28 LEASHING THE BEAST
AILSA’S MOUTH WENT dry. She forgot to breathe.
By the Five, he was a sight—scarred, battle-hardened, unmistakably a warrior. Her gaze traced the scar that slashed along one side of his ribs.
He’d told her his brother was responsible for that. And now she knew exactly how.
Her gaze traveled lower then, over the muscular planes of his chest to his belly, and then to his groin. Darach’s manhood hung heavily between his thighs. Even unaroused, he was big.
Heat washed over her, arousal tingling in her core.
And for a heartbeat, she forgot why they were here. She could stare at him all night.
But then, the memory of the dead man with the blade in his eye intruded.
Kayla was taking bigger risks now. They had to reach her before she pushed things too far. As soon as the sky to the east lightened, they’d be on their way again. They’d find her.
Meanwhile, Darach closed his eyes.
The moments drew out.
“What are you doing?” she called down eventually, growing impatient.
“Quiet,” he barked. “I’m calling it.”
Chastened, she obeyed, watching as he closed his eyes once more.
His chest began to rise and fall sharply, his face contorting. And then, he bowed his head, and his shoulders bunched.
The thorned circle around the tattoo burned faintly—dark ink gleaming in the firelight.
Ailsa held her breath.
Darach dropped to his knees and then all fours. His hands clenched in the pine needles.
“Hold it,” he rasped. “Hold—” His voice suddenly broke into a snarl.
He lurched forward, spine arching impossibly as his limbs changed.
Black fur erupted across his skin. Bones cracked and reshaped with a wet, grinding sound.
Claws burst from his fingers, curving in hooked blades as his body surged larger—jaws lengthening, ears pricking, a heavy tail lashing the pine needles.
Ailsa stared, aghast and entranced, at the huge black predator crouched by the fire.
She’d seen carvings and etchings of clag-doos, but nothing had prepared her for the reality. The feline was bigger, more muscular, more terrifying, than she’d imagined.
It lifted its whiskered chin, and their gazes locked.
She searched those golden eyes for some glimpse of Darach—the man.
But he was gone.
Misgiving rushed in, hollowing her belly. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.
Where was he?
Darach had been reluctant to try this out; she should have heeded him.
The beast growled low and began to circle the fire, moving with fluid, predatory grace, heading straight for the pine.
Straight for her.
Ailsa’s pulse started to thunder in her ears, her confidence dissolving like morning mist.
The distance between them vanished too quickly. He was stalking her.
Those pitiless golden eyes never left her.
“That’s enough,” she called out, her voice catching. “You can change back now.”
But he didn’t. Darach couldn’t hear her.
The beast kept coming, approaching the base of the pine.
Ailsa started to sweat. “Change back!”
A low, hungry growl rumbled in the clag-doo’s throat.
Fuck.
Her binding hadn’t worked properly. He’d been able to call upon the beast, yet he wasn’t its master. He no longer had any control.
If it started climbing this tree, she was done for. There was nowhere else to go. This pine stood alone, just a few yards from where the sheer sides of the rocky corrie thrust skyward.
She was trapped.
The beast would tear her limb from limb if it got its teeth into her.
And those claws—
They looked like scythes. It made her own sharp wee nails look pitiful.
She waited for the cold clarity that came easily these days—a stillness where fear didn’t exist, where her senses sharpened, and the world slowed down. When the wildness rushed in, she was invincible, her mind like a blade.
But it eluded her now.
There was no certainty, only the fear she might die screaming in this tree. “For the love of the Five, listen to me!” she shouted. “Pull the leash—draw it back.”
The clag-doo halted at the foot of the pine.
And suddenly, the growling stopped.
The beast went utterly still.
Those golden eyes fixed on her through the branches.
“Shift!” she screamed now, even as danger crackled in the air between them. “Shift!”
The clag-doo snarled. Then its body coiled as it readied itself to leap.
“Darach!” His name ripped from her throat.
The clag-doo froze once more.
Staring down, Ailsa saw something flicker in its gaze. The memory of a man inside.
Had it heard her?
Maybe his name was the key.
“Darach,” she shouted again. Not a command this time, but a plea. “Darach.”
The clag-doo howled then, the blood-curdling sound ripping through the cold night air.
She repeated his name in a chant. It was the only thing that penetrated, the only thing that would stop the beast from killing her. And by the Gods, she was desperate now.
Long, agonizing moments passed.
Then he changed.
Before her eyes, the massive, muscular body of the clag-doo transformed. Its back roached once more. Black fur sloughed away, pale flesh appearing beneath. Its body shrank.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with an untidy mop of brown hair collapsed onto all fours on the needle-strewn ground.
“Darach,” she whispered now, shaking as she clung to the sticky pine branch. “I—”
“It’s all right, Ailsa.” His voice came out in a croak. “I’m back.”
She didn’t climb down straight away.
Her hands were locked around the pine branch, fingers aching, her breath coming in shallow pulls that rasped in her throat. Below her, Darach remained where he was, head bowed, shoulders rising and falling.
The fire crackled softly a few yards back.
Ailsa watched and waited, fear knotting in her gut once more. Why wasn’t he moving?
“Darach?”
He shut his eyes hard, jaw flexing. “Give me a moment.”
Holding her breath, Ailsa continued to stare down at him. His muscles quivered and twitched, as if the clag-doo still fought him. Her pulse fluttered. Maybe he wasn’t in control. Maybe her tattoo had completely failed.
Moments passed, and then he lifted his head. “Fuck,” he said hoarsely.
She sagged against the prickly branch, suddenly boneless.
And then she forced herself to move. Each step down the trunk was clumsy, her boots scraping bark as she descended.
Her legs nearly buckled when she hit the ground.
Bracing herself against the trunk, she stood there for a moment, unsteady, her heart still pounding hard enough to make her lightheaded.
Darach sat back on his heels.
Sweat streaked his naked back. His muscles trembled faintly beneath his skin. The tattoo—her tattoo—was visible now, the ring of thorns dark and angry against his flesh, faintly luminous in the firelight.
“It didn’t work properly,” she murmured.
He grimaced. “No.”
Ailsa took a step toward him, then hesitated. The memory of golden eyes and bared fangs was still too fresh for her to relax around him. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice catching. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
He cut her an irritated look. “Haven’t you learned by now … you can’t push me into anything, lass.” Rising to his feet then, he limped back to the fire, where he’d left his clothes. He started to dress. “But you’re right … I could have killed you.”
Ailsa swallowed. Aye. It had been close.
She approached the fire and lowered herself down next to it.
Across from her, Darach stifled a groan as he sat down and pulled on his boots. “The Hag’s tits,” he muttered. “There isn’t a bone in my body that doesn’t ache.”
Ailsa wasn’t surprised. The change hurt him; she’d never seen anything so brutal.
Silence settled between them, heavy but no longer sharp-edged. The night pressed close, the firelight low and wavering. Somewhere beyond the pines, an owl hooted.
Ailsa pushed the hair out of her eyes, only to realize her hands were shaking.
Darach noticed too. “Come here,” he said, his voice still husky. “There’s no need to sit so far away from me … you’re safe now.”
Her breathing hitched. Safe. A short while earlier, he’d nearly climbed that tree to kill her.
And yet, she moved closer anyway, skirting the edge of the fire before sinking down next to him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. The contact made her lean into him, just a little.
He reached out, his hand settling over hers, warm, calloused, solid. Her pulse fluttered. “Don’t blame yourself,” he said gruffly. “You did all you could.”
Ailsa cut him a sidelong look. “Your name was the only thing that reached you.”
He scrubbed his other hand over his face. “Names have power … you gave me something to grab onto.”
They sat like that for a while, accompanied by the crack and pop of the fire, the danger ebbing away inch by inch. Darach’s breathing evened out, while Ailsa’s nerves steadied.
Glancing his way once more, she observed her bodyguard’s strong profile. “Feeling better?”
“Aye.” His grip on her hand tightened. “You did help me, you know? I told you … I feel different from before. The beast still wants out, but something in me is stopping it.”
She harrumphed. “Thank The Five, I’ve done some good.”
His lips curved. “You did.”
Ailsa watched the firelight dance across his face.
Harvest Fire flashed through her mind then—Lewis rejecting her, the laughter that had followed, and the vow she’d made afterward never to hand another person the power to hurt her like that again.
Yet Darach had placed his life in her hands tonight. He’d trusted her.
Perhaps she needed to trust him too.
The thought frightened her. Even so, she found herself wanting to believe that if she showed him the darkest parts of herself, he wouldn’t turn away.
They remained there, fingers entwined in the glow of the fire.
The companionable silence stretched out, and yet instead of relaxing, Ailsa found herself growing tenser. Anxious.
She could stay quiet.
Keep pretending.
Walk away with her secrets intact.
Or she could let him in.
She started to sweat then.
He showed you the monster inside him … maybe it’s time you showed him yours.
Moments slid by as she wrestled with herself. And then, she drew in a deep, steadying breath. “Darach,” she murmured eventually. “There’s something you need to know.”