by Claudy Conn
Quinn looked into its eyes and knew he was looking into the eyes of madness. It swiped at him, but its claws bounced off his shield.
Infuriated, it went down on all fours, and Quinn heard the voice, its voice, in his head as it began reciting an ancient Gaelic spell.
And then he knew.
It was tearing apart his shield with its magic.
He looked up and noted the moon was in its full glory as the feral creature attacked with a ferociousness he believed would kill him.
He picked his spot and began maneuvering it in a circle. It kept its head low and stared at his sword, which seemed to deter it.
Quinn couldn’t get over its size … huge and pulsating with power.
He studied it, trying to get its measure, its weakness. Its fur was ragged, spotted with what smelled and looked like blood.
Fangs, sharp fangs snapped as it snarled. Violence governed its purpose, and that purpose was to tear, maim, kill—and something else. Usurp. It wanted his magic. He could hear its thoughts in his head. What kind of werewolf was this?
Devour … take … take Quinn’s magic. Damn, how did it know his name? How the bloody hell could it know his name? Who was this? Weres lost all memory of themselves, their loved ones—it was part of their curse. This one was a thinking, magical beast.
He could detect nothing of the human in it. And yet, somehow, it seemed familiar, must be familiar if it knew his name?
This thing looked to be unmistakably insane, and yet, Quinn fancied he saw purpose in its amber-lit eyes.
Would his white magic work against the beast?
Once again it attempted to slash at him. Quinn jumped out of the way, knowing he had to call on darker magic to protect himself.
He needed a ward, but he had no time to create one. He had but one chance for survival.
The silver-edged short sword he was never without.
And then the werewolf sprang into action, and Quinn sneered as he shouted, “Well then, beast—come and get it if ye be a mind to!” He plunged his sword just at the right moment directly in the center of its beating heart.
But even as the were roared and suffered excruciating pain, even as it started to fall, even as death began to take it, its jaws locked down on Quinn’s shoulder and bit—bit hard—and Quinn’s fate was sealed.
He was able to punch and beat the creature off, and he watched as it fell to the ground, rolled over onto its back, and began the transformation back into man.
Quinn saw at once it was Whelan MacPoole, clan leader of the neighboring estate. Husband to his mother’s sister.
They had never been friends throughout their family’s history. He should have known. He should have suspected. The signs had been there all along, if only he’d noticed.
Quinn bent, pulled his silver-tipped sword from the man’s heart, and stood to look up at the stars before closing his eyes.
He had been bitten.
~ Prologue ~
All that glisters is not gold
—William Shakespeare
Present day, New Jersey
RAVENA MACALLISTER LOOKED at her wristwatch. It was nearly six o’clock. It had been a hectic day. Graduation was over. She had her BA in her hand, but she had one more night at the fashion school where she had been taking additional classes as she pursued her dream of designing clothes for the fashion industry.
Todd Decker, her boyfriend of two months—a record for her, as she rarely dated, let alone ever thought of any as ‘keepers’—wasn’t expecting her. She had thought she had one last class at the Fashion Institute, but it had been cancelled.
She was going to surprise him. Tonight was the night.
He had been trying to get her into bed. She had been resisting. Why? She couldn’t put a finger on it. Perhaps she wanted more. Her friends told her she was nuts, that she would lose him. She didn’t want to lose Todd, and she knew after two months he was getting impatient with her refusal to take it to the next level.
She liked his kisses. She was nearly sure he was the ‘special one’ she had been looking for, but she just couldn’t put a finger on her reluctance to take it to the next step. Jump into bed with him, her libido demanded.
At twenty-one she was old enough and mature enough to handle what her mother had called the consequences of sleeping with a man who may not want you the next morning. Would he not want her the next morning? Did it matter? It did, but why—why should it matter? She was living in an age when a woman could be intimate with a man just for pleasure … just for a night. She wanted more, that was why; something in her inner being wanted more, and she knew with a shake of her head what that something was … hidden, dormant … secret.
A tall, beautifully framed mirror hung on the far wall of her bedroom, and she moved to stand in front of it. She blew at the wavy golden bangs that tickled her forehead. She cocked her head, gave her waist-length silky hair another brush, and twirled the shorter curls on either side of her heart-shaped face. She supposed she would do.
Ravena didn’t consider herself stupid about sex and guys. She used to laugh with her friends and say she was a slow-blossoming flower waiting for just the right amount of water and sun.
She knew the general male population considered her hot, and she had to admit she liked the way she looked in the reflection staring back at her. Yup, she told herself, her dress was really eye-catching. However, insecurity nibbled at her mind. What if her inexperience turned him off? What if she got clumsy taking off her clothes? What if … on and on.
She sucked in air. For Rave, this was a really big step. Guys had been coming on to her ever since she was fourteen, but no one had ever interested her before Todd. Her Todd (and he had encouraged her to think of him that way) was big, bold, handsome, ambitious—a keeper. She liked him so much … but did she love him?
Her girlfriends had told her to go for it because it was time. Her best friend Meg had told her she was crazy if she didn’t close the deal with Todd because someone else would. Meg had laughed at her and told her she didn’t need to be ‘in love’ to have a good time.
Her mother had told her to wait until she was ready. Her father had whispered over the phone quietly that he rather thought she should wait until she was in love. Was she ready? Was she in love?
She wasn’t sure, but she did think it was time to find out.
Her heart wanted to do what her dad had told her—fall in love and know it first. She sighed and wished she were with her father roaming the Highlands of Scotland like they always did every summer. She wished she could sit and talk to him; he didn’t get her all crazy like her mother always did.
Another sigh followed this thought. It was because of Todd that she had told her dad she might not be staying the entire summer with him this year. That troubled her as well. She really wanted to return to the Highlands and her father—even more than she wanted to be with Todd. Did that mean she didn’t love Todd?
She smoothed the low-cut black silky dress that clung to her curves.. She had designed and then made the dress herself. She knew she looked sexy as hell and that her mother would raise an eyebrow—so the trick was to get past her overprotective parent without being seen.
She made it down the stairs of their Colonial styled-home and then remembered the keys were in the kitchen. She peeked into the kitchen. Her mother wasn’t there—nor was her stepfather, who was probably tinkering around in the garage. Rave scooped up her keys from the tray on the desk near the fridge and was out the door and nearly to her pale green Saturn parked out front when she heard her mother call her name.
“Rave—honey … wait!” Her mother ran towards her.
Ravena couldn’t stop the impatient tone as it escaped her lips. “Yes, Mom.” But she loved her, so she stopped and turned, glanced archly at her, and sighed. It struck her that no one would guess the petite, green-eyed redhead staring authoritatively at her was her mother.
Rave had her father’s gold hair and his dark, multi-shaded gray eyes, an
d although she was not tall, she was in her stocking feet, five feet five inches and towered over her mother’s five foot one.
Her mother gave her back the challenge with a raised brow that said it all. Rave laughed and hugged her before holding her shoulders. “Don’t worry.”
“Where are you going?” She looked her over and sighed. “Wait, let me guess: to see Todd.”
Ravena frowned. “I know you don’t like him, but I don’t have time now to argue in his defense.”
“No, it is more than a simple matter of liking or disliking the young man. It is that I don’t think he is the right man for you. He is still a boy … and, Rave, that will never do for you—you need a man.”
“And what sort of man are we talking about?” Ravena teased.
“This is serious. You will know when you meet him, and it isn’t Todd, who is more interested in himself and his needs than yours.”
“You don’t really know him.”
“I do know him. I watch from the outside and know him very well.” Her mother sighed. “However, perhaps it is as my Tom says. He feels the same way as I do about Todd, but he doesn’t want to be drawn into this. He says sometimes we each have to learn from our own mistakes.”
Tom was her mother’s husband. Her parents had been divorced since she was two, having married only because her mother had found herself pregnant. Her stepfather had come into their lives when Rave was ten. He was a good guy, and she had grown to love him over the years.
Affection flooded her, and she smiled in spite of her impatience. “Tom is right, Mom. I need experiences—good and bad.” She had never called him anything but ‘Tom’ because although she did in fact love her stepfather, she felt she had only one dad.
“Look, baby, I don’t want you hurt …”
“Like you?” Rave again arched her brow.
“Don’t be annoying to win a point. You know your father didn’t hurt me. He and I were never in love … not really. And we certainly weren’t made for each other. He was who he was … and I was so different. We were friends—we still are. But I have this awful feeling that Todd will hurt you.”
Ravena saw the look of helplessness in her mother’s eyes and touched her cheek. “I am old enough to know what I am doing.”
“We all say that at your age … ”
Irritation swept over Ravena’s face, and she grimaced at her mother before she walked away with a wave of her hand. “Don’t wait up.” She jumped into her car and did not look back as she pulled away from the curb.
Guilt suddenly flooded through her. She shouldn’t have left her mother like that. But what could she do? She would make it up to her tomorrow. Besides, she was a college grad. She was twenty-one. She was all grown up.
Over the years Ravena had heard her mother refer to her marriage to her father, Daniel MacAllister, as a mistake, and she hated hearing that. It negated all the good.
She was so much more her father’s child than her mother’s. An odd thing to admit even to herself but so true.
For the hundredth time she thought about changing her plans once more and just heading off to Scotland for the summer—maybe making a side trip and visiting with her grandmother, her father’s Canadian Indian mother, first.
She took a long gulp of air and bolstered herself. Todd was a great guy. She was doing the right thing—wasn’t she? He had committed himself to her in so many ways. He talked about the future. It was what she wanted, wasn’t it—a normal future? Did she want a future with him? Was she making the same mistake her mother had made—settling for someone who made her comfortable? Because to date, he damn well did not make her feel … passionate! The sorry truth was that no one ever had … yet.
Well, that would change tonight—wouldn’t it? She turned the corner, pulled into the lot adjacent to Todd’s apartment house complex, and parked. Princeton was a charming university town, and students were everywhere. Two acquaintances waved to her as she got out of her car and headed for the building.
She reached his door, key in hand, and hesitated. She had never used the key before. She was here unannounced. Should she use the key? Don’t be silly—he gave it to me to use. She put the key in the lock, opened the door, and stepped into the small, sparsely furnished living room.
She froze.
Todd and her best friend, Meg, were on the small shag rug on the living room floor, grunting and going at it with wild abandon.
Todd must have felt a draft on his bare butt, for he suddenly turned, saw her, and started scrambling to his feet. “Rave … Rave … no … this … this is nothing … Rave!” he shouted as he threw his clothing on hastily.
Too late—so few letters, such small words, such large meaning. Too late.
Ravena backed up clumsily until she hit the closed door at her back. She turned then, opened the door, and with shock and hurt flooding through her veins, she ran.
Sexy immortals and powerful Fae
face a powerful foe who dabbles in time travel in
Through Time-Pursuit
~ Prologue ~
Chancemont LeBlanc
Present day
ALL AT ONCE—he was on her! The Dark Prince Pestale had the death sword across her throat, and if her brother moved another step toward her, it would only end in getting her killed.
Chancemont LeBlanc stood rigid and filled with fear for his young sibling, Lana.
And then, right before his eyes, the Dark Prince, grinning all the while, slit young sweet Lana’s throat, and she was forever lost to them.
Thunder rolled through his body then—rolled through it still. His sword vibrated in his hands, feeling his need.
He wanted blood—the Dark Prince’s blood, and he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life.
Fury took over his despair and buried the pain of grief with the hope that he would soon have the Dark Prince in his grip and torture him before he put an end to the Dark Fae’s miserable existence. Sorrow—deep, haunting sorrow filtered through to his heart and blinded him with the all-consuming need to avenge his young sister’s death. Guilt shouted out his faults and blamed him for her death—but guilt was a waste of time. He replaced that guilt with purpose and became centered in his goals.
Find Pestale, capture Pestale, and drag him to Dravo, where he and his father could inflict pain and punishment on him before putting him out for the buzzards to feed upon.
Thoughts of his father off alone and mourning in silence made him cringe. His father would never get over this loss. He was the Milesian leader, Morgan LeBlanc, a big man that his people on Dravo relied upon.
His da—who he could have passed as his brother, so young was he in appearance—was lost to drink and self-inflicted solitude. Who could blame him?
His da, who had always been a force in Chance’s life, was broken by this final loss. And rage filled Chance as he made his plans. Milesians were an immortal race—not born that way, but created by the dust from the Fae World of Danu when that world was destroyed. The dust had come through the portal that brought the Fae to the human realm.
Now, their joint loss of Lana would hurt them through eternity.
She was the only daughter, a reminder of the great love his father had for Chance’s mother, lost so long ago. Sweet Lana, his bright-eyed baby sister who had not yet reached maturity, with her entire immortal life ahead of her—until Pestale.
Revenge? Someone once told him revenge could be sweet. He wasn’t certain that was true, but he shouted to the winds, “Revenge canna bring back her laughing eyes, or her dear voice …” His own voice trailed off, because he needed revenge, for without it—without revenge—he could not attain justice. To Chance the two walked a straight and parallel line.
His father had stopped drinking when he realized what Chance was going to do. He had grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him. “Do ye think I can lose another? Doona go, Chance …”
“Da, he must not be allowed to live.”
“Chance, me
own best hope … doona go …”
It had nearly stayed him, the distress on his father’s face, but the need to avenge his sister’s murder was greater. “I must, Da, ye know that.”
His father had sighed with acceptance and had talked to him for hours. He told him to be cool-headed in his pursuit. He said with tears in his eyes that revenge and justice were two different things.
Are they? Chance asked the sky, “Are they different? I doona have the answer to that, but I do have my immortal skills, m’magic, and my death sword. It will take all those things to find the devil, and to lay hands on him. He is a Dark Fae Prince, the eldest of his brothers—the most cunning of them all, and I will have his blood,” he vowed to the heavens and himself.
Two days had passed since they had lost Lana to Pestale’s death weapon. Two days since they fought beside the Seelie Fae to bring down Gaiscioch and the Dark monsters. Two days, and Pestale remained alive.
Chance’s thoughts were violent as he spoke to Pestale as though he were there. “There is nowhere ye can outrun me. I will track ye to the ends of the earth, and beyond if necessary. I have shouted it to the heavens, I am Chancemont LeBlanc, and I shall have yer filthy Dark Fae blood!”
Young Seelie Prince Trevor had joined him in this mission, and they would soon make tracks. He couldn’t deny the Seelie Fae his place with him, because of Lana’s memory. How he had objected to her little romance with the Fae prince, in no small part because Trevor was the younger brother of Prince Dante. Chance and Dante had fought on opposite sides of the war thousands of years ago, and though Fae and Milesians were no longer enemies and had in fact joined forces recently against the Dark Fae, Chance held no love for his former foe and no wish to see his sister falling for a member of the Royal House of Lugh, Dante’s brother no less! Now he wished she were with him … flirting up the lad once again. Och, but he could hear her laugh …
