by Unknown
She slowed down just before she reached the skeletal branches of the white tree. She could not hold back a gasp when she crested the hill and that saw no one was there. A profound sense of loss consumed her as she approached the base of the huge tree. Had she arrived too late?
Freya slumped against the trunk, slowly sliding to the ground. She looked to her left and noticed the grass was crushed as if someone had been sitting there recently. Running her hand over it, she felt certain now she’d just missed him.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when he snarled, “What are ye doing here?”
“I saw you in a vision.”
“Don’t toy with me, lass,” he growled in a low, dangerous tone. In an instant, his hand was wrapped around her throat. “Why did ye come?”
“Your pain called to me,” she whispered hoarsely.
His eyes narrowed as he tightened his grip around her neck. “What do ye mean, Freya?”
She trembled under his unyielding grip. “I felt the need to come, to see if you were okay.” She paused before admitting, “I wanted to… comfort you.”
He snarled, releasing his hold on her. “Ye cannae comfort me.” He turned away, facing the castle, adding under his breath, “Nothing can free me from this hell.”
Freya reached out to him, as she had in her dream, and he growled ominously. She quickly snatched her hand back. Whatever had compelled her to come to this place, Freya understood now it had been a mistake. Bryn did not want or need her help.
She started backing away from him, inching slowly towards her car.
“Ye cannae leave.”
She stopped in her tracks, fear gripping her heart. There was no way she could outrun him; she’d already learned that lesson the first night.
“Ye dinnae kin what ye have stumbled into. Would ye like to be enlightened before ye die?”
She closed her eyes. “Are you going to kill me, then?”
Bryn spat out, “Nae, the cancer in yer body is doing the job well enough.”
She nodded, tears escaping her tightly closed eyes. “Aye…”
There was a hint of sympathy in his voice when he replied, “Yer frightened of it—the other side.”
If death was inevitable, then she wanted to go out like a warrior not a wimp. She wiped her tears away angrily and straightened her back before answering him. “Yes. I may be afraid, but I’m no coward.”
His smiled was genuine. “Aye, yer strong of spirit, I’ll give ye that. We fully expected ye to talk when we sent Elsa.”
“What?” she asked in disbelief.
“We had to know yer intentions, so Tavis took yer purse and Elsa was instructed to push ye to tell her what ye knew.”
Freya broke out in a cold sweat. “You mean you set me up that day?”
“What were we supposed to think when ye showed up at the pub?”
“But it was purely an accident! I never would have walked in if I had known.”
“I don’t believe in accidents, Freya McKenna. However, the fact ye kept silent meant we didn’t have to chase ye down and end it.”
He spoke of murdering her as if it were nothing, like it was a common occurrence in his little world. She needed to know the truth.
“What’s this big secret that you’re willing to kill innocent people for?”
His smile was frightening. “Trust me when I say it will shock and disgust ye.”
She wasn’t intimidated. “Bryn, it would take a lot to shock a dying nurse of forty-some years.”
His grin became broader as an unnatural glow seemed to emanate from his eyes. The thrill of pure fear washed over her. Whatever Bryn was, he was definitely not human.
“I want to know,” she insisted.
“Then ye may want to sit.”
With her heart pounding in her chest, she sat down with her back against the tree.
Bryn’s smile took on an eerie leer as he undid his pants in front of her. There was nothing sexual about his actions—that leer of his was terrifying.
He looked at the sliver of moon above him and held his hands up towards the sky. Then he let out a blood-curdling howl.
Freya’s jaw dropped as his body began to transform. Bryn’s chest grew broader as his back legs began to shift unnaturally. Long, silvery hair began sprouting over his entire body. But the most frightening change of all was his face. His mouth and nose elongated into the shape of a canine snout with viciously sharp teeth. Bright yellow eyes bore into her as he fell to the ground on all fours, panting. Drool dripped from his massive jaws, just inches from her face.
Freya felt like a terrified rabbit, completely trapped by her own fear.
Bryn moved closer, blowing his hot, moist breath on her cheek. She whimpered, knowing it would only take one snap of those strong jaws to end her. He lowered his head, staring into her soul with those unnatural eyes…
Freya expected a quick and violent death, but Bryn threw his head back and howled at the moon, this time the sound of it distinctly lupine. His ears twitched, focusing on some unheard noise coming from the east, and he took off.
Freya spent several seconds recovering from the shock before her flight instinct took over and she scrambled to her feet. Fresh pain ripped through her gut, almost paralyzing her, but she fought through it to get to her car.
Once there, she slammed the door shut and locked it, thanking the heavens she’d left the keys in the ignition. The tires threw up a cloud of dust as she raced away, trying to put as much distance as she could from the creature.
Her only thought was to get back to the cottage, but it wasn’t long before she had to pull to the side of the road. She opened the car door and threw up. A terrible spasm coursed through her, leaving her breathless and weak.
She heard the far off howl of the beast and panic gripped her heart. She wiped her mouth against her sleeve and took off again. Her only thought was getting back to the cottage. She felt like a wild animal needing a quiet place to curl up and die—safe and alone.
Freya staggered out of the car when she reached the cottage, collapsing just inside the entrance unable to move any further.
It didn’t matter, this was the end. She was going to die tonight, right there on the cold stone floor.
She stifled a frightened cry when the huge wolf entered her open door. She crawled away from him in desperation. When she glanced back, she saw that he had transformed back into human form—in all his naked glory.
“Ye do not need to fear me, Freya McKenna.”
Old Wounds
Freya sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees in a protective ball. “Why are you here?”
“Ye should not die alone.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “I don’t want to die.”
A look of anguish washed over Bryn and his eyes clouded over with pain. He shook it off, growling under his breath before walking over and picking her up despite her vocal protests. He carried her upstairs to the bed and gently placed her on it. Then he lay down, enfolding her in his beefy arms.
“Yer safe, Freya.”
His human warmth filled her with profound peace and she repeated the word, “Safe…”
“Try to think of death as a gift.”
“I can’t,” she whispered, fresh tears running down her cheeks.
“Try,” he encouraged.
They lay there in silence as Freya tried to convince herself that the end rushing towards her was wanted.
She couldn’t.
She screamed out in fear when the next wave of pain hit, and Bryn stroked her hair whispering, “Shhh… shhh… It’s almost over, ye have almost won the battle.”
After it had passed, she looked up at him. “Thank you for protecting me from the others… and for being here now.”
“I’ve seen enough brutal deaths. I dinnae want to add ye to the list.”
Another spasm racked her body and she groaned.
“Do not fight it,” he said soothingly.
Freya shook her head. “You don’
t understand. It’s in my nature to fight.”
“Aye, but I do,” he snorted. “I’m the same. I must keep fighting, even when I know I will lose.”
She gazed into his amber eyes. “Is that the reason for those scars on your back?”
Agony darkened his eyes as Bryn shifted, propping his back against the headboard, choosing not to answer her.
“Is it the reason you were at the tree tonight?” she pushed.
He remained silent.
Freya began panting hard as searing fire clawed through her middle. She looked up at Bryn in fear. “Please talk to me. Your voice soothes me.”
He nodded, his tone lulling and gentle even though what he shared was anything but. “To answer yer question, it was under that tree I vowed to the Moon that I would do whatever was needed to ensure the survival of our pack. For countless years, we’d been under the rule of an unstable Ceannard, one that seemed to be systematically destroying our future. I fought for our survival, believing I had the Moon’s blessing, but in fighting to protect it, I ended up sacrificing all that mattered to me.”
He stared down at her, stating matter-of-factly, “Our Ceannard was a cruel and shortsighted leader, threatening our very existence by targeting the humans that live in this region. We’ve coexisted by keeping ourselves hidden amongst them, but over the years he’d grown to despise all humans and wanted to declare war. When one of our elders, Keir, questioned his wisdom, Ranulf made a terrible and bloody example of him.”
Bryn stroked her hair gently as she suffered through another wave of pain before continuing. His voice remained calm, even serene, despite the story he shared. “Ranulf called him up before the assembly, next to the Sacred Moon tree and asked him to explain his concerns to the pack. Keir was flattered by such an honor and humbly shared his reservations, all of which were valid. Our Ceannard listened carefully, but he surprised us by laughing afterwards. He used Keir’s words against him, telling the pack. ‘Ye claim ye cannae fight against the humans in our territory and I agree with ye.’ Ranulf addressed the rest of us with a cruel leer that spoke to his intent. ‘Unfailing obedience to yer Ceannard is the law.’
“He ordered Keir to bow. I’ll never forget the resignation on his face as he fell to his knees. Keir had done nothing wrong, and yet the entire pack stood by as our Ceannard transformed into wolf form.
“I could not stand by and watch him die, so I transformed into a wolf despite the fearful protests of my family.”
“No one joined you?”
“Ranulf was Ceannard for a reason, Freya. He was the strongest of all the Alphas and I was no match against his strength or brutality. He played with me the way a cat does with a mouse as he finished off Keir in front of the assembly, tearing him limb from limb. Ranulf saved his throat for last, so that the entire pack would remember his screams of agony.”
Freya shuddered, imagining the bloody scene.
“Would ye prefer I stop?” Bryn asked, cradling her closer to him.
“No,” she answered weakly. “I want to know how you survived.”
“It was quick and brutal when he finally stopped toying with me. Any attacks I scored were simply because he’d allowed it. When the final attack came, I fell to the ground to protect my underbelly. He closed his teeth around the back of my neck and ripped my back with his claws. My whole body went numb, smelling his blood-tainted breath as he shredded my skin.
“I’ll never forget that moment when I accepted my death—I felt total peace.” He looked at her tenderly. “Ye will feel the same, Freya.”
She nodded, wanting to believe him.
Bryn let out a deep, painful sigh. “If only I had died…” He gathered her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I woke up to the terrified screams of my sister. I regained consciousness in time to see her gutted by Ranulf.” His voice caught. “She looked at the pack and whimpered, ‘I don’t want to die’ before choking on her own blood.”
Freya felt warm tears drop onto her arm as he stated bitterly, “Not one tried to save her.”
“What about your parents?”
“They were already dead. My entire family-line wiped out for my insubordination.” Bryn held her tighter. “As Ranulf stood gloating over her body, I gathered all my hatred to give me the strength to stand. I came up behind him while the pack remained silent and lunged, biting into the side of his neck and ripping his throat before he knew what’d happened. I fell next to my sister’s body fully expecting to die.
“With blood pouring from the gaping wound I’d caused, Ranulf turned to attack me. That’s when the pack finally responded, jumping on him as a unit. In a matter of seconds, our great Ceannard was dead.” He paused, adding with regret, “Unfortunately, I did not die with him.”
Freya stiffened in his arms as another, more intense spasm took over. It was so severe she nearly blacked out. Bryn murmured words of comfort as she struggled. When it finally passed, she asked with great effort, “What happened after Ranulf died?”
“My pack tended to my wounds when normally they would have put me out of my misery. I don’t know why, death would have been a mercy. When it was determined I was healed enough, they made me Ceannard.”
“The chief among your people?”
“Aye. They meant it as an honor, but I see it only as punishment. I’m bound to protect them and cannae give in to the call of death.” He looked down at her tenderly. “I envy ye, Freya. I would join ye if I could.”
She closed her eyes. “Bryn…”
“Aye?”
“Could you save me?”
He growled, pulling away from her. “Ye cannae know what ye ask.”
She opened her eyes. “But you could.”
He left the bed, pacing the room like a crazed animal.
Freya held out her hand to him. “Please don’t leave me…”
He stared at her, refusing to budge until another spasm racked her body. He returned, holding her tight as she trembled in his arms. “Freya, understand that it would be crueler of me to save ye than to let ye die.”
She frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”
Freya felt his hands on her face as he forced her to stare into his foreign, dangerous eyes. “I can save ye, but the solution would be worse than the dying. This life is not for ye and the process of the transformation itself is violent.”
She cried out when a new wave of pain hit. “Please explain,” she begged.
“To experience the Athrú, I would have to kill ye. A bite alone would not cause a transformation. Athrú requires yer heart to stop beating as I bite. It is only in death a werewolf can emerge.”
“That doesn’t scare me, Bryn. I’m already dead.”
He lifted her chin gently. “Trust me, death is the better alternative. Ye only seek escape from it because yer frightened.”
“No…” Tears ran down her face when she confessed. “All this time I thought I came to die in my homeland, but tonight I see clearly that is not the reason I came back.” Her hand was shaking as she caressed his strong, masculine jaw. “Bryn, I came for you.”
His eyes narrowed as he shook his head.
Freya nodded, smiling confidently. “Yes, it all makes sense now. I’ve had visions about you ever since I came to Scotland. You said yourself that you don’t believe in accidents. I agree. It was no accident I came upon you the night of the bonfire, no accident that I happened upon you at the pub and no accident when I found you tonight at the Sacred Moon tree. I wasn’t meant to die, I was meant for you so that you could finally live.”
“Nae. It would not be right.”
“Please, Bryn. I don’t want to be separated from you now that I found you.”
His sigh was low and tortured. “I cannae. If I were to perform the Athrú, it would be for purely selfish reasons.”
“Listen to me.” She took his face in both her hands, gazing deep into his amber eyes. “You said you thought you had the Moon’s blessing when you vowed to protect the
pack from your Ceannard. I believe this is her answer for your obedience.”
Bryn’s eyes softened.
“Honor the Moon’s blessing for you, Bryn.”
He shook his head sadly. “I’m a cursed wolf. Dinnae ask this, ye will regret it.”
“But I want this for me—for us.”
She saw a brief look of hope before his eyes became hard and cold. “Werewolves cannae perform the Athrú without approval from the pack. Changing humans is a rare occurrence, one used only when a pack is dying out or to fortify numbers during times of war.”
“Surely as Ceannard you can bend the rules?”
“They’d never agree to it. The act would be seen as an abuse of my power. I would be challenged for ignoring the law.”
“Then we could run away and start a new life together.”
He snarled. “Ye show yer ignorance, Freya. I am the Ceannard. I will never leave the pack. I’m bound to protect it until I die.” He stood up, transforming into a wolf before her. Bryn glared at her accusingly with those amber eyes before running off.
“Please, Bryn, please don’t leave me to die!” she cried.
The feeling of loss overwhelmed her, hurting more than any pain she’d endured. Freya rocked herself as she screamed into the pillow. How could he leave her like this? Freya whimpered pitifully when a deep, stabbing pain cut through her middle and would not stop. Eventually, she was forced to accept the darkness that was demanding her soul. It became her escape and a calmness settled over her.
She closed her eyes and whispered to the heavens, “I’m not afraid anymore…”
Freya felt the warm, moist breath of the wolf before she smelled him. She opened her eyes and smiled.
Bryn.
He licked her cheek, whimpering softly. Then he nuzzled her neck, forcing her head to the side, exposing her throat to him. Bryn looked into her eyes one last time and she nodded, not having the strength to speak.
Freya felt only gladness when his teeth closed around her throat and cut off her air, but she noticed he did not bite hard enough to break the skin. She struggled under him, realizing he was not there to save her.
