by Unknown
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Chapter One
Someone was out there.
Their malevolent energy hung in the air, pressing on my shoulders. It raced over my skin, pulling at my hair and zapping me with an electric tingle that made my scars ache.
I continued to lather icing on the latest batch of red velvet cupcakes and tried not to be scared. Fear wouldn’t protect me. It was just a waste of energy. I’d been telling myself that for the last ten years, but still couldn’t seem to believe it. I’d seen the things that chased me up close and personal. I couldn’t not be afraid, but I tried.
“Come on, Sara, don’t let it get to you,” I coached myself. My mom had named me Sara after a great aunt who’d been a rabble rouser in the family. She’d stood tall and wide and never took shit from anyone. Mom told me, “I named you after the strongest woman I know.” Too bad it hadn’t imparted any actual strength.
And now someone bigger and badder than even my namesake lurked outside my little cupcake shop, the one I’d just opened on the main street of Inverness, Scotland, threatening to ruin it all. I’d dreamed of running a bakery since I was five. The shop was small, but it was perfect for me.
I’d painted the walls in light pastels and put up art nouveau prints. Wrought iron tables and chairs sat back against the wall, leaving just enough space for customers to stand and peruse the offerings in the display case.
This was supposed to be my gig for at least the next year. That’s how long it usually took them to find me.
Who were they?
It varied. Sometimes they were humans. Or they were…others, beings who were not quite human. I still wasn’t clear on how many things existed beyond my own native human species. Although, judging from the variety I’d seen, there were a lot of them. Some had wings, others had squashed faces with beady eyes. Definitely not human, but I couldn’t say what they were other than the stuff of nightmares and fairytales. There’d only been one repeat so far; a particularly nasty coven of witches.
The coven almost grabbed me in Rome, but I dodged them by jumping into a stranger’s car. The driver found me cute enough that, when I urged him to speed away, suddenly speaking fluent Italian, he complied. Getting away from him had been quite the feat. He became very attached in the afternoon we spent together.
Now someone had found me again. And I’d just paid the one year lease in full. Dammit. I’d been counting on everything I’d learned about hiding to see me through. Apparently, that was too much to expect. I sighed and abandoned the cupcakes to close out the cash register. I stuffed money into my pockets, wondering who was ruining my life this time.
Humans didn’t bother me so much. Yes, they had henchmen carrying guns, but they were also predictable. I didn’t need my skills to stay one step ahead. They always offered me money before trying to outright kidnap me. So I pretended to be interested, asked for a day to think their proposal over and split the first chance I got. They fell for it every time.
Speaking of running, I checked to make sure my backpack was where I’d hung it on the hook by the rear entrance. I kept my life in that bag. It held everything I needed to run, to start over, or to hide; fake passports, Visa gift cards that couldn’t be tracked, a change of clothes, cash in various currencies and guidebooks for Europe as well as Asia. Those two continents were the focus of my efforts to hide. I didn’t dare go back home to Ohio, my friends would talk and give me away to the people trying to hunt me down. Better to stick to places where no one had ever heard of me, let alone knew my face.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stepped outside. I left the lights on in the bakery and didn’t bother to flip the sign over to ‘closed.’ No sense in tipping them off. I hoped whoever ventured in to buy a cupcake would be brave enough to just help themselves.
The late summer weather greeted me with a gloomy roll of thunder. I squinted at the sky as I walked. It looked like rain. Great.
No, countered that small, certain, always right, never wrong voice in my gut. I hated that voice so much. Once, I’d stabbed my stomach with a knife trying to cut it out. That was before I really understood what had happened to me. Before I’d comprehended what I’d become and the awful mistakes I’d made.
Negative energy pressed on me, threatening to flatten me into the uneven cobblestone sidewalk. They were really close. I needed to hurry and disappear before they laid eyes on me. Rummaging in my backpack as I walked, I pulled out a scarf and sunglasses. Wrapping the scarf around my head, I then perched the sunglasses on my nose. There. Try to match a photo to that, bad guys.
I would miss Inverness. The remote town hadn’t sounded particularly attractive to me initially, but the voice had urged me on.
Safe, it had whispered in my ear.
Such a bullshit artist, that voice. Always holding out hope, only to wrench it away with a twist on a word’s meaning. In the early days, when I had no idea what was going on, the voice told me my house was safe, but then my parents were killed in the living room. Shot by one of the many contingents who thought I would be useful to have.
Not employ.
Not consult.
Have as in own.
Whoever had been giving orders didn’t want anyone left behind to ask questions. The only reason I survived was because the voice forced me to leave the house.
I’d since figured out that ‘safe’ could mean an hour or five minutes, and it didn’t extend to other people, just me. If I was smart, I could make a hiding spot last for quite a while. The last few years, I’d learned a lot about staying off the radar, which is why I’d opened the cupcake shop in the first place. I thought I could pull off a year, but I’d been wrong. That wasn’t going to happen.
It was too bad because once I had arrived in Inverness, I found the town suited me. The weather often matched my mood; gray clouds trying to snuff the sun. The tourists kept Inverness’ remoteness from slipping into provincial small-mindedness. Cosmopolitan shops lined the streets interwoven with a nice selection of restaurants. The city had a quiet vitality that I’d come to enjoy.
So where to, I thought at the voice.
Here, came the answer. Stay.
I rolled my eyes. It was going to be one of those days when the voice fucked with me. I paused at the street corner, checking for traffic before I crossed. Not seeing a car, I stepped off the curb, but then jumped back when a roaring sound ripped through the air.
A motorcycle. One with a dragon breathing fire painted on the fuel tank.
I clung to a street lamp as it zipped past. I hadn’t seen or heard it coming. Probably focusing too much on the voice braying in my gut until it echoes in my head, I thought sourly as I watched the bike whip to the left and then soar into a parking spot at such a high speed an accident appeared to be imminent. But the rider didn’t crash, not even close. The bike slid home and stopped inches shy of jumping the curb, under the biker’s complete control.
He—I knew it was a him just by the width of his shoulders--took off his helmet and shook out long, coppery hair. I gaped because that was some seriously awesome hair. Especially on a guy.
I couldn’t see eye color from my vantage point, but I could tell he had a handsome face from the square jaw and high, sculpted cheekbones. When he stepped off the bike, I caught the way his shoulders made the top of a V that nipped in at his waist. Black jeans covered a well-shaped rear that led to boots and I noted the leather jacket he wore bore a black-on-black dragon insignia.
He watched me from across the street as if aware of my gaze. I flushed and turned away, scolding myself for being so easily distracted. I needed to get moving. The energy had even more weight now. They were closer than before and I’d been gawking like a lovesick teenager.
It was almost like I had a death wish.
Or maybe I was just tired of running. Maybe I’d needed a
moment to be a girl who had the leisure to stop and stare at an attractive guy. I never got to do normal things anymore. The cupcake shop had been my attempt to try and look how that was turning out.
I let go of the lamp post and started to cross the street, but found myself abruptly pushed back. Sometimes, the voice had unseen hands that played me like a puppet. At that moment, it had decided to shove me onto the sidewalk and spin me around until the man on the motorcycle was visible again.
He hadn’t moved from when I’d last seen him. He was staring at me, concentrating.
Was he a bad guy? One of them?
No, said the voice, sounding impatient.
Tires squealed behind me, car doors opened and deep voices shouted. I was able to peek over my shoulder to see a line of black SUVs and a lot of men, also in black, running toward me. Magic tinged the air marking my predators as not human.
Shit. I was out of time. Had the voice finally screwed up?
Him, the voice shouted.
I looked at the guy on the motorcycle, the voice pushing me in his direction. Him? I asked, wishing I could resist the force that dragged my legs the way the voice wanted them to go.
Him, came the emphatic response.
Of my own volition, I broke into a run, sensing the swarm of dark shadows at my back drawing closer. The biker watched me approach, his eyes narrowing as he tracked my progress. They were hazel, I noted, and as I drew closer, I could make out light gold flecks that reflected light like a mirror.
“Hi,” I gasped out, raising my hand in a friendly wave. “I’m Sara. Give me a ride?”
He didn’t move and I began to panic. The voice usually arranged things for me. People found they liked me, that they wanted to help me. It was creepy as hell, but since it manifested only when my life was in danger, I lived with it.
I hesitated and glanced back over my shoulder. The guys in black were still coming, although slower now. They were unsure of the motorcycle guy and being cautious. Turning back to him, I attempted a charming smile. “So, how about that ride? I could use a little help here.”
His gaze flickered behind me. “I can see that, lass. I can also feel your power,” he said, his voice a pleasant tenor with a lilting Scottish brogue. His gaze settled back on me, probing. “What are you?”
“Nothing.” I held up my hands, wondering if I was going to have to run away from both him and the bad guys.
“You will not compel me,” he growled, jaw tight.
“It’s not me, I swear.” I put my hand over my heart.
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I…ah…well, it’s complicated.” We so did not have time for this. Shit. “I have like a parasite or something. Or an infestation. I swear I’m not trying to do anything to you, but,” I gestured to my gut, “this thing has a mind of its own and I really am in trouble.” I gave him a pleading look, the one that always convinced my father to agree to ice cream after Mom had already said no. Dad had never been able to resist me, but the rest of the world had yet to fall to its knees. I still tried though. A cute pout was all I had going for me at the moment.
Kiss, demanded the voice.
What? WHAT?
The voice shoved me forward, almost launching me airborne. KISS, it roared until I couldn’t hear any other sound.
My lips crashed into my would-be savior’s. He stood stiff and still for a second, but then his arms wrapped around me and returned my kiss. His mouth was hot and insistent as he seized control of mine. I sank into him, a heady rush swirling through me as his tongue swept my mouth. The world dropped away. The guys coming for me didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did except for this man who cradled me in his arms.
I moaned as he nibbled the fullness of my bottom lip. A frisson of heat burned through me until I wanted to rip off my clothes and let this man have all of me. It was one hell of a lip lock. I would never forget it and all the kisses that came after would forever be measured against this one.
After a long, blissful moment, the man pulled away, leaving me cold and wishing for more. He stared at me, his eyes wide and the hazel darkening from light caramel to a hard crack toffee.
“I-I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, the rich burr of his Scottish accent sending a tingle up my spine. “That kiss is what saved you.” He handed me his helmet and I quickly put it on.
Motioning for me to join him on the bike, he said, “Hold on tight. It’s going to be a bumpy ride, lass.”
I vaulted up onto the leather seat, feeling very much like I was attempting to leapfrog over a giant. Once I was settled, I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned into his back. He felt so solid, so capable and with that yummy kiss still bubbling in my system, I didn’t want to ever let go. Worse, I wanted to kiss him again…among other things.
Oh, this was bad.
Loving me could kill a man.
Chapter Two
We zoomed through the verdant back country of Scotland, a line of black SUVs right behind us. The motorcycle shuddered between my legs, jostling me forward and closer into the stranger who’d said a mere kiss had saved me.
What had he meant by that anyway? I sent a tendril of attention to the voice, poking at it, but it wasn’t talking. My imagination drew a blank, too. I had no magic other than the voice, nothing that would give a kiss any special meaning.
So why had it been a game changer for him? It’s not like the few other guys I’d kissed had ever reacted the way the biker had.
I went airborne for a second as we left the road and crossed an open pasture to dodge the SUVs. The land jolted us with its dips and valleys, bucking under the bike like an angry bull. That didn’t deter the people after me, though. If anything, they drove even more aggressively, fanning out and attempting to box us in. We zipped up a little hill that acted as a ramp and I felt air under me again. I clamped my eyes shut and searched for the energy that would tell me if we were about to crash or not.
No, it was going to be fine.
I still couldn’t look, though.
When I did open my eyes, we were alone. The SUVs were gone as if they’d never existed. Mist now rolled over the moors, shrouding the countryside in white. The atmosphere of the world changed. I no longer sensed the intense pressure of pursuit, but rather the languid energy of time to spare. The biker relaxed as well, slowing down and leaving the field for a narrow road.
We were safe. At least for the time being.
A few minutes later, we pulled up to a large castle built of dark stone. A collection of motorcycles sat outside its entrance; big machines with shiny chrome and ornate dragon motifs in the paint jobs.
He parked right next to the rest of the bikes and I removed the helmet, which he took and hung over the handlebar. I accepted the hand he offered as I struggled to dismount from the bike. I wasn’t all that short, but the motorcycle was a beast and I was grateful for the help.
“Where are we?” I asked. “Who are you?” He’d sensed the voice, recognized it somehow. I needed to figure out how much of a threat he was.
“This is my home and my name is Alec.” He swept a hand toward the castle door. “We should go in. They’ll want to meet you and we need to talk.”
“They who?” I asked hurrying after him.
“My brothers,” he said over his shoulder.
Alec walked with powerful strides into the castle. The front door swung open at his approach as if expecting him. I stuck as close as a second shadow, nervous and a little scared. If this man knew what I was, he would want to use me and I would have to escape.
I much preferred never being caught in the first place, so it was with some hesitation that I crossed the threshold of the castle. The door shut behind me with a loud boom, operated by a tall blond man with the bulk of a linebacker. He had stood so far behind the door that he was effectively hidden from sight and his sudden appearance gave me a start. His mouth widened at my reaction and then o
pened, not in a grin, but so he could snap his teeth at me with a predatory, sharp click.
I jumped and stepped even closer to Alec, bumping into him as he came to an abrupt stop.
“Brothers,” he bellowed, head thrown back, voice echoing off the square wooden panels covering the walls.
The thud of feet hurrying across the floor sounded. One set from above us, another from somewhere on the first floor. The blond from the door walked over to lean against the enormous fireplace at the end of the room. He looked me up and down, eyebrows raised, lips pursed.
“You found one?”
Alec gave a curt nod as he pulled off his leather riding gloves. “Aye, I did.”
The blond smiled, this time the gesture displayed pure delight as opposed to his earlier aggression. “Excellent.”
I edged back toward the door just as two more men appeared, their gazes instantly seeking me out and pinning me down. What did they know about me? How much danger was I in? Could I outrun them?
I closed my eyes and absorbed the energy around me. Nothing registered as dark or dangerous. Weird because these guys looked like a rough crowd with their bikes and leathers. Based on their appearance, I should have run screaming. The voice should have been shoving my feet out the door.
There were four of them so far: The teeth-snapping blond, then Alec with his coppery hair, a flaming orange redhead, and one with hair dark as night. They all wore matching black kilts and leather jackets with the same dragon design as Alec’s.
Call me crazy, but I didn’t think they were going to serve me tea and crumpets. They were more the type to ask me to make meth or cut cocaine. Oh wait, scratch that. Alec had known I was something more than human, which meant I was probably destined for torture until I did what they wanted. These guys weren’t going to be petty criminals. They would be big time.
And yet, I didn’t sense that about them at all. What my eyes saw and what the voice registered were two different things. I couldn’t reconcile it.
What’s going on? I poked at the voice that now controlled my life.
