I gritted my teeth. It hadn’t been like this with Nora—nowhere near as bad. I didn’t like it, for no one and nothing dictated my actions. Besides, Brydie appeared physically fine.
Then she stumbled into the bar.
What the hell?
I melted closer, two bodies away from her, eyes fixated on her face. Her friend in the strapless red dress leaned toward her, face pinched in worry, as she helped Brydie take a seat on the barstool. She waved at the bartender; it didn’t take her long to catch his attention. The bartender’s gaze dropped to her breasts, exposed above the bodice of her strapless dress, before flicking up to her face. Having taken his fill, he passed her a business card and moved on quickly.
Brydie didn’t look well. She was pale, and I could see the sheen of sweat on her brow. I was aware she’d drunk a fair bit of alcohol, but it shouldn’t have this kind of effect. We possessed an ingrown ability to process toxins quicker than the average human. What she’d imbibed tonight should have made her tipsy, not ill.
I shut out the music and babble of voices, focusing on my sense of smell. Inhaling, I tested the notes on the air, but I couldn’t detect anything but the ripe mix of sweat, cologne, and desire. There was no magical signature on the air, but Brydie’s scent—so like Nora’s—was wrong. That hint of pine and the sharp bite of frost that distinguished her bloodline was weak, diluted.
My blood ran cold. Had buzz cut slipped something into her drink?
As her friend rushed off with a business card in hand, I moved in. I made it to Brydie just in time, catching her as she slumped forward. I slipped her off the barstool and wrapped one arm around her back, gathering her close under my arm. She was limp and lifeless, but I could detect a sluggish heartbeat. My own picked up in response.
Dammit!
My only thought was to get her out of here and fast. I pulled her close to my chest and wrapped one arm around her middle in a tight embrace, using my strength to keep her body angled into mine. I moved her face into my neck, portraying a lover’s tryst. Once she was secure, I sent a small push with my mind, placing a protective bubble around her body to deter visual interest.
I pushed through the throng of people, gently persuading them to turn aside and let us through. The night air was biting as we erupted from the club, and there was a long line of people waiting to enter. I moved her swiftly to the other end of the building, shrugged off my jacket, and wrapped it around her exposed flesh.
“Hey buddy,” a brusque voice called out. “Is she okay?”
It was the bouncer I’d met as I’d followed Brydie and her friends into the club. I sent a tendril of influence on the air current in his direction, willing him to turn his mind elsewhere, toward the line of people gaining entry.
“Hey, I’m talking to—”
The voice abruptly cut off. In the next breath, I heard him ask for ID. I smiled darkly and lifted Brydie into my arms, striding down the street, keeping to the shadows under the high-rise buildings overhead. I had no need for light to guide my way, and I used my senses to examine the city around us for any hint of a threat, but there was nothing overt.
I headed for the river. My back felt tight between my shoulder blades as I left the concrete landscape behind and plunged into the shadows under the overhanging fronds. The damp, moist earth permeated my sense of smell. I sent a small push with my senses again, searching for a prickle of awareness. Again, there was nothing—not even a twinge from my neck. Satisfied, I took a moment in the shadows of the riverbank to carefully lower Brydie to the damp ground. I couldn’t ignore the need to assess her any longer.
I felt my irises contract in the darkness as my vision sharpened on her face. Her skin was pale and clammy, her features slack. She was still out cold.
Fuck! I’d screwed up!
I’d only just made it. If I hadn’t been watching, he would have taken her.
I blew out a breath, forcing myself to scan her body. There were no signs of physical wounds. It didn’t feel magical; it felt like something pharmaceutical. As if she’d been drugged.
I didn’t want to risk healing her here. Besides, her body would slowly assimilate the drug on its own. The best thing to do was to get her home where the wards I’d laid would protect her.
My fists clenched tightly with the knowledge that we’d been lucky. But as I stared down at her pale face, I acknowledged I was angry—and not just at myself. Some part of her should have intuitively known not to trust the man. That there was danger in his presence. But she hadn’t.
A thought slammed in my gut. Was she Dormant?
She’d been hidden from her legacy since birth. I knew little about her father, except that he’d fled Scotland in his early twenties. It was highly possible he hadn’t shared the prophecy with his daughter. But that was beside the point, for why had Nora never told her?
Was she not worthy of the position? I froze at the notion. Had I come all this way to protect a Daughter of Winter who wasn’t worth protecting?
No. That didn’t sit well. Nora had gone to too much trouble to hide her existence from Talorgan. There had to be something else at play. Something I didn’t know. I grimaced. There were too many unanswered questions, most of which had died with Nora. Even though I’d found the last living descendant quickly, it clearly hadn’t been fast enough. The attack at the club was evidence of that.
For Talorgan was already here.
I still couldn’t understand why my grandfather had never told me about Brydie’s existence. The old bastard had kept it to himself—kept a promise to Nora. Fool! He’d fallen for her too hard, compromising the mission. My jaw clenched as I remembered his death. He’d paid for those emotions and so had Nora. Now all that was left of the prophecy was me and this woman. No, I corrected myself as I stared down at her young face—me and this girl.
My chest burned, and I was unable to deny the urge to do violence any longer. I silently slammed my clenched fists into the earth, again and again, releasing the tension that had been building since the moment I saw her dancing uninhibitedly in the club.
As the burn in my chest finally subsided, I felt my senses lose their edge, and I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. The last fifty-two hours were beginning to take their toll. I needed to get Brydie to safety before I crashed.
I gathered her up and pushed to my feet, gritting my teeth at the lick of attraction that flared in my groin. One thing was certain; I would never make the same mistakes that Grandfather had—that all descendants of my line had.
She would not matter to me.
I had promises to fulfill, lives to keep safe. The prophecy would be our only common link. It would guide all our interactions. Brydie would have no choice in the decisions I made, the steps we must take to succeed. The Daughter of Winter would have to learn, and quickly, that it was my way or not at all.
Satisfied with the course I would take, I took off, loping out of the shadows at a near run. As the moonlight lit our path, I couldn’t help glancing down at her again. She looked so innocent.
I set my jaw determinedly. Brydie had no idea what was coming.
5
Tritus
3rd Century BC, Ancient Scotland