Chapter THREE
–Kaia–
FLASHES CAME AND went.
A nightmare within a nightmare, then freedom from it all as I raced through the moonlit night.
Was I racing toward something or away from it? There was no way to be sure.
Not when I felt light and strong. Untouchable. Yet moments later, I felt like prey fleeing a predator. Hunted. No longer strong enough despite how hard I pushed myself.
No matter how fast I ran.
He was coming.
Racing after me.
The devil had found me, and I wouldn’t escape him this time.
He was too fast. Far too strong.
And more alluring than I ever imagined.
He was catching up.
Closing the distance too quickly.
My heart pounded as I pushed my muscles to the limit, weaving in and out of the trees.
Chasing moonlight. I learned about the body that had been so foreign to me until a month ago. Eased into the power in its joints. In an increased flexibility that made me limber. Powerful.
But not as powerful as him.
Not as fast as the darkness chasing me.
Close.
Too close.
Determined to destroy me.
Or maybe even own me. It was impossible to know.
“No,”
I howled from deep inside my mind, but it was too late.
He was there.
Crashing down around me.
Into me.
Slamming into every part of me until I roared, and one reality snapped away into another.
My eyes shot open not to the snowy forest but to the cozy living room in the Colonial.
Stuck on autopilot because life had made me that way, I slowly reached for the blade I always tucked under my pillow, making no sudden movements while assessing my surroundings.
I breathed a low, quiet sigh of relief when I wrapped my hand around its hilt.
Muted daylight hid behind drawn curtains, and a fire crackled next to me in the fireplace, where I lay on a fur blanket beneath more plush furs.
Fortunately, I wore clothing, but I had no idea how when I didn’t remember redressing after my shift.
The air smelled faintly of wood smoke, freshly brewed coffee, and something far more intense.
A scent buried deep in the soft fur wrapped around me.
Unable to help myself, I curled my nose into its plushness and inhaled deeply, nearly purring with pleasure at its spicy, woodsy aroma.
It pleased me. A lot.
That is until a deep masculine voice cut into what had nearly become an orgasmic experience.
“Wolves don't purr, woman,”
he said with an Irish lilt.
“Leave that to the cats.”
I bolted upright, held my blade at the ready, and scanned the room, but nobody was there.
Or so I thought until the dark shadowy corners became clearer and golden wolf eyes stared back at me moments before I spied a man sitting in a nearby chair watching me.
Everything seemed to slow down and speed up all at once when our gazes connected.
Somehow, despite keeping my eyes locked on his, I still saw all of him.
He wasn’t dressed correctly.
Not for this era. He was from somewhere else…part of something else. Despite never paying attention in history class, I understood the foreign words for his clothing.
Dressed entirely in black, he wore heavy boots, black trousers, or triús, a tunic, and a long leather great coat, or cóta mór, cinched at the waist.
His shoulders were broad, and his build was powerful.
Muscles strained against leather, and deep, dark danger simmered beneath his surface despite how relaxed he appeared.
With hair as midnight black as mine, a heavy layer of stubble, and masculine drool-worthy features, he knew what he was capable of.
Understood the power he could have over females.
The sex appeal he wielded.
I had met confident men over the years, but none were so comfortable in their own skin.
Yet even as I took that in and somehow saw the whole of him in one very satisfying swoop, my gaze never unlocked with the gold of his deep-set eyes.
Never strayed from the spell I felt cast under.
A part of me I didn’t recognize wanted to crawl to him on all fours and slide my hands slowly up his strong, muscular thighs, then straddle him.
Feel the heavy weight between his legs strain against me in need because I knew it would. Knew I held that much power over him.
I could own him, at least in some small way.
But nothing like how he would own me.
“No,”
I ground out when that realization washed over me.
Shaking my head, I swallowed hard, notched my chin, and struggled to break free from his hold over me.
While typically effortless when faced with a threat, it was hard as hell gripping my blade tighter and keeping it aimed at him while I stood and braced myself for an attack.
Were my smaller blades still tucked in my right boot? I could only hope.
What were the odds, though, if he'd been the one to redress me? It would make no sense to leave me armed.
“No to what, Kaia?”
he rumbled, his deep voice deceptively soft and his posture still at ease despite my weapon.
Which made me wonder…when had I brought my blade downstairs? Had he done that? If so, how did he know where I usually stashed it? If all that wasn’t curious enough, why had I been sleeping in front of the fire? How did he know my name? All good questions but irrelevant right this second.
Letting him know where he stood and that I could and would defend myself was more important.
“I don’t care who you are or what hold you think you have on me.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Get out, or I’ll use this blade, and you won’t like it.”
When his gaze went from my knife to my face, he didn’t seem alarmed, not even a little bit.
If anything, he seemed amused if that small smirk curling his lips was any indication.
But he was curious, too, wasn't he? Maybe even hopeful.
“Will you use that blade well, woman?”
The corner of his mouth curled up slowly, and his eyes flared golden with his inner beast.
“Or are you all talk, as you modern sorts would say?”
“It’s you,”
I bit out, suddenly remembering him at the edge of the woods before I shifted.
Recalled vividly the vulnerability and terror I’d felt because in that single look, the moment our eyes connected, I knew he had power over me that I gave no man. Ever.
He was the devil come for my soul.
Sensing he was a fighter, I moved as quickly as I would have if facing an intruder back home.
I whipped my blade at him, praying it would buy me enough time to get out of the living room.
It should, because I had great aim and was fast on my feet.
Unfortunately, I underestimated him on a few fronts.
I might be fast, but he was faster, snatching my blade by the hilt a split second before it sliced through his neck.
He didn’t panic either but caught it with an almost casual speed.
Oxymoron, right? But that’s how it seemed when he caught it with ease and offered a small nod of approval.
It was as though he graded me on just how close I’d come to hitting him before he tossed the blade aside.
Half a breath later, it materialized in my hand again.
“I want to see you get out of this room and escape me,” he said.
When he stood, I realized how tall and imposing he actually was.
Bigger and broader than any man I’d ever faced.
He gestured at the knife he’d clearly manifested back into my grip and looked at me in challenge.
“Show me what you can do, Kaia.”
My more rational side wanted to understand why he baited me, but a deeply ingrained survival instinct overrode everything, and I raced for the door to the foyer.
When he went to grab me, I spun and swiped my blade, only for him to leap back.
When he came at me again, thrusting a dagger he hadn’t been holding moments before, I ducked, spun, and executed a perfect roundhouse kick.
Seeming to anticipate my move, he shifted sideways and drove his blade toward my shoulder, but I evaded and thrust my knife toward his vulnerable center.
He turned and evaded, thrusting his blade so quickly toward my throat that I thought it might get by me, but I ducked in the nick of time.
Crouching, I took advantage of his vulnerable position and swiped my leg low, hoping to trip him, but he leapt and went to slam the hilt of his blade against my temple.
Too late.
I rolled and came to my feet again before he got close.
“You fight well,”
he praised, issuing a small, barely-there smile when he should be afraid because I was hitting my stride.
I’d always been a good fighter, but something about the beast trying to claw its way out of me sharpened my skills more by the moment.
“In case you were curious, my name is Tréan,”
he went on.
“I wasn’t,”
I snapped, trying to ignore how much his name impacted me.
What was that all about? A name was a name.
It was unusual, but who cared?
Yet something inside me certainly did.
“You were curious whether you realize it or not.”
His voice remained deliciously deep as we circled each other with our blades drawn in the relatively small living room with its cheerful fire.
“Just as you are curious about other things the warrior in you won’t let you focus on because your battle is not yet won.”
“But it will be.”
I raised my eyebrows and did my best to focus on my next plan of attack because he was lighter on his feet than a man his size should be.
“And soon.”
I shook my head, kept my voice deadpan, and my eyes narrowed.
“Because this is getting old, stranger.”
Tréan made a grunting sound of agreement but refused to back down.
If anything, based on the expert way he moved and his loose yet flexible grip on his blade, he was biding his time.
Testing me.
Assessing me.
“I’m from ninth-century Ireland and your new alpha,”
he revealed, not mincing words, however crazy they sounded.
“You are going through a transition that no one but your Uncle Connor understands.
Your cousins have not experienced their True Moon Shifts yet, but you have, Kaia.”
He lowered his head as if honoring that before his gaze locked on my face again.
“Now everything will change rapidly for you as it will for me because we are one.”
“One?”
I bunched my eyebrows together in confusion and snorted in disbelief.
“I don't think so.”
Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but chuckle as we kept circling each other.
“I’m not sure who you think I am, but—”
“You are mine, Kaia,”
he rumbled, his voice slightly off before he continued.
His knuckles were a little too white around his blade for my taste, meaning he gripped it harder than he had moments before.
“You are mine as I am yours, and you will soon understand that,”
he continued, his voice firm and unwavering now.
As steady as the look in his eyes while we circled and planned our next move because I knew he was planning just like me.
Understood on a level, I shouldn’t.
Somehow, I foresaw every counterattack he would make when I came at him and knew deep down I would until I got out that door.
“You don’t remember it yet, but you ran with me last night,”
he said, seemingly determined to egg me on.
“When you did, we bonded.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, he struggled with what he said next.
“You could not be left alone.”
He shook his head once, grim.
“Should not have been.”
“Yet I was.”
The words came easily because, outside of protecting my family, I was a loner.
“And that's how it's going to stay.”
I clutched my blade tighter and turned the point toward him, hinting at another method of attack.
“So let me go because I’m not yours.
No man owns me.
I don’t do alpha bullshit, and that’s never going to change.”
I didn’t wait for a response but acted on the softness I swore flickered in his steady gaze and skipped hand-to-hand combat.
Instead, I flung my blade at him in a maneuver that usually met its mark and dashed for the door, only to find myself whipped back around and yanked against a hard, unforgiving chest.
“You have no idea what is about to happen, mo maité.”
His voice was deceptively soft as he wrapped his hand into my hair and squeezed my lower half against him, letting me know just how aroused he had grown.
Thick, long, and rock-hard, he was bigger than anything I’d had between my thighs.
He angled my head until I had no choice but to stare into a golden gaze that refused to let me go.
“Because you are my mate, and you own me now.”
I hadn’t expected those words or the rough way he’d said them.
Nor did I expect how it felt to be against his huge, unforgiving body with my hand resting defensively on his broad chest as he tossed aside his blade.
I excelled at driving men away, but not him.
His wolven eyes held mine, and the floor seemed to drop from beneath me.
Was I shaking my head no or nodding yes to his demands? No way to know.
I was already too deep in whatever this was.
Drowning.
Immersed in everything he was determined to make me feel.
He would be my destiny.
The guy that got past all my walls.
My alpha, as foreign as that sounded, because, again, no man ruled me.
Yet my spine became less rigid, and my body melted against his.
His primal attitude and how he held me spoke to something deep inside.
Something raw and unused.
All mine, yet somehow all his too.
Something that took the fight out of me and brought me back to the freedom of running through a moonlit forest and the feel of my wolven body.
The strength, power, and agility.
The longer I gazed into his eyes, the more I saw.
Flashes of another wolf. Huge and white with golden eyes. A chase. Confrontation. Growling. Fear…then something else.
Curiosity.
A familiar scent.
Close, closer, so close now.
I tried to growl again, but it lodged in my throat.
Caught in every fiber of my being.
There was no growl left.
Not toward him. Never toward him. I lowered. Submitted.
Accepted.
“And you will continue to, mo maité,”
Tréan whispered in my ear, so close now my sensitive breasts pressed against his hard chest.
He inhaled deeply as if pulling in my scent before his hot breath fanned my cheek, and his lips hovered over mine.
Lingered.
I should have pulled away and fought him, but all the fight was gone, and I was again beneath his spell. Only this time, my body thrummed with awareness, and a sharp ache throbbed between my thighs.
I tried to say no and be as strong as I’d always been, but he weakened me too much.
In every way possible.
Called to me in ways that made no sense.
I would let his lips touch mine. Longed for it. Then, I would let him do whatever he wanted to me.
Give myself to him.
Beg for it.
Or so I thought until the front door opened, and I snapped out from beneath his spell, only for him to do the last thing I saw coming.