Donna Grant: Wicked Highlander

They continued to test him, though. After all, they were Highlanders.

However, there were a few who sided with him and watched his back. Not that he fully trusted anyone in this Hell.

Quinn sighed and turned to where he had tossed the female. He had smelled her before Deirdre had thrown her into the Pit. Her scent was of sunshine and rain. He had known what Deirdre wanted of the Warriors as soon as the Druid had been brought to the trapdoor, and he’d given them a warning to stay away from the Druid.

He wasn’t surprised when the other Warriors had gone toward her. Not that he blamed them. The woman was just what any man would want after being in the dark for so long, especially with the cravings, both physically and mentally, the Warriors dealt with constantly.

But Quinn knew he couldn’t give in to the urges of Apodatoo, the god of revenge, who was inside him. Not now, not before his brothers came for him.

The gods had risen from the ravages of Hell all those centuries ago to take over the bodies of the strongest Celtic warriors to battle Rome and her great army.

The Druids hadn’t realized what they had done when they released the gods, not that they’d had a choice. Rome had been destroying Britain bit by bit. The Celts did what they had to do to make sure the land stayed theirs.

Yet, when the Romans had been defeated, the Druids hadn’t been able to coax the gods to leave the men. The Celts had become Warriors, men with immortality and powers beyond their imagining. As powerful as the Druids were with their magic, they were no match for the Warriors.

The Druids, split into sects of good and evil, joined forces to bind the gods inside the men as a last resort. It worked, but none of them could have realized the gods would travel from generation to generation through the blood in the hopes of being loosened once more.

And then it had happened. Starting with Quinn and his brothers.

Quinn squeezed his eyes closed as he thought of that fateful day and the death and blood that had coated the land he loved. His life had been irrevocably altered in a split second, and there was nothing he could do to change it other than fight the god inside him. And hold onto the last shred of hope he possessed.

In order to keep his god from taking control, Quinn did what he knew his brothers would have done — save the woman.

He flexed his fingers, his long deadly claws clicking together, and winced at the wounds on his side and back. They would heal, but not fast enough, not if the other Warriors attacked again. And they would. They wanted the woman.

But so did he.

He walked into his cave where he had tossed her and stopped in front of her. He had sensed her magic as soon as she landed in the Pit. Just what was Deirdre doing tossing a Druid down here with Warriors? And more importantly, why wasn’t the Druid moving?

Had he thrown her so hard that he knocked her unconscious? Or worse? Had he killed her? Quinn had tried to pull back his strength, but he forgot sometimes just how strong his god made him.

Quinn knelt beside the female and put his finger beneath her nose. Her breath washed warm and steady over his black skin, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Is she hurt?”

Quinn looked over his shoulder to find Arran watching him. The white Warrior had recognized Quinn’s name and had aligned with him just days after Quinn was thrown in the Pit.

“She breathes, but I fear I might have thrown her too hard,” Quinn answered.

Arran walked toward him slowly, his gaze seeking the shadows where other Warriors waited and watched. In the Pit, none of the Warriors could afford to change out of their god form and risk being killed.

Quinn glanced at the woman. She had screamed when the stones had moved underneath her, but she hadn’t made a sound since. Not even when one of Deirdre’s Warriors kicked her, and he knew that had to have hurt by her wince.

“She fell hard,” Arran said. “Many break bones on that plunge.”

Quinn nodded. He would know since he had broken his arm and some ribs on his fall. If she had broken something he needed to discover where so he could see to it, but he prayed she hadn’t. She was mortal and couldn’t heal as they did.

“Shall I check?” Arran asked.

Quinn wanted to refuse Arran’s aid since he didn’t want anyone touching the female. He had claimed her when he saved her. She was his to watch over. Quinn shook his head and realized he was acting as Lucan had done when his brother had brought Cara into their castle. It was ridiculous for Quinn to want the Druid only for himself. Even knowing that didn’t lesson his hunger for her, though.

A hunger that had begun the moment he saw her bravery, her beauty.

“You can help,” he relented.

Together the men inspected her, and to Quinn’s relief found nothing broken. There was a sizable knot on the back of her head, and he feared her ribs would bother her for some time. If they weren’t cracked, they could be bruised, and even that would be painful and slow to mend.

“What are you going to do with her?” Arran asked as he stood.

Quinn shrugged and sat on a large rock next to the female. “I doona know.”

“Deirdre obviously wants her dead.”

“After the show we provided them, they’ll think she is.”

Arran snorted. “Deirdre wants you, in case you’ve forgotten. She’s stayed away, but how much longer do you think that will last before she comes for you? And then finds the female?”

“I have no answers, Arran. I only know that I had to save the woman. I will continue to protect her as long as I’m in the Pit.”

Arran raised his hands in front of himself, his white claws gleaming in the darkness and his long dark hair blending with the shadows. “Easy, Quinn. You know you have my loyalty. I just hope you know what you’re doing. A female down here with Warriors who haven’t seen — or smelled — a woman in years could be a terrible thing.”

Quinn ran a hand down his face. What had he done? Aye, the Druid had smelled heavenly, and aye, she had brought out his protective instincts. But Arran was right. The other Warriors in the Pit would want her, and not to tear apart. They would want to slake their lust on her.

And, God help him, he couldn’t blame them.

His cock had been hard since he’d gotten a whiff of her sunshine-and-rain scent. Despite the monster that he was and the evil place he was in, he couldn’t stand by and not help her.

“Ian and Duncan have given you their loyalty,” Arran said. “They will aid us in this.”

“Aye.” Quinn glanced at the two Warriors who stood on either side of the cave that Quinn used as his own. The twins. Just as with Quinn and his brothers, they were strong fighters, but when they fought together, they were lethal.

Ian and Duncan would watch his back. But how long would that last before lust took over?

Quinn’s gaze caught that of a copper-skinned Warrior across the way. Charon kept to himself, neither fighting nor aligning with Quinn, but he watched Quinn often. Yet, he could see Charon’s copper eyes on the woman, the lust filling his gaze.

Holy Hell .

Quinn blew out a long breath. Life was Hell in the Pit, and he had just added to his torment. He told himself he saved the woman because he was holding on to his humanity, but in truth, he did it because once he had smelled her, seen her, he had to have her.

What was wrong with him? He was supposed to be concentrating on keeping his god from taking over as he waited for Fallon and Lucan to rescue him. Quinn had no doubt his brothers would come for him. He both longed for it and feared it.

If Deirdre captured his brothers as well, they were doomed in ways he couldn’t begin to fathom.