan,” she breathed this time, lower lip turning under into that pout I’d lived for since the day I met her. In anger, in sorrow, I loved that mouth in all of its expressions. “Thank you for coming.”

And then she burst into tears.

“Hush, my sweet girl,” I murmured over and over as I took a knife out of my boot and made quick work of the zip ties Caroline must have had one of her guards use on Bianca.

“Hush, my love,” I chanted softly as I pulled her free and straight into my arms.

She clung to me like a burr, like something that was made to stick and never let go. Her hands in my hair, mussing it as she caressed me fitfully before fisting her hands there to secure me close.

I held her so tightly I could feel her frantic heartbeat in my own chest, taste her tears on my cheek. It took me a moment to realize that some of that brine was my own, a hot tear tracking down my scarred cheek to the corner of my mouth.

The taste of it was bittersweet.

I hadn’t cried since the day Grace died and I wasn’t ashamed of crying now, holding the woman who had reminded me about the goodness of life and the grace of loving.

“I love you,” I told her for the first time even though the emotions had been clogging my chest for weeks. “I love you and I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

“I know,” she sobbed, soothing me even as she sought comfort from me, a hand massaging my neck. “I never felt safe until you forced me to come to Lion Court.”