Page 7 of Blood Red Rage

“Go,” Draugr ordered softly. “Find out who she is, don’t scare her friends and whatever you do don’t fucking touch her. Just listen.” The man melted into the crowd like smoke.

I forced myself to stay where I was, every muscle locked in place, watching, memorizing, counting breaths. A man brushed past her again, and my vision went red for half a second before I dragged it back under control. This was bad. I had never been like this, I had never lost composure, never felt this close to tearing something apart just to make the world feel right again.

Draugr leaned closer. “You approach her blind, every eye in this place will follow. You should wait to get her name. Then you make your move.”

Waiting felt like agony, but I held still because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t just claim her. I’d start a war on the dance floor. The instinct roared again, it was demanding, primal. I ignored it, or I tried to. But then she turned slow, curious, the same instinct pulling her that was pulling me and our eyes met across the club, everything inside me stilled. Her lips parted just slightly, like she felt it too. A spark. A pull. A question neither of us had words for yet. My fists tightened.

I wasn’t supposed to feel like this, I wasn’t supposed to want like this. Wanting meant weakness, attachment meant danger. Every Dragic brother knew that the hard way.

But she looked at me like she saw something I didn’t know how to hide. Like she recognized me in some quiet part of herself. Like fate had finally stopped playing games and pointed directly at her.

She is my mate, my curse, my reason now to breath. I stood there too long, stared too hard. Draugr’s voice reached me from somewhere behind.

“You need air,” he muttered.

No. I need her. The thought came sharp and violent, cutting through everything else. Air wouldn’t fix this, distance wouldn’t fix this. The only thing that would fix the pressure building under my skin was her within arm’s reach, safe, untouched, aware that she wasn’t alone anymore.

Then I saw him. At first, it was just a wrongness at the edge of my vision. A still point in a room full of movement. Everyone else swayed, drank, shouted, laughed. This man didn’t do any of that. He stood half in shadow near the bar, posture relaxed in a way that was anything but casual.

His eyes were locked on my woman, his gaze was not appreciating, not admiring but assessing. Something savage tore loose inside my chest. My jaw clenched so hard it ached, heat roared up my spine, fast and uncontrollable, like a fuse had been lit and there was no telling what would happen when it reached the end. My fingers twitching with the urge to break something. Someone.

He was watching her move. Tracking the sway of her hips, the way she turned her head, the moments she laughed with her friends. His gaze followed her with ownership he had not earned and never would.

I knew that look. I had worn it myself in darker years. Draugr shifted beside me, sensing the change. He didn’t need to look where I was looking to know what I’d found. My fury bled off me in waves, thick and dangerous.

“She’s not prey,” I muttered under my breath. The man leaned forward slightly, as if considering moving closer.

That was it. Something inside me snapped into place with brutal clarity. This wasn’t about jealousy, this wasn’t about dominance. This was instinct at its most primal, oldest setting. I had to protect, guard and eliminate the threat to my mate.

The word hit again, heavier now, welded to the image of that man daring to look at her like she was something he could take. I forced myself to stay where I was, every muscle screaming in protest. If I moved too fast, if I reacted instead of planned, I’d light up every set of eyes already tracking us. I’d make her a target instead of a shield. But I couldn’t ignore it either, So, I watched him back.

I memorized his face, his stance, the way his weight shifted. I catalogued every detail with the cold precision that violence had taught me well. If he moved toward her again, I would be there before he took two steps.

There would be no hesitation, no mercy. That truth had barely settled when one of our men surfaced from the crowd. He didn’t rush, didn’t draw attention. He stopped at Draugr’s shoulder like he belonged there, head dipping just enough to signal success.

I felt it before he spoke. That instinctive tightening, that pull locking deeper into my chest.

“She’s with two friends,” he said quietly. “The friends are local, London girls, but she’s not. There is no obvious ties.”

My jaw flexed. “Name.”

The man glanced at me, just once, then back to Draugr. Smart, everyone could feel how volatile the air around me had become.

“Bryn,” he said. “Bryn Carter.”

The name hit like a blow. Bryn. It wasn’t just a sound, it slid under my skin and settled somewhere permanent, like it had always been there, waiting to be spoken aloud.

Bryn Carter was Mine!

Something in my chest locked into place, the bond tightened, snapping into alignment with brutal certainty. She wasn’t an abstract pull anymore. She wasn’t a woman across a crowded room. She was Bryn.

Draugr studied my face, reading the shift. “You good?”

No, but I nodded anyway.

The man continued, unaware of the storm he’d just fed. “She works an office job. Procurement for a Construction company and lives alone. One of her friends said she doesn’t go out much.”

“Anyone bothering her?” I asked.