be incapable of doing very much of anything for days afterward, until her body had recovered from his rampage. That knowledge served him well, because he hated hearing her thoughts; he hated her wondering about what had happened; he hated her compassion and pity—just as he hated her.
He reached for the snap on her jeans and bent her mind to his.
She moaned, long and low, eyes closing.
The sound was familiar. All women instantly succumbed. Suddenly he was even more furious—with her, with himself, with the gods, the deamhanain—with everyone. He pulled her down angrily and moved over her, and she looked up at him, her eyes glazed with the desire he had deliberately instilled in her.
Now she would not pity him or believe in him, or anything else. She would be his sexual slave until he released her from the enchantment.
Moments ago, at her home in the future, she had desired him—and he hadn’t enchanted her. But she had loved him for a long time….
He didn’t want her love, either!
For one moment he stared at her face.
She was everything he was not, everything he had once been.
He cried out, cursing, and leapt to his feet. He breathed hard. “Return to yer senses.” He whirled and strode from the tower, slamming the door so hard behind him that the wood splintered, the panels shearing apart.
His mind spun incoherently as he rushed down the corridor. When he opened his chamber door, Anna Marie sat up in the bed, clad only in a silk chemise.
“Get out,” he roared at her.
Her eyes widened in shock.
He decided he would murder her on the spot if she didn’t leave immediately. She understood and paled, slipping from the bed. Circling him, she fled.
He slammed the chamber door closed and the stone walls reverberated.
Then he leaned against the wall, and for the first time in decades, he succumbed to a moment of utter confusion.
What had just happened to him?
Why hadn’t he taken her, using her for the power he needed and craved, as he did them all?
Deep inside his body, something flickered, and he feared it was his soul.
His answer to the unfamiliar, unwanted feeling was instantaneous. He took a crooked chair and threw it at the wall, breaking it in pieces. A memory came swiftly, one long forgotten. Once, before his son’s murder, his home had been filled with beautiful furnishings and treasures collected from all over the world, from many different times. His brother Malcolm had broken a Louis XIV chair in a fit of rage over the woman who was now his wife, Claire.
Aidan clutched his temples. He did not want to remember having once had a home filled with beauty. After Awe had been burned to the ground in 1458, he had never considered refurbishing it with any luxury.
Very deliberately, he shut his mind down. The past was finished. He would never enjoy such a home again, nor did he care to. As for the woman in the tower, he did not know what had just happened, but it did not matter. He’d lost his soul long ago and that was exactly what he wanted.
The woman, Brianna, had to go back to where she had come from as soon as she was strong enough to withstand another leap. She had brought forth memories he had no wish to entertain, and he did not like the fact that he had hesitated to satisfy his lust for power and life. He was a half deamhan. He decided that if she came close another time, he’d make certain she feared him as much as the rest of Alba. The next time, he would take her. Maybe he’d go so far as to take pleasure in her death.
The idea was disturbing.
BRIE SAT UP IN THE COLD DARKNESS, stunned.
Aidan had just slammed from the room. She couldn’t breathe, but not because every movement caused her ribs to really hurt.
Aidan had just mesmerized her the way the demons did.
There was no doubt. Her body had been on fire a moment ago and she had lost her ability to think. She had been frantic for their union. But he had walked away, and the spell was broken.
She hugged herself, trying not to panic, her teeth chattering from the cold. He hadn’t seduced her against her will, and she tried to reassure herself. But he was the son of a demon—he had told her so. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but she was starting to now.
How far had the Wolf gone?
How could the son of a demon ever have been a Master?
“He’s turned, Brie. If you can’t feel the black power in this room, he’s brainwashed you.”
Images of the Wolf viciously mauling those boys to death filled her.
But he hadn’t hurt her—yet. He had saved her, even if he’d viciously destroyed the subs, even if he was so angry it was terrifying.
Demons did not save Innocence. They ruthlessly destroyed it. He wasn’t as evil as Nick claimed. He had a conscience. Didn’t he?
She was not reassured. They’d obviously leapt through time, and she had a pretty good idea of where they might be. Her heart hammered uneasily. He’d taken her hostage, or prisoner, or something. She was in over her head.
And where were her eyeglasses?
Her panic was complete. If she’d lost her glasses, she was almost as blind as a bat. If she couldn’t see, how was she going to protect herself? The room was pitch-black and she groped the floor carefully, immediately realizing they’d landed on rough, uneven stone. If she wasn’t in a castle chamber, she didn’t know where she was.
She had to find calm—no easy task when the son of a demon had just abducted her for no apparent reason. She did not know his motives and couldn’t even guess them. Brie tried deep, slow breathing, ignoring the pain in her rib cage. She reminded herself that she was here because of her sudden empathy across time for Aidan. He had rescued her from evil and brought her to the past. There was a reason for it all.
Brie shuddered. He bore little resemblance to the man she’d been infatuated with for the past year. He was frightening in every possible way—his anger, his sexuality, his hatred. His face might be as beautiful as ever, but his eyes were so flat, without light—almost like the eyes of demons, except that their eyes were black and soulless and Aidan’s remained sharply blue.
If he had a conscience, could he be redeemed?
Brie sat up straighter, wincing against the pain. Aidan did not appear to be redeemable. Surely she was not his salvation!
Shocked that she would even think such a thing, Brie managed to get to her feet, holding the aching side of her ribs. She leaned against the cold stone wall, certain he’d gone out of the room. She didn’t know what she was going to do when she found the door and stepped out of it.
She prayed that she would step out into a bright New York City summer day.
She was pretty sure Hudson Street was not outside that door.
