by Nina Croft
Chapter Two
Who are you?
Connor scribbled the words on a piece of paper from the notepad by the bed. Looking around the large room, he wondered how long she had been here. Years, he would guess. Despite the dereliction, the place had a lived-in feel. The only furniture was a single chair and the narrow mattress—so she obviously lived alone. But colored rugs covered the rock floor and paintings, mainly of animals and the moors, brightened the stone walls. And there were books everywhere; everything from cookery to torrid romances.
His rucksack was propped in the corner and he pulled out his only other clothes and then hunted for something to eat. He found paints, canvas, more books, but—apart from a couple of tins—no food. No wonder she was too thin.
Did she have anyone to help her? How the hell did she manage, if she had the same effect on everyone she got close to?
Grabbing his rucksack, Connor headed out. As he stooped to step out through the gap in the wall, pain hit him like a drill to his skull. He swayed, and then balanced himself with a hand against the rough stone as the pain receded. Gritting his teeth, he raised his head and searched the surrounding area.
She was hurrying away from him and with each step the pain became more bearable. Finally, when no more than a dull ache remained, she turned. Too far away to see her features clearly, he sensed the tension in her rigid body. He wanted to reassure her, but how could he when he couldn’t even get close except as an animal?
He raised his hand and waved, then headed off in the opposite direction.
***
Had he gone for good?
Her chest hurt, and she blinked back tears. She hated feeling like this. She’d accepted long ago that she would never have a normal life. Never be normal. She was a freak. That’s what the guards back at the Agency had called her. And they were right.
But then this man, or wolf or whatever he was, had hardly been normal.
What had she thought?
That they could be freaks together?
Hardly.
After watching until he disappeared from sight, Keira headed back inside. Collapsing on the bed, she hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face in the pillow, where the scent of wolf clung to the soft cotton. The hollow feeling in her belly reminded her she needed to make a trip to one of the outlying farms and see if she could steal some food.
When her mother had been alive, she’d dropped off food and other supplies, batteries and books, paints… Now she was gone, and Keira had to fend for herself, but each trip was fraught with the fear of discovery. And the danger that if she was seen, then the rumors might reach the Agency.
Had they already?
She took one last deep breath before pushing herself upright. And she saw his note.
Who are you?
Lightness filled her. He wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t meant to come back. She found a pencil under a pile of clutter and wrote her response.
I’m Keira.
***
Connor came to a standstill as he realized he had no clue where he was going. He’d been booked into The King’s House hotel, but while it might be scenically situated in the middle of nowhere, he needed shops. Where he’d got off the train yesterday was no good either, it consisted of three houses, a hotel and the train station.
He pulled a map out of his rucksack and figured out where he stood. The moor wasn’t all that big, just over twenty miles across, although it seemed to go on forever.
His best bet looked to be the town of Kinlochlevin. It would take him a couple of hours to get there, but hopefully he could hire a car. There was no road across the moors, but at least he’d shave some distance off the journey back. And he could pick up a phone and get some supplies.
A light drizzle started to fall as he walked and by the time he reached the town, the rain had soaked him to the skin.
It was actually more of a village than a town and mostly catering to the tourist trade by the look of the place. This early in the year, he had no problem getting a room in the hotel and the young girl behind the desk promised him an early lunch or a late breakfast once he had dried off.
An hour later, and he felt almost human with some food inside him. Ironic really.
The girl, who’d left reception to serve his breakfast, was extremely doubtful he would find a cell phone for sale anywhere in town. She offered him the use of the office phone, and also promised to arrange for a rental car, though she claimed it would have to come from Fort William and so would probably take a couple of hours.
Connor took up her offer of the phone, and carried his coffee into the office and waited patiently for her to leave. This wasn’t the sort of phone call anyone could listen to.
He slumped into the chair behind the desk and punched in Sebastian’s number. “Hi,” he muttered.
“Hey, you sound almost human,” Sebastian said. “Must be the Scottish air.”
“Yeah, or the Scottish rain—there’s a lot of that.”
“What do you need?”
Conner decided to get straight to the point. “I’ve found her.”
“Found who?”
“Anya’s sister.”
“What?” The complete disbelief in Sebastian’s voice confirmed that his alpha hadn’t really expected anything to come of Connor’s trip.
“Well, I’m presuming she’s Anya’s sister, though she has more of a look of Tasha.” He remembered those strange golden eyes. Eyes, which could see into your mind and then boil your brain alive.
“Wait a minute,” Sebastian said. “Don’t go anywhere—I’m going to get Anya.”
Connor sipped his coffee while he waited. Anya was Sebastian’s mate. She and her sister, Tasha, were the two newest members of the pack. Connor had found himself watching them closely over the last few months. Unlike him, they had fully accepted the change and he struggled to understand why. How could they accept being one of the monsters?
But then, he was a doctor and therefore supposed to save lives. Impossible, when the mere scent of blood woke his beast and made his hunger rise. It was another thing Sebastian had said would improve if only he would give in and accept his wolf. But he couldn’t risk it, not after—
He cut off the thought. Despite the intervening years, he still wasn’t able to think about that night.
“You’re on speaker,” Sebastian said dragging Connor back to the present.
“Connor, tell me.” Anya sounded animated. “You’ve found something? What? Where? When? Can I come?”
“Yes, I’ve found something. A woman. On Rannoch Moor. Yesterday. And no.”
“No?”
“No, you can’t come.”
“What’s going on, Connor?” Sebastian asked. “How do you know?”
“She’s telepathic, but way more powerful than Anya or Tasha. There’s something wrong with her. She can’t control it, and anyone who gets close, gets their brain fried. I presume that’s how the rumors started.”
“I take it you got close.”
“Yeah, and I shifted. I think it’s the only thing that saved my life.”
“That powerful?”
“And more.”
“Did she see you shift?” Sebastian asked.
“Yes, but she’s not telling anybody. She doesn’t see anyone, lives in total isolation.”
“We have to come and get her,” Anya said.
“You can’t. I think she’d run and hide and we might never find her again.”
“So what do we do?”
He’d thought carefully about this and knew what he wanted to attempt. “I want to come back. Get the implant fitted. I think with the shielding, I’ll be able to get close to her, talk to her. She’ll trust me.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because she likes big shaggy dogs.”
Sebastian chuckled. “You’re sure this isn’t just your need to save the world coming out?”
“Perhaps. But isn’t that what you wanted when you sent me here? Take my
mind off my suicidal tendencies.”
“And has it worked?”
He thought about his answer. “Maybe.”
“Are you heading back here today?” Sebastian asked.
“No. Probably early tomorrow morning. I want to ask around, see what the rumors are, how much people know.”
“Okay. I’ll make sure we’re ready for you. And we’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
Two hours later, Connor left the bar on the edge of the loch, his stomach warm from the whisky he had drunk. He’d failed to find a cell phone in town—as predicted—but he had got some information on the rumors. The locals had been more than willing to talk in exchange for a dram or two, and as he’d expected, there had been others asking about the “strange beast of Rannoch Moor”.
A sense of urgency filled him. Common sense told him the woman on the moors had survived alone for a long time. Nothing was going to happen in the next few hours. But he couldn’t shake off the fear that the Agency might find her.
The rain had stopped though the day was gray and overcast as he headed back to pick up his car. He was searching the street in front of the hotel when something hard jabbed him in his side and a tall figure barred his way.
The sharp musky scent of werewolf hit him a moment later.
Chapter Three
Connor glanced down. The dull metal of a gun barrel pressed into his ribcage.
Two men blocked his path. Slowly, he raised his gaze to the faces of his attackers, stared into their eyes, and saw fear.
They feared him.
Part of him hated that. But another part liked it. A lot. His wolf knew he could take them.
But probably not if they shot him first.
A low growl trickled from his throat and the pistol jabbed him again. For a moment, he thought about pushing it; hadn’t this been what he wanted for so long? An end to his existence. An end to the fear he might lose control, take another life.
“What do you want?” His tone was reasonable under the circumstances.
“The boss wants to see you.”
They led him to a café on the main street. The place appeared normal, even quaint with red checked tablecloths and pictures of Loch Levin on the walls. They didn’t linger—or offer him coffee—but led the way up a narrow staircase and halted at a door on the first landing. Connor’s guard holstered his gun, tapped lightly, and pushed open the door. The swirl of power within the room brought Connor’s wolf to full attention.
The air was heavy with the feral scent of werewolf. Connor’s attention settled immediately on the man who stood at the far end of the room. The focus of attention for everyone, Connor guessed he must be the alpha. A woman stood before him, slender and beautiful, with long blond hair. Her whole body trembled under the gaze of the dark-eyed man.
“Your tribute, Maura?”
“I couldn’t, I don’t…” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I don’t have it.”
The alpha nodded and two men closed in on her.
Panic flared in her eyes. “No, please. Next time. I’ll have it next time. I promise. I—” Her words were cut off as the men grabbed her by the arms and she stood breathing hard. A sense of expectancy filled the room and the air crackled with imminent violence. Connor glanced around noting whose eyes gleamed with anticipation and who looked away. But no one moved to stop whatever was about to happen, and Connor took an instinctive step forward.
“Don’t move,” the man behind him said in a low voice.
“Fuck you,” Connor snarled. Even if it got him beaten up, he wouldn’t stand by and watch this. As he took another step, strong hands gripped his arms on either side and held him in place.
Everyone had turned his way and the alpha’s dark gaze crawled over him. A slow smile curled his lips as he nodded to the men holding the woman.
The crack of bone sounded loud in the room followed by a high pitched scream, cut off abruptly as a hand slammed over her mouth. A moment later, she sagged into unconsciousness.
Connor knew the woman would heal when she shifted, but the casual use of violence told him a lot about how this pack was run. This was what he’d expected of a werewolf pack but never found in Sebastian’s.
“Put her in the bedroom,” the alpha said. “She can pay off her tribute another way.”
The two men half dragged the woman away and his attention turned to Connor. The men holding him let go and prodded him in the center of his back so he took an involuntary step forward. Inside, his wolf snarled, but Connor bit down his instinctive response as he studied the other man.
He had the appearance of a Romany, with black hair pulled into a ponytail, swarthy skin and eyes so dark they were almost black. “I’m Logan,” he said. “And you are?”
“Connor. Dr. Connor McNair.”
“A doctor. Impressive. And what are you doing in town, Doctor?”
“I’m here on holiday.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed as though the concept of a werewolf as a tourist had never occurred to him.
“This is my territory.” He shrugged as if losing interest. “You have a day to leave. If you stay longer, you swear a blood oath to me and my pack and you never leave. How does that sound?”
“Like a total pile of shit,” Connor replied.
Without warning, someone punched him in the gut. Pain exploded and he doubled over. When he straightened, Logan raised an eyebrow.
Smug bastard.
“Hey,” Connor muttered. “You’re spoiling my holiday.”
Why didn’t he shut up? The thought crossed his mind as he was punched a second time. Only stubbornness kept him on his feet as something ruptured inside and agony flooded his body. It took him a moment to get the pain under control and he gritted his teeth and slowed his breathing. Like the woman, he would heal when he shifted. Provided he got out of here alive, and that probably depended on him keeping his big mouth shut.
Was it a death wish? He didn’t think so. Inside him, his wolf was urging him on. Telling him he could take the alpha.
His wolf was a bloody aggressive bastard.
Connor didn’t know where he got it from, because he’d always been one to back down out of a fight. In fact, he didn’t think he’d ever been in a fight in his whole life before the change. Now, so often, he craved the release of letting go. Of giving in to the ferocity living within him. It was part of what terrified him so much—the desire for violence.
Closing his eyes, he pictured a woman, with long dark hair and golden eyes. The image soothed him. He straightened and nodded once.
“I’m leaving today.”
Logan studied him a minute longer as though he didn’t quite understand what was going on. Maybe he sensed Connor’s wolf was more of a match for his own and was reconsidering the idea of letting him go.
It took every ounce of willpower he had, but Connor forced his wolf down, and hunched his shoulders as he’d seen the submissives do, even in Sebastian’s pack.
Logan pursed his lips but nodded. “You get this one warning. Now go. If we see you again, you die.”
***
Keira spent the day roaming the moor on Dubh, the black pony having miraculously appeared soon after the werewolf had left. She couldn’t blame Dubh, she reckoned ponies and wolves were prey and predator and it was only common sense.
In the afternoon, she perched on a rock, which gave her a view for miles in all directions. Dubh grazed the rough grass while Keira stared out over the rugged landscape of the moors.
This place was her prison, but she loved it anyway, and a sense of peace and fatalism seeped into her.
The truth was, she had no choices. This was her life. If she involved anyone else with her problems, she might very well get them killed. If she didn’t kill them herself, first. Maybe her wolf-man would come back. If he did, she would allow herself one more night of his company
As the sun sank low on the horizon, she returned to the keep, jumping down from Dubh as they got close, and sending the pony
on his way with a pat on the rump.
What if the man didn’t return?
She climbed the ruined tower and perched on the highest part. Finally, she saw him in the far distance. He moved at a fast walk despite being weighed down by bags and other things. He had a rucksack on his back, a shopping bag in one hand, and a bottle of camping gas in the other.
He wouldn’t try and get close would he?
She gnawed on her lower lip. He was still safe. As he drew closer, she stood up and waved her arms.
He must have seen her because he dropped the bags and the bottle and waved back. Then he kicked off his boots and took off his clothes. And she wished he was nearer. He was as beautiful as a man, as he’d been as a wolf.
Finally, he stood naked and she swallowed. He folded his clothes, placed them in a plastic bag, and tucked them under a nearby bush. Even from here, she felt the shiver of magic—or whatever it was—in the air. Then he vanished and the huge black wolf stood in his place.
She scrambled down the tower and ran across the moor toward him. He stayed where he was and she collapsed to her knees and hugged him around the broad neck, digging her fingers into the silky fur. A warm, wet tongue licked her cheek and she burst into tears.
Again.
It occurred to her how tenuous her hold on her emotions really was. She teetered on the edge of total breakdown. She had to get a grip. She allowed herself one sniffle and then wiped her face on his fur and leaned away.
The wolf sat back on his haunches and grinned. Well, maybe it wasn’t a real grin but close enough. He rose to his feet and crossed to the rucksack. It looked heavy, bulging, but he picked it up in his jaws and trotted toward the house. Keira sat for a moment watching the slow wave of his plumed tail. Then she scrambled to her feet, picked up the shopping bag in one hand and the camping gas in the other, and hurried after him.
Once inside, she put the bag and gas down, and lit the candles in the wall sconces around the room. The wolf stared down at the note she had written. He glanced over his shoulder and wagged his tail, then gestured toward the rucksack. Keira crossed to where it lay propped on the floor. She pulled open the fastener and found a piece of paper on the top. Picking it up, she read the untidily scrawled words.
