Though they do say that the best way to stay warm on a cold night is to press one’s naked body to another person’s…
She let out another slightly embarrassed chuckle, allowing herself to relax into a steady, comfortable pace. For a moment she let her mind wander back to how pleasurable it had been to talk to the two men. Roth, the soft-spoken but oddly commanding, delicious-looking god with the intense eyes; and Laird, the more laid back, sexy creature who’d stared at her more than once with a very distinct hunger permeating his expression. Something about them had been so…what was the word? Ah, yes.
Arousing.
Pfft. What an inadequate word that was. Her attraction to the incredible men was far, far more intense than a mere knicker-wetting turn-on. Some magical, mysterious, invisible erotic threads had latched onto her and yanked her hard towards them, inspiring a desire for something that went far beyond sex. She felt deeply, strangely connected to them—both of them, which should have made her feel a deep sense of shame. She’d always been a loyal person, and the thought that she could want two men equally made her feel a little dirty, somehow.
You silly git, she told herself. You’re just horny, and they’re…well, they’re scrummier than a double chocolate cake. They’re a tasty fantasy, nothing more. Get over yourself, because you’ll never even bloody see them again.
It was no wonder she was fantasizing; she hadn’t been on a date in six months at least. The idea of two dark-haired demigods would appeal to any red-blooded young woman in need of a good shag. That was all it would have been, too; nothing more than a one-night stand, leaving her to wallow afterwards in wretched self-loathing. No doubt the men would have disappeared off the face of the earth immediately, and she’d never have seen them again.
Right, no threesomes. No flings, she told herself. Her days of foolish, irresponsible youth were long gone. Emma was approaching thirty, and it was time to get serious. Raise a family. Get married.
Not necessarily in that order.
But the truth is that a night with those two sex gods would have been unforgettable, she mumbled, and you know it.
Fine. Yes, it would have been.
“Yes!” she yelled, her voice echoing against a distant surface. “Is that what you want me to say? It would have been amazing to fuck their brains out!” She let out a quick, high-pitched squeal and twirled in a quick, contented pirouette before continuing on her way.
Just then, a twig snapped somewhere behind her with all the aural precision of a gunshot echoing through the chilly December air.
“Fucking hell,” Emma shot out as her quickening heart rate spurred her legs to action. She reached into her pocket with her free hand and pulled out her mobile, ready to call the authorities if anything should happen. Suddenly she wished she’d taken down Laird’s or Roth’s number. No doubt they were still close by; they could come to her aid if someone was after her.
No. That would be stupid.
“Calm down, Em,” she said out loud, holding her phone to her ear to convey the very false impression that she was having a conversation with someone. “You know your way around this park better than anyone. Just follow the path and get back out onto the street before anyone sees you.”
She picked up her pace to a jog, grateful to have worn sensible, rubber-soled boots. The nearest exit wasn’t too far off, and she knew from experience that she could squeeze through the gap between its two iron halves, even clothed in winter garments.
Sure enough, before too long she saw the gate rising up from between the trees, about two hundred feet ahead. Beyond that were the lights of Kensington Road, beckoning her nearer. She’d get there in no time.
No sound came from behind her now, and for a few blessed seconds she thought she’d managed to escape the invisible threat. Perhaps what she’d heard had been nothing more than a squirrel, or even a fox, leaping over the snow and landing on a dry stick. It’s nothing to worry about, she kept repeating quietly to the invisible person on the other end of the phone. Nothing to worry about.
She’d almost convinced herself of it, a feeling of confident safety settling into her chest, when the massive shadow leapt onto the path to block her route.
What…what is that? she mouthed, her body freezing immediately, instinct dictating that it was best not to move an inch.
A low growl broke the chilly silence in the air around her, the beast’s huge body taking a step towards her. Is that…it can’t be…can it? No, she thought. This can’t be happening. I’ve lost it. I’ve really lost it.
She was petrified, every muscle in her body locked in place as though a cruel spell had turned her to stone.
For the first time in her life, Emma was learning what it was to have an out-of-body experience. She saw herself from above, standing uselessly, hands at her sides, phone about to drop to the ground, keys clenched in her right fist. She could see her jaw drop open, could all but hear her heart pounding in her chest at a mile a second.
She could see the creature clearly now, its broad, fur-coated body ready to attack, its huge head lowered to the ground. Glowing eyes reflected the moonlight, menacing, terrifying.
She opened her mouth to unleash a scream, but some malevolent force clamped down on her vocal cords, strangling the cry before it could find life.
This isn’t real, her mind scolded, so there is no sense in screaming. This isn’t real. It can’t be.
There are no grizzly bears in Hyde Park.
Chapter 7
Emma reached out with her left arm, her fingers searching the cold air for a non-existent hand, desperately seeking comfort. Anything to keep her mounting fear from consuming her like wildfire.
The enormous, beastly bear stalked towards her slowly, purposefully, rage glowing in his mad eyes as though the animal were possessed, taken over by some demon looking to claim her life purely through some misplaced act of spite.
She wanted—no—needed—to know she wasn’t alone in these final moments of her life. She needed some assurance that she would be remembered for something more than her menial existence, which now seemed as insignificant as a pebble lying on the ground, waiting for the sole of someone’s shoe to break it in two. She needed to matter in this damned world. But most of all, she needed to know that someone—anyone—in the world had cared about her brief existence.
Every regret she’d ever felt began to attack her brain, all at once.
Why had she stayed single all her adult life?
Why hadn’t she started a family, like so many other young women had?
Why hadn’t she invited Roth and Laird home with her when she’d had the chance?
Why the fuck did she always seem to wait for life to happen to her, when death might be lurking right around the corner?
Then came another question. But this one wasn’t meant for her.
Why the fuck hadn’t the bear attacked her yet?
The beast’s head was drawn down to the ground, sharp fangs exposed through snarling lips as it locked eyes with her. It was still letting out low, vicious growls, its eyes shining a bright, daunting yellow under the moonlight. What horrible sort of bear had yellow eyes, anyhow? It must have escaped from a local zoo for mutant animals; it wasn’t like any grizzly Emma had ever seen. Perhaps it was rabid.
No, idiot. You’re a bloody scientist. You know that rabies doesn’t make one’s eyes glow like something out of The Exorcist.
Her mind reeled with still more questions, none of which could possibly be answered before her untimely demise. Stupid, useless questions. Great. She was about to have her face chewed off, and instead of helping her plot an escape, her brain had gone into overdrive.
The creature was still advancing, but so slowly that it felt like some sort of deliberate, cruel torture. Emma had read once that you’re supposed to play dead in the presence of large predators. Perhaps that was what she should do. Lie on the cold ground and mutter, “I’m not made of meat, bear. Go find someone who is.” All she needed to do was co
llapse in a heap and pretend not to breathe. But each time she considered moving, something stopped her. Fear. Curiosity. Or something more insidious, even; a force controlling her from outside of herself, like some evil entity was pulling her strings.
“I’m standing here like a moron,” she blurted out at the creature who was terrorizing her. “I’m the easiest target on the planet. Why haven’t you attacked me yet?”
As if determined to answer the question for her, the grizzly began to jog towards her, its enormous jaws unclamping to release a blood-curdling roar that seemed to shake the ground beneath her feet.
“Oh God,” she shot out, her feet welded in place as she awaited the sensation of fangs piercing her flesh, “this is really it. This is how I’m going to die. To think I could have gone home and had wild sex with two hot, swarthy Vikings…”
The beast was only metres away now. Emma’s eyes moved around frantically, looking for a stick, a rock, anything that she could possibly use as a weapon. But nothing called out to her but a snowy white landscape that would soon be splattered with her blood. Unless she could find a way to sink into the earth, she was officially doomed.
She slammed her eyes shut and waited for the monstrous form to crash into her, all too aware of how close she was now to the end of her life.
But death didn’t come.
It wasn’t a bear that grabbed her around the shoulders. It wasn’t a bear that pulled her off the concrete path onto the nearby field of snow. It wasn’t a bear that stole her away, wrapping its arms around her like a thick, comforting blanket.
No. It was a man’s voice that breathed, “You need to come with me, love.”
Emma’s eyes flew open, staring straight ahead. Somehow she’d moved backwards, twenty feet or more, and she was still gliding, her feet above the surface of the park. The grizzly, farther away now, was still running, still angry.
But it wasn’t her that he was looking to attack, not anymore. A giant shadow had leapt in front of him, even larger than the bear himself.
At first Emma thought she’d gone completely mad again. It was the only possibility, after all. This was like something out of a Grimm’s fairy tale, one of the morbid, violent ones with tons of blood and gore. Terrifying and fascinating at once.
The new shadow was so strange. It looked like that of a wolf, but it was larger than any she’d ever seen. Larger than the grizzly. Larger, even, than the horses she often saw trotting through Hyde Park in the daytime.
It was a monster.
Suddenly Emma remembered that someone had pulled her to this place, far away from danger. Someone had spoken to her. She twisted around to see who had his hands on her, stunned to realize that it was one of the men from the pub. Laird, the one who’d come over to her table, who’d invited her to chat with him and Roth.
If this whole evening had been a dream, she had to be on the verge of waking up now. Things had gotten too strange, too surreal.
“You…how did you…what are you doing here?” she stammered, swinging back to see that the wolf and grizzly were now clenched in a death battle that would end poorly for at least one of them.
“Just come,” he said. “You don’t want to watch this, trust me.”
“But…that wolf…why is he attacking a bear? Why did he not go after you?”
“All will be answered,” Laird huffed. He still had an arm around her, more to prop her up than anything. She realized as she attempted to move that her legs were giving out under her, too shaky with terror to function properly.
Laird guided her towards an enormous oak tree. Emma assumed that he wanted her to lean against it, to catch her breath. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the sound of two beasts snarling, tearing at each other. But she could no longer see them, and she was grateful for it.
When they arrived at their destination, Laird turned her way, grabbing both her shoulders and staring into her eyes. Emma wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but his own eyes seemed to be glowing just as the bear’s had done. Only instead of yellow, they were a sort of ethereal, otherworldly blue, like the depths of the sky on a bright, sunny day. Impossible blue. The culmination of all that is light and good.
“But it’s night,” she murmured, temporarily mesmerized, “it’s night and I shouldn’t be able to see your irises so clearly…”
“You okay?” he asked. She nodded, though she wasn’t entirely certain that she meant it. She had enough medical training to know that she was likely in shock. Nothing made sense right now; the world was too disorienting. She was in survival mode, her body and mind almost, but not quite, ready to give up.
“I’m going to take you somewhere safe,” Laird told her, his tone calm and reasoned, as though he understood her need for an anchor. “Somewhere that will seem odd to you. But I promise you it’s perfectly safe. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
Another nod. The world was spinning around her in a jumble of incoherent images, but she knew she could trust the enormous man. For some insane reason, even though she’d just met him, she knew that he would protect her with his life if it came down to it.
As if to prove her right, he took her by the hand and pulled her gently but quickly towards the tree’s trunk. Emma pulled back, confused. “You’re going to walk right into it,” she said. Apparently she wasn’t so much in shock that she’d lost all common sense.
He turned her way and smiled. “I know. Trust me, Emma. I promised you that you’d be safe.”
Moments later, he’d disappeared into the tree, like a ghost who’d simply walked right through a solid object. Only his left hand remained outside of its trunk, and it still held hers tight. Emma, too shocked to resist, let him pull her, pushing her other hand out to brace herself for the inevitable impact to come.
But there was none. There was only a feeling of warmth, and the scent of a close space filled with damp air. Oak. Moss. Leather. Comforting aromas, far from the terrors of bears and wolves.
All of a sudden, she was standing in a torch-lit tunnel of arching grey stone. Strange carvings coated the walls around her, Celtic in nature, depicting creatures in flight, men running and fighting, swords and spears in hand.
A floor of flagstone stretched under her feet for what looked like miles ahead, illuminated only by the flickering flames that danced along either wall.
Laird let go of Emma’s hand and turned to look at her, an expression of concern creasing his brow.
“Listen, love,” he said, “breathe for me. Slow, deep. Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” she replied, but she exhaled, realizing that in fact she’d been holding her breath for ages.
“Good girl. I told you you’re safe here. I can smell your fear, but you don’t have to be afraid, not anymore.”
He was right about her fear, of course. Her chest was tight with terror. Everything that had occurred in the last ten minutes was insane. Every bit of it. She was a scientist; her whole life had been spent explaining phenomena, solving problems.
However, there was no explaining this wild night.
“Where are we?” she asked, allowing herself the freedom to turn and study the long tunnel surrounding them both. She could see no evidence that they were inside a tree or that they’d ever even been near one.
“We’re under London, to put it simply,” he replied. “In the ancient passageways crafted once by the Wild Magic of the Dragon Lords.”
“Wait, what?” She spun and faced him, a crinkle appearing between her eyebrows. She was going to get angry if he didn’t explain what the hell was going on in terms she could understand. “The Wild what now?”
“Magic,” he replied, letting out a laugh. He gestured towards the walls. “These carvings have been here for thousands of years, since Dragons and Dire Wolves ruled the lands. Since before London was much of anything. These are the remnants of the Old Ways, Emma. Of my ancestors.”
Chapter 8
Emma pushed herself backwards, her hands feeling for the cold
surface of the wall behind her.
Well, that was that. Laird was mad, he had to be. The bear and wolf outside were one thing, but she was now in the company of a very frightening, very bonkers man.
“I know we talked about this sort of thing in the pub,” she replied, trying with all her strength to keep her voice steady, “shifters and magic, and all, but it was all a bunch of mythology. There are no Dragons. No…Dire Wolves. Those are fairy stories. Legends at best.”
Laird narrowed his eyes and stepped towards her, crossing his arms over his massive chest, which only seemed to enhance his muscles and to confuse her addled brain. She didn’t know anymore whether to be terrified or aroused.
“Oh?” he said. “Then tell me, what was the massive Wolf that you saw in the park just now?” The way he said the word “Wolf” was strange. She could all but hear the capital W at the beginning, as if he spoke of the animal with a reverence usually reserved for royalty.
She swallowed hard, slamming her eyes shut and shaking her head as if to deny the reality around her. “I don’t know. I think I was imagining it. I must have been. My mind was swimming…he can’t have been as big as he looked. Or perhaps there was no Wolf at all. I may have imagined him, the Grizzly, everything. Maybe…maybe you and Roth put something in my drink.” She opened her eyes again and searched his face for evidence that his intentions had been cruel this whole time.
“Do you want to go back and find out?” Laird stepped forward again and Emma jerked back, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. But somehow, he still didn’t seem threatening. He looked almost cross with her for doubting him, but no, he wouldn’t hurt her.
She stared into his eyes, trying desperately to read him. He didn’t look insane. He just looked intense, sexy as anything, and she found herself once again contemplating what it might feel like to kiss him.
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