He had no choice but to reach out and accept it, noting the runes carved into its wooden hilt. The symbols looked foreign, not part of the Druidic script that his brethren used. Clenching it in his fist, Talorgan sought the courage to execute this final move.
A sense of foreboding hovered between his shoulder blades. He was well aware that this was one of those moments where his life stood on a cusp, on the very wisp of a knife’s edge. Talorgan knew his next action would irrevocably change his path forevermore.
But then a thought arose, clamoring for his attention. If you are to have her at all, this is the only path.
It broke the barrier of indecision. Without further hesitation, Talorgan sliced the dagger swiftly across the palm of his right hand. He bit his lip as the blade cut deeper than anticipated, watching his blood well up before flowing fierce and hot.
Arawn reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. Talorgan felt their blood commingle, then flow as one.
The Dark God’s lips peeled back into a feral smile. “Your soul is tied to mine. It is done.”
2
Brydie
Modern day, New Zealand
The gemstone twinkled brightly under the overhead lamps.
“It looks beautiful on you.”
The woman remained impassive in the face of the dazzling brilliance on her finger. “I prefer the other one.”
“That ring is a larger cut,” I agreed. “But this one has a classic setting that won’t fade over time.”
One thin eyebrow rose above her designer glasses as her eyes traveled the length of my body, taking in my worn green dress and untamed blonde hair. She sniffed. “I’ll take the other one.”
I smiled coolly. “Certainly.”
Curbing the tiny flame of anger in my chest, I nestled the diamond solitaire in a cushioned jewelry box. A sticker advertising the store’s name and address signified that this was an original hand-crafted ring made by Edmund Judd, the most prestigious jeweler in Hamilton. Then I ran the purchase through the till and handed the box to the woman. She didn’t even look at me as she stuffed it in her designer handbag, turned, and left the store.
As the door shut behind her, I released a sigh. The woman had been tedious and downright rude! She’d also been my only paying customer since I’d opened the doors, as the wet spring weather was discouraging clientele. On days like this, I wished I was in the workroom with Edmund, assisting him in the creation of gorgeous pieces of jewelry.
I crouched down to replace the tray of diamond rings in the cabinet, and the doorbell chimed as I turned the lock. I stood up, smoothing my dress down, and pasted a determined smile on my face, hoping this customer wasn’t as trying as the last.
“Good morning…” The smile froze on my lips.
He was tall and lithe with thick midnight hair that curled against his neck. Stubble lined his jaw, and intense blue eyes blazed from within a chiseled face. He was dressed all in black, with steel-capped black boots, black jeans slightly ripped at one knee, and a black leather jacket.
Conscious I was staring, I forced out, “Can I help you?”
His eyes held mine as he closed the door with a firm push. The sounds of the traffic outside faded.
“Brydie MacKay?” His voice was clipped, a clear Scottish brogue to it.
“Yes?”
“I have news about your grandmother.”
“My—my grandmother?”
“Aye.” His eyes burned steadily, locked on mine.
I frowned. “What does Nora want?”
“She’s dead.”
“What?” I gasped.
“Nora died a few days ago at her home in Scotland.”
I swallowed against my suddenly dry mouth, unsure of what to say.
His voice broke the silence. “She has gifted you her Estate in Scotland.”
I blinked. “I think there’s been a mistake. We’ve had no contact in the last three years.”
The words were firm. “There has been no mistake.”
I stared at him, noting his eyes were cerulean blue, the color where the sky blended with the ocean. Who was this man? “I’m sorry, but who are you? Did you know Nora?”
He folded his arms across his broad chest. “The name’s Gage Campbell. And yes, I’ve known Nora for a long time—we were close family friends.”
I didn’t recognize the name, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t telling me the truth. I had never really known Nora. “I’m surprised you’re here to pass on this news. I would have thought the police would handle it.”
“Unfortunately, you won’t be hearing from the police.”
My skin rippled with a shiver, and my eyes darted involuntarily to where my cell phone lay under the cash register. “Why not?”
“You’re not listed as her next of kin. As far as anyone is aware, she was the last living descendant of her line.”
I flinched. Had Nora been that ashamed of me? “I don’t understand. How did you find out about me, then?”
“I was not aware of your existence until moments before she passed.”
There was no apology in his tone, no sympathy in his gaze. I stared back at him mutely, at a complete loss as to how to respond. The old feelings were beginning to return—the hurt, the anger, the shame. I raised a hand to brush my hair back from my face, smoothing the strands while I struggled to contain the emotions.
His gaze missed nothing.
I cleared my throat. “Do you have anything to prove all this, Mr. Campbell?”
“The name’s Gage,” he insisted. He pulled a sheath of papers from the inside pocket of his black leather jacket. “I have a copy of her will. Her solicitor has the original in Scotland.”
I gingerly took them, noting that numerous cuts and bruises marred his long fingers. I glanced at the papers, catching the words “The Last Will and Testament of Nora MacKay.” My fingers tightened on the meager sheets of paper, my knuckles turning white. It hit me then that Nora, my last living relative, was dead. I was officially all alone in the world.
Gage’s voice pierced the haze of my musing. “I suggest you read them over, and we get together in the next day or so to discuss any questions you may have.”
I jerked my head. “Thank you. The time would be appreciated. Do you have a number I can call you on?”
He pulled a card from his back pocket and offered it to me.
Our fingers made contact. I felt a sharp pull at his touch—a yearning to lean in closer. I immediately squashed the odd response, dropping my gaze to the card. It was brief, listing his name and cell phone number. The digits were foreign, the suffix unfamiliar. The sight of it gave me pause.
Had he flown all the way from Scotland to personally pass on the news about Nora’s death? Wouldn’t a phone call have sufficed?
My skin prickled. Something was off. The shock of Nora’s death had distracted me initially, but now a raft of questions slew through my mind. Did he know about the inheritance from my parents? Was Nora truly dead? Or was she now after the remaining half of what they left me?
As if sensing my hesitation, Gage added, “I have one more thing to give you.”
He reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a small wrapped package, placing it on the jewelry counter between us.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”