Lured to the Night (The Brotherhood Series Book 4) by Adele Clee Page B

so low.
    His voice sounded less intimidating than she remembered. Perhaps he had spent the last three years in England. He had lost the strange intonation that made him pronounce words sharply as though they were weapons. With the whites of her eyes now littered with red veins, she blinked a few times in a bid to focus on the blurry form before her.
    The woman in her arms trembled. Guilt flared. She was not a monster, but Nikolai always brought out the worst elements of character. Survival, and protecting those she cared for, was her only motivation now.
    “Tell me why you’ve come back.” With her fangs bared, the words fell awkwardly from her mouth. “Tell me what evil trick you’ve used to conjure a devil in my form.”
    “You’re mistaken,” the woman panted. “We have not come here to hurt you. We understand your plight. Show her, Leo. Show her your mark.”
    Leo?
    Isla stared at the man opposite. He held his hands out in front of him once more. “We were once like you. We know of Nikolai, and we have come here to help you.”
    Isla narrowed her gaze. Nikolai’s hair was as black as the night. Now she stood a little closer, this man’s hair appeared more of a warm brown. How had she failed to notice the difference? Nikolai possessed a lithe, almost scrawny frame. This man’s muscular arms strained against the confines of his coat. She blinked again. “Tell me you’re not Nikolai. Tell me you’re not my husband. Let me hear the words fall from your lips.”
    The stranger’s eyes widened. They stared at each other.
    “I am not Nikolai,” the gentleman said. “I am not your husband. But I will prove to you that we are kin, that we once shared the same blood affliction.” The gentleman shrugged out of his coat, untied his cravat and threw them to the ground. His waistcoat soon joined the other garments before he parted his shirt to reveal the same branding mark that was seared into her hip.
    Still gripping the lady firmly, Isla shuffled forward. “How did you come by such a mark?”
    The gentleman shook his head. “Release my wife and let us go inside where we can talk.”
    “I have the same mark.” The woman gulped, the action evident in the pulsating in her neck. “Nikolai hurt me, too, in the same way he did you.”
    The mere mention of his name made Isla’s skin slither over her bones. “Do you know where my husband is? Have you seen him?”
    The gentleman nodded. “Yes. And you will be pleased to know—”
    The front door flew open. Lachlan and Douglas sprinted out, panic marring their faces.
    Isla froze. She did not want Lachlan to see the monster she had become. The hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach grew to cavernous proportions.
    Douglas took one look at her ugly eyes, and his face grew ashen, deathly pale. He turned to Lachlan. “It’s best ye stay inside. I’ll deal with this. Go. Go now and tell Malmuirie we have visitors.”
    Lachlan ignored him. His confused gaze fell to the clothing discarded on the ground before shooting up to the gentleman’s open shirt. “Who are you? What do you want here?” Lachlan turned his attention to her. As he narrowed his gaze, it took a moment for him to express any sign of emotion. “Isla?” The sharp gasp was accompanied by wide, horrified eyes and a gaping mouth. “What … what is wrong with you?”
    Douglas stepped in between them and grabbed Lachlan’s shoulders. “Go inside and we’ll talk about this later.”
    Lachlan shrugged out of the old man’s grasp and stepped to the side. “What has happened to your eyes, to your teeth?”
    She could not bear to look at him. His horrified expression reminded her so much of the last look to grace her father’s face. Feeling nothing but shame and mortification, she released the woman she’d held pinned to her chest. The woman scurried over to her husband who embraced her in his arms and kissed her tenderly on the temple.
    Isla buried her grotesque face in her hands and sobbed. “I