Kat Bastion - Forged in Dreams and Magick

I felt like the cockiest slayer before the legendary fire-breathing dragon. Not one ounce of me cared. I notched my chin higher, setting my shoulders back, daring him to defy me.

A slow smile spread across his face, turning his menacing demeanor deadly. “Well, today is your lucky day, Runt .”

I didn’t move. Not a muscle in my body would twitch until I had everything I needed.

The overpowering nature of the male arching over me intensified as his voice filled my head again. “ Ahhh, but you do have everything you need, Ms. MacInnes. Remember? Your wish? My command. ”

My urgency tamped down a tremendous urge to break into a grin at the power he suggested. Sunshine’s barbs kept me sober to the mission at hand.

“Again with the ‘Ms. MacInnes’ shit?” I grumbled and turned, expecting him to follow.

“Does it irritate you?” he asked. The sound of his voice boomed ahead of me, coming from the darkness of the portal, even though I couldn’t see his form.

“Yes.”

“Then, yes, Ms. MacInnes .”

I grunted in appreciation of his thoughtfulness and stepped through the portal.

Both feet landed solidly on the cold stone floor as I stared at the toes of my leather Pict boots. With a unique heightened sense of awareness, I distinguished the power of the wall behind me, the energy snapping through my veins, and the undeniable presence of Skorpius that I felt but couldn’t see.

I stormed from the room in my deerskin pants and halter top without giving a damn who saw me. Iain could get good and pissed at me again, and I would love every damn minute of it.

The dark corridor led to a silent great hall of an abandoned castle. The only sounds that penetrated the creepy quiet were the breaths from my charged lungs. Shafts of light from the clerestory windows illuminated suspended dust motes seconds before I strode through them.

Adrenaline fired superhero strength into my arm as I pulled open the heavy front door like it had been bladed on ice. A bright, blue-sky day belied the graveness that had descended onto the clan. No one trained in the courtyard. Children were absent from play. Besides the occasional person walking from one cottage to another, everyone had gone into homebound lockdown.

I leveled a glare beyond the castle grounds, where our clan’s attackers had lain in wait, and pulled my gaze closer in, surveying all that fell under my protection. No one and nothing would stand in my way of fighting for them.

An enemy who dared take our leader—brazen fools that had put every soul here in jeopardy—had become my target.

Fire blazed in my heart.

Fight whipped through my veins.

With one love lost in the heat of battle, I refused to lose another. Flames scorched into my nostrils as a raging beast I’d never known existed awakened, ready to obliterate everything in its path.

I strode down the hill toward the stables with single-minded purpose.

In my tightened fist, I gripped the hilt of the short sword strapped to my hip. Velloc had trained me well. We both had no idea the skills he’d helped me hone into sharp reflexes would be used to save his rival—the other man in my life.

Now . . . the only man in my life.

I burst through the closed doors of the stable, heading down the fenced stalls in search of a suitable mount. The stable boy with the bright red hair watched in shocked silence as I chose a brilliant white mare I’d never seen before. She pawed the ground while her ears trained forward, as if she was excited to see me, as if she knew my presence meant her freedom.

“She ready for battle?” I asked, stroking a flat palm down her velvet neck while I unlatched the stall door. The horse buried her muzzle into my hair, learning my scent.

“Aye, M’Lady. No one would take her. Laird had been trainin’ her . . . as a gift . . . for you.”

My breath hitched, my heart melting. Damn, that man never failed to surprise me.

I opened the gate. She walked forward, but not beyond me. The beautiful beast led me out into the courtyard.

“No need for a saddle or bridle?” I glanced at the wide-eyed youth.

“Nay. Laird trained her like his stallion,” the boy replied.

“ Perfect ,” I murmured, the word meant for Iain.

I turned my head, not quite glancing over my shoulder. “Her name?”

A secret gift to me.

Bright white to black midnight.

His shadow to my light.

Dubhar . . .

“Solus,” I whispered the perfect counterpart as the stable boy shouted the name.

With a hand pressed to the base of her neck and a spring from my thighs, I leapt to her back a split second before she charged off. I launched both hands into her mane and gripped her with my thighs, gaining balance as she raced through the courtyard.

An observant eye up in the watchtower caught our fast approach and lowered the drawbridge just in time for us to gallop over the wooden beams without breaking stride. In seconds, we devoured the distance between the curtain wall and the forest’s edge.

Under the cover of the forest, I opened my senses, amplifying every sound that wasn’t generated by the horse as she unleashed her pent-up energy. The sun’s bright beams pierced ample light through the sparse canopy, giving us plenty of visual warning of any danger ahead. I felt Sunshine’s power traveling with me in some manner. Together, our energy resonated outward.

I had no idea where we needed to go, but some inexplicable sense told me it didn’t matter. My internal compass had pointed us in the direction we headed, and I felt we were expected.

I smiled broadly. Fine. Go ahead. Think you know what to expect. Underestimate me. Please.

The usual forest chatter quieted, an eerie absence of sound filling the space thicker than the surrounding dense brush.

We’d arrived.

Without any indication of whether those that surrounded us were friend or foe, I proceeded forward. Cockiness born of rage made me believe no enemy of Iain’s would harm a woman, even a well-armed woman. In fact, shock at my unusual appearance might give them pause—hesitation would become opportunity in disguise.

Through the broadcasted silent treatment, I sensed an approach long before I saw or heard the rustle of leaves. With a firm squeeze of my thighs, the well-trained Solus came to a stop, her ears switching back and forth at the sounds closing in on us.

Robert appeared from the brush, flanked by Duncan and Calum. I exhaled a held breath and dismounted, jumping down to the ground. I stood before the threesome who stood as an imposing wall of broad chests and massive legs spread in wide stance.

“M’Lady, why are you here?” Robert’s gaze traveled from the Pict paint on my face, across to the sword on my hip, and down to the ax strapped above my right foot. He folded his large arms over his chest, nodding understanding, if not agreement.

“Robert, who the fuck has him? Tell me where to go.” I kept my voice low and steady in an attempt not to belie my thundering heart.

Robert’s jaw dropped. “Nay.” He shook his head. “You’re not goin’ in there.”

“I am. Where are they? Camped somewhere?” My gaze flicked behind them, but all I saw was the green of the forest.

“Aye. They’ve dozens of tents lining the inlet below. We’ve sent emissaries to negotiate, and they’ve seen Iain. He’s alive”—his voice dropped—“barely. We’ve tried everythin’. They only want one thing: the one thing Iain cannot relinquish and swore his life to protect.”

His meaning dawned on me. “The box.”

“Aye,” Robert grumbled. “Not that we’d give them a single stalk of wheat.”