Midnight’s Lover

by Donna Grant

  Just more snow. More mountains.

  Warmth was a distant memory.

  The dampness penetrated her coat, making her shiver even more. She was starving and wanted nothing more than to curl up on her couch and turn on the telly while sipping some hot tea.

  To her horror, several hours ago the key had spoken to her. It had urged Danielle to continue going deeper into the mountains.

  Maybe she had been going east the entire time and hadn’t known it. One thing she was sure about was that she would be carrying a compass with her from now on.

  Exhaustion weighed heavily upon her, and the cold only hampered things. It took more effort than she wanted to admit just to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  Twice already she’d had to backtrack and find another trail because she’d been so intent on staying upright she hadn’t realized she almost walked off a cliff or into a boulder.

  Since she was alone, she needed to be vigilant. She needed to be aware of her surroundings. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself frozen to death or falling off a mountain. And neither sounded very appealing.

  Danielle let out a loud sigh and climbed wearily to her feet. She looked around, wondering, waiting to hear the inhuman shrieks she had heard last night.

  Her stomach growled. Danielle lifted a handful of snow and munched on it as she had the entire day. It might help quench her thirst, but it was doing nothing for her hunger.

  “Over the next rise,” she said to herself. “I’ll find a road or a village over the next rise.”

  At least she hoped she would since the sun was sinking on another day. Danielle had walked nonstop since the accident. Her feet would probably hurt if she could actually feel them. Which was probably a good thing since she had never walked so long or far in stilettos before.

  She needed to rest, to eat a hot meal. But that could be a long time coming.

  “They’re going to find me in the spring. I’ll have frozen to death because either my magic isn’t working or the stupid key got me lost on purpose.”

  She lifted one foot in front of the other and started walking.

  “I hope the MacLeods are the friendly sort,” she said to herself. “If I survive this and discover they aren’t, I’ll scream. Loud. And long.”

  This is what she had come to, talking to herself. But the quiet had begun to weigh on her earlier. With no one else around, Danielle didn’t see the harm in speaking to herself.

  She snorted, then wiped at her nose. “At least no harm yet. Who knows if I’ll be sane by the time I get out of the mountains.”

  Danielle scratched her cheek and stilled. She could have sworn she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. The trees were thick, and the snow concealed footsteps, but she’d been sure she’d seen a shape that had moved quickly and quietly.

  She turned her head and peered through the trees. The snow had lessened, the flakes swirling in their dance upon the air. It was eerily quiet on the mountain, more so than before. As if the woods knew there was a predator near.

  Again, just out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. Danielle whirled around, and this time she caught a spot of pale yellow.

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Yellow?

  She recalled the radio announcer talking about yellow creatures before her wreck. He’d called them dangerous. Teeth and claws, he’d said.

  Danielle inhaled deeply, and remembered everything Aunt Josie had told her about being a Druid. Danielle had never used her magic in defense before, but she was about to learn.

  She called to her magic. Instantly, she felt it move and expand within her. She was surprised it had answered her so swiftly. Surprised and gratified.

  She moved in a circle, her eyes looking for the creatures. Always they were just on the edge of her vision. It was as if they were toying with her.

  “Find other prey,” she commanded, and let a small amount of her magic shoot from her hand.

  Her magic filled the silence, but there was no hiss of hurt or other sound to let her know she had hit her target. Was she so tired she was seeing things? Was her mind playing tricks on her as it used to as a child?

  Danielle lowered her hand and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. She was thankful no one else had seen her act so foolishly. With a sigh, she started walking again.

  She’d taken two steps when she heard the first shriek.

  It was unnatural and caused the hairs on her arms and neck to stand on end. Just like the night before, Danielle didn’t hesitate as she began to run. It didn’t matter that she had no idea what made that sound. All she knew was that it was strange and sinister.

  The knee-high snow hampered her from moving as fast as she wanted. To make matters worse, the shrieks continued louder and longer. And they grew closer.

  What kind of creature made that sound? And how many were there? Two? Three? Or more? Danielle didn’t want to find out. All she could think of was the yellow creatures everyone was talking about.

  She kept running, kept moving. A chance look over her shoulder showed her the nightmare was coming true. Small yellow creatures were jumping from tree to tree as they chased her.

  Danielle’s blood pounded in her ears, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She gripped the trees and rocks to make it to the top of the mountain, sliding on the ice on several occasions. With the cold air stinging her lungs, Danielle started down the other side of the mountain with barely a glance at it. She spotted a valley below with a frozen loch. Maybe she could find a place to hide there.

  Her knee crumpled underneath her as she started down the mountain, causing her to roll a couple of times in the snow. She managed to right herself and get back on her feet. Then her foot hit a patch of ice, and she was tumbling again.

  Danielle’s arm slammed into a boulder hidden by the snow. Pain exploded throughout her body. She wrapped her arms around her head and tried to use her body to slide down the mountain feet first.

  The snow and the ice weren’t slowing the yellow creatures, however. They continued after her, their shrieks causing her ears to ring from the unholy sound.

  The snow was packed so hard that it cut her hands and face whenever she had the misfortune of connecting with it. She would have preferred to make the trip down on her feet, but at least she was moving fast. It might give her an advantage over the beasts.

  It was because she was moving so quickly that she couldn’t stop herself when she saw the edge of the cliff coming at her. A scream lodged in Danielle’s throat as she slid off the cliff and hung in midair for a moment before plummeting.

  Her arms and legs flailed around as she sought some kind of hold. She barely had time to register she was falling before she landed with a small tumble in a thick patch of snow.

  Danielle had no time to make sure she was unhurt as she climbed out of the snow and began to run. The shrieks continued, and if she lived through this, she knew she would recall the sound until the day she died.

  She made for the loch, her lungs seizing and her body protesting such abuse. She was halfway to the loch when one of the yellow beasts landed in front of her.

  Danielle screamed and skidded to a halt, the heel of one of her boots twisting beneath her foot and causing her to roll her ankle. The creature’s huge yellow eyes glared maliciously at her while it snapped its mouthful of teeth. It couldn’t close its lips around its teeth, which gave it a menacing, ugly look.

  And then more yellow creatures surrounded her.

  Danielle directed a blast of magic at them. It sent the creatures tumbling back and shaking their heads as if to clear them, but they rose and came at her again.

  If her magic couldn’t help her, then she was doomed. But Danielle wasn’t about to give up without a fight. She sent another, more powerful blast at them. This time all but one got up. With each step they took toward her, Danielle retreated.

  Their long claws snapped as if they wanted to slice her open. They began running at her one at a time to see how clo
se they could get to her.

  For magic she hadn’t used in quite a while, Danielle was happy with how quickly it was responding to her. But she couldn’t keep the beasts away no matter what.

  One got close enough to grab the strap of her purse, sending it flying through the air to land ten paces away from her. Danielle tried to reach for her purse, but the creatures kept coming at her, preventing her from doing anything other than using her magic.

  Then the sound of a roar, loud and vicious, echoed through the valley.

  The creatures quieted and lifted their heads, their eyes darting about. Danielle could feel their trepidation. Whatever had just made that roar was something that gave the creatures pause. The only question was, would it help Danielle or come after her as well?

  Danielle used the interruption to try and slink away. She was almost past one of the beasts when it turned its evil eyes to her and let out a vicious shriek right before it raised its claws at her face.

  * * *

  Ian had awoken to the sound of wyrran. He’d tracked and killed four the day before. Maybe they’d come to him this time. It had felt good to kill evil again, felt right to use his Warrior abilities to help those at MacLeod Castle in the only way he could.

  Then he felt the magic. He’d never felt anything so … glorious, so amazing in all his days. It took just a moment to realize the wyrran were chasing a Druid.

  Ian had loosened his god before he’d reached the entrance to his cave. He used his speed to follow the Druid’s magic. As he ran he saw the trail in the snow as well as the wyrran tracks.

  When he crested the hill and saw the wyrran surrounding her, Ian had titled back his head and let loose a roar. He started toward them wanting, needing … craving to kill the wyrran.

  Then one of them cut the Druid. Her scream of pain sent him barreling into the wyrran. He decapitated one as he ran past it. Another he impaled on his claws and tossed it into the air as he put himself between the Druid and the wyrran.

  Ian turned and faced the remaining seven wyrran. He bared his fangs as he bent his legs and flexed his claws. Farmire roared with approval inside him.

  This was what Ian needed. Battle. Death. Blood.

  He wanted the wyrrans’ blood to coat the ground until the snow was no longer white. He sought to wipe the creatures from existence, just as he desired to erase any evidence of Deirdre.

  Ian was prepared when the wyrran attacked him at once. Even while slashing at the wyrran and evading their claws he noticed two had gone after the Druid, pushing her farther and farther onto the loch.

  “Nay,” Ian bellowed to try and stop her.

  She had no way of knowing the ice was very thin in places because he broke through it every day, and she was nearing a spot he had used just the day before.

  Ian snapped the neck of a wyrran, and slammed two of the others’ heads together. He used his claws and sank them through the other two wyrrans’ hearts.

  Then he turned to the Druid. “Doona move!” he shouted.

  But she was too intent on the wyrran coming after her. She kept her gaze on the wyrran and one of her hands in the pocket of the cloaklike garment she wore.

  Ian stepped onto the ice, but it groaned under his weight. Normally he didn’t care because he wanted to go into the water, but the Druid wouldn’t survive the temperatures.

  “The ice is too thin,” he said again.

  The Druid’s eyes lifted to his. Ian found himself staring into eyes as bright as emeralds a heartbeat before there was a loud crack and the ice split beneath her feet.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  With the ice now broken, Ian ran toward where the Druid and the wyrran had fallen into the loch, the ice cracking beneath his weight. But his Warrior speed allowed him to move so fast that he didn’t break through.

  He was surprised to find worry and anxiety filling him now when before he’d felt nothing but fury and despondency.

  Rage swelled in him when he saw the two wyrran climbing onto the Druid and pushing her under the water as they attempted to scramble out.

  The Druid’s eyes met his a moment before she went under. And didn’t come back up.

  Ian severed the wyrrans’ heads as he reached the Druid and jumped into the water. He dove beneath the surface and grasped the edge of her clothes as she drifted away.

  She wasn’t moving. Her long silvery blond hair stretched behind her as he pulled her to the surface. Ian lifted her above the water and set her atop the ice. Then he climbed back out of the water, careful not to crack the fragile ice. He lifted the Druid’s limp body in his arms and used his incredible speed to get to shore.

  He was about to pass up her bag, but then he remembered how she had desperately tried to reach it. With a curse, Ian once more set her down and stuffed the spilled contents back into her bag before he looped it over his head.

  Ian pressed her body against his and scowled at how cool she felt against him. He didn’t stop again until he was in his cave.

  A growl tore from his throat as he looked around the cave. There was no soft place to lay her, no place for a woman among the sparse, harsh rocks.

  But if he didn’t get her warm soon, she would die.

  Ian used his feet to arrange the furs from the animals he’d killed into a pile before he placed the Druid upon them. He jerked her bag off him and pulled another fur over her shivering body. Then he set about adding wood to the fire.

  Once that was done, he sat back and waited.

  Long locks of her silvery blonde hair were stuck to her neck and face. Her skin was as pale as her hair, and her lips were a faint shade of blue.

  To make matters worse, Ian could feel her magic ebbing away, taking her life force with it.

  “Nay,” Ian growled, and rose to pace the cave.

  He’d rescued her from the icy depths of the loch. She was before a fire and covered. What else was there to do?

  “Shite,” he said and whirled toward her.

  He tossed the fur off her and reached to pull off her boots. The strange way the boots fit over her legs made him frown. He’d never seen anything like it, nor her clothes for that matter.

  His claw touched the small silver thing at the top of her boot. After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled down. And to his surprise, it opened her boot so he could pull it off her feet.

  She wore something black under the boots as well. It wasn’t anything like the woolen hose he was used to seeing women wear, but they had a similar purpose, he suspected.

  Once he had removed both the boots and the hoselike things covering her feet he looked at her clothes.

  They were soaked, but he was able to get the heavy cloak off her. And then he stared at the black gown that clung to every curve, every mouthwatering swell of her body.

  Ian swallowed, wholly unprepared for such a sight. Or the way his blood rushed to his cock to make it swell.

  To get his hands moving again, he had to remind himself she needed warmth. It didn’t take long to unbutton the row of tiny buttons that went from her breasts to the edge of the gown that stopped above her knees.

  Ian shook his head, befuddled at the change in clothing. But liking it. “Just where am I?”

  When he removed the gown and caught a glimpse of deep red lace that covered her glorious breasts and wrapped around her hips to hide her sex, Ian forgot to breathe.

  “By the saints,” he whispered, and reverently ran a finger over the lace at her hip.

  He hissed in a breath when his hands touched her bare skin and felt the chill. His light blue claws gleamed in the firelight. Ian urged his god back down, but Farmire wouldn’t listen.

  Ian concentrated, demanded. And to his surprise, Farmire retreated. As soon as his claws disappeared Ian rubbed his hands up and down her legs and arms to help warm her.

  But that wasn’t enough. It was going to take more than a single blanket and a fire. It was going to take him.

  With his jaw clenched, Ian removed his sporran, boots,
kilt, and shirt and lay next to the Druid. It had been many moons since he’d touched a woman. As wonderful as her lithe body felt against his, Ian pushed aside all thoughts save warming her.

  He refused to notice the softness of her skin, refused to look at the gentle swell of her hips or the indent of her waist. But he did note the many cuts and bruises over her body. He pulled the blanket around them so he wouldn’t see the pale pink tips of her nipples through the red lace or the fullness of those bountiful breasts.

  Ian turned her onto her side and wrapped himself around her. She fit perfectly against his large frame, almost as if she’d been made for him.

  He lifted his head while he tugged loose the strands of her hair stuck to her neck and face. He couldn’t help but run the tips of his fingers along her neck and over her jaw to her high cheekbones.

  His cock ached where it pressed against her soft bottom. He longed to lift her leg and slide within her. The need, the yearning was so powerful that he almost gave in. Somehow, he managed to keep himself in check.

  But it didn’t stop him from being aware of the way her soft skin felt against him. Or the way she gravitated to his warmth by pressing back against him.

  He wanted to lift the fur and look more at her long legs and the lace that covered her softness. He’d never seen anything so erotic, and that brief, tantalizing view only made him hunger for more of her.

  Whoever the Druid was, she was stunning. He just prayed she lived.

  He laid his head down, his gaze on the wall of the cave. Warmth that had nothing to do with the fire touched his skin. It was the Druid’s magic. It caressed him like a lover, learning him, studying him.

  The magic was heady. Invigorating. Seductive.

  Longing swept through Ian, but also peace. His soul calmed, his god quieted, and for once his mind was silenced. As the Druid’s magic enveloped him, Ian found his eyes closing.

  Not in sleep, but in rest. He didn’t sleep, hadn’t slept in months. But the serenity surrounding him felt too fine to ignore.

  How long had it been since he’d slept more than a few moments at a time? Suddenly, he couldn’t keep his eyes open, nor did he want to.