Immortals After Dark 05 - Dark Needs at Nights Edge Read Free

bandage under his shirt on his left arm. The slashed skin beneath it will not heal. Five days ago, he was marked by a dream demon, one who tracks him by this very injury. One who promised that most coveted dream and most dreaded nightmare would follow the mark.
    His brows draw together. The hunter will soon become the hunted—his life is nearing its end.
    A whisper of regret. The thing he regrets most. He tries to remember what he covets so dearly. Another’s memories bombard him, exploding in his mind. His hand shoots up to clasp his forehead—
    Nikolai enters the bar, Murdoch behind him. Their expressions are grave.
    They’ve come to kill me. As he expected. He thought he could draw them out by returning here again and again. He lowers his hand, and his lips ease back from his fangs. The bar empties in a rush.
    Then... stillness. His brothers stare at him as if seeing a ghost. Insects clamor outside. Rain draws near and steeps the air. Just as lightning strikes in the distance, Sebastian enters, crossing to stand beside the other two. He’s allied with them? This he hadn’t expected.
    He removes his sunglasses, revealing his red eyes. The eldest, Nikolai, stifles a wince at the sight, but shakes it off and advances. The three seem surprised that he’ll stay to engage them, that he hasn’t traced away. They are strong and skilled, yet they don’t recognize the power he wields, the thing he’s become.
    He can slaughter them all without blinking, and he’ll savor it. They haven’t drawn their swords? Then they walk to their doom. Can’t keep them waiting.
    He lunges from his seat and hurdles the table, knocking Sebastian unconscious with a blow that cracks his skull and sends him flying into the back wall. Before the other two can raise a hand in defense, he snatches them by their throats. One in each tightening hand as they grapple to free themselves. “Three hundred years of this,” he hisses. Their struggles do nothing; their shocked expressions satisfy. Squeezing—
    Wood creaks behind him. He shoves back and heaves his brothers at a new enemy. Too late; that Lykae’s returned and slashes out with flared claws, ripping through his torso. Blood gushes.
    He roars with fury and charges the werewolf, dodging claws and teeth with uncanny speed to barrel him to the ground. Just as his hands are about to meet around the Lykae’s corded neck, the beast claps something to his right wrist.
    A manacle? Clenching harder, he grates out a rasping laugh. “You don’t think that will hold me?” Bones begin to pop beneath his palms. The kill is near, and he wants to yell with pleasure.
    The werewolf cuffs his left wrist.
    What is this? The metal won’t bend. Won’t break. They goddamned mean to take me alive? He leaps to his feet, tensing to trace. Nothing. Sebastian on the floor, pouring blood from his temple, has him by the ankles.
    He kicks Sebastian, connecting squarely with his brother’s chest. Ribs crack. He whirls around—in time to catch the bar rail the Lykae swings at his face.
    He staggers but remains on his feet.
    “What the fuck is he?” the Lykae bellows, swinging the rail again with all his might.
    The brutal hit takes him across his neck. A split second of faltering. Enough for his brothers to tackle him.
    He thrashes and bites, snapping his fangs. Can’t break free... can’t... They attach the manacles at his wrists to another chain. He kicks viciously, stunned when they trap his legs as well.
    Choking with rage, he strains against his bonds with all his strength. The metal cleaves his skin to the bone. Nothing.
    Caught. He roars, spitting blood at them, dimly hearing them speak.
    “I hope you came up with a good place to put him,” Sebastian says between ragged breaths.
    “I bought a long-abandoned manor,” Nikolai grates, “place called Elancourt.”
    Chills course through him even through his fury; pain erupts from the injury on his arm. A dream. His doom. He can never go to this