Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
PORTIA
The mainland was silent except for the whisper of wind through the grass. I landed in the empty parking lot and shifted, my magic crackling as I solidified into flesh. A few snowflakes whipped through the air.
I jogged to the tree stump and pulled my clothes from their hiding spot.
Goosebumps shivered over my skin as I hooked my bra and yanked my sweater over my head.
Teeth chattering, I stepped into my underwear, then shoved my legs into my jeans and pulled them over my hips.
The cold bit at my fingers as I tied my boots.
The third time I fumbled the laces, I swore under my breath.
This is ridiculous. I was a creature of fire. Cold shouldn’t have been a problem. Except summoning my dragon was never a routine—or predictable—feat. If I called her, I couldn’t guarantee I could control her. So I gritted my teeth against the cold and finished my laces without her fire to warm me.
Moonlight bathed the stones in silver, making the ancient rock appear to glow. A glance around revealed I was alone, with no humans to witness my visit. No spies, either. My fathers probably didn’t think I was rebellious or stupid enough to disobey their order a second time.
So why are you doing it? a little voice in my head asked.
My throat went dry as I approached the stones, my boots crunching on the frost-covered grass. I didn’t have an answer for the little voice. I never had.
But the stones drew me. From the moment I’d stumbled upon them, the monoliths had called to something wild and unnamed inside me.
They were peaceful in a way my parents’ court wasn’t.
Someone was always coming or going at Castle Beithir.
Dragon shifters petitioned my dad. Witches arrived to curry favor with my father.
Supernaturals from all the Firstborn Races approached with offers, requests, and ideas for trade.
And, always, the shadow of the Curse hung over everything. Was it truly broken? Dozens of our males had found their females among the other Firstborn Races. They’d produced sons easily enough, but I was the sole female, and I’d nearly killed my mother on my way into the world.
Everyone wanted me to fix a problem that may or may not exist. But the stones demanded nothing. They were strong and silent. They’d endured for centuries, tall and stalwart against the elements.
Magic hummed around them now, the pulse as thick as usual. But it was also…different.
I walked forward, stepping in and out of the puddles of moonlight. The two largest stones with their horizontal lintel loomed above me. Thick beams of light streamed over the swirling runes that climbed their moss-covered surfaces.
My pulse quickened. The hum intensified, drawing me.
No, tugging me.
I stopped, a gasp catching in my throat. My heart galloped in my chest. Suddenly, the goosebumps on my skin had nothing to do with the cold.
Father’s warning echoed in my head. “…those stones possess old magic. You dabble in things you don’t understand, Portia.”
He was right. And I couldn’t afford to risk his displeasure again. I’d been stupid to leave the castle.
Turning, I started toward the stump. Two steps in, something yanked me around. My gasp escaped as I flailed, expecting one of my fathers’ guards. But no one restrained me. The circle was empty.
Something shoved me forward. Crying out, I stumbled toward the stones. The hum intensified. Whispers rose, layering over each other as I fought the invisible pull.
“Stop!” I gasped, digging in my heels. But my feet moved without permission, carrying me forward. The whispers climbed higher, the flow of unintelligible words more urgent. A blue light flickered in the center of the stone archway, then expanded until it filled the space between the pillars.
Blood rushed in my ears. I threw my weight backward, panic clawing at me as I tried to stop. But it was as if an invisible rope cinched my waist, the tug, tug, tug relentless.
“No!” I screamed. The light blazed brighter. The whispers became a roar.
The runes loomed. Light flared, and I squinted as heat caressed my skin. The rope jerked hard, wrenching another scream from my throat as I flew over the grass and slammed into the light.
The world exploded.
Heat. Cold. A black void studded with twinkling stars.
Pressure crushing my ribs. I screamed, but howling wind snatched it away.
My stomach lurched as my feet left the ground and the world spun, flipping me into the void.
Light seared my vision. Sound roared in my ears, the high-pitched noise like the howl of a terrifying beast.
I slammed into the ground. Pain shot up my arms. I crouched on my hands and knees, my chest heaving. My vision swam, and I blinked hard as I struggled to get my bearings.
Light seared my eyes, but it wasn’t the light from the stones. Sunshine spilled around me, the sun’s heat beating down on my shoulders. The bite of winter was gone. Grass spread around me. Shadows dappled the ground.
Lifting my head, I stared at a thick forest that hadn’t been there a moment before.
My heart thumped so hard I thought I might pass out.
For a minute, I couldn’t wrap my head around what I was seeing, and not just because the weather had changed.
The stones rose around me, but the parking lot was gone.
So was the picnic pavilion. The grassy hills beyond it were covered with trees.
Not just a few trees. A forest. Thick and lush, they marched right up to the edge of the stones, their branches forming a canopy that cast large shadows on the ground.
A man’s bellow split the air. More followed, along with screams and the clash of metal on metal.
I scrambled to my feet as a dozen or so men with swords poured from the forest. Others pursued them, and the first group swung around and began to fight.
They hacked at each other, faces twisted with rage and pain. Blood sprayed. Bodies fell. The scent of blood and sweat hit my nostrils, and I stumbled backward, disbelief throbbing in my mind.
This isn’t happening.
This isn’t real.
The men wore kilts, and not the sort of pleated tartan I was used to seeing. These were actual kilts. Historical kilts. The kind made of rough wool that wrapped around their waists and draped over their shoulders.
I’d stumbled onto a movie set. Or maybe some kind of historical reenactment or cosplay taken to an extreme. Humans did shit like that all the time, dressing up and pretending to be knights or Vikings or—
A man collapsed twenty feet away with a sword buried in his gut. He writhed, bloody fingers clutching at the blade. His attacker stalked forward, drew back his sword, and plunged the tip into the first man’s neck.
Blood spurted. My stomach pitched.
Not a reenactment.
Not real.
But the forest was real enough, its pine-and-earth scent thick in my nose. But where was the pavilion? The narrow road that led to the human villages with their tourist shops and quaint cafes?
A bellow cut through the noise. I spun.
A man charged toward me, his face contorted with fury. He raised an axe, the blade gleaming red.
I whirled and ran, plunging into the trees where the parking lot should have been. Branches whipped at my face as I crashed through the undergrowth. My boots slipped on moss and roots. Footsteps pounded behind me, men’s guttural shouts echoing through the trees.
My dragon thrashed under my skin, desperate to snap her restraints and save us. I needed to shift, but I couldn’t. Not with humans chasing me. If they saw a dragon, they’d expose my kind and all the other Firstborn Races. It would be a disaster we’d never recover from.
The sounds of pursuit got closer, branches snapping as the men chased me. I ran faster through the forest that was not supposed to exist. It was thick and tangled and nothing at all like the thickets that remained in Scotland.
A knife whistled past my head. The blade thunked into a tree to my right, its handle quivering.
My foot struck something hard. Pain shot up my leg as I stumbled and went down.
I sprawled on the forest floor, twisted tree roots spreading around me.
I flipped onto my side in time to see the man with the axe charge through the trees.
Eyes wide and filled with bloodlust, he hefted his weapon.
Long, red hair flew around his head as he thundered toward me.
More men poured from the forest. My ankle throbbed. My mind blanked, only cold, white panic remaining.
A roar shook the ground.
Pain lanced my ears, the stabbing sensation sharp and deep. The trees shivered. The bellow soared, the fury in it snapping me from my panic. The kilted men fell to their knees. Terror covered their faces. My ears popped, and the pain of my burst eardrums faded as my body healed.
Smoke streamed through the trees. It moved like a massive serpent, coiling and twisting around the trunks as it surged straight toward me.
My injured ankle forgotten, I flipped to my hands and knees and tried to run. But the smoke engulfed me. Then it wrapped around me, turning semi-solid. I managed a strangled scream as it jerked me sideways and sped me along the leaf-strewn ground.
Wind and branches whipped around my head. Tree trunks flashed as the smoke carried me away from my pursuers and up and down ridges and clumps of shrubs. We moved too fast for me to fight, let alone wrap my head around what was happening.
A stone hut emerged, its thatched roof descending in a sharp slope that kissed a squat, open doorway. The smoke shoved me inside, sending me staggering across a packed dirt floor. The cloying, earthy scent of peat seared my nostrils.
I whirled, braced for an attack, but the smoke was gone, and a man stood in its place.
No. Not a man.
A dragon. My head went back as I dragged my gaze up…and up. Seven feet tall or close to it, he ducked under the doorframe and stayed hunched so he didn’t hit the ceiling.
Broad shoulders and a thick chest strained a cream-colored linen shirt open at the neck.
Hair as black as mine streamed over his shoulders.
A blue kilt circled his hips, the end draped over one shoulder and tucked into a wide sword belt.
Brown leather boots climbed to his bare knees.
His sleeves were rolled up, exposing blue tattoos that covered his forearms. More ink peeked from under his collar.
But it was his eyes that made me suck in a breath. Flames danced in the blue depths, the orange and gold leaping like the hottest fire in a hearth.
Like my dad’s eyes. Like mine when I was furious or scared.
This man wasn’t just a dragon. He was a full-blooded male of my species. He’d shifted from smoke to flesh with his clothing intact. Only my dad and brother possessed that ability. I’d never managed it. When I tried, my clothes ended up in a heap. But this man had just done it.
I shook my head as I backed up. Not possible. He couldn’t be real.
My shoulders hit something solid, and I stopped, gaping at the giant who couldn’t possibly exist.
He stepped fully into the hut. Magic rolled off him in waves. Tendrils of smoke lifted away from his body, as if he prepared to shift at any moment. Fire swirled in his eyes as his nostrils flared. Then his eyes flared.
“You…” he breathed, his deep brogue curling around my ears.
Me? I pressed my back hard against the wall.
Men’s shouts rang from outside. The dragon snapped his head toward the door. Then he swung back to me with a fierce expression.
“Wait here and doona come out.”
Before I could respond, he drew a massive sword from the sheath at his hip and darted through the doorway.
Seconds later, screams erupted outside. Not shouts of anger this time, but terror and agony. Men begged for their lives just before their voices cut off with sickening, wet crunches.
Then silence.
The dragon stepped back inside. Blood splattered his shirt and face. More dripped from his sword, which he cleaned with the edge of his kilt. He sniffed as he slid the sword back into its sheath.
“You killed them,” I blurted.
The dragon looked up, and his brows drew together. “Aye, what of it?”
“You…” I gestured to the door behind him. “You can’t just…kill humans like that.”
Confusion covered the dragon’s features. “They would have touched my female. For that alone, they deserved to die.”
My stomach dropped to my toes. “I’m not yours.”
In a blink, he was in front of me, his big hand gripping my chin.
His fingers were as hot as a brand. “That’s where you’re wrong, lass.
” His voice dipped, something dark and undeniably possessive slinking through the thick brogue.
“I’ve spent a long time looking for you.
Now I’ve found you, and I’m keeping you. ”
No.
I kicked him, aiming for his knee. He sidestepped easily, his grip on my chin never loosening. Snarling, I balled my fist and punched him under his ribs.
“Stop,” he grunted, catching my wrist.
“Fuck you!” I kicked again, connecting with his shin. I twisted in his grip, using my momentum to drive my knee upward. He blocked me again, not even breathing heavy as I connected with his thigh instead of the more vulnerable target I’d aimed for.
His black brows slammed together as we grappled. “You fight your mate?”
“You’re not my mate!” But even as I said it, heat prickled through me. Not fear or panic. Arousal.
The prickle grew, becoming a thick wave that stole my breath and tightened my nipples. I kicked harder, a new kind of panic stealing over me as the arousal pounded between my legs.
Oh gods, no.
Deep in my mind, my dragon lifted her head. Recognition slammed into me. The mate bond hovered in my mind like a ribbon of light.
No, no, no.
“Go away!” I growled, not sure if I addressed the dragon or the unwanted bond.
His eyes blazed. “Stop this caterwauling. You’ll bring the humans down on us, and then we’ll really have problems.”
“I’m a far bigger problem, arsehole!”
His lips twitched. For a heartbeat, I thought he might smile. Then his expression hardened.
He released my chin. Before I could move, his hand shot to the side of my neck. His fingers dug into my skin, and pain stabbed deep into my muscle.
My vision blurred. The edges of the hut went fuzzy, then dark. I tried to speak, to scream, but my tongue was thick and useless in my mouth.
The floor tilted. My legs gave out. Strong arms caught me before I hit the ground.
Then everything went black.