Page 140 of Blood & Claw

The warrior in question stared back at him; his sharp-featured face was set in hard lines. His green eyes narrowed. A muscle flexed in his lantern jaw.

He didn’t say a word, yet Ailsa could almost taste his hate for the king.

She studied the chieftain with interest. He was as tall and broad as an oak. Tribal tattoos, interlocking spirals and knotwork, snaked up his bare arms and neck, although amongst them, Ailsa noted others. Blades, animals, and plants with power bound in every line and curve.

Her gaze narrowed as she studied the designs. Those glowing eyes of the warriors who’d abducted Kayla, their speed and strength. They were warriors from Braewall—yet they bore the same tattoos as the Circines chieftain. Everything was starting to make sense now.

Niall glanced away from the glowering Tadhg then and raised his right arm, revealing a tattoo that covered the underside of his forearm, just above his wrist. From this distance, it looked a bit like a spiderweb with a dark tangle at its heart. “Gregor has given me something to ensure Tadhg and his friends remain obedient. However, they now require enough enhanced tattoos to make them unbeatable in battle.”

Ailsa’s gaze flicked back to Tadhg. Obedient?

A heavy silence fell before Kayla growled a curse. “Fools … earth magic shouldn’t be played with like this.”

Gregor’s lip curled. “But you’ve inked forbidden marks for years … that’s why we fetched you.”

Kayla flinched. “Not for this purpose,” she said, her voice faltering now.

“It’s the same sin,” Niall replied with a half-smile. “I’m just taking it further.”

Recovering, Kayla drew herself up. “I won’t help you.”

The hall fell silent, and then the king moved forward. However, he didn’t approach Kayla but Ailsa.

Heat crawled up her spine as he loomed over her. His gaze traced her face, her throat, her mouth. “She’s a striking lass,” he murmured.

Ailsa’s hands, bound by iron shackles, clenched uselessly behind her back.

“Leave her be, Niall,” Darach barked. “Ailsa has no part of this.”

Niall cut him a sharp look, understanding lighting in his blue eyes. “You’ve excellent taste, brother,” he murmured. Then, before Darach could answer, he shifted his attention to Kayla. “Do my bidding, tattooist … or I’ll make your daughter my bed-slave.”

Darach lurched forward, but Maol and another warrior hauled him back.

Niall cocked an eyebrow. “Too late for grand gestures, brother … the lass knows you’re a liar now.” He then nodded to Maol. “Throw him in the pit.”

The two of them dragged Darach backward.

He exploded against their grip, muscles bunched, chains snapping taut. His eyes burned unnaturally bright. The musky scent of something wild filled the air.

Ailsa’s heart slammed against her ribs.

The beast was rising.

The surrounding warriors stumbled back. Hands flew to weapons. Even Niall took a sharp step away, eyebrows drawing together.

Darach strained, veins standing out along his neck. His body convulsed as the clag-doo inside him hammered at bone and flesh.

He should have shifted, yet he didn’t.

Ailsa jolted.

Was it the iron at his throat and the shackles upon his wrists? Were they, somehow, choking the change?

Panting, Darach’s gaze found Ailsa’s.

The veil between them vanished. Ever since the hunter’s shieling, he’d stepped back from her, but he didn’t now. In the depths of his eyes, she glimpsed the raw fury, the desperation—and the apology.

“I failed you, Ailsa,” he wheezed. “I’m … sorry.”