Page 103 of Blood & Claw

The thought slammed into her, stealing her breath.

The lass was still tailing them; she was sure of it. She could almost see her—striding north with her jaw set, refusing to turn back even though she’d know this was folly.

Curse it. I should have known this day would come … I should have prepared her for it.

She pictured Ailsa once more, standing in the workshop doorway a couple of moons earlier.

Angry. Demanding freedom.

Kayla had shut the conversation down, as she always did.

Not now, lass. Later … when you’re ready.

But later never came.

For twenty-two years, she’d stood between Ailsa and the worst of the world: the drunks, the boorish, lewd customers—and the truth. Now she was trussed up like a Mid-Winter Fire goose while the lass walked straight into danger. Some protector she was.

If Ailsa caught up with them, she’d likely try to free Kayla and get herself killed doing so. She couldn’t let it come to that. She had to rescue herself.

Kayla dragged her attention back to the fireside.

To Maol and the choice before her.

If she refused, she had no doubt he’d make good on his threat. But if she agreed, she’d just be marking Car harder to fight.

She started to sweat. Everything was spiraling out of control. Think.

Maol’s gaze hadn’t left her. “What will it be?”

Kayla lifted her chin. “All right then.”

“Good.” Car edged toward her, a grin splitting his face. “Let’s get on with it.”

Across the fire, Maol’s gaze never left her face. “Watch yourself, tattooist,” he said softly.

Kayla’s lips curved, her fingers curling against the rope binding her wrists. “Untie me.”

26: I DON’T LEAVE PEOPLE BEHIND

Farther south …

DARACH SHIFTED BACK, just as the first rays of grey sun pierced through the treetops. The weather had turned this morning, a thick misty rain falling in a silent curtain.

Naked, on his hands and knees, he struggled to catch his breath. And then he began to shiver.

Despite the cool kiss of the rain, sweat bathed his bare skin, which felt as if it were on fire from the change.

The Warrior’s Balls. He would never get used to this. It was brutal.

Eventually mastering himself, he sat back on his heels, taking in his surroundings.

It was as if he’d lost time overnight; he always did when the beast took him.

Snatches of memories from the night returned.

Some of them—the savaging and the feeding—made his gorge rise, but others elicited a strange longing. The clag-doo’s speed, strength, and single-minded purpose had driven everything else away.

In the aftermath, he almost missed that oblivion.