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

to do that?”
    “For the skills we spoke about,” Leo said. “We believe his motivation for coming back here stems from a need to replicate the cure. Nikolai was a man who liked to prepare for every eventuality. He wished to have the freedom to walk in the sunlight. Yet he knew that having the power to manipulate minds was equally as important.”
    Ivana gave a weak smile. “We will never fully know or understand his intentions. Indeed, his life was and still is somewhat of a mystery.”
    “His daily habits are of no consequence to me.” He could hear the trace of bitterness in his tone. “Does the cure pose any risk to one’s health when consumed?”
    Not all potions and medicines brought the required results. He had seen many advertisements offering herbal remedies and ointments for all sorts of ailments. Most of them consisted of at least one unusual ingredient: red coral marine plant, ground goat’s horn, a crab’s blackened claw. A cure to cleanse the blood made of iron ore and holy water sounded just as ludicrous.
    “Nothing is free of risk.” Leo’s stark warning woke him from his musings. The marquess focused his attention on Isla. “I must caution you. You will experience pain, an agonising discomfort that could last for hours, perhaps even days. There is nothing we can do to help ease your torment.”
    A heavy silence pressed down upon them. No doubt the visitors were recalling the horrendous suffering they had experienced during their cleansing. If Lachlan could take the dratted potion on Isla’s behalf, he would. Isla stared into her lap, toyed absently with her fingers, and he wished he had her ability to read minds.
    “Would it be such a hardship to remain as you are?” he asked, a sudden sense of loss clawing away at him when he considered all the things that could go wrong. “Is this life not more preferable than no life at all?”
    A dull thud against the door captured their attention and Douglas backed into the room, his arms laden with refreshments. Carrying a silver tray supporting a decanter and glasses, the old man took slow, measured steps towards them in a bid to prevent the rattling vessel from tipping off onto the floor.
    “Here, allow me to help you.” Leo rushed over before Lachlan had a chance to offer.
    Douglas conveyed his thanks. “These hands were once steady enough to bring down a stag with a single shot.” He sighed and shook his head. “I’ve asked Malmuirie to make tea for those who would rather nae partake in the good stuff.”
    Leo placed the tray on the side table near the fire. He raised an empty glass and shook it. “Ivana. Will you take tea or whisky?”
    The lady screwed up her nose. “I can’t recall ever drinking the spirit. I’ve heard it can be quite potent.”
    “I suggest we all have a dram. On a cold night like this, it’s best nae to get a chill on yer chest.” Douglas put his fist to his mouth and coughed as though already anticipating the fiery fluid scorching his throat. “I’ve known Malmuirie to add a drop to her tea, or a drop of tea to her whisky when her nerves are in tatters.”
    While the guests discussed whether the combination of such distinctive tastes ruined good tea or good whisky, Lachlan stared at the tray. The china teacup, with its delicate flower pattern and gilt edging, contained blood. The burgundy pool was just visible beneath the rim. His stomach recoiled at the thought of drinking it down. He assumed it had come from an animal, imagined a complicated daily ritual, a shelf in the larder lined with full flagons.
    He did not need to glance to his left to know Isla was watching him. Her penetrative gaze bore into him like the tips of hot pokers piercing his skin. He knew why. Gauging his reaction to the sight of her blood tea would reveal his true feelings. To show disgust would only serve to place a barrier between them.
    Reaching for the dainty cup and saucer he passed it to her, conscious that he had no excuse to