I open my mouth to retort, but Jake holds up his hand. “Just…think about it.”
“I’ve thought about it. No.” I move away from him, because, really, I don’t trust him.
“Wait,” Ginger says, and steps toward me. “Seriously, Riley, think about it.”
Then goddamn it all, she does it. She grasps my arm before I can snatch it back. The room spins, my eyes cross, and everything goes blurry once again.…
“So, you think you can handle this one, huh, newbie?”
I’d glanced at Paxton Tarragon, the arrogant senior field agent I’d been training with for the past three months. He had been in his mid-thirties, had worn white, spiked hair, and had looked like Billy Idol. I’d narrowed my gaze, sick to death of being called newbie. The only thing I’d hated worse than that was being called blondie. Typical straight blond hair and blue eyes had been roadblocks in my career. No guy took a blonde seriously. Then add in the name Ginger? I’d always had to prove myself. Bastards. “Hell yeah.”
My conversation with Pax replayed in my head more times than I could count. Why had he had to have been so damn cocky? That seemed like a long time ago now.
Over the course of the next week, Lucian slowly introduced me to my new world, my new body, my new senses. I would not be able to master them all for some time; my hearing was exaggerated and sometimes hurt my ears and insides. My sense of smell was so intense, it overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t determine one smell from another—except for Lucian’s scent. His was unique and solely Lucian’s, and I could detect it a mile away. My strength and speed were immature but growing fast—almost too fast. I tripped, I fell, I hurled myself to speeds which my old body couldn’t handle yet. I busted my ass more times than I could count. But Lucian was right there to help me up.
Each night, we made intense love and fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. Each night, I dreamed. Pax pursued me in his human form, always in a heavy mist, always through a dense wood. The white fog slipped through the trees and brush like long, reaching fingers, and I ran hard, stumbling and not in control of my new speed and strength. Pax, for some reason, was. His white spiked hair appeared behind every tree, every rock, as though he was toying with me. And every time, he’d catch me, back me against the base of a tree. “This is your fault, newbie. I’m here, trapped as an abomination, all because of you. I don’t know whether to thank you or rip your throat out.” I’d awaken, shaking violently, breathless, just before Pax shifted into his wolf form and lunged at me, teeth bared. I kept the dreams from Lucian. I thought I could handle them, or that they’d just go away. I was so very wrong.
My arrival in Dunmora, and the events that had followed, haunted me.
“So you have a couple of years behind you, and what?” He cocked his head and stared at me. “Think you’re ready?” He’d shaken his head and had popped the hatch. “I’ve been at this for ten years, newbie, and trust me—you’re never ready.”
I’d met Pax’s stare for a few seconds, had told him to eff-off in my head, had grabbed my pack and shouldered it. Then I’d really taken a good look around at the secluded Highland village. “Desolate” was the first word that had come to mind. A half dozen gray stone and whitewashed buildings hugged the pebbled crescent shore of a small lake—or, rather, a loch. Beyond the village, the Rannoch Moors were even more desolate than Dunmorag. Tufts of dead grass, brown heather, and rock stretched for miles. Far in the distance, dark, craggy mountains threw long shadows and loomed ominously. The skies were gray. The moors were gray. Even the water in the loch was gray. Well, black.
“Foreboding.” That was the second word that had come to mind.
“You gonna stand here all day and take in the scenery or what?” Pax had asked.
I’d given him a hard look, which he’d ignored, instead inclining his head to the pub behind us. “I’m ready,” I’d said. I had shifted my pack, had snugged my leather jacket’s collar closer to my neck, and together we’d crossed the small car park. The wind bit straight through my clothes, and I’d shivered as I’d stepped onto the single paved walk that ran in front of the stores. I’d glanced down the row of buildings. A baker. A fishmonger. The Royal Post. A grocer. An inn and a pub. And absolutely no people around. Weird. Very, very weird. Good thing weird had been our specialty.
A black sign with a sliver of a red moon painted on it had swung above the pub on rusted hinges, and the creaking noise had echoed off the building. In silver letters, the sign read THE BLOOD MOON. Pax had pushed in through the red double doors—quite befitting, the red—and I’d followed. Inside, it had taken my eyes several seconds to adjust to the dimmer light. A hush fell over the handful of people gathered in the single-room dwelling. “Guess we found the villagers,” I’d whispered to Pax. They had stopped what they were doing or saying to stare at us. No one had uttered a word.
I’d glanced at Pax, then all around, until my eyes had lighted on the man behind the bar. He had dark, expressionless eyes that reminded me of a shark’s eyes, and they’d bored straight into me. His head, shaved bald, had shined beneath the pub’s overhead light. He’d said nothing. I had walked up to him and had met his gaze. “We’re looking for Lucian MacLoud,” I’d said. “Know where we can find him?”
It was weird, mine and Lucian’s relationship. I felt completely at ease with Lucian, as though we’d known each other forever. He’d had nearly three weeks to come to terms with the fact that I was his marked mate; I’d had about twenty-four hours. Still, I accepted it readily and willingly. It felt…natural, as though my life was to turn out no other way than to be here, in the Highlands of Scotland, with an ancient Pict warrior-wolf. It felt even more natural to become a wolf, too. I can’t explain it without sounding like a lunatic, but there you go.
Lucian and I left the bothy the last day of my transition and traveled north and west to the MacLeod stronghold. Situated on a sea loch, the massive gray stone fortress, complete with four imposing towers, dominated the seascape. It literally stole my breath.
“You live here?” I asked incredulously. I glanced at him.
Lucian laughed, and reached over and grasped my hand. “Nay. We live here.”
My heart swelled at his words. We’d not exchanged the L-word yet; somehow, it just didn’t seem right. But we’d both claimed each other, and the word “mine” sounded nearly as powerful as, if not more than, the word “love.” There would be an adjustment period for both of us. But one thing of which I was absolutely positive: We were meant to be together.
Lucian pulled onto a single-track gravel lane that led to the massive front doors of the castle, and before we had the Rover in park, five big guys emptied the entrance and made their way toward us. All had dark hair in various lengths and bodies that looked like they swung axes and swords and kicked ass for a living.
Lucian glanced at me and laughed. “They won’t bite.”
I looked at him and raised a brow. “Doubt that.”
I climbed out of the Rover, slammed the door, and faced the MacLeods.
“Gin, my brothers. Arron, Raife, Christopher, Jacob, and Sean.”
Arron walked up and embraced me; the others followed. “Welcome,” Arron said, his eyes flashing quicksilver.
“About time we had a lass around the place,” Jacob said, and the others laughed.
The MacLeods welcomed me, and as it was with Lucian, the same held true with his brothers. It felt like I’d known them my entire life.
The MacLeod fortress entailed no less than two hundred acres and the shoreline, and inside the castle was a modernized habitat befitting an ancient wolf clan of Pict warriors. Primeval mixed perfectly with contemporary. It was mind-numbing to think how long ago Lucian and his brothers were born, how long they’d lived.
They prepared me for my transition that night; in all honesty, there wasn’t much they could do except stand by and wait, help out if needed. Lucian warned me the first time would be painful, and he apologized more times than I could count. He held me in his arms, kissed me, smoothed my hair from my face, and promised to not leave my side until it was over.
By nightfall, as the moon began to rise, Lucian and his brothers walked me to the shoreline, encircled me, and waited. I immediately knew it had begun when my skin began to itch. I felt as though I wanted to
