Heat. Fire. Skin burning. I sat up with a harsh breath, confusion taking over my brain and making me dizzy. I put a hand to my temple to stop the swirling, but it didn’t help. I opened my eyes but everything looked blurred, fuzzy, out of focus. My skin – Jesus, it felt like it would burst into flames – burned sickly hot. I tried kicking out of whatever covered me and I quickly found I hadn’t a stitch of clothes on. Not even panties. Totally naked and I couldn’t care less. I was smouldering.
“Lay back.”
I turned my head towards the voice, but could see nothing more than a hazy figure in shadows. “Where am I?” I asked, struggling to stay up. I dug the heels of both hands hard into the mattress; my arms still shook. “Hot,” I said, trying to move. “Burning up.”
A firm hand pressed against my chest and with the slightest of pressure, eased me back. “’Tis your DNA altering,” the voice said, deep, raspy, and heavily brogued. “It will get worse.”
What the hell was he talking about? DNA? I didn’t care – I just wanted relief. “Water,” I said, my throat dry. I wanted my body extinguished. “Bath. Shower. Ice.” My eyes drifted shut.
Strong fingers pushed the hair from my face. “It willna help.” Agony washed over me, and blessed shadows dragged me back under.
A crackling and snapping noise awakened me and when I opened my eyes, I instantly noticed the pain had subsided. I blinked several times to clear my vision; foggy and disoriented at first, then slowly, the room came into focus. I stared hard at my surroundings. In the hearth, a low fire glowed, and again I noticed the earthy scent it released. The flames gave the room a tawny hue, and shadows played against the bare stone walls. A single lamp burned in the corner, on a side table next to a leather recliner.
I sat straight up and gasped, breathless, as recognition and memories assailed me. WUP. Assignment. Scotland. Moors. I glanced around once more.
I was inside Lucian MacLeod’s cottage.
Worse memories – recent ones – assaulted me and my body jerked as they crowded my mind. Pax. Baying. Creature. Pain. Bones crunching.
“Pax!” I shouted, although it came out gravel, hoarse, broken. I struggled to untangle myself from the bed covers, anger and fear causing a sob to escape. “Pax—”
“You’re partner isna here,” a deep, brogued voice came from the shadows. “’Tis only you.”
I pulled up the sheet to cover my nakedness. “Who the hell are you?” I asked, scanning the room for the speaker. “Where’s my partner?”
Then, a slight movement from a darkened corner caught my eye; a figure rose and moved into the firelight. Dark, wavy hair brushed his shoulders; a white, long-sleeved shirt, loosely buttoned, hung casually untucked against a pair of worn jeans. A pair of silvery-blue eyes stared down at me. A small scar, just below his left eye, marred otherwise flawless pale skin.
“I’m Lucian MacLeod. Your partner is dead,” he said, matter-of-fact and seemingly without remorse. His uncanny gaze bore angrily into mine. “You were no’ to come here.”
I stared, disbelieving, yet … I knew. Those sounds hadn’t come from a surviving victim. I still questioned it. “Dead?” I asked, and suddenly I was afraid – of Lucian. I wanted to run, get away. Panic gripped my insides. “What do you mean?” I slid slowly to the edge of the bed and swung my legs over. I briefly wondered where my gear bag was and I gave the room a quick scan but didn’t see it.
“You’re no’ the same, Ms Slater,” he said. He didn’t move. “Not the same person you were when you arrived. And you’re no’ leavin’ here.”
I leapt from the bed and hit the floor running, sheet pulled tightly around me. I didn’t know where I thought I was going, barefoot and naked, but I was going.
I was caught and slammed against the wall before I ever got close to the door. Lucian’s large frame towered over me, crowded my body with his and sufficiently trapped me; he placed a hand on either side of my head then lowered his head to look me in the eye. I breathed hard, my heart slammed, and I stared furiously back.
“You’re no’ listening, Ms Slater,” he began slowly. “You’re no’ leaving.”
“The hell I am,” I ground out, and pushed against him. It was like trying to move a rock. It only made him draw closer.
“What do you remember about that eve on the moors?” he asked, his eyes lowering to my mouth. “Tell me.”
My mind spun and suddenly, the memory returned. I immediately lifted a hand to my shoulder. “We came here looking for you, but you were no where. There was a lot of thick mist, and Pax – he chased someone out of here. He was attacked. By a big dog maybe. I couldn’t tell what it was.” I lifted my chin and met Lucian’s gaze straight-on. “It turned on me and I shot it.”
Lucian’s hand moved from the side of my head to my bare shoulder. Calluses raked over my skin, and I couldn’t help it – I shivered. “You were bitten.” He grazed the flesh again. “By a wolf.”
My gaze left Lucian’s and I glanced down, at my shoulder. His fingers brushed over two puncture marks; the skin puckered but healed. I looked back at him. I couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”
“You’ve been here nearly three weeks,” he said.
My knees gave out and Lucian caught me. I sagged against his body, felt the warmth – intense warmth – of his arms around me as he lifted me. He carried me to the bed and settled me down. He leaned over me, and his hair brushed my collar bone.
“You were never supposed to be here,” he said, his raspy voice sounding regretful. “Only Agent Terragon.” He shook his head. “I requested just him. No’ you.”
I didn’t understand; nothing made sense. A freaking wolf? The flames from the hearth flickered and caused shadows to play against Lucian’s face, making his already-forceful stare even weightier. I was mesmerized by it. His face, I mean. He was … beautiful. It bothered me that I even noticed. I quickly looked away, cleared my throat, and pulled the sheet taut across my breasts.
“Why?” I asked, needing to know more. Needing to know what was so important that Pax had to die. “Why did you call WUP? And why didn’t you tell us what we were walking into?”
Lucian turned his face from me and shoved a hand through his hair. “How well versed are you on ancient curses, Ms Slater?” he said, facing the wall.
I sighed and looked at his back, watched the material pull across his shoulders. “I’m a new agent. I’ve only studied curses for a couple of years, and have been training with Pax for just a few months.”
He turned then, his face all sharp planes and shadows. All except his eyes. They literally glowed. I gasped.
“I didna mean for you to get involved,” Lucian said, his voice grave. “We only wanted help.” Grasping his shirt tail, he lifted it, exposing a long, lean abdomen ripped with muscle – and a fresh, healing wound in the shape of a ragged star, just at his ribcage. His head raised, his gaze met mine. “You shot me, Ms Slater.”
I blinked, stunned. My mind reeled, thoughts pounding the inside of my skull until it ached. “That thing was not you,” I said, almost a whisper.
“Aye,” Lucian said. “It most certainly was.” He stared down at me. “And within the week, ’twill be you, as well.”
My body went numb with shock; it was too much to take in and I wasn’t positive I believed any of it. Inside, I began to shake. I’d not been ready to take on an assignment. I was too new – a newbie. Pax had been right all along. I was treading in unfamiliar territory now and doing it totally alone.
“Here,” Lucian said, tossing a bag onto the bed. “Get dressed. We’ve things to talk about and time’s runnin’ out.”
We sat at a well-used oak table in the kitchen, across from each other, and I was on my third – yes, third – hamburger steak. No bread, nothing else but the meat. I was ravenous and could have eaten the whole cow, if given it. I felt guilty for eating, yet I couldn’t make myself stop.