Thorne (Random Romance) by Charlotte McConaghy Page A

but here it was unusual for a Kayan to draw a blade against anyone. Or it had been, before the Sparrow had gained power over the south.
    The fisherman’s two friends pulled their cutlasses free and my mind raced, trying to work out what to do, but – once again – I was saved any effort.
    The girl moved, so fast I barely caught it. Her right knife swept out to take the man at her side through the fingers; his blade fell to the ground along with three of his digits. At the same time, her left knife nicked straight through the other man’s ear, taking a chunk of it, and then both knives were back in their original spot without the slightest hint that she’d moved at all.
    Screams rent the air; both men dropped to the ground to clutch at their wounds as they sprayed blood all over the sandy floorboards.
    Jonah groaned in horror at the sight of the fingers on the floor. Penn started to sing, a warbling melody of sound. But it was at Thorne that I looked, because at the sight of the blood, his eyes had turned as red as the girl’s. Which was not possible.
    My heart ratcheted out of control, pounding with painful speed. Pirenti eyes didn’t change colour. They couldn’t. Not unless …
    The sound was seeping out of the world. All I could see and hear was the prince as he faded from his own face and started breathing with a kind of animal hunger. A low growl erupted in the back of his throat; a sense of otherness in the way he moved towards the writhing men.
    The back of my neck prickled; Thorne was a berserker. And he was going to destroy the lot of us.
    ‘It’s the blood fever,’ I heard the ice girl breathe. ‘I can stop him.’
    I glanced at her; it was obvious how she meant to stop him, standing there with her knives already dripping blood.
    A mighty fist hammered into the fisherman, knocking him flying. Thorne then lifted the man who’d had half his ear cut off. With one hand around his neck, the man looked like a rag doll in the giant’s grip.
    ‘Your Majesty!’ Jonah shouted, but I doubted Thorne could hear.
    He shook his toy, then flung him away. I watched as the huge man barrelled into several other patrons; the tavern was in a flurry of terror now. They were all scrambling to get out, but it was so crowded that people were getting trampled.
    Thorne moved towards them.
    And then he stopped. I watched, knowing . I watched him lift his face and take a deep breath, scenting the air.
    I watched him turn and fix his red eyes on me.
    He could smell the magic my skin was drenched in. He was berserker: of course he could smell it. Thorne moved towards me; a sick, broken part of me was excited. My trembling hands reached for his chest; it was burning hot and like a brand against my skin.
    ‘Finn!’ I heard Jonah yell.
    I looked only at Thorne, up into his bloody eyes. He returned the gaze, but he didn’t recognise me.
    ‘Thorne,’ I said softly, almost a whisper. ‘Come back.’
    He blinked and I got exactly what I’d wanted – his bare hand reaching out to take my neck. It felt, at first, like a lover’s caress. Then it tightened.
    And within that skin to skin, I felt it. The weight of his heart. As was my gift, my curse. One I could not control, no matter how many warders forbade me from using it. Thorne bore the heaviest heart I’d ever encountered, a soul too much a burden for any man or woman to carry. There was an entire world crashing down on him, bending him, bending him so badly I didn’tknow how he had not yet snapped. I felt a howling echo in my ears; against my face there was snow falling and my breath was so cold I could see it. I was dizzy with the understanding of him, with the intimacy .
    And I didn’t care, in that moment, if he squeezed the life out of me. I could feel chaos and destruction fry the air, and behind my eyes there were whispered screams; I wanted them gone from my head.
    My air was cut off. But I held his eyes, and I didn’t blink.
    That was when we heard it, both of us at