Highland Shifters: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by Unknown

  Freya laughed in delight, struck by the fact that one could actually believe in fairies and nymphs in this place. The magical feeling the scenery evoked was thrilling!

  She didn’t hurry her drive, arriving at the cottage just as the sun set. Pulling into the driveway, Freya took a sharp intake of breath. It was too beautiful—the oranges and purples of the sky reflecting their radiance on the water.

  Freya jumped out of the car and stood in humble silence, breathing in the sweet fragrance of the garden as the sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon. She mourned the fact she only had a few of these miracles left to enjoy.

  Dragging her heavy suitcases behind her, Freya deposited the lot inside the doorway unopened. She felt far too tired to unpack. Instead, she heeded the irresistible call of the stairs and squealed in childish delight when she saw the large canopy bed. She curled up on it, promising herself that she would only rest her eyes for a few minutes.

  She didn’t wake up until midnight. However, it was not dark outside because of the brilliance of a full moon. She went outside and looked up at the sky, shivering from the cold night air. Truly, the moon was an extraordinary thing.

  I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss it all…

  The next day, Freya laid out her map and circled all the places she wanted to visit. Even though time was not on her side, she decided her first day should be one of pure exploration—no agendas. She packed a simple lunch, took her allotted pills and headed out.

  After hours of driving through the enchanting countryside, she happened on a overgrown dirt road that seemed inviting. She felt a thrill as the road slowly dwindled down to a thin trail, indicating that few people had traveled this way. Her heart beat faster as she followed it, certain she was about to stumble onto some priceless treasure.

  Freya actually held her breath as she crested a large hill, pleased when she saw the lonely castle beside a lake.

  This is the stuff fairytales are made of!

  Parking the car a respectful distance away, she grabbed her picnic basket and made her way towards the castle. There was something enchanting about the ancient fortress, something otherworldly—even dangerous.

  As she stepped over the stones that had once made up the castle wall, she wondered how old it was and who had lived within its once protective barricades. She felt the presence of those who were long since dead still lingering in this place. The feeling wasn’t one of fear, but of belonging, and she felt at ease.

  One unexpected benefit of dying was that she was no longer concerned about her safety. She set down her basket, and eagerly climbed the crumbling stairs of a turret without a second thought. The stone staircase was covered in debris. Pieces of it dislodged as she gingerly made her way up, echoing as they bounced down to the ground below.

  Freya slipped once, almost taking the same tumble as the stones, but she was determined to make it to the top and did not let it stop her. The coldness of the stone and the darkness of the castle added to the otherworldly atmosphere. She felt as if the spirits were guiding her upwards, encouraging her lack of caution.

  Small openings in the wall as she made her way up gave glimpses of the spectacular view waiting for her. When she finally neared the top, a sharp pain in her belly doubled her over. She grasped the wall trying to soften her fall as she tumbled down several stairs.

  Freya held back the tears as she got on her feet. Common sense demanded she head back down, but she resented that her cancer was trying to steal this moment from her.

  “Fuck you!” she growled at her body, forging forward with renewed resolve as she crawled on hands and knees the last few steps. She huddled at the top, waiting to catch her breath.

  When the pain finally passed, she pushed herself up and let out a satisfied sigh. The height of the turret gave her an unobstructed view of the entire area. She could appreciate why the castle had been built here. No one would be able to attack without ample warning.

  It made her wonder how many battles had been fought here and how many people had died defending it. So much history had been lost… Freya closed her eyes and could almost hear the screams and the sound of fighting down below.

  Exhaustion forced her to lie down where she was. Although she was determined to stay awake, she felt herself drifting off. Swirls of unfamiliar images flooded her mind and she let them carry her away, imagining she was a part of the castle staff—a young man, a soldier of the castle.

  I stand with pride at my watch. It is my duty to protect, and I am fully prepared to die to guarantee my Lord’s safety. However, it is not just for him I am fighting. I also protect a young woman, the girl I plan to marry. I would die a million deaths for her.

  I spot an invading army on the horizon and warn the castle inhabitants. They rush about below me, preparing to defend it, but everyone is in a jovial mood. The opposing army is comprised of only a handful of men compared to the multitudes housed within the walls of our castle.

  “We will go out and meet them,” my officer commands.

  With pleasure I ride out with the others, laughing inwardly at the invading force standing before me. The men aren’t even on horses, and don’t stand a chance against us.

  As we ride up, a tall man of impressive stature advises our army, “Surrender now or I promise every person here will die. Not one of yer kind will remain.”

  “Who dares to threaten Lord Graham?” my commanding officer demands.

  “Who we are does not concern ye.”

  Our commander is obviously angered by their lack of respect and barks, “Leave now before I lose patience with ye and yer lot.”

  “This is yer last warning,” the other man states coldly. “Either surrender now or die.”

  I notice an unnatural glow coming from the eyes of the opposing army. It sends shivers down my spine. There is something unnatural about these men, something terrifying.

  For the first time fear sets in our troop where before there had been only arrogance.

  My commander pulls out his sword in answer. “The only blood that will be spilled today shall be yers.”

  The small band of men grin at each other and then begin ripping off their clothes. I realize now they must be crazy and pull out my sword, ready to put them out of their misery.

  It will be a slaughter…

  The Chosen

  A lone wolf’s howl startled Freya out of her dream. She opened her eyes and was shocked to see it was dark. She stood up slowly and looked in the direction of the cry. Far off in the distance she noticed a bonfire on top of a hill. Curious who would be out at this late hour, she carefully made her way back down the stairs in the dark. As Freya approached the fire, she noticed an unusual tree towering over it. The tree’s naked white branches seemed to reach up towards the night sky in silent adulation.

  At the crest of the hill, she stopped dead in her tracks. There were men surrounding the huge bonfire, and not one were wearing clothes. For modesty’s sake, she knew she should turn away and make her way back to the car, but those men…

  Their toned bodies and fine asses tempted her to remain. Seriously, they were too muscular and hot not to admire. Knowing this would be her last chance to see such fine examples of manhood, Freya decided to lay low and appreciate their manliness a little longer.

  It appeared that the group was performing a traditional dance of some sort based on the way they moved around the fire as one unit, stopping every quarter turn to look up and cry out to the moon in deep, low tones.

  Freya noticed that the men seemed to be of similar stature—all except one. He was a head shorter than the rest. However, what made him stand out was the awkward way he moved. She focused on him, noticing that he had ragged scars covering his back, which shimmered eerily in the firelight. She couldn’t help wondering what his story was.

  There was a slight shift in the night breeze and the entire group suddenly stopped, looking in her direction. She wasn’t about to get caught spying on a bunch of naked Scotsmen, so she backe
d down the hill slowly.

  Unfortunately, her shoe brushed against a small stone. She held her breath as it rolled down the grassy hill, bouncing against a large boulder below. It was the slightest of sounds, but it was as if she’d banged two cymbals together. The group started towards her as one unit—all twenty naked, magnificent-looking men headed her way.

  A sense of real danger washed over Freya as she scrambled to her feet and raced towards her car. In a matter of seconds, the group was on her, circling Freya as if she were prey.

  “Who are ye?” the burliest of the males demanded.

  “No one…” she stammered, trying not to stare at his exposed manly parts. Freya bit down her fear, deciding to make light of the situation in the hope she could win them over with her wit. “I’m just a lonely American girl who happened upon your private party.”

  A dark-haired male declared, “Kade, the lass must die.” The others grunted their agreement.

  Freya looked around in a panic and bolted towards a small gap between two of the men. She was no match against their brawn and found herself lifted off the ground by burly hands as if she weighed nothing.

  “Take her to the fire,” Kade snarled.

  Freya kicked and screamed in terror as they headed back to the roaring flames. “Let me go! I’ve done nothing wrong.” She attempted to stab the eye of the one who held her, but he swatted her hand away.

  “Don’t try that again,” he growled ominously.

  “Please don’t hurt me!” she begged. “I didn’t see anything, I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Ye tainted the ceremony. Now ye must die. It is the law,” Kade insisted.

  “But I know nothing of your laws. I’m innocent!”

  “Shut her up, Tavin,” Kade ordered.

  A powerful hand covered her mouth, effectively transforming her protests into pathetic whimpers.

  They took her back to the fire and discussed her fate. Kade, who appeared to be the leader of the group, spoke first. “We could throw her in the fire and be done with it.”

  Freya stared at the flames in horror.

  “I cannae stomach the smell when they burn,” Tavin complained.

  What!? They’ve burned humans before?

  “Then I say we cut her throat. Silent, quick, done,” Kade suggested.

  “Nae,” an older male growled. “Her offense demands more than that.”

  Kade growled. “True enough. What do ye suggest, Skene?”

  “Let’s rip her heart out and share it while she watches.”

  Kade shook his head, snorting in disgust. “She’s a foreigner, I do not think we should give her that honor.”

  Honor? Freya shuddered, there was no honor in having your heart ripped from your body and eaten in front of your eyes.

  Tavin shrugged. “Fine. Then let’s just rip open her chest and throw her heart into the fire.”

  “Aye,” the rest agreed in unison.

  “Put her down, but keep her mouth covered.”

  Freya fought with all of her strength, but could not break free when two of the males held her arms still, while another ripped her shirt and bra away to expose her chest.

  She screamed into the hand that muzzled her when Kade approached.

  “This will hurt and, aye, ye will die. However, I cannae think of a nobler way for a human to leave this Earth than by the light of the full Moon in the hands of the Chosen.” He loomed over her, his eyes glinting with an unnatural glow.

  Freya shook her head violently and broke free long enough to shout, “I don’t want to die!”

  The shortest of the males called out, “I will vouch for her.”

  Kade glared at him. “Ye cannae!”

  He repeated coolly, “I vouch for her.”

  Kade snarled, saying with disgust, “But she’s… human.”

  Her rescuer answered, “Nothing in the law states who can or cannae be vouched for.”

  Tavin howled angrily. “Bryn, this is an outrage! She has seen us, she must die.”

  Bryn moved over to Freya and sniffed her hair. “She is already dead. What honor do we bring the Moon by offering an inferior sacrifice?”

  Kade moved closer and inhaled, huffing in obvious distaste afterwards. “Yer right, she’s not worthy.”

  The other men shifted uncomfortably, upset to discover she was dying. It almost seemed funny. Who knew cancer could save your life?

  “She only has a few more days,” Bryn stated. “Let her die in peace.”

  “How can ye be sure she won’t speak of what she’s seen?” Tavin growled, pressing his hand painfully against her nose and mouth in an attempt to cut off her air.

  “I have vouched for her. Do not question me, again,” Bryn snarled.

  Tavin removed his hand from Freya. “It won’t happen again, Ceannard,” he said, bowing his head in deference to Bryn.

  Freya knew that Ceannard meant the same as chief. She was surprised that the smallest of the males seemed to be the leader of the pack, not the imposing Kade.

  Bryn took her by the arm and escorted her down the hill. “I know ye will not waste yer final moments trying to convince the villagers yer not crazy. Take these last days and enjoy the beauty of this land. Dinnae concern yerself further with this.”

  Freya nodded numbly in response.

  “I say this in kindness, but also as a warning, yer life and anyone ye talk to will be forfeit should ye fail to keep silent.”

  “I understand… thank you.”

  He snarled. “As a foreigner ye did not know yer offense. Better ye leave this world safe in the ignorance of yer kind.”

  Bryn’s reference to her kind made her wonder what they considered themselves. She’d heard Kade refer to them as The Chosen. Were they a secret society of gay Scottish nudists?

  “I will keep to myself until I die,” she assured him.

  He opened the car door for her, “Good.”

  “But why—”

  Slamming the car door shut, he stated harshly, “Ye have four days at most. Spend them wisely.”

  Freya felt a cold chill after hearing his death sentence for her. Even modern medicine couldn’t pinpoint the exact time and yet, she believed him. There was something otherworldly about Bryn and the others, it was remarkable—and frightening.

  She drove away shaken to her core but determined to take heed of his words. Only four days…

  That didn’t leave much time to realize a lifetime of dreams.

  Little Lamb

  Freya woke the next morning feeling in far more pain than the day before. Was it simply her mind playing tricks on her after Bryn’s pronouncement the night before?

  Despite the pain, she headed out to explore a new castle—one far away from the craziness of the night before. She drove the dirt roads in the opposite direction, until she came across a herd of fluffy sheep in a large field. She couldn’t explain why, but she wanted to hold one of those tiny lambs and pet it to her heart’s content.

  Freya climbed out of the car, feeling self-conscious as she squeezed her way through the fence and timidly approaching the skittish herd. They wanted nothing to do with her, especially the mamas with babies. She stopped chasing them and sat on a grassy knoll, believing that if she remained still they would realize she meant no harm and would come to her.

  To her mortification, the owner of the sheep showed up minutes later. He yelled at her from the road. When she didn’t move, he crawled through the fence and made his way to her. “Get off ma land!”

  Although Freya was embarrassed, she was equally determined, and shook her head with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but I simply must pet a lamb or die.”

  He scoffed. “Being a bit dramatic, aren’t ye?”

  She shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

  Freya noticed the twinkle in his eye when he asked, “So a wee lamb will save yer life?”

  She smiled. “Aye.”

  “Well… I suppose I could allow it if ye promise to leave afterwards. Yer scaring
my herd.”

  Freya giggled. “I noticed that myself. All I want to do is pet them but they keep running away.”

  “Ye have to know how to talk to them, lassie.” The old man began speaking to his sheep in a soft lilting tone that even calmed her. “That’s it my pets, that’s it…” He went up to the smallest one and picked it up without any protest from its mother.

  He walked back over to Freya and laid the tiny thing on her lap. “The runt. Seems fitting for such a brash lassie.”

  Freya grinned. “Yes, the runt will do me just fine.” She petted the tiny creature, holding it close to her body. It accepted her caress, laying its head against her and closing its eyes. Its heart beat rapidly against her chest—so much life.

  Peace washed over her in soothing waves and a tear ran down her cheek, making the old man uncomfortable.

  “Dinnae cry, lass. It’s just an animal.”

  Freya looked up at him. “But this is the most beautiful lamb in the world. Sweet, innocent, and full of life…” She picked it up and turned it towards her to look into its dark eyes. “You will live a long and productive life, little one.”

  The old man laughed. “Aye, she will until it’s her time. Then she’ll make a delicious chop.”

  Freya gasped in mock horror and kissed its tiny nose. “No, never, little one. I’m your fairy godmother. Nothing bad will ever happen to you.”

  He laughed uncomfortably. “Look, lassie, I have a long day’s work ahead. It’s time ye were going.”

  She sighed in resignation, putting the little lamb down and watched as it ran back to its mother, bleating sweetly. “You’re right. It is time to move on,” Freya replied sadly. She attempted to get up, but crumpled over in excruciating pain.

  “What’s wrong with ye?” the old man asked in concern.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought off the pain. “It’s nothing… just a cramp. I’ll be fine.” Grasping the hand he offered, she stifled a cry as she struggled to get up. Once on her feet, it took several moments to steady herself enough to walk.

  The old man looked troubled but said nothing.