There was always that concern.
Was she his enemy or ally?
Even she didn’t know sometimes.
She tensed when she felt someone else arrive at the Salem Stonehenge just through the woods. He was not supposed to have come yet. It was too soon. Yet he was striding through the forest, drawing ever closer.
“I should’ve known,” she cursed under her breath, focusing on Ethyn. “One way or another, you can be part of my destiny, but he cannot.” She shook her head. “If he steps foot inside this house now, his fate might be as sealed as yours.”
“Who’s fate?” He frowned. “What do you speak of, lass?”
“The dragon laird,” she whispered, fully aware there was only one thing she could do now.
She had to put on the ring.
There was no other choice.
So she slid it on, praying the trap that had just snapped shut around Ethyn was not forever binding. That it didn't cause him irreparable harm in the end.
“Cousin?” A loud pounding came on the door before Marek burst in and stopped short beside Ethyn. Even larger than his brethren with numerous tats and a scar at his temple that somehow only added to his chiseled features, Marek was fierce. More alpha than most. He looked from his cousin to her. His pale gray eyes flecked with dark blue narrowed.
“Bloody hell.” Marek’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. “’Tis you, aye, lass?”
“’Tis Ciara,” Ethyn answered slowly, clearly unsure about what was going on.
“Nay, ‘tis not,” Marek said darkly. His inner dragon sensed what Ethyn could not. “This is some sort of trap, cousin. For she is no normal lass but a beast.”
Chapter Two
ETHYN STOPPED MAREK when he went to withdraw his sword. “Nay, cousin, stand down.”
Never warier or more aware of a lass than he was now, he looked from the stunning creature standing by the hearth to Marek. “What do you mean, this is a trap? That she is a beast?”
“I cannae smell it now but ‘twas there,” Marek swore. “She isnae human, Ethyn.” His gaze swept around the house before shooting back to Ciara. “I sense a trap of some sort. Her, I would say. Somehow, she is a trap.” His eyes met Ethyn’s. “One that has you within its grasp now. I just dinnae know how.” He narrowed in on the empty velvet box on the mantle. “All I know is it has to do with that.” His gaze shot to Ciara’s hand. “More pointedly, the ring on her finger.”
“I am your sworn protector, Ethyn,” she vowed, nodding before she shook her head. “Yet, I might also be your worst enemy.”
He frowned, trying to make sense of all this. While her words were daunting enough, she didn’t particularly feel threatening. If anything, she was alluring. Downright beautiful, actually.
“I dinnae ken.” He shook his head. “How can you be both protector and enemy? Who are you really, lass?”
“She is trouble,” Marek said through clenched teeth, never taking his wary eyes off of Ciara. “Not at all who she seems.”
“Aye, I got that.” Ethyn kept his gaze on her as well. “But ‘twould be helpful if you were more specific, cousin.”
Though Ciara’s delicate build was not in itself intimidating, she possessed a fierce spirit. It was clear in her large ebony-lashed almond-shaped pale cedar eyes. For a second, he felt overwhelming recognition. As though he knew those eyes so very well. He narrowed his gaze further, trying to place her. Did he know her? With wavy, thick black cedar-highlighted hair that trailed halfway down her back, she truly was a rare beauty. Her skin was like bronzed alabaster, and her features as dainty as her build.
“Tell me what’s happening?” He looked from Ciara to Marek. “What are you talking about? What am I missing?”
Marek continued eyeing Ciara with distrust before his eyes widened in what appeared to be sudden understanding. As though he had just connected the dots. “Bloody hell, ‘tis ye!”
Growing exasperated, Ethyn scowled at his cousin. “Ye, who?”
“What you came here to find.” Marek gestured at Ciara, incredulous as he handed off the Viking sword to Ethyn without taking his eyes off her.
Came here? More like shifted against his will. But that was beside the point.
“I was seeking my wolf, Phelan, and...” he began only to trail off when Marek’s nostrils flared again along with his dragon eyes.
When Marek’s predatory gaze stayed locked on Ciara, and he growled, “Your wolf is right there,” Ethyn couldn’t, at first, figure out what he was talking about.
He must have been shaking his head because Marek repeated himself.
“Aye, MacLomain.” He kept a dagger at the ready. “Ciara is Phelan.” He inhaled again, his dragon eyes afire. “Though subliminal, their scent is one and the same.”
“Impossible,” Ethyn whispered, denying it even though on some level, it felt right. His sense of familiarity with her ringing true. “Phelan was wounded.” He eyed her. “I see no wound on you.”
“It wasn't my blood,” she replied, “but the enemy's.”
Though her explanation made sense, he still couldn't wrap his mind around it. Around her. He knew shifters existed but still. Phelan? Ciara?
“How could I not have known?” He tried to differentiate between the beautiful woman standing in front of him and the wolf that had been his for so long. “I dinnae ken...how...”
“How no longer matters.” Ciara's jaw tightened. Her steady gaze remained unwavering. “All that matters now is that you are no longer free but part of an age-old trap. Better put, an ongoing curse.”
“One that keeps you trapped by her side,” Marek growled, “until she decides your fate.”
“Until evil decides his fate,” she shot back. Her gaze never left Ethyn’s face. “I have little control over any of it.”
“Yet ye lured him here,” Marek seethed, not sounding like himself at all. “Ye drew him here as readily as I was drawn here.”
As though Marek realized how off he sounded, he shook his head and frowned.
Rather than comment on his cousin’s accusation, Ciara looked back and forth between them. “We need to go.” Yet she remained perfectly still as if she sensed how dangerous it might be to move. How quickly they could cut her down. “We need to leave this place and then talk once we’ve traveled the lines again. Once we’re in medieval Scotland.”
Ethyn shook his head. “Why would I go anywhere with you?”
He felt betrayed. Deceived. She might be a perfect stranger, but what lived within her had been his closest friend. A longtime confidant. Because she was Phelan. Now that it had been said, it felt more real by the moment. As though the revelation gave it truth. “You’re not to be trusted.” He shook his head. “You’re not who I thought you were.”
“Maybe not entirely,” she said softly. “But I am a Broun...and I am still your wolf.”
“You’re no such thing.” He sheathed one blade but kept his ancestral Viking sword in hand. A weapon that had helped his kin on their individual journeys, and now it was his turn. His adventure at hand. But with whom? Her? “Mayhap you’re a Broun and Phelan, but you dinnae belong to me.” He shook his head, harsher than intended, but he felt wounded. “Nor do I wish you to be.”
Though pain flashed in her eyes, it was brief, her ability to quickly repress her emotions admirable.
“What you do or don’t wish is irrelevant at this point.” She glanced out the window then back to them. “What matters right now is getting out of here before the other two get back. Because while we can trust one of my friends, the other is an unknown.”
Marek’s brows flew together. “An unknown?” He snorted. “I would say the only unknown in all this is you, wolf. Because if I know nothing else, somehow you just tied Ethyn to yourself in a way that feels sinister...damning.”
“It might very well be in the end,” she conceded. “Until then, we’re stuck together, and I intend to protect him.”
“Until you possibly rip his throat out,” Ma
rek said darkly. His gaze flickered from Ciara's ring to her face as he grasped even more. “You locked him to you with that ring, aye?” He shook his head. “A ring that doesnae even belong on your finger.”
“This ring belongs more on my finger than most, Scotsman,” she bit out. For a moment, Ethyn swore he heard an Irish lilt in her voice. “Which you will realize eventually.” Her gaze softened on Ethyn. “If we don’t leave soon of our own accord, we’ll have to follow a ley-line out of here you might find uncomfortable.”
“You’ll not take him anywhere without me,” Marek groused even as uncertainty flashed in his eyes. He clearly wasn’t ready to leave yet. “We wait until the other Brouns arrive then—”
“Then nothing,” Ciara interrupted. “Now that I’ve put the ring on, we should go.”
“Why?” Ethyn glanced from Marek to her. “Tell us, and mayhap we’ll listen to you. Otherwise, we will wait for the other two.”
Ciara frowned, clearly unsure how much she should share. What to tell them.
“Destiny is not the problem,” she finally said. “But Alyssa might be.” She glanced down at her ring then back to them. “There’s a good chance she knows I put this ring on and is trying to get back here at this very moment.” She shook her head. “If that’s the case and she is who I think she is, then that could be very bad for all parties involved.”
“Alyssa?” Marek balked. “’Twas not her we saw skulking about the night we were attacked and my cousin was possessed. Nor is it she who doesnae get along with the rest of the Brouns.”
“With good reason,” she ground out, not intimidated by his dragon brethren in the least. “It would behoove her to play nice. To get along with everyone.” She perked a brow. “Even fade into the background with a dry personality.”
Ethyn crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re saying Alyssa is the imposter? That she’s loyal to the Irish Brotherhood?”
“Yes.” Her voice grew tentative, her eyes uncertain. “I think so...I hope so.”
What was she carrying on about? This made no sense. Something Marek clearly felt as well based on his baffled expression.
“You think?” his cousin balked. “You hope?” He shook his head, blade still at the ready. “You make less and less sense by the moment.”
“But I’ll make more sense,” she assured, “as soon as we’re out of here.”
“Why would we trust you?” Ethyn cocked his head, still trying to gather himself. Still attempting to relate the lass he spoke with to his wolf. “Why would I ever trust you when ‘tis clear you’re a seasoned liar?”
“Because I may be your only hope.”
“Or his ultimate demise,” Marek replied dryly.
“Yes,” she agreed. “But at least who I am, what I am, has been with him for years now. Has protected him.” Her imploring gaze returned to Ethyn. “You have to trust in that at least. You have to trust that Phelan will keep you safe at all costs.” She swallowed hard, biting back emotion. “That she would do anything in her power to see you through all this and with the woman destined for you.”
“Which might be you, aye?” he replied gruffly.
“Perhaps,” she murmured. “I just don’t know.”
“How do you not know that when you seem to know so much?” Marek quipped. “It could be you’re a member of the Brotherhood spinning a tall tale indeed. We could verra well flee from here with you and find ourselves walking right into the hands of what’s determined to end us.”
“From one trap into another?” Ethyn said softly. “Or is this curse you speak of already the trap that’s our ultimate demise?” He considered it before he glanced at Marek. “Yet you felt ‘twas me and me alone who was trapped, aye? Which means you should be free to go.” He looked at Ciara. “Is that not true?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t know that it is anymore.” She shook her head. “You and I are trapped together, Ethyn, but that doesn't mean Marek's exactly free of it. Not since entering the house.” She sighed. “I don’t recommend him staying behind. Not until we figure things out and know who’s who.”
“Which means Ethyn will be staying with me,” Marek stated. “Not leaving with a beastie that doesnae know whether she’s an ally or an enemy.”
“For now, I’m an ally.” She went to say more but seemed to sense something. Moments later, car doors slammed.
Destiny and Alyssa had returned.
“Ah, now we will get to the bottom of things.” Anticipation lit Marek’s eyes. “Now we will—”
Unfortunately, they didn’t get to the bottom of anything.
Rather they ended up on top of something else.
Chapter Three
Scotland
1346
SHE DIDN’T WANT TO do it but had no choice. Ethyn and Marek weren’t listening to her. Honestly, she didn’t blame them. She wouldn’t either if she were in their position. Nevertheless, she wasn’t all that surprised that when she shifted them, they ended up on the highest wall walk of MacLomain Castle.
“Bloody hell,” Marek cursed, staggering under the weight of having traveled along one of her lines. “What was that?” He gripped his head and growled, “Such bloody pain!”
Meanwhile, Ethyn, who only seemed shaky as his blade trembled in his grip, kept a wary eye on her while glancing at his cousin in concern. “What did you do to him, lass?”
“It wasn’t me but my line...our line,” she explained. “It’ll pass in a moment.”
“I dinnae ken.” Ethyn shook his head, troubled as he tried to steady his grip. “’Twas a nauseating experience for me but clearly harmful for Marek. Why?”
“Because it’s tied in with our curse,” she explained. “So its energy, much like the Brotherhood’s ley-lines, is made of darkness. More death than life. For those not part of our curse, it feels much like brushing death. For us, it will probably reveal more truths as we continue on. Not to mention, affect you less as we get closer to our curse lifting.”
Still gripping his head, Marek crouched and muttered something about bloody wolves not belonging anywhere near dragons.
Ethyn frowned at her. “I was under the impression you already knew all our truths.”
“Bits and pieces.” She shook her head. “But not all of it. That, I imagine, will start happening now that I’ve put on this ring.”
“I thought I sensed your arrival, Ethyn,” came a voice she knew all-too-well. “And I see you’re not alone.”
Ethyn nodded in greeting. “Uncle Adlin.”
Moments later, a couple joined them she knew just as well.
“Son.” Still southern to the bone despite being in medieval Scotland half her life, his mother Christina embraced Ethyn. Meanwhile, his father, Graham, clasped Marek’s shoulder in concern.
“What is it?” Graham said as Marek stood, his features no longer twisted in pain.
“’Tis her.” Marek scowled at Ciara. “She’s undoubtedly an imposter.”
Where Ethyn’s parents appeared concerned, if not wary, Adlin seemed curious as he peered at her. “Do I know you?” He cocked his head. “You seem familiar.”
“You do know me.” Though she grew more uncomfortable by the moment, there was no hope for it. “Or at least you know my other half, Phelan.”
“Phelan?” Startled, Christina looked from Ethyn to Ciara. “I don’t understand.”
“Ah, I can see it in your eyes now.” Adlin smiled at Ciara, unfazed, it seemed, that she was half wolf. “I always sensed there was something a wee bit different about you.”
“You did?” Ethyn and Graham exclaimed at the same time.
“Aye.” Adlin kept grinning. “’Tis nice to finally meet you...”
When he hesitated, prompting her to give her name, she did.
“My name is Ciara.” She glanced at everyone tentatively, nervous about their response.
“’Tis nice to meet you then, Ciara.” Adlin eyed the wall walk. “I suppose ‘tis no surprise this was the first place you came whil
st in your human form. Ethyn brought you up here often, so you’ve a good memory or two of it, aye?”
She did. Wonderful memories with Ethyn. Not just when she was healing from her wounds as a pup, but as she got older. He liked the seclusion of the location, finding the sweeping loch surrounding three-quarters of the castle soothing. They had often sat in the sun or moonlight together. Sometimes he talked, sometimes not. She had enjoyed the time greatly.
“I do have good memories up here, actually,” she said softly, never more grateful for Adlin’s kind greeting. It was likely the only one she would get along the way. Or so she thought until his wife Milly joined them as well, and Adlin filled her in while making introductions.
“Oh, so nice to meet you like this.” Milly smiled and even embraced her. “You’re as stunning as your wolf.”
“Um, thanks.” Unused to compliments, her cheeks warmed. “Nice to meet you too, Milly.” She nodded hello to Adlin. “You as well.” She swallowed and glanced nervously at Ethyn’s parents, having no clue what to say. She could only imagine what they thought of their son’s pet wolf being the Broun he showed up with. Whatever their speculations, she would only ever think highly of them. In a weird way, they were the closest thing to parents she’d ever had. “Nice to meet you both too.”
They couldn’t be faulted for merely nodding hello to her considering their nephew had shown up in so much pain. Yet she saw not just concern but curiosity in their eyes as Adlin suggested they all head down to the great hall to hear Ciara's story.
Thankfully, Milly stuck with her because it was clear everyone but Adlin remained wary. She tried to keep an even expression, but it was hard. How often had she foolishly envisioned this moment going differently? Finally being at MacLomain Castle in this form rather than her inner beast? Spending time with Ethyn here as she had always dreamed? He would smile. She would laugh.
They would be so happy finally being together again out from under the curse.
A Scot's Favor (The MacLomain Series: End of an Era, #4) Page 2
