Death's Lover Read Online Free Page A

that thought came freedom. For the first time he need not fear the repercussion; they would happen anyway.
    “Morrigan!”
    Cahal hooked his arm through Cian’s. Using the guard’s momentum against him, Cian turned on his heel and slammed his palm against Cahal’s cheek. More guards jumped on Cian.
    Fingers clawed into his flesh. Nails drew blood. But he didn’t care. He swung his fists and yelled.
    “Craven whore,” he bellowed, praying the goddess would hear him. “Hiding behind your dogs. Meet me!”
    There was no reason for the queen to do this. He’d come with no arguments; he’d known the punishment he’d receive. But he knew her perverse love of violence and blood all too well. The queen was a sadist through and through, and this was nothing more than a blatant show of power, of letting him know she was boss. He hated her now more than ever.
    Bodies slammed into his back, bringing him to his knees under the weight and choking the air from his lungs. But the adrenaline was spiking and he no longer cared.
    Cian writhed, the preternatural strength in his body refusing to fade out. This was a fury he’d suppressed for far too long. The indifference and hostility of the righteous fae toward his kind, the indignity of being called “dog” or, worse yet, not being called anything at all, had the festering hatred boiling over.
    The sounds of snapping bones, quick grunts of breath, and the muffled noise of flesh striking flesh echoed down the hall.
    He grabbed two heads and knocked them together. The dull sound was sickening as the bones crumpled against the other. A boot slammed into his face. It felt like his nose had been rammed through his skull.
    Then more feet connected, busting in his teeth, his cheeks. He was on the ground now, facedown and being crushed under the pressure of a blanket of bodies. They slammed sword hilts into his face; the explosion of razor-sharp pain inside his brain was immediate and excruciating. He hissed, finally blacking out as one connected with his temple.
    *  *  *
    Badb and Nemain returned, gliding toward The Morrigan. They landed on either end of her throne and cawed.
    She caressed the thick rope of leather in her hand. “Is Cian shackled in the chambers below?”
    She’d heard all the words the fool had spat as he’d fought with her guards. He’d pay for the remarks with blood.
    Nemain blinked her ruby-red eyes.
    “Good.” The Morrigan strode toward the hallway. Her fingers twitched with anticipation. Her obsidian gown tightened at the chest with the excited rise of her breathing.
    “Be well, Chaos,” Dagda called after her.
    She turned and nodded toward her scheming consort. His eyes gleamed differing shades of gold and black. A smile cut his features, the white of his teeth in sharp contrast to the natural tan of his flesh. The Morrigan turned on her heels and proceeded toward the rack room.
    Dagda was keeping secrets. He never involved himself in her affairs. Now twice he’d done so.
    Anger sizzled through her veins. Her nostrils flared. She cracked the whip against her thigh in agitation.
    Only strategically placed torches lit the winding stairway of stone. Thin jets of light cut through the shadow at intermittent spaces. The gloomy, dank path had been designed with purpose. To create a sense of panic. Of fear. To increase the heart rate into a pounding melody of terror. There wasn’t much that could scare an immortal centuries old. Nothing, that is, except the rotten stench of dried blood, the torn flesh of their kith, and knowing they’d soon be next. She bit her lip, her fury increasing with each step she took.
    Finally, three flights down and in the darkest corridor of the castle, she arrived at the rack room. Two guards with crossed sickles stood before the door.
    Her lips twitched at the sight of Cahal. One eye was beginning to swell with an overflow of blood. The white was now a shocking sea of busted blood vessels. She loved death. They were such a