say everything was all right,
concerned that the McKinleys had harmed him. He was sure that Ian would have some
heartburn over him bringing a cousin of the Kilpatricks home with him. Or not. Being mated to Julia Wildthorn, werewolf romance writer, had softened his brother
up a bit. In a good way.
Cearnach hadn’t meant to, but resting next to the enticing she-wolf, her blood pulsing
through her veins, and listening to the steady thump of her heart led to him dozing
off for a couple of hours. He woke to the smell of an elusive pine marten rummaging
around nearby. The slim creature was mink brown in color with a yellow bib at its
throat, around the size of a cat, and a member of the family that included mink, otters,
and weasels. It was scrounging for something to eat.
The animals were territorial, so Cearnach had smelled the scat left in the area by
the marten. It was a predator, reducing the populations of gray squirrels, but when
it came to wolves and martens, territorial lines went out the window. Since he was
downwind of the mammal, Cearnach raised his head to let the marten know he had company.
Because of the movement, the marten saw the two wolves, its eyes widening in horror,
and quickly scampered away. Elaine stared in the direction the animal had gone, and
then she sat up. Cearnach stood and nodded in the direction they needed to go. She
got up, leaned her head down, and licked the cut on his foreleg that had occurred
when he’d tried to reach his phone through the broken window in his demolished minivan.
She whimpered.
Touched by her concern, he nudged her face, telling her he was fine.
The castle was not too far now. No sliver of a moon could be seen in the darkness,
though the rains hadn’t started again. A heavy mist cloaked everything in shades of
wet gray, which was perfect for wolves who shouldn’t have existed in Scotland and
didn’t want to get caught out in the open.
They finally reached the long drive that led to Argent Castle, the portcullis and
wooden gates still open. Most likely because Cearnach hadn’t returned yet. Some of
his clan had to be out searching for him.
Before he could escort Elaine to the gate where lights illuminated the entryway, he
heard a car engine rumbling as it approached the castle, the headlights peering into
the gloom.
To be on the safe side, he kept Elaine hidden in the woods with him. The car didn’t
sound or look familiar.
In the kennel where they were rounded up for the night, the wolfhounds began to bark,
warning of intruders.
The black BMW’s tires crunched on the gravel drive, then stopped as the car parked
outside the gates. The occupants—the driver and a passenger—remained inside as if
waiting for an invitation. Cearnach glanced up at the castle towers flanking the gate
entryway. One of his cousins was watching from each of the cylindrical towers. One
was calling on his cell phone, warning Ian they had company, and the word would soon
spread throughout the pack.
Cearnach watched and waited, intending on lending wolf teeth to a fight if that’s
what was needed here. But his priority was keeping Elaine in the woods, quiet and
safe for now. She stayed close to him, her body touching his, her tail straight out.
She was tense, alert, and appeared ready for a skirmish.
Duncan, his youngest quadruplet brother, was headed for the gate, already armed with
a sword, shirtless, and wearing only black trousers and boots. Two other clansmen
flanked him, looking ready to shift and fight a battle to the death. Another two in
wolf form hurried to catch up to lend backup.
Cearnach wanted to let them know he was all right, but he didn’t want to let anyone
know Elaine was here with him, in case these men were the McKinleys or Kilpatricks
and they had finally figured out that the rental car they had stolen was their distant
cousin’s. He was afraid they’d attempt to take her with them.
concerned that the McKinleys had harmed him. He was sure that Ian would have some
heartburn over him bringing a cousin of the Kilpatricks home with him. Or not. Being mated to Julia Wildthorn, werewolf romance writer, had softened his brother
up a bit. In a good way.
Cearnach hadn’t meant to, but resting next to the enticing she-wolf, her blood pulsing
through her veins, and listening to the steady thump of her heart led to him dozing
off for a couple of hours. He woke to the smell of an elusive pine marten rummaging
around nearby. The slim creature was mink brown in color with a yellow bib at its
throat, around the size of a cat, and a member of the family that included mink, otters,
and weasels. It was scrounging for something to eat.
The animals were territorial, so Cearnach had smelled the scat left in the area by
the marten. It was a predator, reducing the populations of gray squirrels, but when
it came to wolves and martens, territorial lines went out the window. Since he was
downwind of the mammal, Cearnach raised his head to let the marten know he had company.
Because of the movement, the marten saw the two wolves, its eyes widening in horror,
and quickly scampered away. Elaine stared in the direction the animal had gone, and
then she sat up. Cearnach stood and nodded in the direction they needed to go. She
got up, leaned her head down, and licked the cut on his foreleg that had occurred
when he’d tried to reach his phone through the broken window in his demolished minivan.
She whimpered.
Touched by her concern, he nudged her face, telling her he was fine.
The castle was not too far now. No sliver of a moon could be seen in the darkness,
though the rains hadn’t started again. A heavy mist cloaked everything in shades of
wet gray, which was perfect for wolves who shouldn’t have existed in Scotland and
didn’t want to get caught out in the open.
They finally reached the long drive that led to Argent Castle, the portcullis and
wooden gates still open. Most likely because Cearnach hadn’t returned yet. Some of
his clan had to be out searching for him.
Before he could escort Elaine to the gate where lights illuminated the entryway, he
heard a car engine rumbling as it approached the castle, the headlights peering into
the gloom.
To be on the safe side, he kept Elaine hidden in the woods with him. The car didn’t
sound or look familiar.
In the kennel where they were rounded up for the night, the wolfhounds began to bark,
warning of intruders.
The black BMW’s tires crunched on the gravel drive, then stopped as the car parked
outside the gates. The occupants—the driver and a passenger—remained inside as if
waiting for an invitation. Cearnach glanced up at the castle towers flanking the gate
entryway. One of his cousins was watching from each of the cylindrical towers. One
was calling on his cell phone, warning Ian they had company, and the word would soon
spread throughout the pack.
Cearnach watched and waited, intending on lending wolf teeth to a fight if that’s
what was needed here. But his priority was keeping Elaine in the woods, quiet and
safe for now. She stayed close to him, her body touching his, her tail straight out.
She was tense, alert, and appeared ready for a skirmish.
Duncan, his youngest quadruplet brother, was headed for the gate, already armed with
a sword, shirtless, and wearing only black trousers and boots. Two other clansmen
flanked him, looking ready to shift and fight a battle to the death. Another two in
wolf form hurried to catch up to lend backup.
Cearnach wanted to let them know he was all right, but he didn’t want to let anyone
know Elaine was here with him, in case these men were the McKinleys or Kilpatricks
and they had finally figured out that the rental car they had stolen was their distant
cousin’s. He was afraid they’d attempt to take her with them.
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