by Claudy Conn
Vance stepped towards her. She had known him a good part of her adult life, and he had always displayed a partiality for her. She, however, didn’t, couldn’t, even like him, let alone fall in love with him. She knew women found him irresistible, with his dark auburn hair and the peak it formed in the middle of his forehead. His dark eyes, however, were cold. This was what her mother had warned her about. She had laughed it off. No, she could never consider Vance Debbin as a husband.
She started to speak, but her mother put up a hand to say, “We are honored, Arlan, my love. However, I don’t think our daughter was thinking of courtship or marriage at this stage of her life. She has, as you know, plans to go to New York in the fall and start working towards her masters…”
“I will never allow anything to interfere with her plans,” her father said softly. “I see no reason why marriage should interfere with her education.”
“I am not interested in marriage,” X stuck in, thinking this was archaic. Where did this come from?
Again, he shrugged. “No? Perhaps I speak of it too soon. However, there is no reason why you can not go on a date or two and get to know one another, for in the end, my darling Rachel, they don’t have a choice. In the end, they will marry, but, though that is my right to will as her father, I do not mind her taking a little time.”
Her mother shot her daughter a look and said with the link that was theirs alone, Don’t speak.
“Of course,” her mother responded to him, “but if for any reason our daughter objects to the union?”
“For now, I only ask that she allow Vance to court her,” her father said, sounding reasonable, but Exerilla knew, because she knew him, that he would not give her a choice. He was allowing a brief courtship because he wanted her comfortable, but in the end, she could see, he meant this to go forward.
“Of course, but today Exerilla and I have plans. Vance is welcome to come with you of course for cocktails tomorrow evening, and then perhaps he can take her to dinner.” She eyed her husband flirtatiously and Exerilla wondered just what her mother was doing.
Two things were off here.
Her mother despised Vance Debbin. She wouldn’t let her go to dinner or anything else alone with him. He was not only a dark warlock, but rumors abounded about him, rumors that called him a vicious killer who killed for the thrill of it.
Right then, so why had her mother so readily accepted?
The second thing that caught her attention was the fact that though separated, her parents were still in love. And even so, she knew in that moment, her mother meant to take her father on.
Was her mother playing a game—why? To buy time? To do what? She hadn’t a clue. She looked from mother to father and kept quiet. Yes, she would keep still now because there was no way in hell she was going to go to dinner or anything else with Vance Debbin, let alone marry him.
“That is more than fair, as I had expected our little X to put up a fight. She has never liked being dictated to.” He smiled, and Exerilla saw pride light up his handsome face.
He had, like her friends, always called her X. She shrugged and smiled at him. “I don’t like it now, either. However, I have known Vance a very long time and would not insult him by refusing to have a few dinner engagements with him and see how we feel about each other.” Would her father see that she was lying?
Evidently, her father was too pleased with the outcome of this, for he merely bowed in his Old World style before the dark cloud that had delivered him into their home enveloped him and took him and Vance away.
Her mother grabbed Exerilla’s shoulders and said in a tone that sounded desperate, “Hurry—there is no time to waste!”
She knew what her mother wanted, and although she also knew that her mother was only trying to protect her, she just couldn’t comply.
How could she?
It wasn’t as though her mom wanted her to go off on some summer vacation. Her mother wanted to send her into the past, and not any recent past, but nearly two hundred years in the past.
How could she give up all her plans, not start graduate school in the fall?
She couldn’t believe her father would use a compulsion spell to make her marry el creepo.
She couldn’t believe he would force her to do anything. He had never done so before.
She wouldn’t do it.
Why should she? Why the past, why England? Why?
According to prophesy, Ravena is the only one who can rescue a powerful sorcerer trapped in another dimension—but the prophesy doesn’t promise she’ll survive the experience. Read her story in
Hungry Moon: Quicksilver
~ Prelude ~
1575, Scottish Highlands, where many honored their clans and chose to follow the old ways
Quinn MacValdane had a great deal of weight on his shoulders, but those shoulders were huge and certainly capable of carrying the burden. The weight, however, was unlike any other he had ever lifted, and he was tired of constantly having to deal with it. He just wasn’t ready to get married!
He was more than six months away from turning thirty and tired of the nagging as his birthday drew closer. He had to get out and away from it!
Mayhap he just needed a tussle with the pretty tavern wench, Sarah, to loosen up his nerves? Och but he liked her full breasts. The notion of her naked body under him made him smile, and he felt his dick spring up, ready for action.
A crackle of twigs made him look around and hold his lantern up.
He had heard the rumors but had shrugged them off. He wasn’t concerned—why should he be?
He was a sorcerer with supreme powers and had naught to fear from the beast.
Thus, he proceeded into the woods to take the shortcut to the town tavern. He grinned and hummed to himself, much like a boy at the thought of a few drinks with his friends and then a bit of fun with Sarah. She was a lovely, full-bodied woman …
He heard something again.
His hearing had always been extraordinary, and it told him now that something moved stealthily through the woods at his back and was eating up distance between them.
Once again, he held up his lantern and looked around—not afraid, but wary, very wary, for he knew that something evil was at his back.
He touched the silver-tipped sword that was tucked at his belt. If something rabid was out there, it was time to put an end to it! And, bloody damn, he was just the man to do it. He would enact his shield, protect himself from getting bitten, and finish the beast once and for all. The shield would protect him from the dangers of a rabid bite.
Everything in the forest seemed to go still.
Nothing seemed to move. Even the crickets had ceased their chatter.
Warily he started forward again.
His mother’s face flashed in his mind.
If only she would stop her nagging at him. Lately it was always the subject at the dinner table.
She was a dear heart, but he wasn’t in love, and he wasn’t ready to tie himself down to one woman.
She wanted grandchildren, something to fill the void and still the grief of his father’s passing. She wanted him to carry on the line.
He liked being single … he liked women …
He had told her to leave him be.
He was the only son, she enjoyed reminding him. She wanted to keep Valdane in a direct line. If he didn’t have a son, the castle and the estate would go to his father’s brother. What she didn’t realize was he didn’t care. He loved his good uncle—why shouldn’t the estate go to him?
These thoughts were once again interrupted, and Quinn MacValdane knew the creature was not only at his back, it had had gained ground.
The first thing that assailed him was the odor. Musky, and because his sense of smell was as good as his hearing, the scent of fresh sweet blood filtered through to him. It was dripping saliva mixed with blood.
The second thing that assailed him was the sound of the beast, the low, unthinking wild growl. The sound was primal as th
e creature trumpeted hungrily with mindless rage.
The third thing was the sure knowledge that this was something sinister, something otherworldly: more, so much more than a rabid beast—more than the ‘werewolf’ he had actually expected to appear.
It was near, and it was exploding with Dark Magic.
This beast was frothing at the mouth and mad.
He would not be able to outrun it, and he wasn’t sure his shield would hold against its Dark Magic. What was this? What kind of werewolf had magic?
He felt its power vibrate in the air. He had been just a teen when the male members of his family had hunted and killed a werewolf years ago. This was so much more.
Quinn MacValdane did the only thing he could do: he enacted a spell that enswathed him with a protective shield.
It should have been enough.
He set down his lantern and withdrew his silver-tipped sword.
His shield should have worked like a coat of armor, but he had been right—this was more, so much more than a werewolf. This creature wielded Dark Magic and had stalked him with purpose.
It stood a foot taller than Quinn’s six feet. It clawed the air, its amber eyes burning with bloodlust. It was drooling saliva and blood from its recent kill, and it roared with fury.
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 ~
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. Sh
e 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, and 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.”
