

### Contents

ShadowLove--Stalkers

He had to interfere with Shawna's future... The alternative was, for him, unthinkable.

Also by Claudy Conn

What reviewers are saying about Claudy's books

Copyright Page

Dedication

~ Prologue ~

~ One ~

~ Two ~

~ Three ~

~ Four ~

~ Five ~

~ Six ~

~ Seven ~

~ Eight ~

~ Nine ~

~ Ten ~

~ Eleven ~

~ Twelve ~

~ Thirteen ~

~ Fourteen ~

~ Fifteen ~

~ Sixteen ~

~ Seventeen ~

~ Eighteen ~

~ Nineteen ~

~ Twenty ~

~ Twenty-one ~

~ Twenty-two ~

~ Epilogue ~

Excerpt: ShadowHeart—Slayer

~ Prologue ~

~ One ~

Excerpt: ShadowLife—Hybrid

~ Prelude ~

~ Prologue ~

ShadowLove—Stalkers

### He had to interfere with Shawna's future...  
The alternative was, for him, unthinkable.

"Excuse me." Shawna sidestepped the big hunk of a man, who seemed to purposely get in her way, and started across the street.

Chadwick MacFare fell into a clipped walk beside her, and his voice was low but intense. "Listen to me, Shawna Wellsly—you are in terrible danger, and _you_ know it. I know it. They might not know where you are yet, but eventually _they will_ find you."

" _You're nuts_ ," Shawna scoffed as she kept on walking—faster then before.

He didn't miss a step. "You know otherwise."

"Get away from me before I call the cops."

"You won't do that. It would draw attention to yourself—and you can't afford that." Suddenly he had her shoulders in his large hands. His green eyes stared hard into her silver pools. "Just stop!"

"Stop! You are a total stranger, talking nonsense, and I am warning you..." Shawna grimaced at him. "Get your hands off me."

* * *

He gave it up. The way he saw it, at least for the moment she was not in any immediate danger, even though he had seen more than the ordinary number of vampires since he had arrived last night. He could try again later, but not too much later, not with the vision he had still taunting him.

This time he had to succeed. He had to interfere with Shawna's future.

The alternative was, for him, unthinkable.

Also by Claudy Conn

Shadow Series

ShadowHeart—Slayer

ShadowLife—Hybrid

~

Legend Series

Prince Prelude—Legend

Spellbound—Legend

Aaibhe-Shee Queen (novelette)

Shee Willow—Legend

Prince in the Mist (novella)

Trapped—Legend

Free Falling—Legend

Catch & Hold—Legend

~

Time Series

Through Time-Pursuit

~

Risqué Regencies

Myriah Fire

Oh, Cherry Ripe

Runaway Heart

Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

Taffeta & Hotspur

~

DarkLove (published by Wild Rose Press)

What reviewers are saying about Claudy Conn's books

### Five-star reviews for the Shadow series

5 Stars for ShadowHeart—Slayer

Great sequel! Couldn't put it down. Don't miss.

This second in Conn's Shadow series is filled with vampires, a vampire slayer, demons, wizards, a Fae prince and an unlikely romance. I think this paranormal romance is actually better than the first book in the series.

~ _Wild About Bones_

ShadowLife—Hybrid: Everything a Reader Could Want

I loved this entire series and all books were all worth the time to read. The two main characters of this story were perfect for one another. Chase and Roxie made a lovely pair. Just loved the book. The book became a page turner right from the beginning with lots of laughs, humor, mystery and tons of danger to keep your interest in the story.

The story was a wonderful read... The book had everything a reader could want: strong characters, humor, sexy men, beautiful sexy heroines, tons of mystery, magic, vampires and the Fae all while taking place in the glorious highlands even making the story even more magical. Even though this story had an ending I believe if the author at some point wanted to write another to this series or a continuation mayhap going in another direction she could easily do that. Loved the entire series and if a reader choose to read the books out of sequence they would not have a problem catching on.

Be sure to put Claudy's books in your to read pile if they are not there as you don't want to be missing out. Currently reading her Fae series and loving it. She is a wonderful author and is worthy of being in your current library!

~ _Angels with Attitude Reviews_

### Acclaim for Spellbound—Legend

One hot and thrilling book

I fell for all three of the main characters, fun loving Maxie, dark and brooding Julian, and one hot Fae, Breslyn. However, it wasn't just the characters that kept me on the edge of my seat, it was the entire involved plot that included jealously, betrayal, magic, murder, and, of course, hot passion... Like all good thrillers, it seemed as one problem was solved another would spring up. The last few pages had me hoping that this is the first of a new series that will be worth each torturous wait for the next book. The well-written out mixture of myth and legend, not to mention the characters, all in today's world has me Joyfully Recommending Spellbound-Legend as one book you won't want to miss.

~ Jo, _Joyfully Reviewed_

This is one book I'll never forget

The author has done a magnificent job of creating the world of the Tuatha De Danaan, the Druids and the humans who interact with them. She succeeds in making them so realistic, I found myself believing they really exist—and who knows, perhaps they do... Their dangerous situations had me on the edge of my seat, while the loves scenes had me enthralled. I am excited about this book, which, apparently, is the first of a series, and will definitely begin collecting them as they become available. This author will become one of my favorites.

~ Jaye Leyel, _The Romance Studio_

### Praise for Shee Willow—Legend

Five Stars! A Joyfully Recommended Read, June 2011

Once again Conn ignites the page with hunk madness

Shee Willow carries us deep into the world of Fae intrigue and danger... exciting and fast paced, this is a novel with plenty of plot twists and surprises to support the romance... Conn brings back the cast of Faery characters we fell in love with from Spellbound—Legend, deepening the Seelie intrigues, romance, and dangers in part two of the series. Conn is in high form and never shorts her heroine or her reader. Once again Conn ignites the page with hunk madness, as every which way Willow turns brings hot potential for love and misdirection. It is pure torture deciding which of the men or Fae to fantasize over, and I do so love the bad ones!

~ Vonnie Faroqui, _Ink Slinger's Whimsey_

A great combination of paranormal, scorching romance, and suspense!

Ms. Conn again brings readers a different side of lore and allure surrounding the Fae. Willow and Shayne's storyline was magical, in the sense that you knew something greater, deeper was in store for them. Then add Breslyn, the Dagda Prince, childhood crush of Willow, into the mix... just get comfy, because you are in for a heck of a rollercoaster... Thankfully, another title will be released soon. I cannot wait until the simmering conflict between the Seelie Fae and Unseelie Fae reaches its boiling point!

~ Monica Solomon, _The Romance Readers Connection_

### ShadowLove  
Stalkers

Shadow Series, Book 1

By

### Claudy Conn

Copyright Page

ShadowLove—Stalkers

By Claudy Conn

http://www.claudyconn.com

Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn

Edited by: Karen Babcock

Cover Artist: Rae Monet

All rights reserved

Published in the United States of America

First edition, June 2011

Second edition, February 2012

Smashwords Edition

Third edition, October 2012

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Excerpt of ShadowHeart—Slayer

Copyright © 2011 by Claudy Conn

Excerpt of ShadowLife—Hybrid

Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn

Excerpt of Prince Prelude—Legend

Copyright © 2012 by Claudy Conn

Discover this and other titles by Claudy Conn at Smashwords.com:

Shadow Series

_ShadowLove—Stalkers_ – <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/63037>

_ShadowHeart—Slayer_ – <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/84350>

_ShadowLife—Hybrid_ – <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/143173>

Legend Series

_Prince Prelude—Legend_ – <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/159840>

_Spellbound—Legend_ – <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/96103>

_Aaibhe—Shee Queen_ – <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/110252>

_Shee Willow—Legend_ – <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/103389>

_Prince in the Mist_ – <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/104045>

_Trapped—Legend_ – <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/112028>

_Free Falling—Legend_ – <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/92368>

_Catch & Hold—Legend_ – <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/124602>

Time Series

_Through Time-Pursuit_ – <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/210166>

Risqué Regencies

_Oh, Cherry Ripe_ – <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/135532>

_Myriah Fire_ – <http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/109011>

_Rogues, Rakes & Jewels_ – <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/171997>

_Taffeta & Hotspur_ – <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/179452>

_Wildfire Kiss_ – <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/221331>

_Runaway Heart_ – <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/239110>

Dedication

To our daughter, Dawn, who has created a world of joy and spoiled us with her love.

~ Prologue ~

A LONG, LONG time ago...

Little was known of the infamous Dracula's mother, and during the first twenty-five years of Dracula's somewhat normal life _he_ knew nothing of _her_ at all. Hers was a name no one in his father's household was allowed to speak, and Vlad Dracula grew to manhood believing she was dead.

That was what his father had told him.

He discovered her name when he was just coming into his teens. At first, he used to whisper it on the wind— _Elizabeth._

He didn't know that she had only been sixteen and full of life, with eyes the color of fresh spring grass and hair the color of gathered honey, the day his father saw her. He didn't know she had been an innocent approaching maturity with an enormous secret she kept well hidden from the outside world.

She kept those secrets still.

When Count Wendall Dracula came to the Highlands, locals looked away in fear, for his behavior was brutish. They were suspicious of him and recognized that he was a warrior with a 'rough old Eastern mindset'. He rode out on his horse every morning, and on one of those mornings he saw Elizabeth.

She had been picking wildflowers for her grandfather—her parents had been killed in a wagon accident the year before, so it was just she and her grandfather. Wildflowers for the wine her grandfather was making.

The count took one look at her and decided he had to have her, cursing whatever consequences there might be. He wanted her—that was all he cared about. And in the stealth of night he managed to abduct Elizabeth MacFare from her grandfather, and her home.

During those first ten months Elizabeth's grandfather and village friends searched for her everywhere. They had no idea who had taken her. Wendall Dracula left behind no clues.

Back in his country, the count didn't court her, he didn't cherish her, and he didn't really love her. Elizabeth was a possession to him, and she despised him—all the while, planning her escape.

She became pregnant almost immediately, and when she discovered she was pregnant with twins, she enlisted the help of her young midwife and friend. Together they kept the knowledge that she was pregnant with twins a secret from the overbearing count. He only knew she was going to have his child, and for him that was enough; it was what he wanted.

She got larger during those first months of pregnancy, he lost interest, and he left her to her own devices while he pursued other women—and other entertainment. It gave her the freedom to plot out her course.

Elizabeth had made up her mind that as soon as they were born, she would take one of her twins and run...

Her plan was well thought out. It wasn't perfect, but it was the only way she knew to save at least one of her children, and herself, and return home.

She did not fear for the child she would leave behind. She knew that although the count was a selfish, often mean-spirited, and willful man, he wanted a child with all his heart, and she believed that he would love his child.

Her twins were born, and her plan was put into action. The count was enamored with the one son that was put into his huge hands and had no clue he had twins. He no longer had any interest in Elizabeth, for she had served her purpose. When the midwife told him she had a difficult delivery and needed rest, he was more than willing to leave her to her sickbed as he coddled his son and cavorted with his court.

Thus, with one son hidden in her arms, she ran for the border and there bought her way home to her grandfather.

In the 'old country' the count poured all his time and endeavors into the hearty son Elizabeth had given him before she fled his house. He didn't bother trying to follow her. His pride prohibited him from caring.

He had not allowed her name to be mentioned in his presence, and he told everyone that he had gotten news of her death.

His son, Vlad Dracula, gave him great joy, and as Elizabeth expected, Vlad's childhood was a pleasant one.

As Vlad grew to manhood and took on the duties of a warrior, his father slapped shoulders of his friends and proclaimed his son's prowess with great pride. Truly, his son was strong and capable. However, in his quiet hours he thought to himself, _If only he were less gentle of nature—less good-hearted_.

And then, Vlad fell in love and married a lass as beautiful of heart as she was of face. Vlad adored her, and she softened his combative nature and drew on the gentleness that was, and should have remained, his.

Vlad's father was furious. He wanted war with other lands. He wanted to take on and destroy any that opposed war. He needed more land, more gold, and his son was being swayed against such things by his new bride.

While Vlad was away defending their territory, the count engineered the death of Vlad's beloved bride. And so the legend began.

Vlad discovered his father's hand in his bride's death and responded by picking up his long sword, which he plunged deep into and through his father's heart. His rage not assuaged, he then sliced across his father's neck so vigorously that the count's head, splattering blood everywhere, went flying across the room.

_His father was not immortal_. His father _was not_ a vampire. Dracula looked at the corpse of his father and felt only one thing: _rage._

Vlad became Count of Dracula, and he went on the bloody rampage that won him the title "Vlad the Impaler".

It was then that he discovered that he was immortal. He knew at once that this had not come from his father's side of the family. He had often seen his father sustain an injury that took as long as most to heal. He realized that all his life, his wounds had healed quickly—too quickly to be a natural thing.

And so a curiosity that had always been in the back of his head was revived. _His mother—what had really happened to his mother?_ If she had given him this self-healing ability he possessed, surely she had not died. Was she also immortal? Why then had she left him?

However, his new and decadent life enveloped him, and he put the question aside _._

Vlad Dracula, father of all vampire tales, _was not_ by the true definition of the word a vampire. He did not die, to awake a vampire. He did not die and awake with a thirst for blood. He did not die and awaken an immortal. _He was born an immortal_. His lust for blood and killing was born from the need for revenge and the loss of his soul in black magic.

He became skilled in the Dark arts as he denounced God and all religion. He dove into wicked pursuits in an effort to eradicate the memory of his beloved. Memory was too painful; memory left him empty.

_And then he began turning humans_. He discovered quite by accident that if he allowed humans he had impaled to drink his blood they would die, yes, but they would be reborn with a thirst for blood—and a need to kill. This amused him for a time.

One day, something someone said made him remember that his mother was an immortal and must have untold abilities. He grew bitter when he thought about her. Why she had left him was a question that ate at the soul he had not quite lost. His soul was a dark, dense shade of black, but it was there somewhere inside him.

Thus, in the nineteenth century he began his search for her. He only knew his mother's name had been Elizabeth.

In the Highlands of Scotland, his mother and his twin had prospered over the centuries, keeping their secrets to themselves. Elizabeth MacFare's grandfather had died shortly after her return and had left her his fortune intact. She knew her grandfather _was not_ immortal, she knew of course neither of her parents were immortal, and she wondered how it was that she was. At that time, she hadn't realized the truth of the matter.

Elizabeth had named the son she kept with her John, and he took her family name—MacFare. Together they went forward.

She never ceased to mourn the empty spot she had for her other son, Vlad Dracula. She knew one day he might discover that she and John were alive—

And tales of what he had become made his mother's gentle heart tremble.

" _For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul."_

Judy Garland

~ One ~

CHADWICK MACFARE STOOD on the stone steps of Darby Bray Grange, his Scottish home, and stared up at the stars. They were bright and appeared full of untold stories. Some of the stars seemed to take shape, forming a warning in the night sky.

He had just walked Mary Beth to her car, and he watched as she started to drive off. Her convertible top was down, and her red hair glowed in the dim lights that lined his courtyard.

He had felt nothing but relief as he watched her leave. She was a lovely, experienced young woman, and he thought she had understood the rules. He had told her from the start he was looking for 'fun'—not friendship, not a romantic tie, nothing stable...

He had told her they could never have a future together. She was a worldly lass, and he was sure she understood what he had said to her. However, apparently he had been off the mark.

Lately every expression on her classically lovely face had warned him she wanted permanence, at odds with the fact that everything about her told him she was not in love with him. She wanted position, money, and power.

Lately, every word she spoke seemed to hold less affection for him, seemed calculated. This night, more than ever, she had tried to force his hand. She had suggested that, if he weren't ready to declare himself, she might have to start 'seeing' other men.

He had given her a long look. He had already decided it was over between them. He answered softly, "Aye then, Mary Beth, you are entitled to do that and have the life you want."

"I want it with you," she snapped at him.

"You want it with what I own."

"You are being cynical."

"I am being truthful."

She had dropped the subject and had instead returned to enticing him physically, but he had already made up his mind to say goodnight.

He sensed her resignation as she turned away. She knew he was saying good-bye, and he knew she wouldn't be deterred. "You want me. You will always want me. We are good together."

He had frowned. She didn't want to see the truth, and he knew Mary Beth's history was such that she still wanted to parade him about as hers. He knew she would fight losing him.

She had stroked his dark blond hair and kissed his hard chin. "You know I more than want you, Chad."

"Do I know that? Mary Beth... come on—"

"But... we are good for each other."

"No—in fact, we are not."

She pulled away. "Ah—this sounds like good-bye." She wasn't looking at him as the words were spat from her pretty red lips.

"Mary Beth... I told you what I wanted—didn't want—from the start."

However, she was already out of his bed and throwing on her clothes. "Don't ye worry none about it, love. Ye be in the right of it. I knew where this was going the first time you kissed me. It was always about good-bye." She'd grabbed her purse and coat, and he had hurriedly followed her out.

Now, he sighed over it all and looked up at the night sky bright with stars, and those stars reminded him of Shawna's silver eyes. The last time he had seen her he had wanted to reach out and touch her... but she was a vision, only a vision.

And then his body rippled with pain. A hiss made its way up his throat, but he controlled the savage sound. He wouldn't make animal sounds. He sighed heavily as he thought of the Blood Orchard. He hadn't needed it in so long.

He had other things on his mind as well. He was going to come out of the shadows of anonymity and make certain Pentim Rawley's life force disintegrated by his own hands. And he was going to have to use the pretty, blonde-haired, silver-eyed innocent, Shawna Wellsly, to accomplish his goals.

He had known that for months. He could no longer do what his father and grandmother required. He could no longer be content to stand along the edge and keep out of the fray.

His grandmother had already objected to his plan. She had called Shawna an innocent who should not be drawn into the new war, but he no longer had a choice... and at any rate, Pentim was already searching for the girl.

She couldn't escape Pentim and his clan without help. There were too many of the Rawley Clan, and some of them had powers singularly suited for stalking.

No one knew the secrets his grandmother and father harbored. None knew his own deeply personal sorrows—sorrows born of power he wished he didn't possess. However, as of late he was glad for the mana he owned. It gave him an edge, an edge he knew he would need soon.

He had turned to go back into his home when it hit him. A blast of darkness assaulted him, and he put a hand to his head. He felt as though he were being pulled into a black hole and then discovering himself on the other side— _another episode._

He stood close to her. He reached out, but of course he was in a vision; she couldn't see him or feel his presence. He couldn't touch her, but damn, he sure as hell wanted to.

She was wearing a black silk nightgown. One thin strap fell from her shoulder, and her full breasts captured his attention. She stretched and then climbed into her bed. He felt a blast of desire, and his sudden hard-on made him uncomfortable. She was so incredibly beautiful with her golden hair a mass of waves around her intoxicatingly lovely face.

Shawna had been the woman that occupied his visions. In his nightmare vision he had seen Pentim Rawley take her and turn her.

He couldn't let that happen—she was too important to him. He needed her to play a role in his plans to take down Pentim and his Rawley clan. All at once and with that thought, he realized where he was—on his front steps. He shook it all off as he went inside and closed the door at his back.

He still had a hard-on, and the image of her face and body swam around his mind, keeping him hot with desire.

There was no way he was going to allow himself to get involved with the beauty. He wanted one thing from her only, and that was to set her up as bait!

He had goals to accomplish. He had his family's anonymity, so deeply treasured, to protect. He would have to proceed with stealth.

Another night to the full moon, and then he would be prepared for what lay ahead...

* * *

Had she known, Shawna Wellsly would not have agreed with his summation of her abilities—and _innocent_? She did not think so. Had the question of her innocence come up, she might have conceded that in some ways perhaps she was, but in most ways, she was streetwise and more. She had to be—she wanted to live, and she wanted to find a life more fulfilling than just staying alive.

However, _now,_ staying alive would be good.

Pentim and his clan had other plans for her, and she would have to be at her most cautious if she were to elude them. Her grandparents had warned of this day, and here it was up close and way too personal.

The clan she feared the most—the clan all others feared—was searching for _her_. Some young were raised without the help of a father because the father had died or walked away. Shawna's father would have done much worse had he known of her existence. He would have turned her and then used her special abilities. The thought she could be turned—made to kill, to take human blood—sickened and terrified her.

And now when her entire life lay before her, she had to give it up because Pentim had accomplished the unthinkable—he had discovered he had a daughter.

Six months ago she had one of her 'dreams'. In it she saw Pentim Rawley—leader of the Rawley clan, or as he liked to think of himself, vampire prince—in the moments after he learned that he had a daughter. And Shawna knew what she had to do.

She immediately took to the road. She had a plan, and it was simple: _she had to keep running._

She had another plan as well, but it was too complicated, too tricky, too involved, and might even give her away. _Oh yeah_ , she thought with a dark scowl, _that plan needs_ _some serious tweaking before I can put it in use._

Shawna nimbly glided down the Avenue of Americas towards Forty-Fifth Street in Manhattan. Traffic was as usual totally wild. The sounds of the city were at their peak as rush hour would soon take the city into high gear.

She picked up her steps. She would have to hurry to make her appointment with her attorney on time. She glanced at her watch. Late—she was going to be late. Story of her life: running and late.

She had to have funds transferred to a bank in the Highlands of Scotland—her next stop. She had a cottage waiting for her there where she could hide and keep a low profile. She knew that sooner or later she would have to leave New York, because she had spotted one or two more vamps lately than normal. Were they looking for her?

A tickling sensation sprinted up her spine and landed in the back of her neck. She knew before she looked—someone was watching her. She stopped and pretended to admire a pretty dress displayed in the shop window. At first, she saw only the yellow sundress inviting all women to get ready for the summer a few months ahead. Then she saw her own image reflected back at her: a young woman with thick, blonde, and at the moment windblown long hair. She made a show of sliding her hands over her tightly fitted black jacket and pulled at its banded waist before she smoothed her hands over her blue jean–clad thighs. She turned partially on the heels of her high black leather boots, and then she saw him off to her left.

Her silver eyes gave nothing away as she looked him over. He stood a few feet from her, and he made no effort to hide himself. He wore an expensive, form-fitting black leather jacket over a dark gray T-shirt. Jeans covered, long muscular legs. Black leather boots with silver tips finished his high-priced ensemble, and then her eyes glanced back at his face. Whew! Sexy, hot, and handsome in an all too memorable way.

Was he following her? She was sure he was following her. Why? This wasn't the first time she had seen him that day. She had caught a glimpse of his profile earlier...

After all, he wasn't the sort that could go unnoticed, and this she decided was not a coincidence. She didn't believe in coincidences.

She pretended to glance at her watch and then hurried along. She felt him move in line with her, and this time, he got closer.

She stopped at the intersection of Forty-Second and glanced around casually. He was only a few feet away. He wasn't looking at her, and yet, she felt she was in his sights. _What does he want?_

He wasn't one of the Rawley clan members—of that she was certain. She had the ability to distinguish human from vampire, and she definitely while she detected vampire in Damon, a sort of friend, this one was different.

There was nothing of vampire in this guy.

His tawny hair blew around his chiseled and handsome face. He was tall, he was amazingly well built, and she had to ditch him as fast as she could. Suddenly, with a speed that was vamp-fast, he was at her side, touching her arm as he whispered, " _We need to talk."_

~ Two ~

"EXCUSE ME." SHAWNA sidestepped the big hunk of a man, who seemed to purposely get in her way, and started across the street.

Chadwick MacFare fell into a clipped walk beside her, and his voice was low but intense. "Listen to me, Shawna Wellsly—you are in terrible danger, and _you_ know it. I know it. They might not know where you are yet, but eventually _they will_ find you."

" _You're nuts_ ," Shawna scoffed as she kept on walking—faster than before.

He didn't miss a step. "You know otherwise."

"Get away from me before I call the cops."

"Ye won't do that. It would draw attention to yourself—and ye can't afford that." Suddenly he had her shoulders in his large hands. His green eyes stared hard into her silver pools. "Just stop!"

"Stop! You are a total stranger, talking nonsense, and I am warning you..." Shawna grimaced at him. "Get your hands off me."

He dropped his hold on her. "Come with me... there, to that coffee house—safe enough, crowded." He pointed his strong chin in the direction of a small shop across the street.

"I have an appointment I can't miss."

"Then let me walk you to your appointment. You can ask me anything you want to know. I will answer what I can. Afterwards, we can go to a very public coffee shop, and you can hear what I have to say."

He saw her consider his suggestion. Her watched as her mind raced over the possibilities, and then she spoke.

"I don't know who you are. Your accent is Scottish, I think... so maybe you are a tourist looking for some excitement. You won't find it with me." She yanked out of his hold and called over her shoulder, "Stop following me."

He gave it up. The way he saw it, at least for the moment, she was not in any immediate danger, even though he had seen more than the ordinary number of vampires since he had arrived last night. Still, it was not the right time of day for vampires to cruise the city streets. He could try again later, but not too much later, not with the vision he had still taunting him. The vision had showed him the clan would soon be closing in on her. He had learned over the last two centuries his visions would only give him 'the most likely future', not the absolute. And he had also learned there were few visions, one out of nine in fact, he could actually alter.

However, this time he had to succeed. He had to interfere with Shawna's future. The alternative was, for him, unthinkable.

He was surprised by her vehement rebuff. He had not anticipated it... and in fact, had never before been rebuffed by a woman...

He would have to find a way to make her listen because she didn't stand a chance alone, and he knew now that was how she was determined to face her danger— _alone._

Besides, she was essential to his plan. _She was the bait he needed_.

He knew from inquiries that the Rawley clan had a compound in the wilds of Quebec. They had resided there for the last twenty years, but he knew they had recently decided to move elsewhere—Europe, probably Italy.

In his vision he had seen Pentim force his own blood down her throat. She had lost her battle against the vampire virus, but she would not allow herself to become one of them; in the end she had forced her father into a rage and died by his hand. That had been his vision.

Chad MacFare was his own man, and he knew he was going against his father's wishes. His father had asked him to 'sit it out'. How could he? The Rawley clan had become too powerful, too threatening. And he personally wanted Pentim Rawley dead for reasons all his own.

In the end, he, his father, and his grandmother's way of life might even be threatened. That was something they had avoided for centuries...

His reasons for wanting Rawley dead were deeply personal, and he meant to get the job done at any cost!

* * *

Shawna raced into the Harlow Building on Forty-Fifth and the Avenue of the Americas. The hunky stranger was no longer at her back. A small part of her felt oddly deflated; a larger part of her wondered just who he was, and what was his angle. How the heck did he know her name? How did he seem to know about her situation? Just who was he? However, she had things to do, and so she forced herself to put him out of her mind.

Smartly dressed people were coming and going, focusing on their own business. She dove into a crowded elevator and pushed the button for the fifteenth and highest floor of the building.

With a sigh of relief she slipped out of the elevator into the grand central hall of Stevens & Stevens. When she gave her name, a young paralegal immediately stepped forward, hand outstretched in a warm greeting. Shawna knew the attention was because she was one of the large firm's wealthiest clients.

Money didn't mean much to Shawna, and now it was merely a way to escape her father's clan. Money had never really meant much to her, although at some point she realized that her grandparents were more than extremely wealthy.

As she sat waiting for her attorney in the confines of his large, comfortable office, she recalled the day her grandfather had sold his shares in various corporations and invested in areas that saw his millions trebled in no time. He told her they would need it for the future.

She hadn't realized then that her grandfather was preparing for a future he knew was inevitable. When it became apparent they would have to go into hiding, he liquidated everything and created several legal holding companies so they would not have a money trail that could be easily followed. They had one advantage: the fact that Shawna's vampire father had no idea who Shawna's mother had been.

When Shawna graduated from NYU and discovered her father had somehow learned of her existence, she made her grandparents go into hiding and set out to draw attention to herself in Seattle, Washington—well away from her grandparents' new location. She wanted Pentim Rawley to concentrate just on her. She didn't want him looking for them.

She missed them—they were her 'love line' in a lonely world. She used various and different cell phones to call them, and then she promptly disposed of the phones and bought replacements. She had to keep their existence free from her father's scope. Why he should want her so badly was a mystery to her. After all, he had his clan—and they were the most powerful clan in their dark world.

Shawna, on the other hand, had reason to hate him. He had caused her mother's death, and she despised everything he stood for. He had not given her mother a choice but had forced his blood down her throat...

She knew what he looked like—she had seen him in her dreams. Lately, she sensed that he was calling for her.

_Because of you, I never had a chance to know_ _my mother,_ she whispered in her mind. She stopped herself from making the violent sound that worked its way up her throat. She shook her head. _Careful, Shawna, or next you will be talking to_ _yourself_.

All the brooding was, she knew, because she was lonely. She was on the run. How could she allow anyone to enter her life and become a part of it? Impossible. She couldn't develop the friendships she would have loved to enjoy. Pentim Rawley would use them to get to her. She could get people she cared about killed.

No, her fate, her life, depended on her being a loner for as long as she could stay alive. She sighed over the fact—because just what sort of life was that?

~ Three ~

PENTIM RAWLEY WAS, in spite of his slick good looks, no longer attractive. Time and the vagaries of black magic had etched itself on his face. His amber-lit eyes held derision and ennui. He rarely, if ever, smiled.

Something about his face made one pause, but not admire, and if one were able to indulge a stare in his direction (which usually had dire consequences), one might see past the artificial complacency and calm to the hovering desire to kill. He was true evil, and it displayed itself in the recesses of his awful eyes.

Pentim had been turned into a vampire over three hundred years past and immediately gave in to the bloodlust as most newly turned vampires did. The difference was that he also thoroughly enjoyed the actual kill. He liked the terror that appeared in his victims' eyes. He liked to witness his victims tremble and beg for mercy, because he had lost his soul long before he was turned.

He had acquired skills as he matured into his full vampire mana, and the first thing he did was to take off the head of the vampire that had sired him. It was not because he was angry at being turned; quite the contrary—he loved being a vampire. He'd killed his sire because he wanted no one above his perceived rank.

He liked his uniqueness, and for many years he did not seek out more of his kind. He traveled alone. He chose his victims wisely, taking those whose deaths would not be noticed. There were so many to choose from.

However, power seeks adulation, and he wanted more of both. He began the process of watching select humans, choosing them carefully. By the end of the twentieth century he was choosing his victims specifically based on what he believed each would bring to the clan he envisioned.

Just when he believed he had what he needed to rule supreme (he did not consider Dracula a rival—how could he? No one knew the extent of Dracula's acquired powers), he looked around himself with utter disgust.

_Too many humans had been turned,_ and some of those newly reborn were incurring too much notice. He watched the greed and carelessness of the newbies until he snarled for an end to the madness. Pentim held a meeting and called for an end to indiscriminate 'turning' _._

He liked his anonymity. He liked walking through the night and carefully selecting his victims. He did not want attention drawn to himself or his clan members. If these excessive turnings were allowed to continue, it would gather people into a mob.

Mobs were never a good thing for vampires.

Vampires did in fact have certain weaknesses that humans could discover and use to destroy them in mass numbers. Pentim realized what a mob of angry, scared humans could do to a vampire clan during the clan's weakest hours.

He regarded the newbies as a danger to his meticulous way of life. He decided that he and his clan would put an end to it all. They would limit the number of vampires on earth, for some of those newly turned were sloppy and left trails—trails that might point towards his own safely guarded clan.

He made a decision and began the process of carrying out his divine plan—to eliminate all but the most humble and lowly of vampire clans.

To that end, they had been successfully working. Vampires for the most part were solitary creatures and did not at first realize what was happening in the darkest hours. They were slow to surmise that they were being hunted by one of their own. And then it was too late. What was left of the smaller clans had gone into hiding; others were on the run.

And then Pentim came across a young female vamp. She was at his mercy, and she was pretty enough to catch his attention when she begged to be spared. He took the time to hear her pleas.

Her name was Clara, and although her years numbered over one hundred, she was trapped in the body of a nineteen-year-old woman.

He had listened to her beg with interest and made up his mind to initiate her into his clan because he believed that one day soon she might prove useful to his goals. Remembering now how she had begged for her life, he felt a wave of delicious satisfaction dissipate some of his boredom.

"Spare me, Prince... I can be of service," she had whimpered.

Pentim's fangs had come into view as he sneered at her. "And how can you be of service to me?" he asked as he scanned her lovely white face. He looked into her dark eyes and made a low sound in his throat. She was, in fact, quite desirable.

"I have information you might wish to know."

"Tell me, and perhaps I may let you enter Rawley." He had meant to toy with her, tease her, use her, and burn her—literally.

"I recently came across a scent of a human—a female human, _not quite human_."

"Absurd—do you wish to die at once?" he snapped.

Her hand flew upwards as though to ward the blow, but it didn't come.

Instead, he took her chin and quietly said, "Tell me."

She licked her full, red-painted lips. "I was at a distance from her, but as I said, she had an interesting scent, my Prince. My special ability is the power of tracking any scent. I can pick up a scent that is even weeks... or a month old. At any rate, she intrigued me and I tried to follow her, but she knew at once that I was there. A human would not have known, _but she did_."

"And what then was she—a shape shifter?" Pentim was, in fact, interested in spite of himself.

"No, I don't think she was, but I did get enough of a whiff to know without a doubt that she shares a common scent with _you._ She carried some of your essence in her delicate aroma."

"What the hell are you saying?"

Clara's hair was black that day, long and silky and streaked with blue. She had adopted the gothic look so popular with many of her age—or at least the age she appeared to be. She smoothed the tresses around her pert young face and eyed him speculatively. "Prince... when I looked into her eyes, I saw _you_..." She shook her head. "I don't get visions, but I have... very strong instincts, and my instinct tells me she is somehow connected to you."

"Be careful now, little Clara. I shall not tolerate much more of this." He studied her and realized at once that although she was adding some flamboyancy to her tale, it was not far from the truth.

"Prince... spare me... I can be useful to you. It is why I came all this way. I want to be one of yours—and I think I know who this woman is."

"You think you know? And what do you think you know?"

"She is your daughter." Clara crouched down, ready for the blow.

His first instinct was to raise his hand, but even as he held it high, ready to strike, he stopped himself. She looked up at him, and his eyes narrowed tentatively. He believed her. "What is her name?" Pentim demanded.

The young vampire shook her pretty head, inclined her pale face, and gazed at his feet. "I don't know, but I will try and locate her for you, if you like."

"Where was it that you came across her?"

"In New York—months ago... I think she was a student there..."

"Would you know her if you saw her again?"

"I would."

"Then you may be useful to me." He turned to the members of his clan who had stood at his back awaiting the outcome of this encounter. "Clara is now one of us. Welcome her and teach her the rules of Rawley."

He had sent Clara and two of his own more trusted clan members to New York to search out the human and bring her to him, but she was nowhere to be found.

Clara, accompanied by one of his militant vamps, traveled from city to city at random. Suddenly, while enjoying a night's feeding in Seattle, Clara had picked up the scent. It had been faint, and they had arrived there too late. She'd not been able to track it, as the scent went suddenly cold, as though blocked by magic. And then nothing. To date, he had no name and no general location

Pentim Rawley would not be deterred. He had quite made up his mind to find this creature and investigate her.

He had begun to remember things from a not so distant past and rather thought he knew who her mother had been. _His daughter's mother_ —oddly enough, he liked the sound of the words _his daughter._ He had not been so amused in years.

Her mother would have had to have been very special to have both survived him and survived the birth of his child. Only one woman had left his bed and then vanished. It had to have been the beautiful little Rachel he had too quickly grown fond of but never saw again. Feelings were things he didn't have patience for, but desire? Yes, he allowed himself desire, and he had desired her...

Now, he had a burning desire to see his daughter—to know her powers and to make her his own. The notion that he had a daughter was a novelty that piqued his interest. He wasn't sure what he would do with her once he had her, but she had already annoyed him by running from him. It was obvious she knew he would be intent on finding her—was she afraid? He smiled to himself. "Clever little thing..."

However, now he could not allow this to go on. What had started as curiosity had turned into obsession. He would find her, and she would join him—or die!

* * *

Shawna had often wondered why her mother had been so taken with Pentim Rawley. She had been, after all, a white witch just coming into her full powers. She supposed her mother, Rachel, had been blinded by 'love' or infatuation. Shawna would never allow herself to be so blinded.

Her mother had been just eighteen, so that alone excused her in Shawna's wise eyes. She had herself been so wildly curious about everything at eighteen. Rachel had written in her diary that she had not been able to look away from Pentim's bright amber eyes when she first met him.

Rachel wrote and asked her daughter to forgive her, because she had fancied herself hopelessly in love with Pentim. She hadn't known how far her interest in him would lead—at least, not in the beginning. Night after night, he would walk into the restaurant where she worked, he would order a glass of wine at the bar, and—without drinking it—he would leave.

And then on that fateful Friday night, she went to a club with her friends. He arrived only a moment afterwards. He had stealthily walked through the throng of people and taken her hand. His was cold. He never asked her what her name was, because he hadn't cared what she called herself. He swirled her around the dance floor. Everyone else was dancing to the beat, but he was waltzing her, holding her, seducing her—and in that last moment before she went with him, _she actually knew what he was._

Rachel again wrote, "Forgive me, Shawna. I knew what he was—where he was taking me..."

She went on to explain that she thought herself powerful enough to withstand what was about to happen to her. She told herself she had to be with him, _just once._

She knew better of course—but she was young, and she believed she could withstand what would surely come to pass.

_She wanted him,_ and at that moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

Later, Rachel would tell her parents she had been enthralled with his physical beauty and with the wonder of what he might yet be if she helped him. She had been a young woman thinking she could cure Pentim of his diseased blood. She'd believed what she wanted to believe. However, in her heart she'd known from the start what he was, where it was going, and that her lust for him would be her undoing.

She wrote that Pentim had told her he wanted to keep her for his own. He told her she amused him and had awakened a need in him to have her always. It was in that moment she realized she would never have the chance to 'fix-cure' him. He was going to turn her, and in that moment it was too late. He drained her life's blood. Then he stopped himself abruptly, and he began the process of cutting himself and feeding his own blood to her.

She should have died and reawakened as a vampire, _but something went wrong_.

_Rachel didn't die._ She was supposed to, but the white magic in her DNA kept her alive. In the morning, in the darkness of the curtained room as he lay hidden and asleep beneath his covers, she discovered she had just enough strength to gather herself together, _and she ran._

It took all her will power and strength, but she got herself to the Long Island railroad and headed out to West Hampton. She had her cell phone, and just before she passed out she called her parents.

They were only minutes away, and when they found her on the bench, they took her home and lovingly nursed her for weeks.

Rachel confessed the whole to her parents, and they shuddered over the tale. They had reason to believe her story, as they were not without their own secrets. Rachel went to her room, white of face and weak of body.

Some months later she discovered that she was pregnant, and that pregnancy turned out to be seven months of 'unusual' mother/child experiences. All three adults—mother, grandfather, and grandmother—adored Shawna before ever she was born.

Shawna arrived early, but she was full term of body and soul. She was born a full seven pounds of joy. Her mother, however, was gravely ill. Rachel refused medical help because she knew her condition was beyond a doctor's capabilities. She knew she was dying.

Shawna drank formula, but she too soon became ill and began wailing for something more, _something else_.

One afternoon Rachel had Shawna in a beautiful basket on the kitchen table while she carved meat to cook for dinner. Some of the blood from the meat spilled on her apron. Shawna was whimpering, and when Rachel bent over her, the apron happened near Shawna's lips. She was just a newborn, but she began lapping the blood off the apron; all at once _Rachel knew._

She called for her parents, and they watched as she gathered the blood from the raw roast and spooned it into Shawna's mouth. Her baby girl glowed.

Rachel and her parents stared at one another as with some dismay they realized what the problem was with their lovely Shawna.

They acquired a ready supply of pig's blood, and Shawna thrived. Unlike vampires, who die and return undead, Shawna had not died—she was not one of them. She could eat and drink and enjoy food, but she required animal blood to survive. Her father's DNA had somehow managed to make a compromise with her mother's, and Shawna went on very well.

Shawna's grandparents later told Shawna how her mother had bravely fought the disease ravaging her body, the disease she'd developed when she had been fed a vampire's blood. Her body rejected it, but it was poisoned by it. Rachel's inherent magic helped her survive, but the diseased blood began destroying Rachel's organs.

Five months after Rachel's child was born, her body gave in to the murderous venom in her blood, and she died.

Rachel had asked her parents to kill her if she turned after her death, but they were spared, as she _did not turn_.

Shawna, daughter of a human woman and an alpha male vampire, went on and thrived under her grandparents' diligent care. They adored her and kept her close, and when she was old enough they put Rachel's diary into her hands. They sat her down and explained why she had exceptional abilities and why she had to keep them secret.

When she was still very young Shawna discovered that she was more than human. That 'more' as she had left infancy behind had been the reason they had decided to relocate to a more private and rural area in upstate New York. There on their private hundred acres, they kept her close. Her grandparents even home-schooled her. They weren't sure if she were immortal—only time would tell them that—but they were sure she had what they told her was 'magic'. She could do things with her mind, and they taught her how to control it, use it, and keep it secret from the outside world.

Her body did, however, need and crave blood, but this need was easily met. She didn't have a need to kill for that blood.

Shawna discovered her wounds healed within moments of receiving them, and she also found she had many stored abilities she classified as 'magical powers'. Her sight and hearing were exceptional, and she had an extraordinary sixth sense. In addition to all that, Shawna was super fast when she needed to be. However, her childhood, while full with love, lacked the pleasures of being with other children. She grew up quickly, too quickly.

Shawna's memories often intruded on her present awful daily life. There was nothing she could do about it. She sighed heavily and shrugged. Only one thing to do: keep moving.

There was no point dwelling on what was. Oh, but she hated to leave New York. If only she could stay just a while longer. She sucked in air and let it out. This was no good—she couldn't feel sorry for herself. That way would get her nowhere.

Her attorney walked in. Smiling warmly at her, he asked what he could do for her that day.

She didn't tell him she would be changing her identity—that had been taken care of already by an acquaintance in the underworld. She was there simply to have him release funds from a trust account and send them on to her next location.

This took a little more time than she had anticipated. When she finally left his offices, she walked outside to find that the day had gone gray, and a mist in the air promised rain. Stepping into the crowd, she weaved her way to the curb, her mind filled with the transactions she had just conducted with her efficient and gentle-mannered lawyer. She had changed attorneys on three different occasions as a precaution and never allowed them to know very much about her private life.

Everything was good to go. She had some cash in her bag, more in her loft, and now a great deal more waiting for her at her next destination. She had a passport with her new name at home—still Shawna (she couldn't bear to part with the name her mother had given her), but she would be Shawna MacBay in the very near future.

Outside, the cool air swept her shiny blonde locks around her face as she put up her hand and hailed a cab. She wondered why people complained about not being able to find a cab; she never had a problem. One pulled over immediately, and she jumped in and with a friendly smile gave the driver her address.

As she relaxed against the aged leather upholstery, she allowed herself to consider the encounter she had earlier with the hunky stranger. He had been devastatingly handsome. He had the kind of looks a girl could get lost in. _Dangerous_. He oozed sex appeal. Who the hell he was, she couldn't guess. What he wanted with her was even more of a mystery. But if this stranger had managed to find her, others could as well.

She knew at once he was not a vampire, and yet she had sensed an Otherworldly power in his aura. He certainly wasn't quite human. What did he want? Why would he want to help her? What was in it for him?

And why had he given up so suddenly and easily?

A whole lot of whys.

When the cab stopped, she stuffed a large bill in the driver's hand and smiled as he gave her a warm 'thanks'. Stepping out of the cab, she looked up at her apartment building and scanned. It was a small, four-story gray brick building. It had only four tenants, and each had a floor. She had picked it for this reason—fewer people to deal with, easier to watch her back. Her loft was on the fourth floor.

She walked towards the entrance, and the doorman smiled a welcome. "Good afternoon, Shawna."

"Hi, Jack. How's it going?" She had told him almost at once to just call her by her first name. It felt better than Wellsly, which wasn't really her surname.

"Really good—my thirtieth anniversary is today, and the missus has a big night planned. I already have the flowers and chocolate ready to go." He grinned at her, obviously proud of himself.

She laughed and pointed a finger at him. "You are the man!"

A moment later, she sighed as she walked across the marble flooring and wished her life were as simple as that. Would she ever have a man of her own and get to celebrate an anniversary?

Her boot heels clicked as she made her way across the wide entrance hall to the elevator. Right now, her life was about running. _She had to leave. She could do nothing about it. Soon, too. She would just have to suck it in and go, but oh, she wanted to stay._

She reached the elevator and pushed the button. At the fourth floor, the doors opened onto a narrow hallway of Italian tile, a wall table, and a brightly upholstered ladies' chair. She stepped forward to her door and punched in her numbers on the security pad to its right. She changed the numbers every day. The two-inch metal door slid into its pocket, and she stepped inside her sparsely decorated loft.

She loved that it was huge and open. She adored her comfortably and brightly upholstered furniture and her throw rug of many colors. Her loft reflected her feelings, large and light and... and what else, she asked herself— _unfulfilled passion?_

She moved over to her thoroughly modern kitchen of mahogany cabinets and stainless steel appliances and headed straight for the fridge. She was thirsty.

The fridge contained little more than a yogurt, a bottle of wine, a couple of bottles of Coke, and what looked like a quart of V8.

_It wasn't V8 though,_ but it was what she reached for, and she drank until it was half gone. She put it back and closed the fridge door just as a noise in her outer elevator hallway caught her attention.

She possessed better than human hearing, and that exceptional sense brought her the sound of fingers on the metal code pad. _What? How? Who?_ No one knew her code. She had just changed it that morning.

Shawna pulled her Glock out of the hall table's drawer, undid the safety, and stealthily moved towards the steel door. She planted herself against the stucco wall, and with two hands on her gun she waited.

_He_ stepped into her loft but immediately turned to face her—and the gun she had pointed at his head. " _You!_ " She sucked in air as the word tumbled from her lips.

He didn't look concerned as he regarded her and noted that her finger was on the trigger of the Glock, though his chin moved up slightly.

"Aye, me." His voice was quiet, and his Scottish accent took his words and made them tantalizingly effective.

For a moment Shawna was thrown off balance. Who was this big, beautiful, and obviously dangerous man? More importantly, what the hell did he want with her?

"Sit," she commanded. "I want some answers."

He put up his hands and backed away from her, found a nearby red leather winged chair, and sat as he was told. A strange smile played around his lips, and Shawna frowned, irritated by his devil-may-care attitude.

"What the hell do you think you are doing breaking into my apartment, and how the hell did you know my code?"

"I needed to talk to you. You were busy earlier. I thought you might have the time now." He shrugged, "As to your code... I have my ways."

His alluring accent seeped through her consciousness, and her silver eyes blinked slowly as she looked him over. _What did he mean, he had his ways?_

"I want answers." She shook her gun at him for emphasis.

He laughed, and she frowned. He shrugged again. "Then go ahead and ask me, lass. We'll see if I have the answers you are looking for."

Oh, that accent was killer-smooth, and coming out of his luscious lips... she thought a girl could easily— _Come on,_ _Shawna girl, get it together_. _This guy has broken into your apartment, and if he did, others might be able to as well. Time to move on..._

"Why?" she managed to just barely utter, as her thoughts had collided and left her uncertain.

"Why what, lass?"

"Why do you want to talk to me?"

"Because we have a common enemy, but you—not I, _you_ —are in immediate danger from that enemy."

"How do you know?"

"I have my ways."

"Stop saying that. What ways?" She eyed him suspiciously.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that if you don't leave New York, _they will_ find you, but even leaving New York—won't be enough."

"And what will?"

"You will have to kill Pentim Rawley, and you can't do it alone."

She put up her chin, and her silver eyes narrowed. He knew about Pentim Rawley. Was this a ruse? " _Who the hell are you?"_

"My name is Chadwick MacFare."

She saw his lips tighten. He knew what she was going to ask next, and she didn't disappoint him. " _What are you?"_

"That isn't important. What is important..." He got up and moved towards her; she kept her gun focused, but he didn't seem to care. He put up his large hand and grabbed it away in one motion as he put it aside and pulled her in close. She was struck motionless as he sniffed her with a show of great appreciation and pressed her body sensually against his hard chest. He whispered in her ear, "... is that you find out who you really are, what you really can do. And, Shawna, it is time to leave New York."

She didn't know what was wrong with her. She had allowed him to take the gun away. She had allowed him (although stiffly) to pull her into his arms and whisper in her ear. She not only had allowed him, her mutinous body had melted against him. She discovered that she was tilting her face up to his _. Oh damn—those deep green eyes_... She caught herself, silently demanding, _What the hell are you doing, Shawna?_

She shoved him hard. He didn't budge, but she had managed to put a small space between them. He was like a stock as he stood his ground and grinned at her.

His attitude infuriated her. "Get out. I don't know you. I don't trust you, and you have no idea who I really am. I am not your concern, and if you want Pentim Rawley dead, you won't find me in your way. I want you out of here because I don't want or need your help. _I work alone."_

He sighed and put a caressing finger to her cheek, but she pulled away roughly and her silver eyes glinted daggers at him. "OUT!"

His grin vanished. He had not anticipated this kind of resistance from her. His eyebrow arched, and he said softly, "Am I wrong about ye then, lass? I thought ye didn't want to fall in with yer... _father_."

She gasped, and then fury took over as she jumped away from him. No one knew that Pentim Rawley was her father. How could he know that? Was he in league with the hated vampire? Was this all a ploy to get her to go with him?

She took a fighting stance, her face grim. "How dare you. I don't know how you know what you _think_ you know, and I don't care. I want you out of my place. I want you out of my life. I have been taking care of myself for a long time, and I know what I am doing."

He stepped closer to her, and his voice was low as he bent his head to whisper, "Och, lass, ye haven't a clue what ye be up against."

She stepped away from his intoxicating scent. What was it? Pine and something musky she thought. "How do I know you aren't one of his clan?"

"Ye know I'm not one of them." His eyes raked over her.

"I don't know anything. Why should you help me?"

He ran his hand through his tawny mass of hair, and his green eyes took on a steely expression. "Because I want Pentim dead, and I think ye are my way to get what I want. He won't stop until he finds ye, lass. He won't give up. _You_ are running _helter-skelter_. You think you know what you are doing. Ye don't have a clue what ye are up against. He has the advantage, he has numbers, and some of those numbers have developed special talents over the years. When they find ye, they will surround ye. Some will come up quickly from behind, others right up into your face. They won't give ye a moment to think. Then what, lass? All yer magic won't help against their combined power. What then?"

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment. How did he know about her magic? Who the hell was he?

She had to think. She turned away from him and stared out the window. "They won't find me. Pentim doesn't even know my name."

" _I found ye_."

She grimaced and folded her arms. "What really is in it for you to help me?"

"I told you I need ye to draw him to me. When the time is right—after I've trained ye—we will let him find ye. We'll let him come to us, and we will have the advantage."

"Ah—now I get it. You want to set me up as bait. You have some beef with Pentim and think you can use me. _No._ You're crazy. You are the one that will get me caught. I've been doing okay on my own, so just please... get out. Leave me alone."

He reached out for her, and she struggled against his hold as he pulled her into his arms. "Ye be wrong, but I'm no getting through to ye, lass, so I'll be going. When ye need me— _find me_." He bent and pressed his lips gently to hers.

She fought him and wiggled, but for no good reason she found her lips parting beneath the pressure of his. Everything vanished as the air sizzled all around her. She felt a vibration fluctuate throughout her body as his tongue dipped and caressed hers. He molded her suddenly, she realized in mortification, pliable body to his. She heard a low, throttled sound escape his lips when she felt him withdraw. She had to steady herself as she watched him take a slight step away from her.

They looked at one another, both wary, both surprised, taken aback, and at a loss for words. Neither wanted an entanglement, but both had felt something pulse with exuberant life between them.

Shawna was on edge. Never mind that she had not been kissed in a long time; his kiss had taken her breath away and awakened her desires. Her body had relaxed against him in spite of the fact that her brain was telling her to slap his handsome face. His kiss had aroused her in a way she had never known before, and then suddenly he was standing apart from her and she felt off balance and confused.

He reached out and steadied her, which was a good thing, as she had felt her knees about to cave.

He whispered something incoherent to her, and all she heard was the enticing huskiness of his voice. What was he saying? He was still whispering, and she was desperately trying to focus on his words, and then all at once they got through to her brain and shocked the hell out of her.

He repeated, "Ye _do_ need me, Shawna, and one day ye will realize that. Don't wait too long—don't wait till it is too late." He turned and walked towards the steel door, punched in the code, and was gone without looking back.

Shawna stood in stunned silence. She didn't know if she was still breathing. She rather thought she was holding her breath. She let it go with a gasp. _What the hell just_ _happened?_

He said his name was Chadwick MacFare. He had managed to get past her very efficient doorman. He knew her door code. He knew things about her. Who was he—and even more importantly, _what was_ _he?_

_More to the point_ , she told herself, _he wants to use me as bait!_

She gathered her wits and hurriedly changed the code at her steel door. There was no question of her staying in New York now. Tomorrow was the day she would start over once again.

Was he right? She was running—but one day she would make a mistake, slow down, and forget to look over her shoulder, and then what?

She would have to leave the rest of her possessions behind. She no longer had the time to pack and have the rest of her things forwarded. She had another six months on her lease. She would see the manager in the morning and give him a check.

She couldn't leave any hint of where she was going. Her airline ticket would be purchased in her new name and on the spot.

How had this Chad MacFare found her? Did it mean that Pentim would find her as well? It meant that Pentim might be closer to finding her, and the thought terrified her. She couldn't—wouldn't—let that happen. She didn't want to be one of them...

No slip-ups! She just couldn't take chances—or make a mistake. What were the odds that she wouldn't? Everyone slipped up sometime.

However, she couldn't think of that. She breathed a sigh of relief that she had already leased a cottage in the Highlands of Scotland months ago. That caused a momentary pause. Was it a coincidence that Chad MacFare was Scottish? Should that worry her? She chewed her bottom lip as she contemplated this and then shoved it aside. Scotland was a great span of glens and lochs, mountains and ravines, villages and towns. New York was a melting pot. Perhaps, even though he still had the accent, he was a New Yorker?

At any rate, she had to make a list in her mind of what she had to do, like calling a car dealership immediately to lease a car and have it delivered to the airport. Something not too conspicuous—something that would work in the Highlands, perhaps a Jeep. Yes, a Jeep—good, she was good, she told herself.

She moved over to her fire escape. Each of the four floors had a small balcony that opened up onto stairs to a dark and narrow alley below. She had decorated her balcony with potted plants and a tight sitting area. Night had already descended, and the mist had turned into a drizzling rain, so she sighed and was just about to turn away when she saw _him_.

The alley beneath her terraced fire escape was narrow at the street-side and widened to its dead-end. He stood at the street entrance of the alley, and there he had a young woman planted against the brick of the building. He hadn't bothered to put her in a trance, and she was ineffectually pushing against him in an effort to escape. He had his hand over her mouth.

Shawna didn't wait for more. She had one disadvantage—her high-heeled boots! Off they went before she stealthily moved down to the next landing. She took the rail and jumped, nimbly landing in a crouched position in her stocking feet. Then in one fluid movement she spanned the distance between herself and the newbie vamp.

Arcane words rolled off her tongue in Gaelic—a spell that shot a ray of sunlight all over the vamp and elicited a growl as he turned and shielded his face with his arms.

"Run!" Shawna yelled at the young woman. "Move—now! Run!"

She watched the girl take off in the direction of the street and then gave her full attention to the newbie vamp. He was trying to duck the ray of light Shawna had created all around him, when all at once she saw the expression on his face and knew the insanity had overcome the pain.

He snarled at her and lashed at the light as he stepped towards her. Shawna charged at him unwaveringly. She had trained most of her life for this moment. She knew what she had to do. She couldn't think about it—she had to just act. Had she stopped to think about it, she would have realized how frightened she really was.

He lunged for her and handed her an opportunity. She easily and with a speed he had not anticipated sidestepped his desperate and clumsy onslaught. She had her switchblade out of her pocket. It was no ordinary switchblade. Its bronze sheath housed a thin but deadly blade of locust hardwood. Before he could regroup, she sank that wood into the nape of the vampire's neck.

He gurgled and turned to stare at her with blood-soaked eyes. He clawed at the back of his neck and exposed his chest to her as though inviting her to finish the job.

In a fraction of a second, any dread she might have felt flew away. She had never killed before, but she couldn't allow this creature to live and repeat this night's work. She had the advantage. He was a newbie vampire, just recently turned. He did not have the skill or the discipline to fend her off. She plunged the sharp wooden blade into his dead heart and felt a tear well up in her eyes. She wasn't grieving for him but for herself—this was not how she wanted to live her life.

He would not disintegrate like the older ones tended to do when destroyed. He dropped to the cement in a heap. Shawna was a skilled white witch, and she immediately called on her spell of fire.

When she was done, only ashes were left of the vampire that had once been a human being. This time, Shawna grieved for the human in the ashes.

As she made her way back to her loft, she wondered how much of a coincidence this could be. What would a vampire be doing in this part of town? They usually did their hunting where there was more hustle and bustle and people to be found.

Still, she thought, this couldn't be one of Pentim's vamps. He was killing newbies, not creating them. No answers, just more questions.

All in all, she decided, it was a good thing she was leaving town.

~ Four ~

SHAWNA LOOKED OVER her shoulder as she maneuvered the Jeep out of the Inverness airport parking lot. A shy young man had met her with the keys, and he'd had someone waiting for him to take him back into town. Quick, easy, and ready to go—just what she needed.

She kept her eye on the road and watched for her turnoff as she familiarized herself with the controls of the car. The wheel wasn't where it belonged, and neither were the other cars! Whew! Something to get used to.

A movement out of the corner of her eye brought her head round. She did not at first see anything to cause her alarm, but the short hairs at the nape of her neck were electrified. Her body felt tense—and had been feeling that way for some moments. She was sure she was being watched. She had scanned her surroundings before she got into the white Wrangler Jeep, but she hadn't seen anything, or anyone, out of the ordinary.

And then as she turned the Jeep off the terminal road _, she saw Damon_.

He was tall, dark and moved with the air of a man who enjoys superior standing—at the very least in his own eyes. His profile, even in the shadow of the hanger, was more than familiar. She knew him. They had known one another for a few years, but they had rarely spoken.

The sky was overcast, but even so, she had seen him walk about in daylight as though it didn't matter and had always wondered how he was able to do that.

However, now he lingered in the shadowed part of the hanger as he scanned his surroundings.

Their gazes locked, and he was the first to turn away.

Shawna slowed to a stop and watched him. What the hell was he doing in Inverness—and at the same time she had arrived? This had to be more than a coincidence. Why was he traveling at such an early hour? He usually only traveled at night because he was a vampire—but no ordinary one.

He had always been a bit of a loner and usually kept to himself. He was a traveler, and she had come across him on many occasions in New York. She had even seen him once in a small town in upstate New York when she was just a young teen. Why was he here—now? Had one of Pentim's clan members gotten to him? Was he following her?

She felt sick to the pit of her stomach. Two reasons for that: One, did that mean they were already near? The other, she liked Damon Drummond and had, even though they rarely spoke, counted him a friend...

Shawna did a mental scan, taking in the entire geography all around him. She sniffed the cool air to make certain no other vamps were in the vicinity.

This done, she turned to the subject at hand. What the hell was he doing here? This had to be one of those times when it was just a rare coincidence—he and she being in Inverness at the same day, same time—didn't it?

Shawna had never felt threatened by him before. However, things changed, and she knew that. People—vamps—did things for all sorts of reasons, sometimes even almost noble reasons. _She couldn't trust anyone_.

He watched her with a quirky smile as she slowed to a stop. They nodded at one another before she picked up her speed and drove off. That they both were in Scotland—arrived on the same day, same airport... Well, that was something she had to wonder about. Should she stop? Should she question him? No, if he wanted to keep his reasons for being there to himself, she would learn nothing. Best to keep on going, keep her eyes open, and stay on the alert.

Was he running from the Pentim clan? They would want him. He was a singularly powerful vampire...

Possibly. At any rate, she would have to be careful.

Damon was tall, athletically built, powerful, and sexy. Before she had driven off, he had stared hard right into her eyes. As usual, she never got anything off him. He was totally unreadable.

Shawna shook her head—she was encountering one problem after another. Well, at least he had made no effort to hide himself from her. That was a good sign, wasn't it? If he were there as a spy, wouldn't he have kept a lower profile?

She didn't like that he knew she was in Scotland. Even if he didn't mean her harm now, there was always the outside chance that Pentim might manage to enlist him later.

She would have to do some investigating to determine Damon's purpose for being in Inverness. She knew he liked to stay to the cities, rarely venturing into the country. She had watched his activities over the years and had thought she had made up her mind about Damon's character in the mix of things. Perhaps she was wrong?

Damon was a vampire, but she wasn't sure he used human blood to survive... she just wasn't sure about anything with Damon. Shawna's investigations had revealed he wasn't a killer, at least not that she had witnessed.

She knew that once a vampire took a victim it was next to impossible for him to stop feeding. Only the very disciplined knew the art of control and had the strength to leave their victims alive. Shawna had often wondered how he had managed to retain some of the conscience that must have been his before his turning. And recently, Shawna had a sense that he was using an alternative to blood. Damon was a mystery she had not figured out.

The road suddenly got complicated and required her attention. She had to study where she was going. She didn't want to make any mistakes or ask directions. She had her GPS and concentrated on following its firm instructions.

She watched her rearview mirror but saw no sign of Damon at her back, and her breathing steadied. Once, early in their acquaintance, after a chance encounter, he had sent her a whisper on the wind—calling her to wait for him.

Their most recent encounter had occurred a few months back when she was in her last term at NYU. Shawna felt him—saw him—at once and held her books closer to her body. Dusk was just hovering over the city, and she watched him take long, firm strides towards her. She knew who he was. He had never posed a threat in the past, but neither had he ever approached her so purposely before.

His presence filled her silver eyes. He had an alpha force, and his dark good looks drew attention to himself. There was no denying that her heart beat just a bit faster as he came to stand directly before and towering over her.

She had looked up into dark gold eyes and waited for him to speak, and when he did, she was surprised. Although she'd known for a long time that he was British, for some reason his accent always surprised her.

"Hello, Shawna." His voice was quiet but strong and held her attention.

"Hello, Damon." How odd, she thought, using their first names without ever being really introduced.

"Things are stirring up within the different clans. Don't get caught in the middle." His beautiful voice was soft, and although his words took on the shape of a command, the gentleness about it once again surprised her.

"I never do."

"It is different this time. Pentim Rawley wants more than control."

"And what is it that he wants that could be more than control?"

"Genocide. He wants to eliminate all but a few clans, and he wants something else, Shawna."

"What could that be?"

"I hear tell he is looking for his daughter. She is the only child he was ever able to father with a human, and he has only just recently discovered that she exists."

"And who can this 'daughter' be?" Shawna fought the trembling that had started in her heart.

"He doesn't know. He has sent his minions to fan out and find him any human who seems... different than the rest." His gold-flecked dark eyes locked with her silver pools and wouldn't let go.

Finally she broke free. "I don't know why you felt moved to tell me this, Damon, but nevertheless, I thank you."

"Indeed." He inclined his handsome head. "You are most welcome."

He had left her abruptly, and she hadn't seen him since that evening until now...

An hour later, thankful and blessing the Jeep's GPS, Shawna stood before the cottage she had leased for the next six months.

* * *

Shawna had of course seen a picture of the dark-blue–roofed and charming cottage on the Internet, but nothing had prepared her for its Old World charm.

It was made of creamy stucco on the outside, with shutters that matched the color of the blue roof, and the window boxes were overflowing with vibrant and colorful flowers.

The cottage stood alone at the peak of a rolling hillside full with scattered old and regal oak trees. No other homes were within view. A flagstone path lined with flowers of every hue led to the oval-windowed oak front door.

The sound of a car on the road at her back brought her head round to watch as a middle-aged woman drove her yellow Volkswagen to a stop only a few feet from where Shawna stood.

The newcomer was wearing a gray pants suit and a camel-haired coat. She got out of her car with a flourish of smiles and waving extremities. "Welcome, dear, welcome." She gave Shawna a once over and clucked her tongue. "Why you are the very slip of a girl... just look at you."

The woman came barreling in Shawna's direction as she extended her hand, took Shawna's, and drew her in for a bear hug.

Shawna laughed right out loud, as there didn't seem to be anything else she could do but give over to the strange woman's exuberance.

The woman released her as suddenly as she had hugged her, patted her shoulder, and introduced herself. "You know me, don't you, child? I am Mrs. Carver. We exchanged emails, dear. I am your leasing agent for the cottage. I just wanted to be here with you when you arrived so that I could show you about and make sure everything was in order for you."

"Ah, Mrs. Carver, yes, of course—your picture was on the site..." Shawna smiled. "How kind of you to come out here, and, yes, that would be so great."

Mrs. Carver beamed, evidently well pleased with Shawna's manners. She proceeded to give her a very thorough tour, wrapping up instructions as she stood by the small wood-burning stove. "That's right, dear—you have all the wood you'll need in the outside shed."

The heavy clank of the metal doorknocker sounded at the front door, and both women turned to stare at the closed door before looking in inquiry at one another. Mrs. Carver was the first to comment. "Are you expecting anyone, dear?"

Shawna frowned and shook her head. "No... no, I am not."

"Well, then... who can it be?" She walked to the door and firmly pulled it open.

Both Mrs. Carver and Shawna looked with surprise at the large man standing just a bit awkwardly at the open door. He was tall, lean, and pleasant looking. A reticence in his hazel eyes made Shawna immediately think he was shy-natured.

It was, however, Mrs. Carver who broke the silence by clucking her tongue, and Shawna was surprised to witness an odd expression on the older woman's face. She nodded at the man, but her demeanor changed, and she became suddenly quiet as she stepped aside and invited him in with a soft wave of her hand. "Aye, then, 'tis Squire MacDunn—how nice." She then moved backwards into the room, and a half smile flitted over her face as she introduced him to Shawna.

The squire was staring at Shawna and holding up a bouquet of flowers towards her. Mrs. Carver stepped up to the plate and took the flowers. "Lovely—I'll just put them in water." She looked towards Shawna, and her lips tightened as she said, "Shawna MacBay... this is the owner of MacDunn Cottage, Squire Kenneth MacDunn."

He closed the door at his back and stepped into the room. Shawna smiled as she looked into his hazel eyes, and Mrs. Carver arched her brow before she left them to fetch a vase for the yellow daffodils.

Shawna gave the young squire her hand and suppressed a giggle as she glanced towards Mrs. Carver, who had begun fussing because the vase wasn't quite the right size. Shawna waved her new guest inside. "I am very pleased to meet you, Squire Kenneth MacDunn. Please come in—sit."

"No, no, I can't really stay, and I realize that you must have a great deal to do, Ms. MacBay."

Her new surname got stuck in her mind for a moment. How would she ever get used to it? She had chosen the Scottish name to fit in easily with the locals. She didn't want any name that would stick out to someone who was searching about.

"Shawna, please," she offered. She waved him to a chair. "I'm not busy at all. Come in, please, and sit with us."

He reached for and took her hand and raised it to his lips in an Old World style that made her feel as though everything was surreal. He bent over her fingers and with a soft Scottish burr murmured, "Shawna MacBay, a pleasant mixture of Irish and Scott, eh? I am very pleased to have you as my tenant and neighbor."

"Neighbor is it?" Mrs. Carver sniffed as she set the vase of yellow daffodils on the coffee table. "The squire is too modest as usual."

Something less than a compliment lay behind Mrs. Carver's words, and Shawna sensed it at once, although the squire didn't appear to take umbrage.

Mrs. Carver went on to say, "The squire is a bit more than your neighbor, dear. He owns this cottage and all the land bordering it as well. His is the beautiful manor you might have seen on your way down Darby Road."

"Oh!" Shawna was surprised. "Yes, I did notice a gated driveway..."

"Aye then, that was MacDunn Manor." Mrs. Carver nodded, but no smile appeared on her face or in her eyes as she came to stand beside Shawna.

Shawna smiled tentatively, unsure what was behind the woman's sudden mood swing. However, the squire seemed oblivious or unconcerned as he took up a place at the far end of the sofa. A quick survey of the squire had registered the notion with Shawna that he was too young to harbor all the sorrow that seemed to temper his demeanor.

Another glance at him told her that he was probably in his late twenties, that his hair, a pale shade of brown, was already tinged with gray, and that his hazel eyes were soft and shaded with quiet.

He wore a simple navy wool blazer over a heavy pale blue sweater and jeans, and as she brought her silver eyes back up to his face, she saw a smile of amusement curving his lips. Apparently he had been taken stock of her as well.

She immediately decided there was certainly something very appealing about the squire. She turned around to find Mrs. Carver still frowning.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to bear down on you when you first arrived, but I wanted to welcome you to the cottage and extend an invitation to you to enjoy the trails and bridle paths if walking and riding are pastimes that might be your inclination," the squire offered into the sudden silence.

"Thank you, but riding? Is there a stable nearby that leases horses?" It was one of the things Shawna had been missing in the last six months.

"Yes, there is, but you needn't bother with a hack horse. I have wonderful horses at the manor. You are welcome to come up and speak with my stableman about fitting you to a mount. My mother used to ride..." He frowned and looked away, and then he scanned the room with a sad smile. "It's been a long time since this cottage had a tenant."

"Why is that? This place is beautiful." Shawna was surprised. "I would have thought it would stay occupied year round."

He inclined his head. "My mother lived here, but I lost her a little over a year ago."

"Oh—I am sorry..."

He gave her a slight inclination of his head, and Mrs. Carver apparently decided it was time to change the subject. "Where are my manners? May we offer you some tea, Squire?" She moved off towards the kitchen again. "You would like that, wouldn't you, dear, after your long journey?"

"Do I have tea and biscuits in the place?" Shawna laughed.

"Aye, enough groceries to keep you a few days—I didn't want you to come to an empty house and have to go shopping right off."

"You are a dream, Mrs. Carver."

"Aye, so my family knows but won't tell me."

Shawna laughed and turned to the squire. "Well then, thanks to Mrs. Carver, tea and biscuits."

He laughed. "Apparently."

"So all this land belongs to you?" Shawna's eyes opened slightly with her interest.

"Aye, right up to the south road into town."

Shawna almost snorted but checked herself. "What, only the south? Not the east, west, and north?"

"Och no, _'_ _tisn't I_ that owns all that..." His face took on an odd expression.

Shawna's mind started working—a rival? Something in the way the squire's eye had twitched ever so slightly when he spoke made her wonder. Did people with so much land still fight for more? Old feuds?

He laughed it all away with a flick of his hand. "My estate lands have been in the family for centuries. I take no credit for their acquisition and have little interest in adding any more taxable land to my deeds."

She imagined it would take crafty economic sense to maintain so much land, and something told her he wasn't being honest about how he felt about it. 'Old feud' question clicked in her mind again. She shrugged it off. He was a stranger. Why should he open up to her in the first five minutes of their meeting—and why should she care? Was it because she found him attractive?

Mrs. Carver arrived with a tray of tea and cookies and set it on the coffee table in front of Shawna. "There, dear..." Obviously she expected Shawna to serve, and with a twinkle, Shawna began the Old World tradition.

Mrs. Carver rattled on casually about various things she felt Shawna should know about the refrigerator, the village, the weather, and anything else that popped into her busy brain. However, something was behind it all—something forced, as though she were purposely being more polite than normal. Shawna filed this for later thought.

All at once, Mrs. Carver looked at her watched and jumped to her feet. "Och, but look at the time. I have an appointment to show someone a house and must rush. Don't get up... I'll just show myself out." She bent to Shawna and gave her arm a squeeze as she dropped a kiss on her cheek. "There now, dear, you need anything, you call me. My card is on your little desk over there..." She indicated with her chin, and then with a bustle and a laugh she was gone.

The young squire and Shawna looked at one another and burst out laughing together. Shawna hadn't had a good laugh like that in ages. She was still tickled when she said, "She is fantastic, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is very thorough in her work, although I fear she does not approve of me."

"But why wouldn't she?" Shawna's delicate brows went up.

He got to his feet and, with his hands up, said, "Probably because I am a bachelor with a reputation." He chuckled over this and sighed. "Well then, before I overstay my welcome, I thank you and _Mrs._ _Carver_ for the tea and welcome you most heartily to MacDunn cottage, Ms. MacBay."

"Shawna, please, and thanks for stopping by, and the flowers."

She was surprised then to see his eyes slowly glance over her body before they came back to her face. It was done unobtrusively, and it was done with quiet admiration, yet Shawna took a mental step away.

Oh, she liked the squire, but she didn't need or want a romantic entanglement.

He reached for her hand and clasped it warmly in both of his, taking a moment before he offered on a low note, "Please... Ms. MacBay... if you need anything—call." He looked right into her eyes before he slowly released her hand. He reached into an inner pocket. "I prepared this for you. It has both my cell and my home phone. Don't forget, you call."

He was looking for an invitation to do the same. She ignored it. She just couldn't become attached to anyone—no matter how attractive that 'anyone' was. Her time there was temporary. Without reminding him to call her Shawna, she took the piece of paper he handed her, and waved it slightly. "Thanks."

~ Five ~

AN HOUR AFTER the squire and Mrs. Carver left, the house phone rang, and Shawna nearly jumped out of her skin. She had not asked for a phone to be installed, but evidently there was one—somewhere.

She followed the sound and found it on the kitchen wall. Picking up the receiver, she said tentatively, "Hello?"

"Hello, dear, Mrs. Carver here."

Shawna's eyes opened wide with surprise. "Mrs. Carver?"

"That's right, it's me. I thought that I should tell you one or two things more you might be needing to know."

"That is very nice, Mrs. Carver, but this phone... I did not ask for—"

"No, you didn't, dear, but don't worry. It isn't yours to maintain. The squire never had it removed. It is still in his mother's name, which brings us to the subject. I thought you should know about the squire's mother. She was very highly regarded here in the village—the very broth of a woman. She liked to keep to herself and didn't have any close friends. However, she was quite the grand lady in spite of rumors. The squire was her only child, and they were very close. He was more than a little distraught when she became so gravely ill. He brought in every specialist there was to be had, but no one was able to stop the inevitable. He took it very hard."

Shawna frowned to herself. Why was Mrs. Carver telling her this? Idle gossip? "Thank you, Mrs. Carver, for letting me know."

"Aye, surprised he even mentioned her at all—doesn't as a rule. And then to offer up her horses—well, my dear, that is quite something."

"Perhaps he just wants to see them exercised..."

"Och no—I think he was very taken with you."

Clearly her tone indicated that while she was impressed she was not pleased. Shawna puzzled over this. Just what was the woman trying to tell her? "He was just being kind," Shawna offered.

"Was he? I don't know about that. He doesn't mingle with the locals. Much like his mother, he keeps to himself, and I have never seen him bother with any of our pretties here in Stockton Village—even before..." She lowered her voice. "But I have friends in Inverness, and I'm told he has a woman for every night of the week when he is there. It is, in fact, where he has been most of the year—in Inverness... cavorting as it were."

A short laugh escaped Shawna. Apparently Mrs. Carver was the town gossip as well as the leading real estate agent. "Don't worry about me, Mrs. Carver. I'm not interested in the young squire."

"Good girl. I have always thought the quiet ones like him are the dangerous ones. Don't want him turning your head and then hurting you in the end, which is what that sort tend to do."

Shawna smiled at the phone. Apparently, Mrs. Carver had adopted her. "I can't thank you enough for everything, Mrs. Carver. The groceries, meeting me here—bringing me up to date on everything..." And before she could stop herself, she added, "You'll have to come to dinner one night."

"Do you cook, love?"

"Hmm, and I'm not half bad."

Mrs. Carver let go a hearty laugh. "I'll leave you to yourself now. Get some rest."

Shawna put down the phone, returned to the tray of tea and biscuits, picked up one of the little shortbread cookies, and sank onto the sofa.

She popped the cookie in her mouth and looked around. She should be jet-lagged and tired, but she wasn't. She was, instead, hyped and anxious. She wanted to know her surroundings—who lived where, and who was who.

Her initial investigation while she had still been in New York had led her to believe that Stockton was devoid of vamps. The town was too small—not enough pickings, and everyone knew everyone, making it dangerous for a vamp to dine.

She got up and locked the door, turning towards the kitchen just as her cell phone rang. What the hell was going on?

She hadn't had a phone ring in her apartment in New York, or on her person, for ages, and now phones were ringing everywhere! She reached for her bag at the foot of the couch and took the cell phone out. She stared at it as it rang. No one knew the number. She had only used it once at the airport to call her grandparents.

She flipped it open, and half believing it would be a wrong number, she said, "Y-es?"

" _Do you miss me?"_

She held the phone away and stared at it. It was him! It was that devil Chad MacFare. "How did you get my number?"

"Ah, have you been careless, Shawna?"

His voice was a low Scottish drawl, and the sound of him made her eyelids lazy. She could picture him standing there...

_Snap out of it, girl_. "No—I have not missed you. Now tell me, since I picked this phone up at the airport in New York, and I know that no one has this number, how did _you get this number_?"

"Shawna, there are many things I can do— _can have_ —if I want. The question is—how can you protect yourself without me?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I want to sever Pentim Rawley's head from the rest of his body and watch him disintegrate."

She didn't know why, but this reason irritated her. Chad MacFare had said he would protect her, but he wanted to set her up as bait _. Conflict there_! He wanted Pentim to find her after all this time of evading the super vamp! How could she trust MacFare?

Her body did things to her mind when he was near—even as she heard his soft, oh so tantalizing voice on the phone, her thighs started to quiver and she felt herself curve towards his voice. He was no knight in shining armor. She probably would never find or, even if she did, be able to have her knight—she was dangerous to be around. She shrugged the wayward thoughts off.

"Shawna—Shawna..."

"What?"

"You have only one choice—draw him to you... and let me be there when he comes."

"Go to hell!" Shawna shut the phone down and tossed it on the sofa. She moved towards the kitchen. She was going to get some more cookies, and then she was going to crash.

* * *

Shawna awoke during the night and frowned. It wasn't a pitch-black sky—in fact, it was lit up bright with both moon and stars. She could see the moon from a corner of her window, and it was a mellow hue with pockets of darkness, eerie, she thought suddenly as a shiver meandered down her spine.

Shawna stared through the darkness with her exceptional eyesight. The shiver exploded into many that rushed her body in a wave _. Wrong,_ her mind whispered. _Something is wrong._

She got up and went to look out of the lead-paned glass, half afraid of what she would see. At first, all she could make out was the velvet sky dotted throughout with twinkling lights and the moon that looked like it belonged to the harvest fall.

Someone—something was out there.

She could feel it move and slither from tree to tree as it approached the cottage. Was it coming towards the cottage? No—it was leaving. It had already been! She went rigid. It didn't move like a vamp. She got a sense of its shape—dark and hunched over. It suddenly stopped and backed away, as though it knew she watched its movements. It turned, stopped; it seemed as though it were looking right at her. She gasped and planted herself against the wall adjacent to the window.

What was it? What had she seen? Eyes—had those blue firelights been eyes? It wasn't an animal—of that she was certain. It wasn't human—but what? She had to steel herself to look again.

The thing no longer looked her way. Its movements were erratic and unnatural, but it was moving further into the woods that bordered her backyard.

She felt an electric sizzle in the atmosphere all around the creature. What was that? It blended with the air in a blue neon light. Then, suddenly, it was gone.

Had it been at her bedroom window? Was that why she woke up? Her hearing was exceptional. Had it seen her rise from her bed and move towards the window? All her instincts told her _yes_. However, none of those instincts told her what the thing was.

Acquaintances in the past had told her to get a dog when they heard she lived alone. She wanted a dog. She had a German Sheppard growing up, Dixie. When she lost her sweet Dix to old age, it had hurt, but she knew now that it would have hurt so much more if a vamp sent by Pentim had torn out her dog's throat. No—she couldn't have a dog, because that was precisely what one of Pentim's vamps would do, just for fun.

No dog for her, and suddenly Shawna wanted to cry. She was so tired of living alone—not being able to see her grandparents, not being able to have a life.

Maybe she _should_ offer herself up as bait like Chad MacFare wanted her to do? Get the whole damn thing over with? Maybe it would work? What did she have to lose? Her life—no, it wasn't her life she would lose. Pentim wanted her alive. He wanted her to become one of them, but she would lose her soul.

That was a big chance to take. Chad MacFare was asking a great deal of her. She wasn't quite ready to do that yet. For now, she was going to have to go into town and buy a few things. She needed to booby-trap the place.

* * *

Shawna stuffed her shopping bags into her Jeep and blew her bangs away from her eyes. She looked around at the charming and busy little village of Stockton. It had taken her awhile, but she had finally collected all the things she would need to set up her alarm system and her traps. That wasn't all she needed though: she needed an escape route.

"Hello, dear." Mrs. Carver waved as she rushed towards her.

"Hi, Mrs. Carver—how's it going?"

Shawna set the last bag inside her Jeep and turned to smile at the woman; however, Mrs. Carver stopped abruptly and gave her a hasty smile before veering off the avenue. "Call me when you have a moment."

Shawna looked around in surprise but could see nothing out of the ordinary. What had suddenly changed the woman's mind and direction? She shrugged to herself and got into her car.

Her thoughts were bouncing into one another. She needed an escape route from the cottage. Before she could set that up, she needed to get a lay of the land that surrounded her present home. It was time she did a reconnaissance of the area.

Ten minutes later she was setting her purchases down on the kitchen floor. Then she took a tour of all the windows in the place, ending in the back room, presently arranged as a modern laundry room. It contained both a door and a window leading to a beautifully landscaped backyard. She tested the window first and discovered that it was jammed tight by fresh paint, but the door opened easily. Hmmm, too easily—she would have to do something about that.

She stepped out onto a small, bluestone-covered patio. It displayed a set of wrought iron garden furniture and was flanked on two sides by trimmed evergreens. She wondered if it was the squire who sent a gardener over to take care of the prettily maintained lawn and shrubbery.

The backyard was small and fenced in with very tall evergreen trees. The entire scene looked as though it had been painted right out of a fairytale story. Bright yellow daffodils and tulips had begun to open and caught the eye. The scent of lavender from the huge lavender bushes was delicious, and Shawna breathed in deeply, smiling. The total effect was charming.

She reached out to touch the pretty blooms as she passed, bent and breathed in their aromatic scent, and for a moment, just a moment, was able to forget about the entity she had seen the night before, forget about the vampire stalkers searching for her—until she remembered and sighed heavily.

She walked towards the tall, thick hemlocks and discovered that just behind them was a narrow path that forked in two directions. One led to the open pastures and the other to a deep, dark wood.

Time to explore. She screwed up her courage and forged towards the forest path with firm, long strides. It was daylight, so she had nothing to fear from vampires. Even so, she felt for her special switchblade in her back pocket and gave it a pat.

Shawna had always believed the human in her was fit. However, the woods undulated in a rolling pattern, and after she had walked for at least a mile, she stopped and sucked in some air, complaining to herself out loud, "Hills—I hate hills."

She didn't want to switch into vampire mode. She had always told herself that she had to behave like a human to be one; she believed in saving the vamp part of her energy for 'life 'n' death' situations.

The path ahead seemed to veer off and level off, so she started forward once more. She had been following a well-used deer path when she came across a wider trail, probably the bridle path. She stopped and looked around, taking in all her surroundings, since she still had to find her way back.

What was left of the sun was being obscured by swiftly rolling clouds. It was getting late, and she had things to set up at the cottage. Time to turn back, but as she brushed her long blonde hair away from her face, something flew into her eye. She rubbed at it, dislodging the dust, and her eye began to tear. Without warning, a tingle of fear sprinted up her back. Shawna stopped all movement as she stood like a statue.

A sudden rustle, a flash of activity, indicated something larger than a squirrel was on the move. She instinctively dove for cover behind a cluster of evergreen trees. Her sharp vampire gaze scanned the woods.

However, this time she heard, but did not see, the sound of shuffling as though something were dragging its feet—large feet. Again, she caught the haze of something dark as it flashed by, but she couldn't quite make out the shape.

Something was watching her—but what, and why? Did it have something to do with what she had seen last night? Did Pentim have something to do with this? Had he already discovered who and where she was?

She stood her ground—she had two weapons with her, both in her pockets. One was the deadly vampire killer, and the other was a white witch's helper.

She had to keep her head and use her skill if attacked—there was nothing else she could do. She had to face it head on.

She had packed and sent a small arsenal of various weapons via air to the cottage some weeks ago but stupidly had not equipped herself with any of those weapons before she went on this excursion. She had listed them for customs as collectors' items, and indeed, so they appeared—but they were much more.

She continued to wait, dropping into a crouch and listening. Nothing moved, not even the birds. It was as though the air was charged with an electric force, and every living creature in the forest around her was intuitively hiding.

She unbent and warily started out of the woods towards the open pasture that bordered the wide stretch of forest. Nervously she watched over her shoulder as she tramped through the tall grass and found another deer path. This—whatever it might be—was stalking her.

It wasn't a vampire of any kind. She would have known if it had been a vamp, as they gave off an unmistakable aroma—not exactly bad, or good, but distinct.

She counted the things she knew. It wasn't human. It wasn't a vamp, and like a demon it exuded evil. Was it a demon, and if so, what did it want with her?

The land rolled and curved and traveled with the open pasture. Her deer path took her up over a steep hill and away from the woods. However, as she reached the peak of the hill, she saw someone coming out of the forest's darkness. His light brown hair blew around his pleasant face, and as he saw her, he put up his walking stick and waved.

Shawna knew him at once even though he was at quite a distance. She had vamp sight, but how had he known her from so far? She was always wary but gave him the benefit of the doubt, telling herself that no doubt he simply assumed it had to be her, so close to the cottage grounds.

His smile grew as he approached and called out to her, "I thought it must be you! Hello."

Again, she found that she liked the look of him. Tall, just a bit lanky, he exuded a healthy, outdoorsy glow. He wore the same navy wool jacket she had seen him in the previous day, and a cream-colored turtleneck sweater peeked out at the neckline. He looked exceptionally pleased to see her. "You've walked quite a distance, Ms. MacBay."

She put up her hand and gave him a hearty wave, pleased to have company and dispel the sensation of being watched. "Shawna—remember?" As soon as she said this she wanted to kick herself. She had to keep things standoffish. However, she supposed that being on a first-name basis didn't mean it had to go any further, right?

He inclined his head. "Very well, I do." He looked up at the sky and then back at her with a happy grin. "What a glorious day for a hike."

"It is, and these rolling hills have given me just the workout I needed."

The squire used his walking stick and brushed away some of the tall grass as she fell into step with him.

It occurred to her that when they met at the cottage he didn't have a walking stick with him. Perhaps he used it only when he went hiking? A quick glance told her it was definitely an antique, and the carvings sketched throughout its length were, she thought, intriguing—no doubt a family heirloom.

He looked her over without reserve, which surprised her. She remembered what Mrs. Carver had told her about the 'playboy' squire. Here was a quiet-styled bad boy? It was hard to believe. Her instincts weren't on the alert, and she usually had a good sense for that sort of guy—she would not have thought it about him.

His voice was soft, and his smile was charming. "You don't look like you need a workout."

She laughed and waved this off. "I will after I get back to the cottage and devour every speck of food in the fridge. This wonderful highland air has me famished."

He smiled and looked around. "Aye, the air will do that to you."

Shawna realized she was being friendlier than was her norm since she'd gone on the run six months ago. She hadn't been in a position to extend herself in friendship to anyone and had even had to blow off some of the friends she had made during her university life. She shifted into retreat, and he noticed at once.

"What? What have I said?"

"What do you mean?"

"All of a sudden, you vanished on me. There you were, bright and shiny, and then gone into somewhere dark and obscure."

"Obscure, is it? I can't remember anyone ever calling me that." She laughed and shook her head.

A smile transformed his serious expression. "Ah Shawna, I have used the wrong adjective, haven't I? Obscure indeed! You stand out like a single blue rose in a field of yellow..."

"Oh boy—both ends of the spectrum here." She laughed. "A simple hello, you are looking well, Shawna MacBay, would have done just fine, sir."

"Forgive me—and hello, you are looking so very well, Shawna MacBay." He smiled widely. "Better?"

"Hmmm, getting there," she returned. Still wanting to keep the conversation light, she immediately interjected, "Taking a hike yourself, Kenneth—your manor house must be quite a distance from here?"

"Oh, less than you would think. I have only to cross through the woods to my place." He eyed her. "I should take you back with me and feed you. I am certain we can come up with something to satisfy your... er... hunger."

She saw the flirt in his hazel eyes and allowed him a slight smirk. "I am sure _we_ could, but home I must go."

"Then I will take a promise from you to have tea with me soon."

"Tea—I would like that." After a pause she regarded him seriously for a moment and asked, "Do you walk these trails alone every day?"

"I do when in residence, yes, but today I got out earlier than usual." He shrugged and then grinned conspiratorially. "Escaped you see."

"Escaped?"

"I was having a hellish day with my attorney. He wanted me to attend to matters I haven't any patience for today, so I excused myself and left him to fidget through the papers himself." He regarded her meaningfully. "I am sure his mood is now worse, but I on the other hand am better—much better."

Shawna laughed. "Naughty boy."

"Hmmm. Don't like paperwork."

"Yup—I feel that," Shawna remarked absently as she scanned the edge of the woods. Whatever had been following her was presently gone.

"Not just paperwork, but there were phone calls he wished me to make—appointments he wanted me to arrange. _Not today_." He grinned like a boy. "Playing hooky, and damn glad that I am, for it led me to you."

Shawna's lips curved slightly as she inclined her head and then looked away. "Hmm, I usually find that walking does something wonderful for the soul."

"Yes, but good company over a meal does so much more. Come on then, Shawna, walk with me to my home, and then I'll drive you to the cottage after you have properly satisfied your appetite."

Shawna saw a sexual gleam in his eyes and inwardly paused. She liked him, and she wondered if she could like him more. But—no point in that. She shook her head. "I would love to, but I have to get back and unpack a few more boxes."

"Right, I won't press you any longer on this now, but soon, Shawna MacBay, you will take tea... at the very least, tea with me."

She inclined her head. "Okay, you have a deal." Before she could stop herself she dove in and asked, "Kenneth, do you have wild boars in this region?"

He laughed. "Boars? No, no. Why do you ask?"

"When I was in the wood, I thought I saw something... foraging, and I thought I saw a dark shape that might have resembled a very large wild boar." She gave him a half-truth. She was actually fishing. She wanted to know if he had seen anything unusual recently in the woods.

The squire looked puzzled. "It was probably just a trick of light and shadows. No doubt, it was one of the younger bucks." He eyed her quizzically. "Do you feel uneasy?" He chuckled and reached for her arm. "Come then, I'll walk you home."

"No, that is silly. I can't let you do that."

"You don't have a choice—besides, I have always wanted to rescue a damsel in distress. You will be doing me a great service as it will keep me away from my desk and the stack of work waiting for me."

She laughed. "Damsel in distress—I don't see her."

He winked. "Nor do I."

She allowed him to walk her back to the narrow path that led to her cottage, and there she turned to him. She couldn't allow him to take her to her door. She didn't want him to see all the wire and contraptions she had laid out all over the floor.

"I can't take you any further out of your way," she said as she extended her hand.

"Can't you now?" He arched a look at her and then apparently decided to let it go. "I suppose I do have to get back and give myself over to my attorney for an hour or so before he leaves." He already had her hand to his lips.

She felt a wave of relief, as she half expected him to insist taking her to her door, and then she would have been obliged to ask him in. "Thank you, Kenneth, for the company."

He smiled, and she started off. She turned, gave him a wave, and watched as he cut a path through the tall grass, back towards the woods.

She liked the squire. He was personable, friendly, and easy to talk to, and by the time she reached her laundry room door, she was sighing over him. It was just too bad that she would have to cut off their friendship at some point.

~ Six ~

SHAWNA LOOKED OUT the window and scowled over the grayness of the day. It held a sure promise of rain, heavy rain, and the air was cold and damp. She hugged her pretty cream-colored sweater around herself. She had unpacked the last of her 'weapons' and had them scattered throughout the house where she could easily and readily get a hold of each.

She had laid out all her wiring and various other materials the day before when she returned from her walk with the squire but hadn't set them all.

She looked at what was left and sighed. _Traps_ —she needed them at every window, although she did not believe any vamps were even in the area of Stockton.

She was setting an alarm at the kitchen window when the cell phone rang and made her jump. Frowning, she looked in its direction. It was still on the brown leather sofa where she had thrown it the other day. Off—she was sure it was shut down. It shouldn't be ringing.

She hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her, and she moved to pick it up. She flipped it open—yup, it was off. The next ring jingled right through her, and her fingers trembled. How was this possible?

Out of habit, she pressed it on (sure that was probably unnecessary), and murmured a tentative, "He-llo?"

A familiar, oh so sexy brogue came back at her. That brogue, that voice that she would know anywhere, was soft and enticing and made her body melt. "Hello, Shawna— _miss me_?"

"Chadwick MacFare... how... my phone was off."

"Aye, I know that, lass—no matter."

She could almost see his smug expression. "What are you?" Shawna demanded.

"It isn't important."

"It is to me."

"It shouldn't be. All that should be important to you is surviving, and you won't until you come to me."

"Ha! Give it up, buddy."

"You know that is what you have to do."

"Fat chance, fella—I don't trust you."

"Then, I'll just have to come to you."

She heard the hinge creak and spun around to find Chadwick MacFare standing in her doorway. As he stepped through into her small cottage, she couldn't help but admire the height and breadth of the man. He wore a heavy wool-lined leather blazer and jeans. His tawny hair fell in thick layers and framed his handsome face. His eyes—she couldn't help but notice his green eyes were alight with mischief. He looked so damn proud of himself.

He was so damn hot it made her body quiver, and she found herself taking a step towards him, instead of away. "How—how did you find me? I know I wasn't followed... I know..."

He came right at her, scooped her into his arms, and molded her to his body for his kiss. His mouth pressed at and parted her lips. He had no problem there—her lips gave way before her brain could stop them. His tongue teased at the tip of her tongue as though teaching her what he wanted from her next. Again, no problem; her tongue was in league with her lips.

She found that his kiss evaporated all conscious thought and swept through her body until she pressed herself against his rock-hard maleness, waiting hungrily for more. He did not disappoint.

But then, and without warning, he pulled away and set her aside. She looked at him and felt the fool when she exclaimed, "How dare you?" _How dare you—_ she repeated silently in her mind. _He_ _dared because you let him._

He gave her a smirk, and his voice was low, husky when he repeated her thoughts. "I dared because you allowed it."

" _Ha!_ I needed you—I was just testing you!"

He was momentarily diverted from his purpose. "Testing me—for what? You let me kiss you, lass... nay, you more than let me."

She smirked at him. "Only to see how you compared..." She let the words fade off.

He frowned darkly. "Compared? _Hell and fire_..." he started to growl, and then he suddenly eyed her and grinned. He wagged a finger. "Ah lass... nice bluff."

"Don't bluff... truth—I was curious." She turned on her heel and took a step away.

He had her arm, allowing his hand to slide down the sleeve of her sweater and take her hand as he shook his head. "Shawna, you can't stay here alone. Come with me now."

"I'm doing just fine."

"I found you, lass. So will they."

"They haven't."

"No, not yet, but you don't know who you can trust around here."

"I know who is a vamp and who is not."

"There are more than vamps you have to worry about."

She snorted. "I know—because in the mix there is Mr. Chadwick MacFare."

"Correction—not Mr. but Lord." He inclined his handsome head, and his green eyes twinkled at her when he brought them back to her face. "I am the Earl of Darby—Lord Chadwick MacFare."

"Oh, give me a break."

"No, honestly, I am, not that it matters to me, but there it is. I am titled—and independently wealthy—so ask yourself, why would I want to harm you? What would be the point?"

" _You want to put me out there as bait_."

"Yes, I do mean to use you as bait—and I have been honest about it. So ask yourself, why should you doubt me?"

"It is because you want me for your own agenda. I don't know when you will be willing to sacrifice me to achieve that agenda."

"I won't sacrifice you," he said gravely.

"But you want to dangle me as bait. Out—just get out."

He backed her further into the room. "No."

"No? What do you mean—no?" She wagged a finger at him. "This is my place, my space, and I want you out—now!"

He swept past her and went into the kitchen. There he took the kettle, filled it with water, and put it on the stove. Shawna's jaw dropped, and her mouth opened with words that didn't seem to find a voice. She spluttered.

He turned, and his lips curved into a 'death by smile' with eyes that tempted with 'come hither' lights.

Shawna took a step backwards and pointed a finger this time because he was already in her refrigerator, pulling out cheese and biscuits. "Ah, these will do," he murmured.

"Will do?" she managed to shout. "OUT—out... you... out." Oh, she thought, she had a wonderful way with words.

He moved towards her again, but even as his body brushed against hers, he didn't stop. Instead he went to relax on her brown leather couch. He patted it. "Come, sit with me, lass, and be comfortable until the kettle whistles."

She stood with her arms folded across her middle. "You have no right to come in here and make yourself at home."

"Ah, perhaps no right, but I have decided it is the only way for us to proceed."

"The only way—the only way to proceed to what?"

"Sit, and I will tell you."

Reluctantly she took up a ladies' chair facing him. "Okay, I am sitting."

"What kind of research did you do on your neighbors, lass, before you decided to settle here for a time?"

"Research... neighbors? I—I only investigated the area for... what I call reports of unusual murders. No vamps—at least none that I could find."

"Not very thorough, are you. That is your problem. You have tunnel vision. You are looking for a threat from just one narrow trail."

She nodded as she glared at him. "Yeah, I can see that. I've got a threat from another angle as well." She cocked a look at him, and he laughed out loud and slapped his knee.

"Cute—very, but you know I mean you no harm. When will you get that through your beautiful head?"

"When you leave me alone."

"Not going to happen."

The kettle let out a long scream for attention. He got up and ignored her as he went into the kitchen, took out a couple of tea bags, and asked, "Sugar, milk?"

She got up. "I can fix my own."

"Oooh, stubborn wench it is." He watched her as she huffed past him, took her mug, steeped her teabag, grabbed a biscuit and a napkin, and made her way back to the living room and sat with a thump.

She spread her food on her lap, put the tea on the side table, and without looking at him began to eat.

He put out his spread, with butter and jam and cheese and an apple that he had cut up into perfect wedges. She eyed his selection but turned away from it as soon as he glanced her way.

He finished his tea and the spread he had made himself without bothering to engage her in conversation. Then all at once he stood up and jovially announced, "Well, I'm off."

Shawna was flabbergasted. "You're off? What do you mean you're off? You barge in here, and then off you go without even telling me why you came in the first place?"

"I have come to realize that you wish to continue living the way you do until they catch up with you and turn you. _So be it."_ He started for the door.

"They won't find me—and they won't turn me."

"They will do both," he snapped as he reached the door. "They will find you, and you will be alone, without anyone at your side to help you. You are an annoying, silly, and stubborn little fool. I have lost interest in helping you. I can get to Pentim in other ways."

"Stubborn... silly little fool?" Shawna was on her feet and rushing for the doorknob before him. She pulled the door wide open and with one dramatic gesture hissed. "Right. So go—just go, Chadwick MacFare, and leave me alone."

His lips curved, his eyes glittering with annoyance. He inclined his head and stepped outside.

She watched him walk down the flagstone walkway to the silver Jaguar parked on the gravel road beside the cottage lawn. She watched him get inside and start his vehicle. She heard the engine purr and click as he put it into gear, and she watched him make his U-turn and drive away without a backwards glance.

"Good riddance," Shawna said out loud, but oddly enough, it wasn't how she felt. Something in the back of her mind told her she might need him one day soon. Her body actually quivered with disappointment. She really hadn't wanted him to go...

She closed her eyes for a long moment as she gathered all her resolve to forget him and his awful 'tea time' visit. She closed the door and looked around. She had to get back to her booby traps inside the house. The rain would be in her way; she would have to leave setting the traps around the outside of the cottage till tomorrow.

Tomorrow... would be a big day. First she would have to set all the traps completely around the entire cottage. She would have to be careful when repeating the ancient spells. That should stop any vamp in his tracks and give her enough time to get the upper hand.

And then, then she had to go into Inverness. She couldn't put it off any longer. She needed her supply of pig's blood. Blood sausage was popular in Scotland; no one would wonder at it.

She could only store it on a weekly basis, as she needed it to be fresh. In New York she was able to use many different butchers, and each was given a different story.

She couldn't use the butcher in the village—they would wonder what just one person needed with so much pig's blood.

She would leave that for a one-time deal, perhaps in an emergency. However, Inverness was a large enough metropolis, and she had found three butchers there between whom she planned to alternate. The quart of butcher blood that she had placed in a refrigerated container and paid for to go with her luggage would soon be finished.

She hated relying on blood. She knew that she could hunt, if she needed to, but that wasn't an option for Shawna. She loved animals, and killing any had to be the very last resort.

Sighing as a wayward picture of Chad MacFare slipped through her mind, she picked up a roll of the electric wire she had purchased and got to work.

* * *

Shawna maneuvered her Jeep from the Stockton country road onto the A9 and headed north to Inverness. It would be an easy drive. She had her list, a map, and a GPS, so she was confident she would find her way.

She was excited about her first real excursion into Scotland. She meant to head towards the _city centre_ , even though it meant diverting off course just a little to have a peek at the Inverness Castle, which overlooked the River Ness.

Chadwick MacFare's face tickled her mind's eye. He thought he knew what she was, but he didn't. All he knew was that Pentim Rawley had fathered her. There was so much more he couldn't possibly know—so much even Pentim did not know, because he hadn't known what her mother had been, or what her grandmother was.

Rachel had been the daughter of a long line of powerful white witches. Rachel had not reached her full maturity, and she was only just coming into her mana when Pentim decided to turn her.

She had been able to fight off Pentim's blood with her magic, and that was why she had not turned, but in the end, it was his blood that finally killed her.

Shawna had inherited all her maternal family's magical prowess. Her grandmother had trained her in the use of the same. Her grandfather was a sorcerer whose magic was unparalleled. Shawna's innate skills were made even stronger because of the vampire blood that was a part of her DNA.

Shawna was probably the most powerful witch of her time, and she knew it. She had to constantly remind herself to keep it in check. She wanted the edge of 'surprise' to be on her side, when she finally had to face Pentim and take him down. She knew that eventually there would be no other option...

She was afraid, however, because Chad had been correct when he told her that Pentim's clan not only outnumbered her but had 'special' abilities. Against great numbers, she could be subdued.

He was also right about not being able to run forever. She didn't want to. She knew one day she would have to face her father in a 'to the death' battle. She just wasn't ready yet.

For the time being, she had to lie low. She wouldn't be at full power until she turned twenty-five years old. Would she last that long?

She had more than vampire magic—more than white witch magic—going for her. She was a fighter. She had the speed, the technique of a super ninja, and the acrobatics of a gymnast, skills she had acquired from her grandparents' vigorous training.

She shook off these thoughts and concentrated on the list of things she needed. One: a new phone for sure, not that it would stop Chad MacFare—who no longer needed to be stopped, as he had walked away from her.

That still irritated her. She had not expected it. He had not called or showed up, and so he was presently out of the picture. She discovered that disturbing on levels she didn't want to contemplate.

She missed her grandparents and the long talks she used to have with them. She needed a new phone. Her grandmother had the power to see through airspace and find her, but Shawna knew her grams did not like to use that power. Her grandmother was concerned Pentim might feel the power in the air and lock onto it.

"So there, Chad MacFare—I can manage quite well without you," Shawna said out loud as she drove. "You think I am running, but I am not. I am honing my skills until the day comes when I can stop running—turn around, and take Pentim out. He is surrounded by his clan, but I'm going in, and I am going to be the one to kill him!" That belief curved her lips with satisfaction.

It didn't take her long to find the River Ness, park her car, and take a stroll by its edge. Shawna stared up at the Inverness Castle with longing. She had to find the time to go there and explore. How she loved castles, ancient manors, and Scottish and Irish history. However, she had to go to the market, get what she needed, and return home. She needed to get to the woods before nightfall and practice a skill she would need sometime very soon.

* * *

Pentim Rawley had a young girl in his arms. She was no more than fifteen and in shock. He had taken her from the streets during the night and had used her body until she fell unconscious. Now he meant to drain her. He liked the blood of the young ones. He was sure it made him more potent...

Some of his clan were already retiring to their quarters, although a few looked back longingly at the child he held in his arms. They had all fed that evening, but they always wanted what _he_ had.

He would always have to reign supreme... by watching his back, by accumulating power through them, turning one against the other so that none knew whom they could trust.

He bent towards the girl, and as he started to sink his fangs into her delicate neck, he got one of his visions, making him pause. It was a shadow vision, and it swirled in his brain, obliterating all thought. He saw a black cloud and someone moving within its tornado of dark grays. It was a tall, powerful man—not quite human, and he wielded a sword...

An aura surrounded the stranger. His body vibrated with power and magic, and as he lifted his sword, Pentim, who no longer felt fear, felt a tremor scurry up his spine.

The vision vanished, and Pentim knew at once that he and his clan would have to relocate soon. He was wealthy beyond imagination, so moving would be an easy thing. He would leave as soon as they found another suitable castle—perhaps outside Florence, in the hills. Ah, yes, they could feed on unsuspecting tourists...

He returned to the poor child in his arms and, without thought to the life he was taking, sank his sharp fangs!

~ Seven ~

SHAWNA WALKED ACROSS the busy avenue to where her Jeep was parked. Her silver eyes were veiled as she glanced around in what she hoped was a casual style. She needed to know who was in her vicinity at all times, if she were to survive.

That was when she saw him in the shadows of a nearby alley.

He wore a black baseball cap pulled low over his forehead, but she would have known him anywhere. Damon had a certain flair, a sure, grim moodiness, an aura all his own as he held himself aloof, apart from all others.

The collar of his white silk shirt trimmed the collar of the sleek black leather jacket he wore. His jeans fit him as only Armani jeans could fit. His black boots were trimmed in silver. _Oh yes, Damon had flair._

He eyed her with his usual cockiness, but a slight smile almost reached his dark, amber eyes. Shawna smirked at him. He was one helluva attractive guy, and he damn well knew it!

Shawna believed in meeting things head on, so with a crooked smile she crossed back over the busy avenue and walked directly up to where he stood in the shadow of the building he was now leaning up against with his one broad shoulder. He folded his arms across his wide chest and said quietly, "Shawna."

"Damon," Shawna returned in a low, questioning voice. She almost felt a conspiratorial air shift between them, but she asked, "Are you stalking me?"

"Don't be daft, love. Why would I do that?" The English accent that was his birthright had never quite left him, although he had lived many of his vamp years in the United States.

"Oh, I don't know, but I do know we saw one another at the airport when I arrived in Inverness, and now... lo and behold—here you are again."

He grinned, and she admitted to herself that over the years she had found a certain endearing quality about him. She didn't know how or when that 'feeling' had come about—she only knew that it had. Had she been wrong to feel that way? It would be sadly distressing if he turned out to be one of the 'bad guys'.

"What—because I've chosen to linger a bit in Scotland?" He shrugged. "Shawna, I'm just going about my business."

" _Lie._ " Shawna's voice was a low, sad sound. "Why would you lie about that to me, Damon?"

"Right then, the truth is—yes, I knew you were headed here. I decided it wouldn't be a bad place to be."

"Why?"

"Now that..." He reached out and touched her pert nose. "... is my business. Perhaps I think there is safety in numbers... and although we only number two, we score much higher in the 'power' range' together, don't you think?"

"And you think we should team up?" Shawna scoffed.

"Not precisely, but as I said... together we have more than the usual power, and the ability to see them if they get too close."

"Ah, and today, do you see anything coming our way today—is that why you are following me?"

"Not precisely following you. I have been wondering when you would find your way to a butcher or two—so, I've been waiting for you. Shawna, your scent is lovely, and it is also unmistakable. All I had to do was zoom around town until you showed up for your... er _groceries._ "

"Which brings me back to the all important question—why?"

"Mind now, I'm not certain about my information, but I rather think there is some truth in the rumor that Pentim might be interested not only in your skills, but in mine."

"Interested in _your skills_?" Shawna made a face at him. "Like that would worry you."

He bowed his head. "I thank you for your confidence in my ability to protect myself."

"We still have to get back to the question—why, Damon, did you want to talk to me?"

"Don't have many friends, but the ones I do have, I have had long enough to trust, and they hear things. That was one of the things they heard."

"And the other thing?" she urged.

"I am not certain, but you are somewhere in the equation."

"You mean if you were caught, you would offer me up if he would let you go?"

"Shawna, you stab me to the quick! Offer you up? First of all, I didn't think you thought so very ill of me. Secondly, if I were taken by Pentim, he would have as much to fear as I... perhaps more, in spite of his clan." He leaned towards her and whispered, "They don't all love him, you know, and besides that _, I_ would escape."

Shawna laughed. "Think a great deal about yourself!"

"No, but I know my skills. I've had a very long time to develop the ones I will need against Pentim. I have anticipated this day, you see, and prepared for it. Pentim has developed his abilities, but he has a hot temper, and he allows his acquired power to be usurped by that temper." Damon shook his head and made a comical face. "Very short-sighted of him."

"Right then. I wish you luck, but I still need to know why—why have you been looking, waiting for me to show up?" Shawna.

"Because I have recently heard something else."

"That concerns me?"

"Yes, love, it does. Pentim has obtained an old Fae Relic. It is an orb. I am certain he will soon learn the knack of using it, and when he does, he will look for you. I noticed the day at the airport that you didn't have a shield in place. It is time you constructed one, although I am not certain it will hold against Fae magic." He shrugged. "Trust me in this, Shawna—I really don't want to see you taken."

"And this kindness you are extending to me—is there a price you expect to be paid?"

"When did my pretty Shawna become so cynical? No, no price. I know you don't want any part of Pentim and his world. I wanted you to have a heads up."

She softened to him at once. "Thank you, Damon, but what makes you think I am powerful enough to create a personal shield against a Fae Relic?"

"Ah, Shawna, _we both know what you are_."

She blinked, and he was gone. Vamps were fast, but Damon Drummond was the fastest she had ever seen. So, he knew something about her magic? And he knew she had the ability to put up a shield against a Fae orb?

Shawna thought about what he had told her. It would appear, at this point, Damon had not sold out and meant her no harm. That was something. She would rather have him indifferent if she couldn't quite have him on her side.

He still might sell out if he couldn't escape the Rawley clan. She sensed that Damon wouldn't like being captured and used—oh no, not at all. He might do anything he could to escape—even buying his freedom.

"Thank you, Damon. Be safe," she said into the air he left behind, and on the breeze, a whisper returned, "Aye then..."

Shawna was spooked. She knew it was because of the orb—the Fae orb. They were immensely dangerous in the wrong hands. She didn't quite believe that Pentim would be able to harness the Fae Relic's full power. No other than a Seelie Fae would know how to use it properly.

However, would even a rudimentary skill over the orb afford Pentim a look in her direction? Had Pentim already discovered where she was? It seemed like everybody else was finding her wherever she went.

This was getting way out of hand.

She thought about the orb and felt certain that Pentim hadn't found her through the Relic's 'crystal ball' power. She hadn't felt the intrusion she knew she would have felt if he had. She had to get home and envelop herself in a shield. Her spell wouldn't be foolproof, but it would be better than nothing.

She jumped into her serviceable Jeep and headed out of town as fast as she could legally go. She didn't want to bring down unwanted attention from the law—or anyone else for that matter.

Along the way, she dialed her grandparents with the new cell phone she had purchased, and she discovered that they still had the ability to make her feel 'safe and loved' during their long conversation. She gave them assurances that she was far from feeling, however. She clicked off the phone and sighed sadly, wishing they were near, wishing they could hug her...

For a moment she thought she was going to burst into tears. She sniffed and bucked herself up. She had to be strong. She had to be ready. Tears would diminish who and what she was. She sniffed again and got hold of herself.

She had flipped the phone and shut it off. It reposed on the seat beside her, and without warning it did what it was not supposed to do when it was powered off. It rang and made her jump high in the driver's seat as she clutched the wheel.

She looked at the phone as she made her way back onto the A-9 route to Stockton. It kept ringing. She knew it wouldn't stop until she flipped it open. She knew who it was.

_Chad MacFare._ She had thought when he left the other day that he was done with her. In fact, she had to admit to herself, when he had left she had felt a twinge of disappointment.

She picked up the phone and couldn't believe that her heart was actually beating faster than it should. She couldn't believe the anticipation that suddenly flowed through her veins and tingled in her brain.

His voice arrived in her ears, and her heart skipped—actually stopped, skipped, and started thumping like a rabbit's paw. His voice made a beeline for her blood, infiltrated it, and as though a match had been lit to it, her blood began to bubble. _Stop!_ She yelled silently at herself. _Hormones_ , nothing more...

"Get what you need?" His voice was a low caress. Her eyelids got lazy. _Get what you need_ repeated in her brain. _Hell no_ , she thought as a tickle made its way up her inner thigh. She ignored the sensation and snapped, "Don't you already know?"

He laughed. "I don't have a 'seeing eye' if that is what you mean."

"Really, I was sure that you did—and _horns_!"

He chuckled. "No horns, but other appendages if you would like to investigate."

Her imagination went to work, and she pictured him suddenly very nearly naked. She clicked it off and cleared her throat before roughly asking, "What do you want? I thought you were done with me."

"Ah, and worried about it, no doubt," he returned in a tantalizing tone. "Now that is a loaded question, lass—what do I want...?"

"You didn't call for _that_ , so tell me, just why you are calling."

"Now what makes you think I didn't call for... er... _that_? I believe _that_ might be just what you need."

She gasped. "Of all the unmitigated..." Unable to finish the words or the thought, she hung up on him.

Nothing. When he didn't call back she told the empty car, "Good—don't want him to call back. Good riddance." However, truth was, she didn't feel that way at all. She wasn't sure what she felt, but 'good riddance' didn't fit the bill.

* * *

Shield in place, traps inside and outside the cottage, Shawna looked around and counted it a good day's work. She had found her way to Inverness, she had found the butcher and obtained her week's supply, and she had experienced her first 'heart to heart' with Damon. Again, she felt as though she could trust him, and then she doubted herself. Chad MacFare? She wasn't going to think about Chad MacFare.

Shawna nodded as she looked around her small cottage. Right, so why, she asked herself, did she feel so empty inside?

It was nearly six, the day was waning, and something in the color of the Scottish sky was softly glowing. The scent of spring was everywhere and invoked a spring fever yearning, but Shawna felt alone. She was a young woman, and she was at the moment completely without someone special in her life. That was the crux of it all—her body was looking for a man to fit her. Her body didn't care if he fit her future—it was demanding he fit her skin.

She scowled to herself and then suddenly sniffed the air. His scent filled her with a sudden hazy giddiness. She chided herself and frowned darkly. It was odd that he always seemed to be able to sneak up on her before she knew he was there.

His scent—enticing, vanilla, pine, and something else... _orchids_. Her hormones kicked into gear, and she felt a tickle of excitement as she spun around to face him. He stood, tall, devastatingly hot, and totally in command as he took up more space than her small cottage foyer allowed.

"Hello, Shawna, are you ready to go?"

"Go? What do you mean, _go_ , and how did you get in here? You should not have been able to get in here!" She eyed him with unconcealed irritation. And then because she couldn't help herself, she asked again, "Go?"

"To dinner," he returned softly, ignoring her other question. He took a moment to look her over audaciously. "You _look_... er... _ready_."

The expression in his green eyes was undisguised, and she felt a sudden savage betrayal tickle her body. She turned and walked away from him as she collected herself.

Once more in control of her wayward hormones, she turned back to him and made her silver eyes drip ice. "As it happens, I am never ready when you are concerned."

He laughed. "You don't lie very well."

"I don't lie—at least... not much." She shook her head and put up her hand to object. "You can't just come waltzing in here and ask if I am ready." She looked at herself. She was wearing a black sweater, jeans, and black boots. Was she ready? What was she thinking? She wasn't going to dinner with him...

"I came waltzing in here to make a point."

"What point would that be?"

"That all your hard work—all your efforts and idiotic spells—won't keep the worst, the strongest of them out when they come."

"They are vamps— _you are not_. I don't know what you are. My 'traps' won't keep you out evidently because you don't fit the bill—not quite human and not a vamp. My traps are for vamps, no matter how skilled."

"There is at least one of his clan that you may not be able to hold at bay with your makeshift traps."

She couldn't help but notice that the color of Chad's green eyes had deepened into mysterious lake water. She shook herself free from the observation. "What, just what do you want—really want—from me, Chadwick MacFare?"

A small smile lit up his handsome face and then, as though it had never been there, vanished. His mouth was drawn in grimness. "You aren't taking all of this seriously, Shawna. You say you don't know _what I am._ The thing is, lass—when they come, they won't be what _you expect_. They won't be just vamps looking for blood. They aren't newbies on the prowl. There will be one in particular, one he will send for you, one who has already been handpicked because of his age and experience. All of them will have skills you are not aware of, but this one... he will be a grade above the rest. They will take you by surprise. Pentim's vamps do not fit into the usual vampire mold. Pentim chose them—each one—for the individual power each possessed."

Her hands went to her hips. He thought so little of her, and it was annoying.

He snorted. "Don't be looking like that, all defiant and brave. It won't serve you to get anything more than this..."

He had her in his arms and pressed up against his body. She pushed ineffectually against him, and he released her.

She stood back from him. She decided the best course of action was new action. She went over to the coat rack and grabbed a lovely black wool coat, slipped it on, pulled out a wide, silky cinnamon scarf, and draped it around the upturned collar. One eyebrow arched, she drawled, "I've changed my mind. I will let you buy me dinner."

Now it was his turn to be surprised. His brow went up, and he gave her a crooked smile. "Ah, will you indeed, lass? Right then, I think the local pub will do for our very first date." A wicked twinkle lit up his green eyes, and a smirk tilted the corner of his mouth.

She took his tease in stride. He wanted to get a rise out of her, but he wouldn't, she told herself. Even so, she answered roughly, "This is not a first date."

"What then? You, definitely woman, and me—as the story goes—together, and as we certainly are not friends, this must be a date."

She shrugged. "Call it what you will. The fact is—this is not a date. I have decided to go with you so that I can find out more about you. How is that for being on the up and up? Maybe you will show me the same courtesy."

"Och, lass, but you're not being on the up and up with me, nor have you been at any time. You know it as well as do I." His hand waved a stop sign at her. "Come then, I'm starving—aren't you?" The flirt was on his face and in the way he reached to touch her as they moved towards the door.

She made a grumbling sound as she scooped up her bag and stepped outside with him. He closed the door, but as she went to lock it he said softly, "A moment, lass, and I will do something better."

He proceeded to say something in what sounded like Gaelic to her while he slowly waved his hand over the doorknob. "There. There'll be no one—human or otherwise—getting through there, now. When we get back, I'll be doing your windows as well. Your spells need some improvements."

"My spells are just fine," she snapped. His cockiness—his sense of self, his determination to control—made her insane.

"I spelled both this door and your backdoor."

"Are you... some kind of sorcerer?"

"Not precisely."

"What then...?"

"We'll be taking my car. Here you go," he said as he opened the door of his sleek silver Jaguar for her.

Just for plain old-fashioned orneriness she wanted to object and take her Jeep, but she chided herself for the momentary lapse into infancy and allowed him to see her situated in his luxurious vehicle.

He was determined to maintain idle conversation during their short ride to town and asked what her favorite food might be.

"Everything," she answered on a smile as she realized how hungry she was.

"Ah—then I'm safe with a pub menu."

"Uh-huh." Shawna returned, determined not to give away more about herself than was absolutely necessary.

"And music? Being from New York, no doubt, you prefer rock 'n' roll."

"I do, among other music."

"Like country?"

"I have favorites."

He sighed heavily. "Do you mean to give me a clue?"

"If you make it past the evening, you might find out."

"Ah, of course, because you intend to have a long-standing relationship with me."

" _You wish."_

"Do I, lass, now how would you know that? Perhaps I don't wish it at all."

She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. He always seemed to 'manage' her, or at least their conversation. He never got flustered, yet he had her flustered all the time.

She sat rigidly, avoiding his eye as she stared fixedly into the darkness out of her window. She turned and looked out into the glow of his car's headlights, frowning. It had gotten suddenly foggy outside, but that wasn't what brought the troubled crease to her forehead. It was something else—something with a life of its own, and it was in the atmosphere just outside the car. She felt the atmosphere all around her vibrate with electricity.

She looked at Chad, but she could see he had not yet felt it; however, he must have been in tune to her sudden change of mood, for he asked anxiously, "What, Shawna—what is it?"

"Shhh... I... hear something... something almost like heavy breathing..."

He didn't laugh or make the joke that immediately came to his head. Instead he peered through the windshield of his car at the dark shadows of landscape outside.

He slowed his vehicle, and both of them peered through the shadows the headlights created. All at once, they exchanged a glance that indicated they both knew something was very wrong.

An entity full with evil intent began to take shape, and they knew it meant them both harm.

Shawna couldn't quite see it, although she strained with all her mana to make it out. She felt it move with a slithering motion as it crossed the road. Its undetermined form seemed to take shape as she watched it grow.

She heard Chad suck in his breath and curse. "Damn—if we don't have black magic on the job, Shawna!"

_Black magic?_ Her eyes opened wide. Why hadn't she thought of that? When and why had black magic entered her life? Who was behind it, and did it have something to do with Pentim? That was her bottom-line question for every anomaly.

Chad pulled his car up short, and with the engine still running and the headlights set to bright, Shawna watched him step unafraid outside and scan. She made a grab to pull him back, and when she missed, she jumped out of the car as well and went to stand beside him.

He glanced her way, but he didn't smile as he commented, "Ah, lass, got my back then, do you?"

She nodded but was busy scanning in the dark, and then when it came without warning, it startled her even though she had been expecting something.

Barreling like a force of measured wind, it hit them both with a jolt of electricity as it pounced and then quickly fled past them, out of reach.

Undeterred by the sudden, sharp pain, Chad had started forward before he turned and saw Shawna stagger. The electricity the entity had shot through her had taken a bit of a toll.

He reached out for her, pulled her in close, and his voice was at her ear. "Lass... lass... are ye hurt then?"

"No... no, I'm fine. Come on—we have to see what it is."

They both turned and started to give chase when they realized the thing had fled into the forest and vanished.

Shawna stood very still and whispered, "It's gone."

"Aye, but not before it accomplished what it set out to do," Chad answered grimly.

"And what was that?"

"Declare itself, lass—it has declared itself."

"But why—what does it want, Chad? Is it an extension of Pentim?"

"That is the only thing I am very nearly—and I am saying that I am not totally sure, but nearly—certain about. It has naught to do with Pentim and his clan. This feels... different."

Shawna released an exasperated sound. "Damn it to hell. Isn't it enough to have to deal with Pentim Rawley? Now some boogeyman is after me? Why?"

"Not a boogeyman," Chad said on such a serious note that Shawna burst into laughter.

He frowned at her as he led her, still nervously laughing, back to his car and saw her seated. He got in and looked at her, waited for her to steady herself, and touched her hand. "I wasn't joking, love. _This_..." He waved his hand in the air. "... is much more dangerous than some child's idea of a monster."

"Okay—got it, but I don't understand what it has to do with me... _you—us_?" Her eyes opened wide. "Maybe it is because of _you_ and whatever _you are_?"

"I don't think so, lass."

"I haven't been here long enough to tick anyone off."

"Who says you have? This has nothing to do with what you did or didn't do. This is drawn to you... and now to me... because of the power we give off, the power it senses."

"Oh great," Shawna exclaimed. She then sat in thoughtful silence. As it happened, Chad wasn't doing any talking either.

A few moments later, he parked his car in front of a brightly lit and charming village pub. She watched him and couldn't help but admire the height and breadth of the man... _and the courage._

He had jumped into the unknown ready to face it, and it had made her feel safe and secure to be at his side. Should she let him into her life? Should she allow him to help protect her life? _Bait_ —came the answer. _He wants to use you as bait. How does that protect you?_

This new thing had been at first an unclear mass without form. It had been a body without density. It was an electrical charge without wire! _It was the thing she had seen_ _outside her window,_ and it was time to tell him that.

After he helped her out of the car she stopped on the sidewalk. "Chad—there is something I have to tell you."

"Right then—let's get inside," he said softly as he took her by the elbow.

She felt a wild desire to melt into his arms, but instead she pulled out of his touch. "No... now, first... I have to tell you that the thing we saw tonight—I think it was at my window a couple of nights ago."

He rounded on her, towering over her, a hunk of fury with glinting green eyes. "What?"

"Well, I wasn't sure... now I am."

"Don't be lying to me, Shawna—it doesn't suit you, and lies won't work between us."

"You lie to me," she snapped.

"I don't lie to you. I just don't tell you everything."

"Me too—gander, goose thing."

Suddenly he laughed and gently took her elbow once more. "Right then, lass... Let's go in and order a pint and some food and see what we can make of this whole thing."

~ Eight ~

SHAWNA HAD SHOWERED, brushed her long, golden hair into a loose pile around her face, and taken a look at herself in the mirror. _Hmm, hair shiny, face not bad_...

She didn't want to admit why she was taking extra care with herself this morning. She pulled on a pair of Gap jeans and a soft black sweater, tied up her sneakers and moved to her bedroom door.

Timidly she opened her door a crack and peeked around to the view it allowed her on the other side. _No sign of him_.

She opened her door wider and stepped out. Still no sign of him. There was a small lavatory without a shower in the hall, and as that door was open wide, she could see he wasn't making use of it.

She ventured further and looked into both the living room area and the kitchen—no sign of him, and all at once she realized (and with a sense of disappointment) that he was gone.

She told herself she was relieved he was gone and went to her kitchen, where she found a pot of coffee already made and a note with her name on it. She unfolded the paper to read:

Good morning to you, lass.

Didn't think you'd be wanting me sharing the shower with you on our first morning together, and besides I had a few things I needed doing.

I'll be calling you later, love—ah so I will.

He hadn't even bothered signing it. She blew at her soft bangs, and her mind drifted to the previous evening as she poured her coffee and then slowly sipped the delicious hot brew.

Dinner had sped by so fast. They had talked—or rather she had talked, and he had listened. She didn't know how it happened. Perhaps it had been the event they had tackled together earlier in the evening on the road? _Whatever_. She had opened her mouth, and all these words came gushing out, and she was suddenly telling him about her childhood... her college... her hopes...

She hadn't learned a thing about him, other than his father and grandmother were both still alive. That was it; she had gotten exactly _nada_ —zilch—out of him.

And then came their moment at her cottage door.

_Geez_ , could she have been more stupid? She'd actually believed that when he bent towards her, it was to kiss her. She recalled the moment and was fairly certain her heart had sped up and then completely halted in anticipation.

She had felt a fluttering in her stomach and an ache that tickled her further down. She had closed her eyes and got ready for that kiss.

Oh—she had been ready! She had even excused herself, arguing that she was entitled to a kiss...

There she was, no doubt looking the fool with her eyes closed and her breath (she was sure) escaping in pants of wanting, when she felt the door at her back flung open.

What? Door? Opened?

He had her by the forearm, and he led her inside. _No kiss_ , not even a peck, nothing. She was so damn embarrassed because he had this smirk on his handsome, horrible face. _He knew_. He knew she would have let him kiss her.

_Shit_ , she thought to herself as her embarrassment swept through her insides. How, she asked herself, had this happened to streetwise Shawna? She went inside and snapped at him, "Thank you for a wonderful dinner, and good-night."

He was still grinning as he moved in on her. She stepped back. He took another tantalizing step closer. She moved back, but in truth, she didn't want to. The next movement brought him closer, and she bumped into the large winged leather chair and had to stand her ground. He stopped right up close, so personal she could feel his sweet breath just inches from her face as he bent towards her and whispered in that Scottish brogue that drove her wild, "I'll be spending the night, lass—so if you could spare a blanket and a pillow, I think the couch will do me just fine."

She wanted to hit him. Fooled again? Twice in one night? She sucked it in and growled ferociously at him, in a voice she didn't even recognize as her own, "You can't spend the night here." She stomped her foot before she could stop herself. "I won't have it, and besides, you won't fit on that couch."

"Aye, so you say, and still it is what I mean to do. Don't you worry about me, love. I'll be right and cozy, I will."

She could see his eyes alive with amusement, and it made her all the more irritated. "No—absolutely not. You have to leave. Don't you have a home to go to?"

"I do."

"Then—go there."

"I will, but not this evening, I won't," he said softly but firmly as he moved towards the couch and began taking it apart, carefully situating the cushions on the floor. This done, he turned and looked at her quizzically.

"Blanket... pillow... please."

Shawna stood in stunned silence for a moment before exclaiming indignantly, "Humph!"

She stormed off like a child and went to her linen closet, retrieved the items in question, and threw them at him.

He caught them both easily, ignored her hissy fit, and began setting them in place.

She closed her eyes now as she recollected how she had behaved—like an idiot. Why did she always turn into a fool when he was around?

He didn't try and make conversation, and she had nothing further to say, so she stormed off to her room and attacked her bed. However, no amount of tossing, turning, punching her pillow, throwing it off the bed, and then picking it back up again had helped her to sleep.

She had been so determined not to think about him—which of course led her to think about nothing but him... only a short distance away, sleeping soundly she had no doubt, in the next room.

_Ridiculous_. She was ridiculous. He was certainly like no one she had ever encountered before in her entire life, and it was throwing off her game.

Who was he really—and better yet, what was he? What was his story, and why did he really want Pentim Rawley destroyed?

And for some unknown reason the next question loomed large and heavy—was he really seriously worried about her? _Well, yeah_... had to keep his bait intact.

At some point, she had managed to shrug off all clear thought, pulled the blanket over her head, and fallen fitfully asleep.

_Ugh_. What an awful, nightmarish night. Wayward dreams turned into ghoulish ones, and when she opened her eyes, it had been with relief that the night was over.

This was a new day, a new morning, and she decided to set all her concerns aside, or at least consider them from another point of view. And just as she had decided to try and make her peace with him— _he was gone!_

The blanket was neatly folded and placed with the pillow back on the sofa. She huffed as she picked them up and put them away, thinking of what she would say to him the next time she encountered him.

What she needed was a nice long walk. She pulled on a warm and fitted navy parka, wrapped a red scarf around her neck, tucked her long blonde hair inside her collar, and made her way outside.

The sky was a mass of gray clouds, and a fine mist touched her face, but oh, she sucked on the air with relish. She pulled out a knit cap and tugged it over her head. It was spring, but the Scottish weather hadn't yet agreed with the calendar.

The air was filled with the scent of pine and wildflowers, and she didn't mind the damp at all. Without another thought, she headed for the trail she had taken the day before. She was armed, and she was ready if anything meant to get in her way.

As she hiked over a craggy area at the edge of the forest, a tickling sensation at her neck made her come to attention and frown. She gave the surrounding area a scan but could see nothing.

Suddenly all forest music—birds, bees, and the gentle breeze—stopped. The air was deadly still. Something filled the atmosphere with electrical tension.

She stopped for a fraction of a moment before making her way down the narrow weaving trail through the trees. She wanted to draw the thing out. _She wanted an encounter—_ because she knew something that Chad MacFare did not, and in this instance she wanted to confront the entity in the light of day.

She heard a hiss at her back and spun around. She felt a sprinkle of fear hit her stomach, but she got it under control. She had her gifts... abilities—magic if you prefer—but she knew her limitation was that she was untried against anything like this entity.

This was no training session—this was for real. Something was there, hidden, but certainly there and aware that she was calling it out for a lookie-look.

She backed away from the next hiss, which was closer now, angrier...

All at once, it was there and in her face, sniffing her from her neck to her arms and then back again. She stood perfectly still.

"What do you want with me?" Shawna whispered.

Electricity charged through her as it touched her with its tentacles, and even as she used her magic to push it off, it was gone.

Shawna stood, unable to move as she scanned the woods, when a sudden movement at her back made her turn on a scream. "Yiiiii!"

"Oh Shawna, I startled you. I am sorry."

Shawna swallowed her gasp, making a slight choking sound, and then almost immediately relaxed. It was only the squire.

He frowned and came towards her. "Shawna... what is it? What is wrong? You are white..."

It occurred to her that the thing had vanished because the squire had appeared. What did that mean? Was it afraid of witnesses outside her circle? Yes, but it hadn't been afraid to take on Chad MacFare. Why would it be leery of the gentle squire? She was certain that the thing could have nothing to fear from an ordinary human. Or was it marking time?

Limitations—might it have limitations?

For now however, she had to get herself together. She looked up at the squire's attractive face and saw the concern in his hazel eyes.

She touched his arm in an effort to alleviate his concern. "Oh... it's nothing. I scared myself. I thought I heard something, and then of course I thought I saw something, but it was just a trick of the eye. Nothing at all—and here you are coming to my rescue again."

"I'll confess at this point that I rather hoped you might be walking this morning. I came with the express purpose of bumping into you."

"Well, that is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time."

"I find that hard to believe. I know American men are not up to par with us Scots, but they can't be that blind or stupid."

They both laughed and fell into step beside one another as he commented, "You'll do... the color is back in your cheeks." He smiled warmly at her. "Shall we continue to walk together?"

Shawna sighed with relief. It would be nice to be normal, and with the squire that was just how she could be... for a time. "Lovely."

He grinned broadly, and a flicker of heat in the recesses of his hazel eyes caught her attention. However, he began animatedly telling her an anecdote about his housekeeper that made her laugh.

He touched her again, this time taking her hand and patting it. "But you will see for yourself, for we are nearly at MacDunn, and I mean to abduct you and force some lunch into you."

Shawna beamed. Although she knew the 'no ties, no relationships' edict still held, she didn't think a friendly lunch could hurt. "That would be great. I am sure it is early, but I am starving, and the truth is, I don't have anything worth eating in the cottage."

"Good then. Yes, it is early, but I did say I was going to abduct you, didn't I?" He grinned wickedly. "That entails having you at my mercy and taking you on a tour of MacDunn while Mrs. Patrick prepares our meal."

"Abduct away. I accept."

~ Nine ~

SHAWNA LEANED BACK against her garden chair as she pushed away the plate of crumbs in front of her. She had eaten everything in sight, to the point where the squire had laughed and commented on her healthy appetite.

"Hmmm, I know. I'll have to work it all off, but everything was so good." She sighed and looked around the solarium where they had taken their meal. "This place..." Her hands moved expressively. "Has the touch of a woman, no doubt your mom?" Her voice trailed off as she realized she had lit on a subject that might be off limits.

He frowned and used his fork to play with some crumbs on his dish. She waited as he pushed at the food, and finally with something of a sigh, he offered, "Yes, my mother renovated this place after my father died. It has her essence in every fabric, every placement of every painting..." His voice faded, and he looked off as though looking into another time.

Shawna was on the alert. There was a mystery here and her curiosity bone got the better of her. "Then I am amazed she gave it all up to live in the cottage."

"Her decision came as a surprise, and an unwelcome one to me. I was in fact shocked that she could leave. You must have already heard from the grapevine leader, Mrs. Carver, that I adored my mother..." Again he let his last words drift off.

She could see a darkling look shade his hazel eyes, and she knew she should be the perfect guest and let the subject go. He clearly did not want to be rude, but neither did he wish to speak about his mother.

And instead of being the perfect guest, she dove right in. "Which brings me back to my original question. Why? You obviously didn't want her to leave, and she obviously loved this place—her home. Why did she move to the little cottage?" Shawna's silver eyes opened wide with attention as she watched the changing expressions flit over his face. He looked shocked at the audacity of her question. He looked angry, but more than either of those two emotions, he looked bitter.

"She had her reasons."

"Of course she did, and it is all none of my business." Shawna backed off.

He set the fork aside and stood up to offer her his hand. "Come... let me show you her hothouse. I maintain it exactly as she left it, in memory of her. We house her prized rosebushes there."

Shawna stood and gave him her hand, thinking she would withdraw it as soon as she could. "Great. I would love to see it. I am sorry if I hit a sore subject."

He grinned, and his eyes lit up as his mood suddenly changed once more. "Americans have this style—quite unique really—of being able to talk about the most personal things as though they were speaking about the weather. That particular quality, ability has always eluded me."

"I should not have—" Shawna's eyebrows met, and she sucked in her lips as she prepared her apology.

"Not at all—your question was perfectly sound and quite exhibited a normal, very natural curiosity," he said, interrupting her. "Your direct manner is one of the quirks that have already made me quite fond of you, Shawna." He squeezed her hand gently. "I love the fact that you are so open and easy to talk to. I have never enjoyed that particular quality with anyone ever before."

"Quality, huh—I think you mean I'm nosy?" A short laugh escaped her throat.

His smile was sweet. "Perhaps, but not _too_ nosy for me."

"Ah—I am sure that cannot be true, but you are too much of a gentleman to tell me so."

The hothouse contained an amazing collection of exotic plants, rose bushes, and citrus trees. One bush in particular was centered almost like a shrine. A single, long-stemmed red rose was in bloom as the squire led Shawna to it.

"Smell that..."

He didn't know, of course, that Shawna's sense of smell had already picked up on the scent of the single bloom. It overshadowed all others, and she was impressed enough to forget herself once more and dipped back into the forbidden subject. "I can't imagine how your mother could have left all this..."

"She was very angry and disappointed in me. She wanted to prove a point—she wanted to shake me back into my senses." He sighed. "Once her mind was made up, there was no changing it. I discovered that I was, indeed, my mother's son—just as stubborn, and I didn't exhibit the patience and understanding she needed at the time."

Shawna gave him a sympathetic smile. "I am sorry. It must have been hard on both of you."

"More than I realized," he answered simply. He took her elbow and remarked, "It is warm in here. Come on—we need some air."

"Yes—but I am sorry, Kenneth, it is already getting late and I have to get back. I haven't even finished unpacking yet."

He looked at his watch. "Indeed—I can't say that I am sorry... but you are right. I have kept you all day." He shook his head. "I don't know where the time went, and, Shawna, I can't remember when it was that I have enjoyed myself more."

"Thank you. Yes, it was a lovely day, and the same goes for me."

He maneuvered her towards a door at the end of a narrow corridor. "Here... my car is just outside."

Shawna's eyebrows went up at the sight of a magnificent vehicle—the Bentley Continental GT!

"Ooooh... and navy... wow, what a car!" Shawna murmured. She had seen the sporty two-seat car advertised but had never seen one in person. She liked cars.

He laughed. "Come on..." He held the door open for her.

She slipped onto the cream-colored leather upholstery and smiled. _Nice._

As he drove, Shawna inwardly admired the line of tall oaks flanking the blacktop driveway. He turned right onto Darby Road and left the manor behind them. She sensed he wanted to speak but that he was choosing his words. She waited.

"Shawna, the reason I find it difficult to talk about my mother is the fact that I took a stand against her. I was an independent man, and all I saw was that she was trying to interfere with my life. I didn't look deeper and ended by defying her when she was battling the last stages of her terminal cancer."

Shawna studied his profile. His face was white with the shock of the words he had just spoken out loud. She could see he had not talked to anyone about his guilt, and it was obvious to her that he carried way too much of it. "You must have thought it important enough to do so—which made it so. There are always two sides to every event—happy or otherwise."

He sent her a sharp glance and sucked in breath. "I thought I might be ready to tell someone—you, but... forgive me. I find that I am not."

"Sure." Shawna wasn't certain she wanted to hear anymore. Some awful tragedy had occurred here between a mother and son, and the son was left in the aftermath of guilt. "It really is none of my business."

"Perhaps not, but—"

"Don't, Kenneth. Don't tell me anything you aren't really ready to talk about. You have to pick the time and the person you want to spill your guts to."

He shot her a quick glance and said quietly. "I have," and with that, he dove right in, sounding like floodwaters that had just broke through a dam. He was rushed, he was loud, and he was full with the hysteria of the tragedy, and Shawna's eyes opened wide as she watched his changing expressions.

"Helene came into my life at a time when I needed someone... and I was infatuated beyond imagination. M'mother despised her at first sight."

"Ah." Shawna mulled this over—an age-old problem. "And Helene—where is she now?"

"She wasn't worth the air she breathed." He almost spat the words, and Shawna heard the bitterness in his voice.

"But you thought so at the time, and she came between you and your mother?" Shawna prompted.

"Looking back at it in the aftermath, looking at it now, I think I would have seen through Helene had m'mother not challenged me."

"Challenges are powerful things."

He glanced at her again. They had reached her cottage, and he put the Bentley in park and turned to her. "You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Why are you here, Shawna? A beautiful woman... out here in the middle of nowhere... to do what—why?"

"Oh, didn't Mrs. Carver tell you? I am an aspiring author. I love history, and Scottish history is so full of romance and battles—I thought I would do my research here and get a feel for the country. Gathering my notes, a sense of the culture... it all takes tremendous research, and the setting for my story is the Scottish Highlands." This was her cover story.

"No, she never mentioned, and in truth I never asked."

"How strange..." Shawna giggled. "I can't imagine Mrs. Carver not volunteering any information." She could see he wasn't about to let her go yet, so she started the process by reaching for her door handle. He jumped to attention.

"Let me, Shawna—please." He was out of the car and coming round to make a flourish of opening the door for her.

She smiled, thanked him, and reached out her hand to touch his arm. "Thanks, Kenneth—no need to walk me to my door."

"Right then," he responded and looked away for a moment before giving her a half smile.

She started forward, and he went round to his driver's side, gave her a last wave, and got into his car. She watched him make a U-turn and start off before she dove into her jean pocket for her keys; however, even as she found them, she knew she wouldn't need them.

The door opened wide, and there Chad MacFare stood looking like the devil himself!

She felt a flutter start to gain momentum as she stared at his big, handsome self. As always he emitted an aura that spoke of an epic life. She could imagine him, naked to the waist, tattooed with Celtic knots across his belly...

She shook the image free from her mind and pulled a face at him. "What are you doing here, and how did you get past my traps?"

* * *

A sizzling sound in the forest took shape. The dark sockets in its malformed head of blue and radiant red actually narrowed as it spied a red squirrel that unhappily crossed its path. It reached out and zapped the poor creature, injuring it. The squirrel wobbled and made a small noise of pain; a blue finger moved to touch it again, this time slicing the wretched animal open while it still lived.

The entity enjoyed the kill, but it was too short lived.

It turned and glanced towards Shawna's cottage, out in the distance—and yet not so very far away. _She_ lived there. _She_ lived, and the creature had already recognized that she was powerful. It wanted to slice her open and usurp her power.

The entity melted itself down and slithered along the earth, between the trees, over the lush growth of ferns and moss, and came to the edge of Shawna's back gardens. It brought itself up to stand once more, and it was a blue bolt of electricity. Sparks flew in every direction. It took on form—much like a human form—and it touched itself, causing sparks to fly in every direction.

Through dark sockets it stared at the cottage, and then it heard Shawna speak. She was waving good-bye to the squire, and as it watched her, its hatred multiplied.

It watched as the squire got into his navy Bentley and drove off. The entity melted into the ground once more, covering the earth with blue fire, spitting out bright daggers of rage and frustration as it moved towards the road and followed the squire's car. Overwhelming anger imbued the entity with purpose as it followed the squire.

It watched as he parked his car and re-entered his manor home. It hissed as it made a decision and turned back to the woods.

_It wanted to be, to continue, to thrive_! It wanted to soar with mana. It needed strength to accomplish all that it wanted. Power was the only sure way to achieve its goals. _Once more it would have to kill a human._

Easy to do—they were so much nothingness...

Killing satisfied. It liked the pain it inflicted on its victims as much as it liked the taking of the life force into itself. Yes, but _her_ life force was substantial. It had sensed the human female's life force as soon as she had arrived at the cottage.

There was great power in the female that lived there. If it killed her, it would gain all that power.

* * *

Shawna had not been taken totally unaware by Chad's presence. She had known he had breached her traps and made it inside. She had picked up on his enticing scent as she walked up her stone path to her front door; however, he didn't need to know that. He didn't need to know what her abilities encompassed.

Thus, she feigned surprise. She was, however, completely baffled and irritated that he had, in fact, gotten past her methodic traps.

He stood in front of her, his green eyes glittering brightly and his mass of tawny-colored hair a mane around his handsome face. His wide arms in his cream-colored heavy knit sweater were folded across his massive chest. One thick, attractive brow was arched questioningly, and his lips were tight, almost as tight as the frown he wore.

"Well—my traps?" she demanded. She knew he wouldn't answer her, and she was right; he didn't. Instead, he gave her a stormy look that surprised her. What was he out of sorts about? She returned his frown. " _What?_ Why are you standing there like that?"

"What? You ask _me_ what?" He uncrossed his arms, pulled her gently indoors, and shut the door at her back. "You are out cavorting with the local gentry at a time when you should be planning strategy with me, and you ask me _what_?"

"I wasn't cavorting, and even if I was, that is _my_ business—and I don't plan on planning strategy with you." Her hands were on her hips.

He came in close and took her hands off her hips. She couldn't imagine why she allowed him the privilege. He held her delicate fingers in his strong and yet strangely gentle grip. "Cavorting is what it is, lass—and though it may be your business and you may think that you are entitled at your age to some 'fun', right now that kind of 'fun' will get you killed. I thought you smarter than that."

"I am smarter than that, and I wasn't cavorting..."

"It looked like it to me," he snapped back at her.

"I wasn't," she snapped right back and waved a finger at him. "I like to know who my neighbors are, and I bumped into the squire while I was walking. He invited me to lunch, and that was that."

"Like to know your neighbors, and yet you haven't even tried to know me." The words, quietly said, caught her attention. She eyed him doubtfully. What exactly did he mean? However, he immediately changed the subject back to his point of interest.

"Do you know who he _really is_ , lass?"

She made an exasperated sound, pulled her hands out of his, and attempted to push past him. He held her shoulders and kept her in place as he directed a hard line gaze at her. "Do ye?" he asked, lapsing into a thicker brogue than usual.

His accent was sexy and sent a shiver through her. Mentally she chided herself as she gave him a frown and answered, "Of course I know who he is—besides being the local gentry, the squire _owns this cottage!"_

That stopped Chadwick MacFare into dead silence as he looked at her. He appeared deep in thought, and she waited for a response as they stood there together.

He cast an impatient glance at her, and she could see the irritation in his bright green eyes before his dark, thick lashes met his cheek. Shawna's brows came together while she contemplated him.

At last (for it seemed as though the silence had dragged on forever), he remarked quietly, "Now how is it I had quite forgotten that interesting piece of information?"

She could see he wasn't asking the question of her and rolled her eyes. He actually seemed stunned that he didn't know something? _How big was this guy's ego anyway?_

"Oh, you mean there is something the all-knowing Chadwick MacFare doesn't actually know? How refreshing." She pulled out of the shoulder hold he had on her and moved into her living room. He had evidently made himself right at home, setting a blazing fire going in the small fireplace and helping himself to her rolls, cheese, and ale.

She couldn't stop the little snort that escaped her lips as she looked around, shook her head, and walked over to the warm fire, where she rubbed her hands by the flames. "Brr... at least you thought to start a fire. I don't know why, but I have been feeling chilled to the bone this last hour or so."

He was there in the instant, behind her, all around her, wrapping a warm throw blanket about her shoulders, and then even as she closed her eyes, thinking there would be more—he took a step away from her and asked, "Better?"

She nodded and sighed before going to curl up on her couch. He moved towards her and sank on the sofa beside her almost at once to ask, "So then, the good squire owns this cottage? Why would he rent it out? He doesn't need the money." His face was thoughtful, his gaze faraway. Then all at once, as though he had put the fact aside for later dissecting, he shrugged it off.

"Hmmm..." Shawna offered sarcastically. "Another thing the great MacFare doesn't know? I'll have to ask him." However, it had been something she had been wondering herself.

He ignored her bite. "Aye then, did the good Mrs. Carver tell you what sort of man the squire is? Did she tell you half the village believes him to be a murderer?"

Shawna's face dropped. " _Come on."_

"Do you not believe me, lass?"

"I... I... explain."

He shrugged and bit at his full, sensuous lip before he quietly answered, "To be fair, I have to tell you it was disproved, but I have always wondered about the incident."

"Do you think him a murderer—is that what this is all about? Do you actually believe that he is dangerous?" Shawna scoffed.

"Ah—a good question and one you shouldn't have to deal with when ye have yer own problems." His brogue thickened once more as he eyed her disapprovingly. "Don't ye have enough matters complicating yer life?"

"Don't stall, Chad MacFare. Just tell me exactly what all this fuss about the squire is really about."

"The quiet squire was investigated for the crime of murder only last year."

Shawna couldn't stop from exclaiming, " _I don't believe it_." Her silver eyes narrowed, and she directed a considering look at him. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why was he investigated for murder?"

"First, let me tell you that he was completely cleared of the charges, but nevertheless—"

Shawna cut him off. " _Murder. Charges._ Who did he supposedly murder?"

"Apparently, he walked into the townhouse he had bought for his fiancée in Inverness and caught her... er... in bed with not just another guy, but with two..."

"You are making this up." Sitting on her knees as she regarded him, Shawna had the warm, multi-colored throw blanket wrapped all around herself.

He made the sign. "Cross my heart—true story."

"I haven't decided if you have one."

"Oooh... doona say that, lass." His deep Scottish brogue seemed to engulf her mind, and she felt stalled for a moment. She seemed lost in his green eyes as she heard him say, "Ye hurt me to the quick."

She remembered herself and scowled. "I can't believe the squire capable of hurting anyone... even after... well after finding Helene... in such awful circumstances."

"Helene is it?" Chad barked at her. "He told you her name, but he didn't tell you she was dead?" He shook his head. "He is playing a deep game. Aye—that he is—because there is so much more. She wasn't just dead—"

"He couldn't have murdered her. He is so gentle and sweet..." She cut him off.

"Aye, and some of us believe that dark waters run deep."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means the man is a mystery. Keeps his thoughts to himself— _you_ don't know him."

"I know he couldn't have killed her. He loved her..."

"There are some men that are driven by mad jealousy... and in fact, kill the ones they say they love." He shook his head. "At any rate, although he was the number one on the suspect list, he had an iron-clad alibi for the time of her death. Truth be told, lass, even I found it difficult to believe the quiet squire would commit such a torturous murder—and it was... _torturous_. The manner of the kill was... _perverted_."

Shawna grimaced as her imagination drew a picture. "Was anyone ever caught?"

"No. There were no other suspects in the case, so the good squire was left with a bleak cloud hanging over his quiet head."

"Do you really believe he is capable of such a violent crime?"

"What I think is there is more to the squire than meets the eye."

"You don't really think he actually did it, but you don't like him so you want me to think it." Shawna eyed him questioningly.

"Don't be a fool. I want you to keep your eyes open. Make up your own mind... it is what you do. Be the suspicious lass I met in New York. Be suspicious of everyone, of everything—that is _what I want_!"

She considered his words and him for a long pause before she changed the subject. Damn, she thought, his green eyes were mesmerizing.

She chided herself and asked roughly, "What did you mean—the manner in which she was killed was perverted?"

"The poor woman was burned over half her body and in some very intimate places as well. She must have suffered greatly..." he said, shaking his head. "Aye, I have a friend who is an inspector in the Inverness police department. When he questioned me about Kenneth—being I'm his neighbor, he asked me if I thought Kenneth capable of the crime. He asked me to come in, and he took me to the morgue—showed me the crime photos of the scene in her apartment. I found it hard to believe that a man, any man, could have done what was done to her. She had been tortured with electricity. Her body had been sliced open. Her heart had been removed and dumped in the trash in the kitchen. She was left there on her white rug to bleed out, and she did. The entire scene was gruesome."

Shawna sank back down on the couch and hugged the blanket tighter around her body. "How awful for Kenneth... and after he had lost his mother..."

"His mother? Oh, aye—that's right. She did die last year as well—before his fiancée's death." Chad seemed to muse on this for a moment.

She interrupted his thoughts. "What did you tell them, the police?"

"Exactly what I just told you. It was hard to imagine any human man was capable of that degree of torture..."

"What does that really mean?"

He smiled ruefully. "What could I mean?"

"Stop pussyfooting and just tell me." She eyed him suspiciously. "And neighbor... you said you were his neighbor?"

"My family home runs adjacent to MacDunn land."

" _Your family home_ —adjacent?" Shawna repeated stupidly.

"Did ye not do your homework, lass? Did ye not see that MacFare owns more than one thousand acres in Stockton County, only miles, a few miles, from this cottage?"

She was stunned into silence. MacFare? She didn't remember seeing the name. She had been scouting around for vampires, not locals.

"Your family has a home here... in Stockton?"

"Aye, although we are not always in residence. My family traveled quite a lot when I was... er growing up... not in one place for very long."

Shawna stared up at him. There was more here than met the eye. She made an unobtrusive attempt to scan his mind. She got the words _actors_ and _parts_ , and then all at once he grabbed her wrist.

He growled ferociously before he sneered a look at her and said, low and threateningly, "Don't ever try that again. Stay out of my mind, and I will give ye the same courtesy."

Her lashes brushed her cheeks as she considered the situation. Then she whispered, "What are you, Chad MacFare—just what sort of animal are you?"

"Shall I show you, lass?" he whispered low and at her ear. His lips traveled down the side of her neck, and she felt a shiver tickle a response from her body.

How she managed to reprimand him, she didn't know, but she heard herself say, "Stop it."

A short laugh escaped him as he released her and set himself apart. There was no humor in the sound or in his eyes. "Animal, is it? No more animal than _you_ —probably less."

She stared hard at him and bit at her bottom lip. "There is an old English word I have rarely heard used or heard outside a romance novel. _Insufferable_ —you are insufferable! Now I have a very clear idea of what that word really means." She turned away from him and immediately found his large, strong hands on her shoulders turning her to face him. He stood up and took her with him. She couldn't understand why she allowed him to retain his hold on her, but she did. A part of her realized she didn't want him to let her go.

"Obviously you enjoy the quiet squire's attention and company so much more than mine." He bent and brushed her lips with his before straightening up. "I shall leave you to dream of him. I have things to do."

She was astonished. His light kiss had sent more sensation through her body than she had thought possible. She wanted more—was irritated that he could just walk away without trying for more. She called him to a stop. "Wait..."

" _What?_ " He was exasperated, and it displayed itself in his tone.

She couldn't think why she was so desperate for him to stay. She only knew that as he left her, she perversely wanted him to stay. "You needn't leave yet..."

He grinned, and for a moment they actually smiled at one another. And then he became insufferable again. "I know that you will miss me, lass, but it is only for a couple of hours. You are a very poor housekeeper. There isn't anything worth eating for dinner in your kitchen. I am going to pick up some supplies... and do a few... er... chores, but don't you worry that pretty head of yours—I'll be back before you can miss me too badly."

" _Miss you_?" she snapped. "I won't miss you. What makes you think I would miss you? I just need to know what I am dealing with, and you seem to have some answers."

"Och... ye pinch m'heart, ye do," he mocked, his hand on said organ.

She threw a couch pillow at him. He opened the door, and a moment later she heard the start of his engine as he left her to her thoughts. She folded her arms across her chest and realized she actually had wanted him to do more than stay. She wanted him to kiss her, really kiss her...

What was worse, she realized she was sincerely comforted he would be returning.

~ Ten ~

DUSK HAD TURNED into night. Shawna picked up a book and turned on a reading light as she moved to sit on the couch, but something flickered through her blood and started clanging.

An eerie sensation took over her body, and she dropped the book on the sofa and moved towards the kitchen. She frowned as she held onto the edge of the sink and peered out the window.

It was almost too dark to see anything—for anyone else; Shawna, however, had better than 20/20 sight... way better. No one was there—at least not on the lawn, and not in the pasture that spread out after the cottage's backyard.

She scanned the woods and experienced a queasy feeling just within the lining of her stomach. _Oh yeah_ —something was definitely out there. She felt its energy grow even as she scanned. She experienced the heat of the creature's rage before she saw the blue, razor-sharp shaft of light!

Shawna had come to think of the thing as _the entity_ , and she made a conscious decision to speak to it. "Okay then... you are watching me. Why? Come on, have a closer look if you like—let me have a closer look at you—only fair, right?"

As though it understood her, it made a swift but threatening movement towards the cottage and then suddenly vanished. She bent over the sink and put her nose close to the window to get a better look. All at once it was there pressed up against the glass—a grotesque mass of misshapen energy, filled with red-hot hatred.

Without thinking Shawna jumped back. Her grandmother's words, ' _show no fear_ ', seemed impossible to adhere to _. It_ tapped at the window with its razor-sharp talon, and as though melting the window pane, it melded with the glass and then spun out a separate jagged blade of energy as it reached out with one intention— _to maim._

She was so stunned by this new development that she forgot to get out of its way, and before she knew what she it was doing, it slashed through the sleeve of her sweater and left an open gash down the length of her arm.

Pain shot through Shawna's entire body and brain, and she released a howl of agony as her blood poured out of the wound. This thing could kill her, she realized at once. It could slice through her neck and decapitate her.

She had to get herself together. The human in her wanted to retreat; the vamp wanted to fight back and destroy!

However, she knew she couldn't afford to lose too much blood, and that was already happening. Blood loss would leave her too weak to fight and defend herself. She took a step further back and reached for a dishtowel hung over the dinette chair.

She had to stop the bleeding!

She wrapped it tightly around her arm as she tried to maintain composure, even bluster at it, while its razor talons swiped the air.

She pressed the wrapped and severely wounded right arm against her body and shoved her left hand into her jean pocket. What she pulled out she held up with her good arm firmly in place. She waved a small, silver-framed mirror.

She held it to the entity and saw that the creature was taken aback. She had, at the very least, bought some time. The thing stopped in mid-swipe. Its movements came to a complete standstill (if you could call it standing) as it glared furiously into the small, arcane mirror.

Shawna whispered the ancient spell, and it turned to look at her—screeching madly. It was more than just a killer, Shawna realized—it was surely insane.

She was glad to have caught its attention, but she wasn't smiling yet because she was in deep shit, and she knew it.

She then shouted out the words her grandmother had taught her so long ago. " _Bearoidh mé—coimeadam_."

The grotesque thing screeched to the heavens—a long, protracted sound of pain—and folded in upon itself outside her window. As it retreated, it gave her a long look of fury and hate, and just as suddenly as it had arrived, it was gone.

Shawna's front door flew open with a bang, bringing her head around. When she saw him she reacted with a relief that flooded through her system and must have been displayed on her face, because all at once he was taking over.

Chad MacFare stomped across towards her and demanded, "What happened? What was that? _Och, lass_ — _you are hurt..._ "

She held her arm up as she attempted to keep the dishcloth wrapped tightly around the bloody wound. It was a mess; bright red blood—her blood—was splattered all over the floor, and when she glanced at it, she felt a moment's wooziness travel through her brain.

Chad took charge at once. He led her gently to the sink, and when he took off the dishcloth he swore under his breath, washed the wound, and laid a wad of paper towels along the length of it before he wrapped it up tightly with yet another dishcloth.

He bent her arm at the elbow and told her to keep it up. His voice was full with confidence, and Shawna had a sensation of comfort as he spoke. "Keep your arm raised, there's a good lass."

Suddenly he scooped her into his arms and positioned her on the sofa. "There now, Shawna love—just lay quiet one more moment."

She watched his movements. They were quick and disciplined. He seemed to know what he was doing as he went to the kitchen and into her fridge. There he took up her stash of disguised blood. He handed her the V8 container. "Drink this, Shawna, while I get some bandages."

She had a moment of disbelief. He knew. He knew that she needed to drink blood. He seemed to know everything about her. She knew nothing about him. She was stunned as she lay there with her feet up on the sofa and legs stretched out in front of her, sure that she was about to pass out.

She felt him watching her as she sipped the pig's blood and then when she drank down what was left in the bottle in deep gulps. She felt herself blush. She had no future. She would never have a man of her own. How could she? _She drank blood_...

"That's my wee lass," he pronounced and then went to the bathroom, fetched the first aid kit, and returned a moment later.

Shawna watched him as he dressed her wound, which had already begun to heal. She saw his expression as he noted that the wound was beginning to close.

She gauged his reaction before she said quietly, "Well, you already knew, didn't you, that I am part vampire? Healing very rapidly, especially after... satisfying the thirst, is a part of what I am. I feel the pain of the injuries I sustain, but those injuries have always healed very quickly if I... drink what... I need."

"Aye, I know what you are, Shawna, and I know what you are not, but even though you have healed, losing as much blood as you have will put a major drain on your—let's call them... _talents._ " He put up his hand to stop her reply. "I know, yes, that you just replenished yourself, but... you will need time to recoup, which means in the interim you are at your weakest."

She blushed and looked away from him. "It isn't human blood, you know..."

"Pig's blood, I know. My sense of smell is better than you can imagine. Why, Shawna, lass—you are blushing." He shook his head. "You haven't anything to be ashamed of—quite the opposite, in fact."

He had been on one knee beside her while he had dressed her wound. He smiled softly and pushed away a long lock of blond hair that had fallen in front of her left eye. "In fact, you should be proud that you never gave in to the bloodlust for human blood. You found a way to get past it. It shows your courage and the power you own."

"Thank you—but I was only able to do that because of my grandparents."

"Aye, another thing we have to talk about."

"Why? What do you mean?" Shawna's eyes blinked with the sudden fear that shot through her mind.

"Pentim will use them— _to get to you_." He stood up and took a tour of the room before he came back to frown down at her.

She sucked in her bottom lip as she digested his words carefully. She had to be careful what she said. She didn't know him, and while her gut was urging her to trust him—could she? "He doesn't know who they are." Doubt lined her statement. Doubt lined the wave patterns of her brain. Where was Chad going with this?

"He _didn'_ t know who they are, but I am afraid that Pentim _is_ about to find out." Chad's voice was dark and grim.

"How do you know that? You can't know that!"

"Suffice it to say _that I do."_

"How?" Shawna was tenacious. "You have to give me more than that. Look, Chad, you know almost everything about me. I don't know how you know, but I realize that you do. I know nothing about you. How do you expect me to trust you, put myself in your hands, when I don't really know who you are—and what makes you tick?"

He sighed heavily. "Shawna—I get visions..." He hesitated. "They aren't always clear, and the ways in which they end aren't always written in stone. Things change sometimes... people some of the time alter the outcome through intent, or even by accident, but more often than not... in the end, most of my visions usually play out as I see them occur."

"And in this particular vision, you saw _him_ —you saw Pentim actually identify, and then find my grandparents?" She accepted the fact that Chad suffered premonitions or 'visions' as he referred to them. She also realized immediately the word _suffered_ applied in his case. He didn't want the visions. That was obvious to her.

It was all beginning to make sense. He had probably learned almost everything about her through visions. It explained a great deal about him and his 'all-knowing' aura.

"Yes," he answered somberly. "In my vision I witnessed Pentim's satisfaction as he acquired the information about your grandmother—and her ability as a witch—from a female vamp that has not always been a part of his clan. However, I did not see him actually capture your grandparents."

He was telling her the truth. If not, in order to elicit her cooperation he would have told her he had seen her grandparents taken.

A wave of desperation swamped Shawna, and she clenched her hands. Her mind worked furiously as she clicked through various scenarios for their protection. A female vamp had discovered her grandparents—how?

"Scent," Chad answered as though reading her mind. "This particular female vamp has better than hound dog abilities."

"When does your vision take place—past, present, future?" Shawna wrung her hands.

He reached for her fingers, soothed them, and then held them in his firm grasp. "I'm not certain, but I think soon. That is why I want you to send for them, immediately."

She tried to get up from the sofa. She didn't know why—it was a gut reflex. He held her in place. "No, lass... you need to rebuild your strength. That thing—whatever it is, for the moment has withdrawn, but it won't stay gone. It will come back better equipped, perhaps learned in the style of _your_ brand of magic. I suspect it has a coterie of its own, and you will need your full strength when you meet it next."

"I don't care about that thing right now." Then all at once it dawned on her— _the obvious_. "Magic—Chad, are we dealing with some demon of black magic? Could it be some ancient form called out by some cult—a cult connected to Pentim?"

"No." Chad shook his head. "Not a demon in the true sense, and not connected to the Rawley clan. I know the list of demons and black magic only the most powerful vampires can call on. This thing is not one of those demons."

"But it is filled with the mana of black magic," Shawna argued.

"Yes—it has taken form from Dark Magic, but for now, let's leave it alone, as we can both deal with it later. Now I have to do something about getting you to safer ground."

"My grandparents first."

"Call them, Shawna—invite them to stay with me at MacFare. There isn't a vampire walking this earth that can penetrate Darby Gray—'tis where you all belong until I am ready for _you_ to draw Pentim out."

Things were moving too quickly. She had to consider all the facts. Could he be using her grandparents as a ruse to get her to MacFare, into his 'bait' plan? He could be doing that. She didn't want to think so, but it was a possibility.

"I have to give it all some thought."

"Send for them at once, Shawna—think about it later."

"I have to think—"

"Do that," he answered impatiently. "And in the meantime, Pentim gets closer and you aren't ready to take him on, and you will sacrifice them for nothing."

She pointed to her bag. "Please?"

He handed it to her, and she took out her cell phone and speed dialed. When her grandmother's voice came on the line, Shawna wanted to hug her and lock her away safely where no one could harm her or her poppy.

She spoke quickly and was surprised that she didn't have to do too much explaining. Her grandmother had already sensed what was coming. They agreed to catch the next available flight, and they agreed to allow Chad to pick them up from the airport. She told them it would be better if no one in Stockton knew about her family connection to them.

When she put down the phone she looked up into his green eyes and sighed heavily. "Don't let anything happen to them."

He was at her side, back on his knees, taking her hands. "I promise you that, Shawna lass, they shall come to no harm under my protection. Nor will you."

"Ah—now that is a different story."

"At least come to MacFare for this night... while you recoup your power."

"Fine." Shawna was tired of arguing. What could it hurt? She saw the surprise light up his handsome face. Obviously he had not expected her to acquiesce so easily. She would go to MacFare—to get a better understanding of just who and what Chad MacFare really was!

* * *

Chad allowed his eyes to stray from the narrow country road as he looked sideways at Shawna in the passenger seat beside him. She was getting under his skin. She was stubborn, resilient, indomitable, and absolutely breathtakingly lovely. She had a huge open heart that would no doubt get her into trouble if he didn't watch out for her carefully.

There was something else as well that was disturbing— _she moved him_. Deep inside where he never let anyone enter, he felt her fingers winding a path... her fingers!

Her many facial expressions that fascinated him. Her sparkling silver eyes... her full, luscious, pouty lips, and her body—och, her body drove him wild. He didn't want to go there, but he found himself _there_ in his head all the time. He had to dissolve those thoughts—they would do him little good. _Och, lad, who are ye foolin'?_ he asked himself. _Isn't it you that kisses the beauty_ _nearly_ _every chance you get? Aye, so it is,_ he answered himself, _but only to soften_ _her resolve..._

_Liar!_ Someone shouted back at him and made him sigh. _Aye, perhaps I am a liar, nothing worse than lying to oneself. There is no future in getting tied up to her, is there? What can I offer her_ — _a life_ — _a family_?

_Forever_ — _you can offer her forever._

_Och no—but I can't_. Shouting again in his head, he argued with himself. _Aye, ye can—it worked for your father,_ _or would have if your mother had not been attacked and killed before the process_ _had been completed._

He blinked a silent response, and it was a no. He told himself they'd never learned if it would have worked.

That last thought made him clam up and shut off the nagging voice in his head. Instead, he managed a smirk of a tease as his chin indicated the backseat. "Brought enough things to stay awhile, didn't you, lass?"

She sucked in air and released a gasp of irritation. " _Oh I did not_. Only what I needed. I couldn't decide... so I just brought a few extra things." She wagged a finger at him. "Don't even think that I will stay more than the one night."

"And why not, Shawna love?"

"Because for one thing, I like being independent—having my own place... and don't call me _love."_

He felt a swift sadness at her rebuke, and he wasn't sure why. He answered quietly, "If you are thinking I might take advantage of you, I wouldn't—and besides, your grandparents will be staying with me. I would think that enough chaperoning for you?" Then all at once he was grinning broadly as he bent conspiratorially her way and dropped, "And besides, you aren't really my type."

He fully expected her to call him on the blatant lie, but instead she simply raised a brow and then turned her eyes to the road.

He eyed her as she sat silent and felt a wicked glint as he surveyed her face. "Oh—lass, I'm not saying you aren't a beauty. We both know that _you are_ —but beauty isn't everything."

Her chin went higher, she folded her arms across her middle, and she continued to ignore him.

He caved in and gave up his taunting to say, "Shawna, just admit it—you know you want to be with your grandparents. Think about it. They will be safe with me... and so will you."

"It is because I want them safe that I can't stay with you. If Pentim does discover where I am, he will find some way to use them, hurt them, and I would rather die now than allow that to happen."

He saw the look of agonized desperation come into her eyes, and it touched his heart.

Her hands went into the air with the heat of her feelings. "Don't you see—the only way I can keep them out of this is to stay out of their lives. You can make up some story, say they are your relatives—or family friends... some story that has nothing to do with me." She paused and then added with a sad smile, "It will be hard on them and on me, to have them so close and not be able to acknowledge them..."

He inclined his head and felt a pang of deep, heartfelt sympathy. It made him want to sever Pentim's neck even sooner than he had planned. "You do have a point for now, but things change, Shawna."

"How do you mean?"

"The future holds mysteries that my visions can't see."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"It means... we are bound to have a few unexpected and unwelcome surprises. I still think you will be better served staying with us at Darby Gray."

He watched her as she held her tongue, turned her head, and once again stared out her window at the passing dark landscape.

No good would come of badgering her now. He allowed the subject to drop. A moment later they had turned onto a gated driveway whose antiqued sign denoted that they had arrived at the huge manor estate.

"Darby Gray—of course, I remember when I investigated Stockton... I saw Darby Gray listed as an historical home site. It has been here for centuries."

"Longer than that," he stuck in.

"I never put it together—Darby Gray with the name MacFare."

"Clumsy investigating," he remarked casually, intentionally goading her to get her out of her melancholy mood.

"Oooh..." was all she responded as she folded her arms once more across her middle.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her watching him as he punched in the code to open the black wrought iron gates. He smiled to himself and said softly, "I change the code every day to keep unwanted humans out. As to others, the grange is heavily warded."

He smiled to see her eyebrow go up, but she said nothing to this as they moved forward slowly and made their way up the rolling blacktop driveway past overhanging old oaks and fenced pastures with grazing horses. Her mouth dropped open when she spied his brightly lit up old manor home for the first time, and he felt a wave of pleasure.

He loved this place, and again for some unfathomable reason Shawna's reaction mattered to him more than he told himself it should. He was struck with a sense of absurd happiness as he watched Shawna's eyes open with appreciation, and he felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. _Och, man, you are letting your dick rule your_ _head. Better get control. She is no for you!_

Chad had always loved Darby Gray. In the past, in what he thought of as the 'old days'—and in truth they were—he had hated having to leave Darby Gray, forced to entrust it to strangers, in order to protect their secret, their immortality. However, two centuries ago, his grandmother and father quite by accident had discovered that they could use the spell of illusion to make themselves appear older. They could stay and allow themselves to age in the eyes of their neighbors. They only had to leave when it was time to fake their own deaths, whereupon a much talked about heir would come to claim his inheritance. His father, who appeared no older than he, and he would take turns at this game.

His grandmother and father actually appeared to be siblings in their late twenties. The trick of aging themselves with illusion had proved more than useful. Hacking into government computers, creating death certificates and birth certificates, had been the easiest of all.

They had always left themselves a paper trail and no longer had to hire actors to play their parts, as they had done during their early years. Now, using the spell of illusion, they simply made themselves appear older with the passing years.

He shut off these memories as the Grange glowed and whispered to him and he shot a glance towards Shawna. The Grange was infused with the magic of a thousand years, and he wondered if she would feel it.

Shawna shot him a quizzical look and said, "It hums."

He smiled at her warm reaction and said softly, "Aye, it does. Beautiful isn't it?"

"Does it always hum a welcoming sound like that, or just whenever _you_ return?"

"Whenever one of the family returns." He smiled widely. He glanced at her profile and was irresistibly drawn to her loveliness in the starlit darkness. She was exquisite. Her golden hair seemed to have its own sun rays glittering in its lengths as it framed her wondrous face, and when she turned to him, her perfect lips opening with unspoken words of admiration, he wanted to stop the car and take her into his arms.

Her silver eyes glittered with appreciation, and she made a small sound that thrilled him to his core. "Oh... Chad... your home is so much more than what it seems!"

Yes, it was, and apparently she sensed it. That realization filled him with warmth, though again why it should was a question that filtered through his brain and was shoved aside. This was the only place he had ever thought of as home. It was where it had all started for his grandmother. It was where they always returned. It was where they knew they belonged. An odd circumstance, because in truth Darby Gray was not really theirs— _at least not by blood ties._

The front overhead portico came into view. Small lights lined its frame, similar to Christmas lights, and yet they spoke of spring. He had always enjoyed the invitation the lights seemed to offer. They seemed to whisper 'be at rest' and offered gentle solitude, although as of late, the solitude was closing in on him and he found he wanted something more.

"Stone and oak," Shawna whispered, and it was obvious to him that the words had poured out without her putting too much thought into it. "Chad... your Darby Gray is magnificent—I just love stone and wood... so warm and completely welcoming."

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

"Beautiful doesn't seem adequate in describing this place, Chad. Your family home is like something out of _my dreams_. I can't get over it. This place is outstanding. Honestly, it looks like one of those ancient manor homes out of a history book, all wrapped up with fairytale charm. I just love it."

He eyed her and smiled. "I do as well."

He could see the curious look in her silver eyes as she asked him, "You called it a 'she'?"

"Aye, 'tis my home, my real home, and I always think of a home as a she, warm and..." He hesitated as he cast her a wicked smile, and said on a husky note, "Inviting."

"Uh-huh." She totally ignored his innuendo and said, "I like that—it actually makes you sound nicer than I thought you could be."

He put his hand to his heart. "Again, you cut me to the quick, lass. What have I ever done to make you think so poorly of me?"

As an answer she rolled her eyes. A short laugh escaped him as he decided to let it drop for the moment. They didn't speak again until he had parked the car and ushered her through the front double oak doors to the central hall.

He frowned to himself as he realized he couldn't get his eyes off her. She had a natural sway when she walked that was totally captivating. It was all her own, it drew his glance to her ass, and it made him hard, hot, and hungry.

She touched the dark oak beams that lined the walls and made soft appreciative noises, and he wanted to grab her and mold her to his body. He wanted to take off her clothes and bare her breasts and...

Damn! He had to hold himself in check. He had to remember that Pentim needed killing and there was only one way to get to him: through this mysterious, complex, and beautiful woman—this lass who was beginning to make him worry about things he had never considered before.

He wanted to know her—he wanted her to know him, but everything about her, just as everything about him, was shut up tight inside. She didn't want anyone getting close... and until now... neither had he.

* * *

Shawna walked into what had once been known as the great hall of Darby Gray and looked around at the wainscoting, the antique furniture, the age-old feel of the place, and her mouth dropped with awe.

Her eyes widened, and her breaths came in short gasps of admiration as she released staccato squeals of delight. She checked herself, but even so, odd little sounds escaped her lips.

She was nearly drooling with pleasure. It was instant—she loved Darby Gray. It had come to life, actually exploded from a place that was deeply part of all her fantasies. It was a dream that had slammed her with its reality—and it was all she had ever imagined it would be. She loved history, old buildings with a past, ancient abbeys, castles, and this... this wondrous home that had held onto its heritage through time.

"Oh whoa, tell me, what century am I in, and then never let me leave," she said finally, not really expecting him to answer, but he did.

He took her hand to his lips, and his voice was low and charged. "I will keep you here as long as you will stay."

She felt a swift electric current run from his touch, his eyes, his voice into her abdomen and couldn't stop herself from looking right back into his green eyes. What was happening to her? She hurriedly retracted her hand and moved away.

She returned her attention to his home and its décor, staring at the dark oak beams that crisscrossed the ceiling. A huge wheel-styled chandelier hung in the middle and looked as though it had supported candles at one time instead of the candle-shaped light bulbs it now housed.

"Chad, no wonder you love this place. It is magnificent. I haven't even seen all of it and I feel as though it fits—it just fits here..." Her hand moved to her heart.

"It does, and you fit in it." Chad said on a husky note as he moved closer to her and slid her huge overnight bag out of his way. "More, much more than you know."

She tried to ignore the erotic tone of his voice. "It is this house. I feel as though I have been here... or have seen it in my dreams."

He didn't say anything to this because he was already beside her, sliding his arm around her, bringing her into position, bending to her...

She pushed at him. He was intoxicating, and if she gave into this, she would be lost. She couldn't have that. She just couldn't have that. She was surprised to find that she was free to move away from him. She had expected him to try harder, but he didn't.

He straightened up and winked. "Come on, I'll show you to your room, and then if Mrs. Wunkly has already left, we can explore the kitchen and find something to eat."

"Wait... just show me a room or two down here—there... that one behind those magnificent double doors." Shawna gave him an enticing smile, and he grinned as he wagged a finger at her.

"Shawna love, if you are going to smile at me just like that... it will be more than a room or two that I'll be showing you."

She laughed and touched his arm. "Come on now, be nice."

"I am never anything else but nice to you, lass..." He was leading her to the set of double doors and behaving as though he hadn't tried to take her into his arms. She tried not to think of his arms—massive, strong, tempting... oh so tempting.

"How old is Darby Gray?" Her voice cracked on the words because her mind was still meandering around his touch and what it had done to her body.

"Oh, the original grange dates back more than a thousand years, but our ancestors kept adding on and updating over the years." He opened the doors, to reveal a room whose walls were lined with encased dark oak shelves; those shelves were filled with books.

A huge stone fireplace housed one entire wall and evidently was kept in constant use. Shawna went right to it and put out her hands. "How do you keep a fire lit when you aren't here?"

"My housekeeper, Mrs. Wunkly, is very efficient at keeping whatever help she has brought in for the day very busy. When you meet her, you will find that she is also quite motherly." He glanced at his watch. "She usually leaves at five, but she needed, she told me earlier, to stay till six today. However, she will soon leave us to our own devices, and then, Shawna love, it will be just _you and me."_ Again the tease was in his voice, and in his twinkling green eyes.

Hard to resist, but she had to. _Why?_ A younger version of her mind asked, _Why resist him,_ _stupid girl? Go for it._

She would be alone with him. She hadn't thought of that—or had she thought of that? Shawna blinked the answer away. She didn't want to know what her libido was thinking. She already knew what her body was feeling, and it was too dangerous to contemplate. If libido and body got together, it was all over...

She cleared her throat and asked, "You mean she manages this whole place herself?"

He laughed. "She manages the rules and regulations at Darby and has a team at her disposal at all times, but she won't allow anyone but herself to prepare my meals. She always leaves me something, and it is enough for an army."

"So... none of your help... live here... on the premises?"

He grinned wickedly. "That's right, lass. At the ding dong of six, we will be here all alone..."

As though on cue, the library mantle clock _ding donged_ that it was the hour in question. They both looked at the clock and then brought their heads around when Chad's lively housekeeper knocked at the open library door.

"Mrs. Wunkly... come in—meet my guest, Ms. Shawna MacBay," Chad said at once, his hand outstretched and his smile affectionate for his small, plump housekeeper.

~ Eleven ~

PENTIM RAWLEY SURVEYED his new surroundings with satisfaction. He enjoyed opulence, but more than that, the old mansion reminded him of his early days, before he had become a vampire. He had been a pauper with very little to recommend him, but now... all that was changed.

He liked the Old Italian gothic-styled structure to which he and his clan had recently relocated, and he was openly proud of all that he was—all that he owned.

Everything in the mansion appeared to be infused with gold gilt. The mirrors, the lighting fixtures on the wall, and the frames of many of the classical artworks—all gold trimmed.

The furniture for the most part was a series of reproductions from the seventeenth century. He liked the rich brocades of the bright upholstery. Indeed, his new estate in the northern mountains of Italy would do very well. So would an occasional tourist...

In fact, he could still taste the ones they had enjoyed last night. However, now he had to interview his little Clara, for she had sent a message that she was in his parlor awaiting him.

He knew she thought a great deal of herself, but he was, in his way, growing slightly fond of her. Of all his gifted vampires, she alone had come up with some viable information on the half-human daughter he sought. He knew now three things he had not known before.

His daughter was no longer in Washington State. He also was now certain she knew he was looking for her. And she was going to a great deal of trouble to hide herself from him.

Clara had tracked his half-human daughter by her scent. That was Clara's special ability. She could, after weeks, even a month, pick up on the scent of the thing or person she was tracking. However, it was a great big world, and finding his daughter on her scent alone was next to impossible. They needed more information.

He had given it all a great deal of thought. The girl's mother could have been the pretty Rachel, the one human that had gotten away from him, the one whose name he had learned after she ran from him. He was sure that the pretty Rachel would have needed help. His lair had access to many avenues of escape: the city, or perhaps Long Island, yes, that could have been her immediate destination when she fled.

Rachel would have been weak—she would have needed someone to care for her. Would she have called her parents? Who of his own clan had been at the club that final night when he had taken her to his place?

He would interview some of his clan regarding that night. Perhaps one of them might remember something.

He straightened his dark gray sweater over his black T-shirt, smoothed his black silk pants, and walked over to the fireplace, where low-burning embers warmed his white cold skin.

He had enjoyed the pretty Clara on a few occasions, but he always wondered if she were capable of real loyalty to him. He knew she felt very little, if anything, for him. With Clara, it was all pretense. He knew she wasn't really taken with him.

So few of his clan were sincerely loyal—perhaps only one, his lieutenant, WB, was loyal to him. They all served him because he made them stronger as a unit. They served him because it served them to do so... and they were afraid of the consequences of betraying him. None knew who would forfeit the other for a better position in the clan.

The door opened, and Clara glided inside. She had a knack for the darkly gothic flair. Her hair was presently the color of red-hot flames, cut short and spiked. She wore a black halter made of silk, and it was very revealing. Black leather shorts adorned her pretty bottom. Black sandaled feet walked right smack up to him with more self-assurance than he knew she really felt. Her hand went to Pentim's hip and slid down over his thigh. Her darkly painted lips nibbled at his neck. He allowed her the moment.

He took off her halter in one movement and fondled her.

One of his male clan members happened in at that moment and stopped short, but before the white-haired, odd-looking vamp started to back out, Pentim stopped him. "Wrecker... what do you think of these?" He massaged Clara's full breasts as he pointed them at the surprised vamp.

His name was Wrecker for an ugly reason. He had the reputation of choosing families, going in and slaughtering them more for fun than for blood. He went towards Clara, sensing Pentim's mood.

Pentim sneered at him. Both Clara and Wrecker were watching him, waiting to see what he would do. "Exquisite, sire." Wrecker inclined his head and decided to play it safe.

"They are, aren't they?" He held her breast and squeezed... hard, smiling when she flinched. He saw the streak of worry cross her face. "What have you to report, darling?"

"I think I might have someone... a newbie vamp in New York... that remembered her because of her scent."

"And how did he know what scent it was you were looking for?"

"I—I..." Clara eyed him tentatively. "... had your... sweater with me."

"Did I give you permission to take my sweater and allow anyone to... er... sniff at it?" He displayed his fangs, exhibiting his displeasure.

"No, sire, but..."

He bent his head and without warning bit her harshly. He knew his bite was much more painful than she allowed him to see, because he bit her breast, just above her pretty dark nipple. Clara's body convulsed, but she made no sound. She knew if she weren't careful, he would kill her now.

Suddenly Pentim's head came up. He glared at Wrecker, who was smiling and licking his thin lips. "You may go now."

Wrecker backed out of the room and kept his head lowered until the door was safely closed between them.

Pentim returned his attention to Clara. "You will not ever _think_ for yourself again. If some notion strikes you, you will always present it to me." He released her for a moment, but as she tried to cover up, he stayed her with his hand, swiping at the blood from her open wound with his long, black-painted nail. He put his blood-covered finger to his mouth and sucked hard. Then with a flick of his wrist he allowed her to cover herself. "Do you understand me, Clara?"

"Yes, sire."

"Now—what did this sniffing idiot have to say?"

"He told me that there had been a young, delectable woman walking towards the check-in at the airport. It was a gray day, and he had ventured out early for a meal. He noticed her because she didn't seem quite human, and his first reaction was to hide. It is what he did. However, she knew he was there and looked right at him. He took off and hid from her, but he had picked up her unusual scent."

"Where had they been—what airport?"

"Kennedy International—approximately ten days ago."

"You have done well, Clara." He took her hand. "Now come and find a way to make up for your presumption."

"Yes, sire."

He saw her anger but had no concern for it. He couldn't see past his own needs. He couldn't feel compassion, or empathy. He hadn't felt those things even before he was turned.

He watched her, and he knew she had retreated into her dark mind... but he didn't care.

* * *

Chad's robust housekeeper bustled about Shawna and fussed over her as though she were a family member. Chad watched his plump housekeeper with a warm smile. He could tell that the 'all-too-knowing' Mrs. Wunkly saw something different in Shawna and that she had realized at once his guest wasn't just another one of 'his revolving-door women'.

When he explained to Mrs. Wunkly that Shawna was staying in the MacDunn cottage, it brought the mature woman's faded brown eyes around sharply to her employer's face. She did not comment on this but frowned gravely over the information.

Chad saw that she required further explanation and added, "Apparently, there is a problem with one of the windows. It won't lock, and when calling on Ms. MacBay in the late afternoon, I realized that she was a bit nervous about the situation. So I suggested we put her up for the night... or at least until the problem is solved."

"Right ye are," pronounced Mrs. Wunkly approvingly, and then she arched a brow at him. "She will be safe—very safe here at Darby Gray, won't she, milord?" Her eyes twinkled, but the tone of her voice was commanding.

_Oh-oh_ , he thought; she only gave him one of her _milord_ 's when she was playing mother. He nodded at her. "I am sure of it."

"Aye," she agreed and then added, "Strange goings-on there have been lately in Stockton, and a young thing like this shouldn't be left on her own—or taken advantage of. I know, milord, you will look out for our Miss Shawna."

"Strange goings-on?" Shawna asked.

"Aye... didn't ye hear about it then—whist aye, I don't want to scare you needlessly, child, but ye should be warned all the same." She shook her head. "Thought you must know, seeing as ye were so nervous about staying in yer own place." She cast Chad a questioning glance.

"We haven't heard, Mrs. Wunkly, so do please tell us what has upset you."

She eyed him as though looking for the tease, but his expression remained serious. "Aye then... poor Mrs. Carver it was—almost killed herself earlier today. They say something, or someone, must have been playing a prank. Somehow someone managed to shoot off a blue streak of electricity across the road, just as she drove along." She shook her head. "Prank, indeed. It caused the poor woman to lose control, and she sent her vehicle plummeting into the road ditch with so much force she was knocked unconscious. Lucky for her, old farmer Daniel was driving to town and saw her. He stopped and called for an ambulance."

"Oh my gosh—was she badly hurt?" Shawna's voice was filled with distress, and Chad touched her shoulder.

Mrs. Wunkly frowned and shook her head. "God love her, she says she is just fine and doesn't want any fussing, so I'm told. I expect she will snap right back into herself, but she did receive a mild concussion, some bruises and scratches, but no serious injuries. She was badly shaken though and said any number of very odd things."

"Like what?"

Mrs. Wunkly lowered her voice as though concerned that some outside force might be eavesdropping on her. "Mrs. Carver thought she was attacked by some electric force—by something... not of this world." She sighed. "Mr. Carver said she was just mildly delirious and no doubt was shaken by such an awful, thoughtless prank. But everyone is talking you see, because there was something there. Farmer Daniel, he thought he saw something blue, and the road was singed. He won't say more than that it was definitely electricity of some sort." She studied both Shawna and Chad, who were quiet with their thoughts, and added, "Aye then, 'tis more there than meets the eye—I thought as much."

"And how did you find all of this out?" Shawna's voice was filled with astonishment.

"Word gets round quickly in these parts... deliveries are made... I'll bet the phone lines were buzzing," Chad offered with a rueful smile.

"Glad I am that the wee bonnie lass is staying here with us." Mrs. Wunkly nodded vigorously as she made her way to the door. "My Henry is picking me up tonight. He told me to leave m'car as he didn't think I should be coming home on m'own. Think of that, and me only five minute drive down the road." She shook her head, but it was obvious that she was well pleased with her husband. Again she eyed the two as she said gravely, "I'll go watch for him on the screen in the kitchen—he has the gate code, but my Henry... well, not much of a memory, so if he forgets, then I'll buzz him in. I'll be saying good night, young lord, and, Miss Shawna, 'tis that glad I am that his lordship brought you here."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wunkly." Chad smiled fondly at her as he walked with her to the library door and started to wave her off. She turned however and announced, "I made a lovely chicken pot pie—more than enough for two."

He smiled to see that Shawna had taken to the older woman almost at once and that she was rubbing her tummy and declaring her love of chicken pot pie.

She waited till she heard the front door close and then turned to Chad. "Why was it after Mrs. Carver?"

"Good question. It meant to scare her, of that I am certain."

"She knows something she shouldn't," Shawna said with sudden dawning.

"Aye, but what?"

"And I have another question as well." Shawna looked askance. "You have the front gate on camera?"

"I do." He grinned. "Indeed, I do.

~ Twelve ~

SHAWNA'S EYELASHES FLUTTERED involuntarily as Chad came towards her. Something had been building between them, and now all she could think was that he was huge and beautiful, gentle and yet exuding strength and power. The image of his handsome face filled her eyes, and she couldn't shake the desire that swept through her heart as he came closer.

The muscles between her thighs contracted with warm anticipation. Suddenly he stood over her, bent towards her, reached around her, and without more than a low growl in his throat took her butt in his strong large hands and pulled her into and against his rock hardness.

She knew this was the moment to run. She knew if she didn't get out of the room, away from his warmly glinting green eyes and the range of sensations he was creating in her body, she would be lost, but she couldn't move.

He had her molded to his sculptured form and pressed hard against her. He made another low, feral sound, and it thrilled her beyond comprehension. A primitive sensation eradicated any good sense she might have tried to hold onto. What was happening to her? She didn't just fall into a man's arms like this. She was always the cautious, conservative, 'show me credentials' type that never went too far...

She repeated the question in her mind— _just what was happening to her_? She was super-charged with desire. She had to find a way to stop—she had to, so she groaned.

The sound she made intensified his machinations, and instead of releasing her, he seemed to take her groan as an invitation to explore her further. Now was the time, her brain announced to her body. _Say no—push away—take control of_ _yourself._ _Moving too fast... shouldn't move into this at all... not what you want... not_ _what_ you _need..._ and then the word _liar_ resonated in her ears.

She felt her thighs press hard against each other as her blood screamed for more touching—more pressing... more...

She felt herself yield to his touch. Her lust had whacked her brain into silence. Her heart tried to find a compromise, but her hormones simply closed any chance of that down, totally down, and then discarded her brain as useless. Her body demanded she capitulate—and capitulate seemed so much better than not.

His mouth was on hers, his lips gently pressed hers to open, and his tongue boldly introduced itself to hers, taunting it to respond in kind— _she did._

His kiss evolved into another, and she felt the desperation of need. His touch ignited desire all through her system. His kisses called for submission, union, and fulfillment.

It was as though his kiss had created a vacuum in her skull and welcomed sensation throughout her muscles, all jerking and pulsating spastically and all for him.

His hands were deft as they toured all over her, and she shuddered uncontrollably. What she knew was that she wanted him—wanted him to take off her clothes...

She wanted him to take off _his c_ lothes—damn, she _wanted, wanted, wanted_. She needed to explore him, touch him, and her hand moved along his hard body down to _his_ thigh.

He had started by taking his time—he had created a second and a third kiss from the electricity of the first. Then he nibbled at her ear and then down the length of her neck. His hand moved to her breast and fondled it through the sweater, and Shawna's knees turned into mush.

Mush, silly putty, much like her discarded brain... she blinked the notion away. She didn't want to think. It occurred to her it was a good thing he was holding her tightly, because she was damn sure her legs were about to give out.

Her sweater was off. She didn't know how or when it happened, but it was on the floor and his hands had released her bra. His face bent to hers, his kisses covered her nose, her lips, and her neck, and then he began licking her nipples. She made mewling sounds and whimpered for more.

All at once and with expertise he maneuvered her swiftly into position and scooped her up cradle-like into his massive arms. He was walking towards the library doors...

... when suddenly, as though a frigid wind blew in, he stopped short and set her on her feet. She almost caved in on herself. _What the hell?_

Shawna then realized what had stopped him. _She could hear someone—more than someone, two someones—at the front door. Nooo, not at it but coming through—into the house!_

Shawna looked round for her clothes. She put her bra on, snapped it in place, pulled on her sweater, and shaped it neatly round her body. She looked towards him and saw that he was rigid with irritation and annoyance.

"Chad?" a hearty male voice called out.

"Darling?" a female voice chimed in, and to Shawna it sounded sweetly musical—and young.

Shawna's eyebrows stiffened into arches of surprise. " _Darling?"_ She gave Chad a quizzical look and wondered to herself, _Who is this—some girlfriend of his—with the gate code and a house key?_

Chad's face took on an extremely odd expression as he looked at her and supplied, "My father and grandmother."

"Your father and grandmother? _You have a father and grandmother_?" She was shocked into stupidity. "And they are _here—now?_ " She had lowered her voice into a hiss of a whisper, although she wasn't sure why.

He turned to her and said, "Stay! Don't move." He was striding hard, clearly hoping to get out of the library before his family's onslaught, when she heard the woman's ageless, sweet voice. "Ah, John—he is in the library, and apparently Chad has... er... company."

He watched Chad's face. Shawna's reaction was two-fold, _caught_ and then because of her ever suspicious mind, the questions began to take over in quick order.

Chad rolled his eyes. It was obvious to Shawna that he wasn't pleased to have his father and grandmother descend upon him. Were they not close?

Perhaps it was just their timing? Shawna was damn well sure she was thankful they hadn't arrived while Chad was carrying her upstairs. How embarrassing would that have been?

Also, now perhaps she could get some control over herself? She had been saved to resist him for another day (if she could—if she wanted to). Did she want to resist him?

However, no time for retrospection as a lovely and mature woman of some undetermined years, but certainly grandmotherly status, was already heading towards her, hand extended. "Ah, a friend of Chad's. How very nice—we don't often get to meet Chad's friends. I am his grandmother, Lady MacFare, but do please call me Elizabeth." She turned to her son, an attractive man who looked about fifty-five, and to whom Chad bore a strong resemblance. "This is my son, the Duke of MacFare—you may call him John." She then turned to her grandson, one eyebrow up, and Shawna watched with some amusement as signs of resignation came over Chad's handsome face.

Shawna was momentarily overwhelmed. Chad's grandmother was gracious and, she could sense, sweet-natured. Yet, something felt off. She was struck with sudden dizziness and blurry vision.

She had looked at Lady MacFare and then at her son, John, while the introductions had been made, but the image of an older man faded and turned into a younger one right before her eyes. The same thing happened when she glanced back at Chad's grandmother. The image of a mature woman blurred and shifted, and a younger version of the woman came into focus. What the hell? What was wrong? Was it because of the loss of blood she had suffered? That must be it—loss of blood... confusion... sudden arrival... stress! That had to be it.

Suddenly Chad was at her side, holding her steady, "What is it, lass?"

"I—I don't know, I felt a bit dizzy..." Shawna blinked and looked at his grandmother to find a beautiful woman with tawny gold locks cropped in short, attractive waves. She was still wearing the St. Laurent black and white silk pants suit, but gone was the older woman with soft, white-tinged gold hair...

What was happening, she wondered silently. She frowned as she tried to bring her world back into focus. Shawna held her head as Chad's strong arm held her in place, and she smiled timidly up at him to whisper, "I am so sorry..."

And then she glanced at the duke.

_Oh gosh..._ she almost exclaimed out loud. The duke was no longer the handsome and distinguished man of some odd fifty years. No—oh no, he was still handsome, in fact, almost a replica of his son—or was it that Chad was a replica of him? No matter. What mattered was that he didn't look fifty any longer—he looked to be in his late twenties, like Chad. She was having some kind of episode. She must be weak from the loss of blood... she must be ill... what other explanation could there be?

She tried to hold it together as she watched Chad take over the conversation, wishing he could direct it away from her until she could recoup. However, introductions had to be made. "Shawna is our neighbor, Grams—Miss Shawna MacBay," he offered, obviously miserable.

"Ah—of course." Lady MacFare turned and cast her son a quick look, but when she spoke, her voice was soft and soothing. "I had heard, Shawna, that you had taken the MacDunn cottage. How very pleased I am that we happened to stop by now and meet you during your visit."

"She isn't visiting. There was a problem at the cottage. I offered her... a safe haven here for the night, or as long as it takes to er... repair the problem."

"And has it been a... safe haven for you here, Shawna child?" Her ladyship's voice was gentle, probing, interested.

Shawna frowned and blinked, but the younger version of Elizabeth MacFare took over again and then faded out. _Grandmother... young woman... grandmother_ , right before her eyes. She blinked, and the grandmother was back. She had not eaten in a long while—was that it? She steadied herself and tried getting past her sense of spatial distortion with politeness. "Chad is an excellent host, and yes. I was a bit nervous about staying in the cottage alone tonight." What else could she say?

Chad's grandmother took her hand and pulled her out of Chad's steadying grip. "You look a bit pale, dear... Come with me to the kitchen. The men can follow us..."

"Yes, that would be good," Shawna said, putting a hand to her forehead. "I did for a moment feel... a bit off..."

"Yes," Chad's grandmother said, patting her hand. "No doubt a tiring day—you'll do."

Chad called out to his grandmother, using his old Gaelic nickname for her. " _Brea_ '..."

"She will be fine with me, darling. You stay and visit with your father and then join us in the kitchen, and we'll have a cozy meal together."

* * *

Mrs. Wunkly had a great deal of experience over her years of service with the MacFare family. They came and went at will, and she always had meals cooked, frozen, and ready for heating.

She had been with them for over twenty years, loved her job and loved them. She was loyal and probably noticed more than she should, but she kept it to herself. At any rate, the assembled company found just what they needed in the overstocked freezer and got along together during dinner very well.

Shawna's problem with the airwaves subsided, and the dizziness she had been experiencing faded. Gone was the strange feeling she had while watching Lady MacFare's younger version of herself fade in and out. Shawna excused it away in her mind—after all, she had been badly sliced and lost a great deal of blood.

She shook it all off and took on the job of cutting up and tossing the salad. Chad and his father arrived looking like two storms that had collided, but the duke took up a bottle of wine and poured for all of them, all the while engaging her in idle chatter.

A lively banter ensued, and the conversation was punctuated with riotous laughter as Chad's grandmother decided it was time to describe one or two of his youthful exploits.

Shawna could not remember (in the last six months) ever enjoying herself more. Holding her hand to her stomach as Chad and his father exchanged quips, she turned to find her ladyship smiling warmly at her.

_Huh_ , she thought, as a soft feeling of affection for Chad's people enveloped her. This was a side of Chad MacFare she had never known existed. How had she not seen this in him—known the sense of family that he had? Her senses were usually on the mark—but apparently not this time? This both irritated and confounded her.

She couldn't get all caught up in friendships. That was the way to hurt. If Pentim discovered she had friends, not only could he get to her, he could do them harm in the interim.

She would have to leave in the morning as fast as she could and cut all ties.

The thought made a swirl of pinpricks in her heart, but she silently sniffed them away as she made her decision, gathered her strength of purpose, stood, and smiled softly. "Well, this has been wonderful... but it has been a long day, and I think I will turn in."

Chad stood up at once. "I'll take you to your room, lass."

She was surprised that he didn't try to persuade her to stay. In fact, he seemed fidgety as his grandmother took her hand and bade her good evening.

Shawna had never envisioned him quite like this. In fact, this was an entirely new facet to Chadwick MacFare's complicated personality.

Elizabeth called out to Shawna as she and Chad reached the door. "Shawna dear, I can't tell you what a great pleasure it has been meeting you."

Shawna wanted to run back and hug the woman. In many ways, Elizabeth MacFare reminded her of her own dear grandmother. She settled for giving the woman her grateful smile. "Thanks so much—it has been for me as well."

Chad's father nodded, winked, and added, "Aye, a bonny fine lass ye are, Shawna." He grinned at his son. "And so I feel I must warn you about my boy..."

Shawna laughed. "I'm up on that, sir."

Chad scowled, and she followed him out of the kitchen. In the central hall, she reached for her overnight bag, but Chad grabbed it before she could, gave her a challenging look, and waved her forward towards the grand staircase.

A short laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head and went a few steps before him. She waited for him to catch up and took the stairs beside him.

When they reached her oak and heavily molded bedroom door, he stopped, opened it wide, and waved her in before him.

She went inside, exclaiming at the beautifully decorated suite of rooms, and he dropped her duffel bag on the Oriental rug.

"Good night then," he said as he turned away and started out.

Shawna was baffled, as she half expected him to make a move to kiss her again. She had been planning her style of rebuff, and now it didn't seem necessary. She definitely felt a contrary sense of pique.

She had already decided that what happened earlier between them was best forgotten; however, now that it was obvious that he intended to do just that— _forget about their_ _heated encounter_ —she was distressed, inwardly embarrassed, irritated, and _damn well fricking_ _annoyed!_

As he started to close the door he turned his head and gave her a wicked grin. "Be comfortable, and sleep well, Shawna lass."

"Ah, how could I do otherwise?" Shawna returned, feeling like her cheeks were on fire. "You do the same."

"Oh—I rather doubt _I will_ ," he said darkly as he closed the door between them.

* * *

Chad hurried down the stairs, determined to handle this new development. He had not been expecting his family and was taken aback by their sudden arrival. He knew they did not approve of his plan to draw Pentim out and destroy him, and he wanted no interference from them.

He reached the kitchen and stopped short as the faces of the two people he adored stared up at him with definite disapproval written into their expressions. He sighed and raised his hands. _"What?"_

His grandmother answered him by wagging a finger at him. His father, arms folded across his chest, one brow up, said, "Doona ask us 'what'—what indeed!" The duke shook his head. "Aye, then, son, having met the bonny lass, I must tell ye that this just won't do—that's what," returned his father while dispensing with the illusion of age.

Looking at his father often made him feel as though he were looking at a slightly older twin—until he looked further at the demeanor, which he always saw as totally parental.

Chad wasn't, at that moment, thinking of his father's parental authority. He had been his own man for a very long time and was not used to taking orders. It looked as though both his father and grandmother were about to do just that: issue an order.

His own arms folded into one another across his chest as well, and he took an implacable stand. He would not be told how to conduct his life. However, he did not like to displease his loved ones, and so he had decided to allow them to have their say.

He couldn't help but notice the glint of anger in his father's eyes, and he frowned to himself. He had no wish to distress his family and immediately, almost guiltily, dropped his arms to his sides and took another step into the kitchen. He would do what he thought he needed to do. They would not dissuade him in this, but he would be respectful. "You both have known what my intentions were from the start. I went to locate and bring Shawna into the protection of my circle. I mean to train her to use the skills she already possesses and make her aware of the ones she doesn't know she has. I will teach her a few specific black magic skills... and tattoo her against the inherent danger of those spells."

He took a tour of the kitchen while they watched him. When he turned his face was still drawn in a scowl. "You knew that was my goal, so why now this attitude?"

"This isn't new. We never approved of your plan," his father snapped.

"You never tried to stop me," Chad shot back.

"We couldn't, at that point, stop you, Chad." His grandmother shook her head. "You weren't listening."

"And what... now you think I am?"

"Now we think this innocent child that you wish to put out there... might be hurt—gravely hurt—and we know you don't want that."

"I don't intend to allow that to happen, but, _Brea_ , I don't even have a choice any longer. If Shawna is to stay alive—if I am to keep her safe—I have to kill Pentim. It is no longer about _my_ need for revenge."

His grandmother considered this for a very long moment before she turned to her son, who threw up his hands as she quietly advised, "He has a point."

"Then what we need to do is sit and devise a better plan." The duke's voice was grim.

"The plan I put together will work," Chad returned obstinately.

"However, you will listen to your father and to me... because there is something you need to know. There is more than just Pentim out there. We have something else that has entered the mix, and we don't want to draw too much attention to ourselves at this time."

"What?" he asked, but he already knew—there was only one real threat that concerned them and their way of life.

"Dracula has been making serious inquiries. He does do that from time to time, but if you make this battle with Pentim too public, he will find us, and that is something none of us need."

~ Thirteen ~

THE SHOWER HAD been just what she needed. It woke her up nicely. She was dressed and ready to face the early morning. She took a quick gander at herself in the wall mirror, smoothed a hand over her faded Gap jeans, and wondered if she should wear her hiking boots instead of her sneakers. After deciding to stick with sneakers, she pulled her sleek navy leather jacket over the pretty blue sweater she was wearing.

She flipped her long blond hair away from her shoulders and decided she was going to her cottage, collecting her things, and leaving Scotland. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she was going to have to keep moving. She couldn't put Chad's family in danger, and if they decided to rally around her with her grandparents that was what she would be doing. _No,_ she couldn't have that.

She had not slept much the night before, and she had given a great deal of thought as to how she was going to handle the problem of the 'electric entity' that seemed to be stalking her. Would it follow her to the airport? She didn't think so. She rather thought it was connected somehow to Stockton. It seemed cowardly to leave it behind when it was capable of hurting more people, but what could she do?

She had to get out. She had to get some air and think. She wouldn't even stay for coffee. No sense getting any closer to Chad's family than she already had. A twinge of regret touched her. She liked them, really liked them, and she knew they would wonder at her hasty departure. Sighing off a shrug of regret, she made her way to her door.

The sounds of a cleaning crew busily at work below stairs finalized her decision—this was as good a time as any to make her escape without too much fuss.

_Escape—hmm, good word_. She wasn't sure how she was going to handle being alone with Chad in his car on the drive home. Just what she was experiencing was too complex for her to deal with, so she shoved it out of her mind. She knew she was devastatingly attracted to Chad MacFare. She was also sure he had a score of women—she was just one more, and that was not what she wanted to be: _just one_ _more._

What then did she want? She closed her eyes for a moment. She was sure of only one thing, that she was damned determined never to let him kiss her ever again, let alone... anything like what happened yesterday in his library.

How had that happened? What had she been thinking? Thinking? She hadn't been doing any of that. She shook off the thoughts that had plagued her and kept her from sleeping the night before. Taking up the navy duffel bag, she slung it over one shoulder and bolstered herself before she was out of her room and making her way down the wide staircase.

Chad chose that particular moment to come back into the house from one of the grand hall's front double doors. He wore a weathered brown leather jacket and faded jeans. His tawny hair was a mass of windblown waves framing his handsome face. His eyes were bright pools of green.

He looked up at her as she stopped for a moment on the staircase, and his gaze shifted to the bag slung over her shoulder. He frowned darkly as his eyes languidly looked her over. "Are you going somewhere, lass?"

The light from his eyes burned a wide trail over her body, and she had to lick her bottom lip before she was able to speak _. "_ Well, I was hoping you might give me a lift home actually?"

She made her way down the remaining steps and came to stand in front of him. She allowed the bag to slip off her shoulder, although she retained a hold on its strap as it sank to the marble floor and fell in against her calf. She needed to use some bravado to get past the moment of looking into his dark green eyes.

"I doona think that would be wise," he said, lapsing into a deep Scottish burr.

His voice, his accent, _oh man, his looks..._ stalled her for a wayward moment; however, Shawna had made up her mind to keep him at a distance. "But, _I do_ think it very wise."

"There is a dangerous 'thing' that seems to mean you harm, and we both know that it already got to you in your cottage. It can get to you when you go walking. It can get to you when you need to go to your car. Shawna, _it can get to you_." His words were clipped, and he clenched his jaw on the last phrase. All resolve to keep him at arm's length seemed silly. _Why should you do_ _that_ was a question that loomed large in her brain, and her body agreed—no argument there.

Then logic told her once more that he was trouble. _You'll_ _be in deep shit if you don't put distance between you!_

She had to come up with an answer, and she did. "Perhaps that thing could have gotten to me, but I kinda think I have its number now, and I also think I know how to create a specific—since there is no way of getting around this, I'll just say it— _spell_. I think I can create a 'shield spell' to stop it from harming me. "She eyed him for a moment, and as he didn't say anything as she continued, "You see... I know a great deal about white magic, and I am fully capable of performing a very strong spell that electricity cannot pass through. I have a grandmother as well, and she taught me what to do should I happen across the unknown." She looked into his green eyes. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

"I guessed it, but wasn't sure. So what is that spell?"

"Don't know yet. This thing is made up of electricity. I have to figure out which shield spell will work against it."

He threw up his hands with exasperation. "What the hell, Shawna! This is not a game."

"And yet—it is." She shrugged. "I mean to improvise."

"Improvise, eh—why don't you run that by me if you please, lass, just what sort of improvising do ye intend?"

Again she noticed that when he was distressed, his burr got stronger, deeper, and actually aroused her. Her blood felt tickling fingers...

She looked away from him and would have started forward, had he not stepped in the way. She sighed and relented. "Okay... I'll tell you in the car... on the way back."

He had her arm and gently pulled her to him as he bent close, so very close to her lips. "I haven't agreed yet that I would be taking you back there."

"Ah, you don't feel like a drive?" She pulled out of his hold. "Don't worry about it—I can go home vamp style."

"You'll not be doing anything of the sort, lass! Are you mad? Vamp-style, is it? Doona you know your scent would linger in the air in your wake? What are you thinking? Do you _want_ Pentim to find you?"

She eyed him doubtfully. "No... but I thought _you did_."

" _And I do_ , but when you are ready—when _we_ are ready— _not_ one damn minute before."

"And when will that be, Chad MacFare?"

"When I have trained you and say it is time, and to do that, I need you here—with me, training for hours..."

She frowned up at him, but her mind was working fast. "What would your father and—"

"They are gone already," he interjected. "They were on their way to Africa. We have a school there for orphans, and they check in regularly to make certain the children are being well cared for. It is one of their grand passions." He smiled as he said this last.

Shawna could see he was immensely proud of his father and grandmother, and it softened all other resolves for reasons she didn't have time to investigate.

She sighed heavily. She had been planning to run again. Now that his parents were safely out of the way, that might not be necessary. She gave in to the decision she had been playing with for any number of days. "Fine—here is the deal, take it or leave it. I will drive over here every single day and 'train' with you, although I can't imagine what sort of training you mean to give me." She put up her hand when it appeared he was about to interrupt. "Nevertheless, I agree to train with you. However, I need my boundaries— _my own place_."

"I don't like it," he grumbled.

"It doesn't matter—what _you_ like or don't like." She touched his arm, and a shiver danced right through her body; she immediately withdrew her hand. "I have likes and dislikes—and they come first. Besides, how would it look to all of Stockton if I moved in here with you?"

He gave her a rueful grin. "Do I care? Should _you_ care? Besides, your grandparents will be here, remember? I am picking them up tomorrow."

"What kind of arrangements have you made?"

"Suffice it to say that I did."

"You are always saying that. It isn't fair. You know so much about me... I know nothing about you."

"If you come here to live and train, I will tell you something every single day about myself. How is that?"

"Something important— _that matters_?"

"Aye—something important, that matters. But it would be easier on us all if you would just move in."

"Not yet—I don't want people to make the connection between my grandparents and me, and they are bound to if I came here to live. Besides, what would I tell the squire?"

Chad MacFare gritted his teeth, and when he finally found his voice, Shawna was surprised to hear the level of irritation in it. "I don't give a good... damn about what the squire thinks or doesn't think."

"Yes, well but I do. I committed to the lease—"

"I'll pay the damn lease, Shawna..."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Shawna's eyes narrowed as she considered him. "Right—I proposed a deal. Take it or leave it."

He moved in closer to her, and she felt her breath turn into short spurts. Why did that happen to her when he got too close? She stepped away from him. "Come on then... I need to get home. You can think it over and give me your answer later."

"Ah, thirsty, Shawna?" His voice changed, and she could see the concern in his eyes. Hell, when he looked at her like that, it sent a thrill through her, softened her, and melted her heart. She lowered her eyes. She didn't want to look at him and give herself away.

She shouldn't be, but she _was_ thirsty. Perhaps it was because of the injury and subsequent healing? It had taken a great deal out of her—more than she realized. "Yes, Chad... as you pointed out— _half vamp here_."

He inclined his head. "Right, but before we go, I want this settled. For the time being, I will allow you to stay in your cottage, but I have your word... starting today, we begin your training."

She hesitated, wanted to retort that he hadn't the 'right' to allow her to stay, or not stay, in her cottage. That was her right, and she couldn't remember having given it away. However, she shrugged it off. "Agreed."

* * *

Watching through the window as Chad drove off, Shawna felt a twinge of loss as his car moved out of view. She realized she was beginning to rely on him but for what— _comfort_? Why? She couldn't allow herself to do that.

Again the nagging voice in her head, whispering, shouting, telling her, _But_ _you need him_ , _on so many levels_. She folded her arms across her middle. _No, I do not_. Need had to go hand in hand with trust, or it wouldn't work. Could she trust him? Perhaps—but she had to know more about him, what made him tick, what drove him, what in fact was he? That was at the heart of the mystery that plagued her. Just what was Chad MacFare? Did it matter? She thought it did.

She clicked off what she knew about him: One, he had a mastery of magic, but he had nothing of the sorcerer about him. Two, he was intuitive, and he suffered visions that gave him a glimpse into the past and the future. Those visions gave him a heads up. Three, he had an uncanny way of using his magic and his skills to get past her wards, call her on a phone that was shut off, and so many other things, like... how had he found her in the first place?

Those were the things she knew about him, and none of those things were comforting. Ah, yes, she knew about something else— _his family._

Were they as abnormal as he? Something about them told her instinctively that whatever he was, whatever he had in his genes... came most definitely from them.

_Mystery—_ she was left with the mystery.

Still, for six months she had been evading and running from Pentim Rawley, and Chad was certainly right about one thing: _she couldn't do it much longer._ He was bound to find her.

She had skills that Pentim didn't know about, skills that even the all-knowing Chad MacFare might not know about, but she wasn't quite certain those skills would be enough to keep her from getting caught. And she couldn't get caught. She couldn't become one of them... she was terrified Pentim might be able to 'turn' her.

She had always healed quickly. She couldn't remember ever being sick. She was super-strong, she was super-fast, and her senses when compared to a human were certainly heightened, but she knew the diseased blood already in her system could be used against her. She believed she wouldn't have to die to be turned.

There were two questions about herself for which she had no clear answer. The first was could she die in the normal way—from age? And if not, would she stay young for as long as she lived?

Not important now, and she rather thought one day soon, she might discover the answers. She sighed over the memory of Chad's face, so close to hers, his lips on her lips...

She brushed this away with a scowl.

And yet a little voice argued with her in her head, telling her Chad MacFare was so much more than she knew. He might be secure in his sense of self, but perhaps he wasn't quite as arrogant as she had first assumed? Perhaps, he was just what she needed?

Wrong question, she told herself as she immediately pictured his hunky self in her head and felt her eyelids get lazy. _Stop!_ _Can't think about his kisses..._

She sighed long and hard, and then she turned to the business of warding her cottage with the strength of black magic. She went to her chest of 'tools' and withdrew a crystal amulet, a device used in white magic, and moved towards the front door.

However, she was finding it difficult to concentrate. Chad MacFare's face and touch kept infiltrating her thoughts. Also, the mystery that surrounded him drove her crazy.

And what about that business last night with his father and grandmother? Why had their appearances fuzzed up right before her eyes? She hadn't been sick, and that had never happened to her before!

There was something more to the McFares than met the eye, and she was going to have to get him to answer at least some of her questions.

He continually surprised her, like when he had jumped out of the car to open her car door and then had insisted on walking her inside and making a check of the place himself before he left. He had put a finger to her nose and reminded her that he expected her to return to Darby Gray by two o'clock. Then, with a wink, he had left.

Just like that, gone. She had bolstered herself believing she would have to fend him off. She had believed she would have to gather her inner strength to tell him 'no' to any kissing attempt, and then, just like that, she didn't have to stop him. He'd made no attempt to kiss her at all. Let down— _huge!_

She shook it all off and concentrated on the job at hand, but first she needed a drink. She set aside the amulet and moved to the fridge, where she retrieved the disguised bottle of pig's blood. She stared at it for a long time before finally draining it down. Throwing the empty container in the garbage, she sighed heavily. She was going to have to go into Inverness sooner than she had anticipated and purchase another gallon.

She took out some of the dried herbs she had stored in various containers on the kitchen counter and mashed them together in a small dish. However, when she went to retrieve the amulet, she stopped short.

_It was glowing blue_.

_Whoa!_ What the hell was this? It had never done that before. When she reached for it, it seemed to hop into her hands and the blue glow vanished.

Shawna placed the crystal on the table and used the age-old chant her grandmother had taught her so long ago: _cosain—dhuine-mé-greill agus treilis._ Shawna really didn't speak or read ancient Gaelic, but she knew the arcane chants for the various wards and all the white magic spells. Her grandmother had started training her in the art of white magic when she was just five.

This particular spell would keep out the force of black magic. So many people believed that black magic was more potent than white, while in reality it wasn't. It used fear and illusion to its advantage, but it wasn't stronger than the purity of soft white mana.

The crystal shot out a bright, razor-sharp light that splintered throughout the house, magnifying at each of the windows and then at both the front and back doors. Then without warning, it retracted its rays and seemed to pause as an image deep within its glass started to form. Shawna couldn't make it out, but she saw the color blue grow stronger and then vanish.

She stood for a long moment wondering just what it all meant.

~ Fourteen ~

CHAD HAD A FEW sports cars in his garage. He had taken out the silver Jaguar to drive Shawna home. What was he doing? Trying to impress her?

As he arrived at the fork in the road that would take him either to Darby Gray or into town, he stopped. Did he really need to go to town and bother with the errands he had listed for himself? Maybe he should just head home and prepare the weapons room for his first 'training' session with Shawna.

The image of her face tickled him. He imagined her twinkling bright silver eyes, and that drew an unconscious smile from him. Then he recalled for the hundredth time how she had felt in his arms.

Her luscious breast in his hand, her firm, ski slope butt...

_He had to stop this_. He had a raging hard-on, and it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon if he allowed himself to constantly think of her. As he tried to forget that fully charged moment when he had removed her sweater and she was deliciously in his arms, he heard the sound of a powerful engine—a Bentley pulling out of the MacDunn driveway at his back.

He looked in his rearview mirror and smirked. _Damn if it wasn't the squire himself_!

He didn't like the man, and he had been more upset than he wanted to admit to himself when he had discovered that Shawna had taken lunch with MacDunn at his manor. No doubt, the squire was after her pretty little ass.

The notion drew a sneer out of him. Some might say it was the pot calling the kettle black, but Chad felt otherwise. He never took a woman where she didn't want to go, and he never played with a woman's feelings. From the start, he was up front with any woman he met and became involved with intimately.

He had heard many stories about the squire and his coterie of women, and none of those stories were pleasant. There were whispers amongst the society of Inverness about Squire Kenneth MacDunn. Those whispers hinted at his abusive behavior. He liked to rough his women up emotionally and physically.

There was a nasty streak in the squire that could be dangerous. Chad had sensed it on the occasional times they had bumped into one another. The squire had a dark side, and that fact had come as a surprise to Chad. He had never noticed it about the man before his mother's death. He had always thought the squire just a quiet, perhaps unfriendly sort, but something in the man's nature had gone terribly wrong—Chad was sure of it.

The sound of the squire's powerful car played in his ears, and Chad realized he was getting closer. In fact, the squire would soon be riding his bumper. Chad made no attempt to move his Jag out of the way or increase his speed. It was a one-lane road, and Chad normally did not behave like that, but the squire continued to provoke him by blowing his horn.

He knew he was behaving perversely, almost looking for a fight, and still he stayed in the man's way.

He could see that Kenneth's face was drawn with an expression of loathing and something else—what _was_ _that_ something else _jealousy?_

The squire appeared livid, and Chad suspected it was caused by jealously—over Shawna. _Imagine that_. Chad grinned to himself. The dawning of this realization served to widen his grin, and he couldn't stop himself from wanting to taunt Kenneth MacDunn.

His behavior was absurd, he told himself. He didn't usually pick fights, but he suddenly wanted to pick one with the squire. Why?

The road behind him, behind the squire, went to only two places: to the right, to the MacDunn Manor gate, yes, but if one went in the opposite direction down the road they were on, it would lead to a dead end that housed only one habitat, and that was Shawna's cottage.

The squire, Chad decided as he smiled to himself, could have only drawn one conclusion at finding him, at this particular juncture of the road, and that conclusion, the picture it drew for Kenneth MacDunn, had enraged him.

The squire drove right up to Chad's bumper and revved his engine.

Chad smiled to himself, and idiotically, childishly, gave the squire a very rude sign. _Och aye_ , _ride me, will ye? I don't think so._

However, Chad did get control and laughed out loud as he made his decision. He turned towards the village. He watched the squire in his mirror make a U-turn and head towards Shawna's cottage.

That had an immediate result. It totally wiped the smile off Chad's face.

* * *

Shawna had just put away her crystal and washed out the dish of herbs she had prepared for her spell when she heard a car coming to a stop outside. She went to her window and saw the squire, an odd expression on his face, get out of his dark Bentley and stalk her flagstone steps hard and fast to her front door.

She went and opened it wide, to greet him with a smile. "Hi, Kenneth... come in."

"Am I catching you at a bad time?"

"No, not at all... tea?"

"No, I am in fact on my way to Inverness on business and just wanted to stop by and see you before I left."

"Terrific... come on in though so that I can close the door against the cold." She frowned as he inclined his head and stepped through to fidget in her hallway. She closed the door and put her hands together. "Won't you stay a little bit? I have some ale..."

He shook his head and dove right in. "I just happened to pass Chad MacFare on my way here," he paused and looked at her with a frown, "I hadn't realized that you two were acquainted."

"Oh... Chad, yes, he gave me a lift home. I was out walking early—he was on his way to town." Shawna fibbed and felt uneasy. Where was this going?

He seemed to relax but only a little before he appeared to make up his mind to say something more about Chad. "Shawna... I am certain he is quite charming, but—be careful."

She allowed him a crooked smile. "When it comes to Chad MacFare, I am very careful."

He eyed her doubtfully. "You speak as though you know him?"

"I don't really, although we had met briefly in New York."

"You met in New York? Is that why you came here...?" Kenneth asked, obviously shocked.

Shawna's hand waved this off as ludicrous. "Heck, no—I only met him briefly a couple of days before my flight."

Since she had leased the cottage from Mrs. Carver long before her arrival, he appeared mollified, but then he frowned. "Right then, I am late, and so I must be off... but I won't be gone long." He moved towards her, and Shawna felt as though he were about to bend and kiss her.

_Do something—do something_... She put out her hand and found his. She almost gave him a handshake like an idiot, recovered, and gave his fingers a squeeze. With contrived lightness she said, "Well, drive carefully, and I'll see you when you get back."

"You can count on it," he answered on a wide smile and turned towards the door.

Shawna walked him to it, waved him off, and leaned backwards against it. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she breathed out loud. "Whew!" It occurred to her that the squire was becoming a tad too attentive.

* * *

"Pick up that sword, Shawna!" Chad's eyebrow rose, and his eyes glinted. "Doona think ye can quit after twenty minutes!"

"What is the point?" she snapped at him. "It isn't as if I will be carrying it around with me ready to take off the head of an attacking vamp, now is it? The damn thing has a blade nearly twenty inches!"

"Eighteen to be exact," he snapped. "However, it will be at your disposal, when you need it, but first, you have to make it yours. There will come a time when you won't go anywhere without it because Pentim will be on his way."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

" _Och, lass,_ for the love of God and country. Pick. Up. The. Damn. Sword!"

She narrowed her eyes and cast him an evil expression. He burst out laughing, and she turned before he could see the smile it drew from her. She picked up the sword. It might have been only eighteen inches long, but it had weight—and magic. She could feel its force travel through her arm. Its handle was made of silver with rune etchings, and she knew it was way more than an antique. It looked like it came from another world; she was sure, in fact, that it had indeed come from another world.

She played with the handle, lifting the sword high, sweeping it through the air and then taking a stance to point it at Chad. "What really is this? Where did it come from—has it always been yours?"

"It has been in the family a very long time. We aren't sure where it came from, but it was given to m'grandmother when she was born."

"Was it? An odd gift for a baby."

"Aye, so it was, but everything about m'grandmother's arrival at MacFare was odd."

She recognized at once that he was giving her an important piece of information, but she couldn't fathom what it all meant. She frowned at him, and his voice was almost a soft caress as he spoke to her. "Now then, time has come to make it yours, Shawna— _make it want_ to come to you."

She wielded its length, and suddenly she was on the move with everything she had. She had learned all she knew about gymnastics from her grandmother. She leaped, she ducked, and all the while, she held onto the sword. Suddenly she found herself whispering to it as though it were alive, and it was. It came alive in her hand.

"Make a mark on the target! NOW!" Chad shouted.

For the tenth time that afternoon—but unlike the nine times before—when she threw the sword, it did indeed make its mark, exactly where she meant it to. She stopped, her eyes wide as she watched the sword tuck into the target board, its handle pointing towards her.

"Call for it." Chad was at her shoulder, touching her, running his hand down her arm to her elbow. "Call for it now." His voice was a low growl in her ears, forceful, erotic, demanding.

Shawna shuddered before she amazed herself. Words escaped her lips, words she hadn't realized she owned. The words were foreign, and yet, she understood them. _"Claimh mé!"_ Sword to me, she had commanded. It jiggled in the wood but remained firmly planted.

He hugged her from behind, pulling her into his hard body. He squeezed her with the excitement of the moment, and his voice was full with pleasure. " _Good_ —now we are getting somewhere." He walked over to the target board and stood next to the sword. "Do it again as though your life depended on it."

She tried calling it again with the same words, _claimh mé,_ and it jiggled the target again but still did not come to her outstretched hand.

"Again and again and again until I tell you to stop!"

She did what he asked, determined, and suddenly she felt the sword vibrate towards her. She heard a hum, and all at once it had pulled out of the board and was flying towards her. She ducked, and it fell to the ground.

He laughed hard and came to her to hug her and spin her around the room. "Lass... you did it."

She beamed with pleasure. "Not quite, and put me down."

He did and said, "It fell because you ducked and withdrew your hand. You have to keep your hand out and open, waiting for its arrival." He looked well pleased with her, and then he astonished her by saying, "That is enough for today."

"Really? You are letting me off easy. I hadn't expected it of you."

"No, I didn't say we were done. I said it was enough sword playing. Now you are going to sit quietly while I tattoo you."

"Tattoo me? Oh no... no tattoo. What, are you nuts? Are you even qualified? Nope—not doing that." Her arms folded into each other under her breasts.

His eyes traveled, and when she saw him look at her nipples poking out of her thin sweater, she felt them perk up, as though inviting him to do more. She imagined his tongue—and stopped herself.

She was breathing hard. His eyes seemed full with desire, and when he spoke, his voice sounded... purposely controlled.

"Yes, _you are_ doing this. We can't go on with any more Dark Magic until you have a tattoo. It won't be large, and it won't be noticeable. It will be at the nape of your neck, and it will keep black magic from bouncing off the spells and into you. I am going to teach you some serious Dark arts, and the more you practice black magic, the more tattoos you will need."

She took a step towards him, and before he realized what she was doing, she lifted the black T-shirt he was wearing. Her eyes opened wide at what she found. She had known the tattoos would be there...

She stared without immediate thought. And then, also without thought, her finger reached out and traced one of the ancient rune designs. Interesting portions of his hard abs were covered in arcane lines of Celtic knots and arcane runes, and his biceps were banded with the same. "Whoa..." she whispered. "So, you and black magic... huh?"

"I have found it necessary over the years to employ some... intense spells." His response was softly spoken. Then he was looking down at her face, moving in to put his arms around her.

She realized what he was doing but didn't want to stop him. She almost jumped, in fact, into his arms, in her haste to get his mouth on hers. Damn but the man had erotic charm by the barrel full!

RINGGGGG!

They both jumped, and he spun around. On the wall was a house phone, and it wouldn't stop its blasted ringing. She watched him frown as though he knew who it was.

"I am sorry... I have to take this," he said as he strode over and picked up the gray receiver and spoke softly into it.

Shawna watched him. She heard every word because of her heightened sense of hearing. He was speaking to his father. Something was wrong; plans were being changed. Something... oh no— _something to do with her grandparents?_

* * *

Pentim Rawley swept a long-fingered white hand through his dark locks and sat back in his chair. The news he had just received was unexpected and unwelcome. However, he could do nothing about it.

He had only met the uber-vampire once in his lifetime, and it had been an unpleasant experience.

One hundred years ago and when he had least expected it, Dracula had brought him to his knees. It had been a feeling he had tried to forget. At the time Pentim had believed that he was the most powerful vampire in existence. However, he'd learned he was but a speck on the earth compared to Dracula.

He recalled how Dracula had merely twisted a finger to fill him with exquisite pain.

_All because of a female_! He had been feeding on a lovely little young woman and was not yet finished with her. Her life's blood still beat in her throat, and he wanted more...

He'd meant to leave her with her throat torn open so none would see the bite marks. The authorities would put it down as the work of a madman. He was always careful. However, as he drank her delicious blood, he _felt_ rather than saw, something—someone—behind him.

He had glanced up and caught his first sight of the Count of Dracula. He had heard all the stories, he knew most of the stories were probably accurate, but nothing had prepared him for the aura of power Dracula exuded.

The count had stood with the hood of his cape lowered. A slight breeze whipped at the hem of the black cape as Dracula lifted one long, white, bejeweled finger. "You will stand aside."

The bloodlust was in him, and it was difficult to obey. Dracula raised a hand, and one finger twisted in the air. It was all that was needed. Pain shot through Pentim, through his brain. His body twisted in agony, and he waited for the deathblow.

The count stopped the pain as quickly as he had instituted it. His demeanor was cold, distant, and he demanded an immediate sign of devotion.

Pentim fell to his knees, head bowed. Dracula could destroy him with the flick of a wrist.

At his back was the woman-child, just barely alive. Dracula took a few steps towards her and whispered to no one in particular. "It is she. I should have followed her home, but I did not wish to frighten her."

Pentim stayed in his crouched and bowed position. Evidently he had made a grotesque misstep and stolen the count's... chosen victim. Was that what had happened?

He'd had no doubt then Dracula could instantly slay him. As the memory of that night flashed through his mind, he fidgeted.

He had no idea what the count wanted with him now after all these years, and Pentim shuddered to think about the possibilities.

Perhaps the count had decided that the Rawley clan was getting a bit too powerful for his liking. That had been a very real danger Pentim had considered more than once. But again his instincts intervened and told him perhaps it was something else.

When he had started his program of eliminating the newbie vamps, Pentim had been bothered with a twinge of concern regarding what the count's reaction might be should he take notice. Apparently, he was going to find out.

Dracula was an imposing figure of what had once been a man. He was tall, lean, and regal. His hair, unlike his twin's tawny locks, was black, and he wore it slicked back and tied at the base of his neck. He issued a presence that hinted of 'otherworldly', and his power was enormous. He stood in the doorway, surveyed the room, and then lowered his eyes to Pentim. "Up with you," he quietly said in an Old World accent.

Pentim rose to his feet and bowed his head. "Count... I am honored."

Dracula had chosen to wear leather: a black leather long coat, black leather pants, and a black T-shirt. His boots were trimmed in silver. He took a leisurely step into the room and looked about before murmuring, "Gaudy and ostentatious."

"Yes... but secluded." Pentim kept his dark eyes lowered.

The count seemed to glide as he moved in to stare down at Pentim Rawley. "I have very little interest in the world of vampires—a world I need not remind you exists because of me, because it was I who gave my blood to create your race so very long ago." He put up a finger to still any return remark Pentim might have felt obliged to offer. "However, I do not like disorder. It leads to fear, and fear leads to chaos, and chaos could bring disquiet to the world in which I choose to live."

"Yes, but, sire—"

"It is not your place to speak." He paused for the fraction of a moment. "I see all... know much, and I have never approved of _you,_ Pentim, or your ways." He turned, and in the doorway was a petite and softly styled female. He put out his hand. "Come, my dear."

She stepped forward, and Pentim chanced a glance her way. He was surprised to find the lovely vampire looking at him with loathing. Something was oddly familiar about her...

He frowned, and the count immediately and quietly said, "Ah, I see you don't really remember... but then _it was_ over one hundred years ago. You were about to destroy this lovely child when I came upon you and requested she be given to me. Her name is Lilith."

Pentim felt a shiver scurry up his spine. Here was trouble. He stood silent and waited for the count to continue.

"It was purely an accident that I should have been there and seen her—she who looks like the twin of my fallen bride." He sighed, but a glint of anger burned in his amber eyes. "Had fate allowed me to find her first, I would have courted her, taken her slowly, minimized the pain... but that was thwarted by _you."_

Pentim closed his eyes and wondered what was about to befall him. There would be no escape from Dracula, who all knew was so much more than a vampire.

"However, you did yield her to me even in your blood frenzy. It is why you still live. I took her, and she has been at my side ever since. However, she is most distressed with you. Recently she had alleviated some of her boredom in the company of another young woman her own age. They were friends, and the woman agreed to be turned by my Lil. The woman was under Lilith's care and protection. She had merely strayed off for a little while, and you came across her and without discretion, without hearing her pleas, without listening when she told you she was under the protection of the House of Dracula, _you killed her_."

"Forgive me," Pentim said at once. "I did not believe her... I thought it a ruse."

"Did you? You should be more careful in the future. Perhaps you should give up this business of eliminating all newbies. My Lil would like you to stop..." Dracula brushed off an imaginary speck of lint from his black leather coat.

"I am done with that. I have only one interest now."

"And what is that?"

"I wish to find my daughter."

Dracula's eyelashes fluttered. "Are you telling me you fathered a child with a human?"

"Yes."

"And the _mother_ —what of her?"

"Dead."

"Sad for a child to grow to adult years without a mother." Dracula seemed to think about this for a time. "When you find this child of yours, I would like to meet her."

"Of course, sire."

"I trust we now understand one another?"

"Yes, sire."

On that last note, the count turned, took Lil's small hand, and started out of the room. "It will not bode well for you if you act against my wishes."

"I understand totally, sire."

Gone! Suddenly the count and his companion were gone. Vanished. So much more than vamp speed had just occurred.

Pentim had never seen anything quite like that before. Dracula was purported to have many powers, and vanishing in the blink of an eye must be one of them.

Pentim was also amazed that Dracula had allowed him to live, again. He had thought for a moment that he had breathed his last...

* * *

Shawna waited only long enough for Chad to hang up his receiver before she demanded, "What? What about my grandparents?"

"That was m'dad."

"I know—now tell me, and please don't stall while you try and think up some story to satisfy me. Just spill—tell me what is going on."

"Shawna, we aren't sure about anything. In fact, we changed all the earlier plans we had made for them, and my father decided to see to them himself. My grandmother went on to take care of business at the orphanage in Nigeria, and he made his way to your grandparents."

"How did he know where to find them?"

"He just did. That isn't important."

"It is to me."

"Do ye want to know what is going on, or don't ye, lass?"

She waved him on. "Yes... go ahead, then what?"

"When he got to them, your grandmother told him she thought they might have a problem."

" _A problem_ —what problem?" Shawna began to shake.

"Shawna." Chad grasped her shoulders in a firm but gentle grip. "It is okay—everything is under control."

"Just give it to me. What is under control?"

"Your grandmother was in town just before m'dad arrived—your grandmother said she needed a few things if she was to close up her house for months on end. While she was getting into her car, she noticed someone in the shadows. She saw a vampire in the dark of a side street. Your grandmother was sure of it and also just as sure it had not looked her way. Still, she thought it odd in a small town that she would find one roaming about and before the day had waned. Luckily, your grandmother's scent does not carry Pentim's scent... no relation there. However, m'dad and I think they are searching small towns for you."

"My grandparents?"

"We also think there is a slight chance they could pick up your scent from them—or rather your mother's scent. Your grandmother would carry your mother's scent. A more refined and powerful vampire might own the skill of scenting and could perhaps pick up on that." He stroked her cheek. "Da felt it might be best to take your grandparents to one of our safe havens in the tropics. Vamps don't usually frequent the tropics."

"Oh my God—oh my God..." Shawna felt as though she couldn't breathe. "Do you think they will be safe there? Will your father stay with them?"

"He is with them now and has them safely ensconced at our private villa. There is no one that can get past m'da."

He said this with such pride that Shawna stopped to study him before she asked, "Why is he helping us? Doesn't it put him and your grandmother in danger?"

"Not from the vamps, it doesn't."

"From whom then?"

"Ah, now, Shawna, doona fetch yourself on that score."

"Yes, but—"

"All you need to know is none can protect them better than my father."

"Yes, but—" She tried again.

"Shawna, he will not allow anything to happen to them."

She was, however, in a panic. She started for the door. He took her arm in his strong hold and held her close. "Shawna—listen... they are in no danger now, I promise you. Since my mother's death, he has, as I have, learned all there is to know about vampires. There isn't one that can get past either one of us."

She stopped short. "What do you mean—since your mother's death?"

"Never mind that now. What you need to know, I've told you, lass. Your grandparents, due to your grandmother's alertness, are safely in m'dad's hands. He has them well guarded in our private villa that none can enter without an invitation. They'll be no one getting neither nigh nor near them—I guarantee that."

She sucked in air and then jabbed him with her finger. " _Just what are you_ —what is your father and what is your grandmother? Are any of you even human?"

"Now that..." he answered with a quizzical look, "... is an odd question coming from _you_."

"Is it? You know what I am—but you..." She shook her head. "I don't have a clue what you and your family are."

"Maybe if you are good and sit very still and allow me to ink you, I'll tell you a bit more about my family history?"

She wasn't certain she liked the idea of being inked. "It is a permanent thing. I am not sure I like marking myself with something permanent."

"You'll grow to love it... especially when you feel its power shield you. I know that I already love your tattoo—and where it is going."

She eyed him and backed away. He reached out and took her hand. "Come then, Shawna... we are wasting time."

* * *

Alone once more in her cottage, Shawna went to the mirror, held up a compact mirror, shoved her long hair out of the way, and tried to have a look at the tattoo Chad had installed at the nape of her neck.

It was small and hard to make out. It was a letter laced between Celtic knots and a rune design. She had asked him what it stood for—it was an odd looking L. He had smiled and said simply, "It's all part of what you need to keep you safe when we start working on black magic."

"And when will that be?" she had asked.

"As soon as you are ready."

"Yeah, well I'm ready right now."

"You think you are, but you are not."

"Then when?"

"We'll see—good night, Shawna."

He hadn't even stepped inside her cottage. He had stood at the door, scanning the room behind her over her head, but he had not gone inside. He backed away as though she had the plague, and it infuriated her.

She had no intention of allowing him to kiss her, but it peeved her that he didn't even try. She hadn't even a chance to show off her will power!

And then he was gone, and she was alone. She looked out towards the woods from her kitchen window. The entity had not shown itself yesterday and not yet today. Odd that. She had expected it to return in force, ready to take her on, and she—she wanted to get it over with. She needed to put an end to this 'thing', because now it was starting to hurt innocent people like Mrs. Carver. That was another thing... why Mrs. Carver? Had she just been at the wrong place at the wrong time? Was it as simple as that?

~ Fifteen ~

CHAD MACFARE DROVE his car away from Shawna's cottage, veered off to the side of the road, and maneuvered his way through a thicket of trees. The sun was hidden by clouds, and at any rate, nightfall would soon descend. He didn't want to be readily visible from the road.

He parked the Jag so he had a clear view of the cottage through the budding trees. Luckily Shawna always kept the outside lights on.

He shut off the engine and listened to the quiet for a moment before he made himself comfortable enough to watch without getting too stiff.

He had given Shawna a rough first day of training. She had been a trooper, both physically and mentally taking on everything he had thrown at her, even allowing him to tattoo her. He had expected her to put up more of a fight. No doubt, instinctively she understood the importance of the tattoo, for she had allowed him to ink her with very little resistance. What she didn't know was the connection he would 'sense' between them because of the additional little emblem he had installed.

He would not be able to track her movements exactly, but the L—which was the letter that had been embroidered on his grandmother's infant clothes—would give him a sense of her. Not much good in that, though, unless he were in her vicinity. He would know if she were in trouble, but not much else.

Dark was engulfing the landscape in layered sweeps of varying shades. The day had been dismally gray and had held the promise of rain that had not yet arrived.

On the way to Shawna's little cottage he had experienced a really 'bad' feeling. He wasn't sure why, and although he expected something to disturb the sweetness of the day, he wasn't sure what that 'something' could be.

He knew he was getting dangerously wrapped up in the lass, in her quixotic expressions, in her smile, in that musical way she had of laughing—laughter that always seemed to start in her bright silver eyes...

It was so much more than her tantalizing beauty, more than the sexual rawness of a 'come hither' buried inside of her and begging, dripping to be licked...

It was more than all of that. It was the totality of the lass that got to him, twirled him around in circles, and made it hard for him to think of anything else. All he seemed to want, to need, was her company.

He had to stop this because he had to think clearly in order to keep her safe. Right now, this thing, the thing that Shawna called the 'entity', was a dangerous addition to the mix. Chad was certain it was either comprised of black magic or created by someone involved with black magic. They would have to look for its "Achilles' heel".

If, as he believed, it had been created by someone dealing in the black arts, they needed to know who that someone was.

One thing Chad was certain of: the thing was growing in strength, and when it returned, it might be ready to take Shawna on.

This thing was, he knew, more than enraged—it was insane. It killed for the pleasure of killing. It was, Chad believed, responsible for Farmer MacTay's losing half his herd of sheep only last week, something the police were scratching their heads over. It had simply gone through the poor, hapless animals, slaughtering them in numbers. Whatever had done the killing had not eaten any of the sheep but had torn open and dismembered each in a horrific display of power and a sure taste for destruction. It had left the poor animals dead, bleeding out in the field—all over the field. Nearly an entire herd destroyed. Black magic gone rampant? There was no other explanation for the savage slashing.

He knew he was missing something about all this. Something that spoke to him, told him to dig into his memory, but if knowledge of that kind existed for him to draw on, it was elusive, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

There was also the fact that when he had seen the thing, he got the sense of something human about it. A quality of distorted, deformed, and even evil humanity clung to its aura.

Now what he needed to discover was where the demon's source of power was. Where did it go when it went out of sight? Had someone called this 'demon' from another dimension? Or—and this was what he really thought—was this thing created from the pits of someone's evil soul? The answers to those questions were going to make the difference in whether or not he'd be able to destroy it quickly and thoroughly.

Of one thing he was certain—it would come back to test Shawna's power.

It would have been ideal if she would have allowed him to stay the night, but there wasn't a possibility of that, so he hadn't bothered to ask. She had made it clear she wanted to maintain her independence. A very real desire deep inside him obtusely didn't want to push her to accept him— _he wanted her to want him_.

And so he hunkered down in his car, which was pointed towards the cottage, and he watched.

* * *

Shawna listed the things she knew about the mysterious Chad MacFare. He was a hunk extraordinaire, but she shouldn't consider that as important. It wasn't anything to do with her how good looking he was, how green and full of expression his eyes were, or that his height and muscle mass standing before her melted all will to resist _. Enough! Okay,_ she cautioned herself, more to the point, she needed to collect what she now knew about him. She had discovered he owned some major skills in the ancient art of karate—in fact, she was certain he had displayed agility and finesse way beyond the best of the black-belts! Way beyond human?

Right, it was practically a fact that he was more than human. Telling her he experienced visions explained some things, but not nearly enough. She also discovered that he knew how to wield a sword like he had been born with it in his hands.

There was more to it than what met her observations. There was more to it than his obvious skills. The sword he called the Dragar was arcane in design, as were the rune engravings on its hilt and blade. She'd felt its magical aura the moment the sword had come into her view.

He had said she was learning to 'mate' with the sword he had given her, and maybe she was. He had moved in on her as she sliced air, and when she brought it back to fold in across her chest, he had bent and whispered in her ear, "Lucky blade."

Shivers had traveled the length of her spine. She stopped herself from looking at him. She knew what would happen if she did.

He had continued whispering in her ear, making her tremble as he told her that when she finally trusted the sword, it would trust her. He told her the sword would kill for her.

Would it? Would it be unerring in its target? She had scoffed over this, and he had laughed and flicked her nose like she was a child. Perversely, against her better judgment, she found herself positioning her body, her face, her lips for a kiss. Instead, he flicked her nose again.

She was surprised and inwardly embarrassed. Had he known that she had angled for a kiss? He didn't seem to. The next question that had disturbed her and kept her frowning for way too long was _just why didn't he kiss her?_

Right, so he was still a mystery. What else did she know? _Ah, yes_ , he was skilled in the art of tattoo design. _She now had a tattoo_. _What will Grams say? No reason for her to_ _know—right?_

He had tattoos all over his sexy abs, on one shoulder, and around his biceps. She had traced their designs with her wandering fingers...

_Facts—stick to the facts._ She shook off her meandering thoughts, and then without warning, a blue light caught the corner of her eye outside the kitchen window. She moved forward to face the window and meet it—whatever it was—head on.

It was coming, and it was coming freaking fast!

* * *

Chad sat up at the first sound of a car engine and a moment later saw a dark Bentley. He recognized the squire's vehicle at once. What the bloody hell was the squire doing heading for Shawna's cottage at this hour?

It was now close to nine! Damn the swine! What the hell was he doing? It was a late hour to be calling on Shawna. Chad felt a swelling of jealousy. Had Shawna phoned him to come and visit? Bloody hell!

What the devil was he going to do about it? Shawna was a big girl, and she wouldn't like a scene. He couldn't rush over like a charging bull protecting his herd. But he had to do something. He scowled in the dark. The cottage's lone location made it impossible to pull in and say he was just passing by.

And then he saw the blue sparks burning through the woods!

It was a jagged bolt of electricity supercharged with energy that came to a sudden standstill as it pulsated in on itself. It moved a few feet into the field adjacent to the cottage. It sizzled, glowed blue fire, crackled, and heaved sparks, but it wasn't moving forward. It had taken some kind of stand, and Chad suddenly realized it was watching...

He had been leaning forward, but now he made up his mind. Whether Shawna liked it or no, he was moving in. He started the car, and if it had been pavement instead of rough grass, it would have squealed as he raced his Jag onto the country road.

~ Sixteen ~

SHAWNA FROWNED AND collected herself for what she was sure would be another attack. The blue mass of electricity had started to take on shape and substance.

Was she assigning it a human form, or was it actually taking on a human form...?

It spat out shards of blue electricity, and she heard it release a low-throttled cackle of anger. This thing had definitely made her a target. Why? That didn't matter now—what mattered was her ability to draw on her magic, because she had no idea what would actually work on the thing!

Shawna forced herself to stand very still while she studied it. She had to know more about it, understand what drove it, and find its weak points.

The black sockets she assumed were eyes defined its face—a face that was beginning to take on structure. She couldn't shake the sudden certainty that this thing was female!

She felt hatred emanate even at this distance, even with it outside. Would the wards stop it? She was nearly certain the entity couldn't penetrate the wards, and then it was there, in her face, and tapping with its electric claw at her window.

The wards Shawna had installed repulsed it, and the thing screeched with a storm of fury and resentment. Resentment—why had that come to mind? Why would it resent her? It tried to penetrate the wards again and charged at the window, only to retract in evident pain. Shawna clearly heard the agony it suffered as it howled ferociously in the dark.

It started to pound on the windows—all the windows—with fists made of spikes of electricity, and each time it pounded, it released a sound of thunderous anger and desolation. And then it stopped and seemed to slither backwards—hovering in the field adjacent to the cottage grounds.

Shawna stepped back further away from the window and began chanting quietly, digging into her pocket for the small silver-framed mirror she always carried. She held it up to the window, and the entity once again retreated.

It screeched its fury and seemed actually to be considering its options as it once more slithered backwards. And then Shawna was flabbergasted. It actually raised and shook what was obviously its version of a fist!

If Shawna hadn't had such sensitive hearing, she might have missed the sound of an approaching car, but she didn't miss it. She shot a quick glance towards the living room window, all the while keeping the demon in her sights.

Without any warning, the demon entity went still, and as suddenly as it had attacked, it retreated further backwards and vanished.

Shawna was still catching her breath when the knock sounded at her front door. She ran to it expecting Chad. The disappointment she immediately felt obviously displayed itself on her face.

"Ah—you were perhaps expecting someone else?" Kenneth MacDunn frowned. A shade of anger lit in his hazel eyes.

Shawna waved off his remark. What was he doing here at such an hour? He knew the number of the cottage's house phone. Shouldn't he have called before dropping by? Was he going to be a problem? All these questions flitted through Shawna's mind before she responded coolly, "At this hour? No... I was not."

She was stunned that he not only was openly annoyed, but that he made no attempt to hide it. His hazel eyes flashed before he got control of himself. "I am sorry, Shawna, for calling on you so late. I was just going into town to the pub and thought I would stop by and invite you to join me."

"That is very nice, Kenneth, but I think I will take a rain check on that. I am so tired, I thought I would just fix a snack and veg out by the television." She relented by giving him an amiable smile.

At that moment the sound of a car coming to a quick stop outside and behind the squire's Bentley caught their attention. Shawna looked past the squire, who had turned to grimace at the new arrival. She knew it was Chad; she'd sensed who it was. She was thrilled because she wanted it to be him, and she was beginning to find Kenneth's behavior disturbing.

Kenneth cursed under his breath, which Shawna decided to ignore, but something about Kenneth's behavior lately tickled her warning signals. It was starting to make her feel uneasy in his company.

Chad was already out of his car and calling out, "Thought I saw your car headed this way, Kenneth..."

"And what then, you decided to join the party uninvited?"

"You mean barge in uninvited— _like you_?" Chad challenged on a smirk. " _Not my_ style."

"Not mine either," Kenneth snapped. "I was on my way to town... thought I would stop by and see if Shawna wished to join me."

"What—without calling first?" Chad clucked at him sarcastically.

"I was already out the driveway and didn't remember the number of the cottage phone!" Kenneth's face was a bright shade of red.

"And what did the lady say to your invitation?"

Shawna's head had been ping ponging back and forth between the two. She now put up one hand to stall their words. "The lady is saying good night, gentlemen."

She started to close the door, but Kenneth turned and put his hand on it. "Wait, Shawna... won't you reconsider?"

"Not tonight." She continued to close the door. She noticed Chad's face and his laughing green eyes just before she shut the door on both men.

* * *

Chad didn't need his special powers to tell Kenneth was frustrated. It showed in the stiff way he strode as he made his way to his dark vehicle and stood there eyeing Chad warily.

Chad watched him in turn and gave him a superior expression—hoping to taunt him. He wanted to find out, in fact, just what the squire's game might be. That he wanted the beauty was a given, but Chad sensed more here than met the eye.

With a snarl and a slam of his car door, Kenneth jumped back in the driver's seat. However, there the man sat without starting his engine. Chad might have laughed had the situation not been so grave.

He inclined his head and shot the squire a smirk as he got into his Jaguar, started the engine, and peeled into a U-turn to head down the narrow country road. However, he watched in his rearview mirror, waiting for Kenneth to follow suit.

Chad heard the start of the man's car engine and under his breath said, "Come on, come on... don't make me go back there and put you in the ground!"

All he could think of was Shawna and how well she had handled the situation. It really was comical, but for the fact that she was surrounded by danger. He had to get back to her. He believed he didn't have a moment to lose. He knew that she was capable and that she had managed, he supposed, to get rid of the 'entity' for the moment. He wasn't sure how she had done it, but it had retreated and vanished. However, a nagging suspicion in his inner workings told him something was off and that the squire was someone to watch.

He wasn't sure why he felt that way, but he damn well wasn't going to ignore his gut instincts. He needed to get back to Shawna. There wasn't anything she could do to stop him—he was bloody well staying with her the night!

He reached Darby Gray, fidgeted as he waited for the gate to swing open, drove in, and parked. It wouldn't take him more than a fraction of a moment to reach Shawna's cottage—to reach Shawna.

_Shifting—a Fae skill—was also a skill his family had inherited._ He did not use this mode of locomotion often, although it was theirs to enjoy. There was always the outside chance that the scent of 'shifting' could lead to their detection. The power of 'shift speed' was left for emergencies—and he was in the middle of one right then.

He had but to part the airwaves...

* * *

Shawna stood in the hallway for a long moment after both men drove off. She was still thinking of Chad and how easily he had given up. Why had he given up? Had he cared enough to come 'charging to the rescue', so to speak? Or had that just been the 'control freak' in him that wanted to take charge of his unit of bait?

_Bait—_ that was what she was to him, nothing more, and yet, she had felt something fully charged and alive, something more than lust when he had taken her into his arms and kissed her. She had felt a bond she never thought she could ever feel with anyone.

Yes, well, apparently she had been wrong, because off he went. He was gone, and she hadn't even had the chance to tell him that she had a serious problem.

She had an electrically charged demon stalking her, and she was certain it had only momentarily retreated.

She spun around to look out the kitchen window and realized she wasn't just whistling Dixie. Sure enough, there it was—vibrating with blue power. It was quite a sight, a fully charged mass of blue lightning in the distant woods past the open field. _It hadn't left. It had only waited to get her alone. What was up with that? It couldn't be afraid of humans?_ No doubt it had waited to get to her while she was alone. It wanted no interference. Perhaps it sensed power in Chad MacFare?

Without warning it emerged from the crouched position it had assumed. It gathered height, energy, and took on form—definitely now she could see a human form within its shafts of electricity, and again she was reminded of a female body.

Shawna's eyes opened wide. "Oh shit!"

This thing wasn't just on the move again, and it wasn't just rushing her—this thing had intellect and was capable of assessing and regrouping. This fully motivated monster wasn't moving towards her windows. It knew that they were warded.

Shawna looked into its black socket eyes with all that she was, and she knew something else. This entity was definitely female, and it was incensed beyond its ability to think. It wasn't just rushing the cottage—it was stampeding towards the exterior walls—sure that it would penetrate them.

Shawna hadn't warded the exterior walls of the house!

* * *

Chad's grandmother had taught both her son and her grandson how to use the power that was available to them. She taught them the ability to 'shift', to travel through space by opening a portal and picking a destination. The closest he could come to explaining it to himself in human terms was a 'wormhole'. It was an ability to create a wormhole to anywhere they wanted to go.

The only danger to them when they traveled in this manner was the fact that it left a residue behind, which in turn left a scent. A spatial distortion remained in the atmosphere that could be tracked. His grandmother was certain there were others like themselves, and she did not want to be discovered by them. Thus, they only used shifting for emergencies.

Chad stepped through the wormhole he had created and stood beside Shawna in the hallway just outside her kitchen. He saw at once that she was shocked and full with questions about his sudden arrival on the scene, but there was no time. He had a situation on his hands, and the first thing he instinctively did was to shove her 'no argument' style behind his back.

He heard her objections but ignored her. There wasn't a moment to lose. This thing was coming at them fast, and it meant business! He sensed that it wasn't there for him; it had one target—Shawna—and this thing wanted to do catastrophic harm. To the entity, he knew he was only something in the way.

Chad studied it as best he could in the frenzy of the moment and realized it was drooling electric sparks of rage. It was out for blood. He guessed it had the power to kill a half human, half vamp... even one as powerful as Shawna.

He could feel the 'entity' as it began penetrating the walls. He knew Shawna felt it too from the way she clutched at his leather jacket. They both saw immediately that its razor-sharp claws were seeping through the plaster walls and reaching out for them.

While taking a step back, he reached behind and withdrawing the Dragar sword. He kept Shawna out of the thing's line of vision. He whispered something low and authoritatively—arcane words—and the moment seemed frozen in time.

He took a stance, legs spread apart and feet firmly planted as he positioned himself between the electric sparks flying through the wall and Shawna.

_And then in a rolling, thunderous fury it was through the wall. The creature raged as it lashed out at him. Mindless,_ Chad thought _. It was insane._

Chad's sword, whose name stood for 'death', was pointed at the entity, and the threat of death made the furious creature pause.

The mass of electricity stopped and seemed to draw in on itself as it stood, surveying the situation and the ancient sword. It seemed to recognize the blade's magic and power.

Chad watched it, sensed its indecision—sensed its merciless brutality. This thing was enraged—and something else Chad recognized at once. This thing—this demon—was, in addition to being insane, female. There was something about the shape it took when it paused earlier. There was something in the way it had considered the sword, something totally feminine in the way it had moved.

However, at the moment, its thought processes, and its logic, were centered in one purpose: _to kill._ And he knew one more thing for a certainty.

Chad heard Shawna's intake of breath, as she whispered, "It is a woman..."

Aye then, his smart wee lass had come to the same conclusion. _This thing—this electric mass—was female._

And she stood, fully charged and assessing her opponent. She gauged him with calculated interest as she studied his sword.

Perhaps, he thought, it was time to infuriate her so she couldn't think? "Come on—want to fight, don't ye? Want to kill... so come on then, doona just stand there like a fool frothing at the mouth." Chad's voice was intentionally rough and feral. He wanted to egg her on. He sensed an intellect behind the madness. He could see it possessed, if not fear, certainly a will to survive, because it restrained itself and had become calculating.

He could see it throb with hatred, and yet, it pulled the rage inside itself—herself. Then for no apparent reason it lost control. Shards of electricity shot out in every direction as it put up its head and bellowed before suddenly lunging forward.

Chad swiped at it with his sword and managed to nick the thing's arm. It released a guttural cry of outraged pain, and as it stood its ground, it took form, a feminine form that stared at Chad with pure hatred.

"Right you are—that smarted, eh? Don't know what to make of me and my sword?" Chad's voice was low and threatening. He knew he had taken it by surprise and used the lull of the moment to lunge forward hard and fast.

In the same second that he struck forward, he began chanting in the way of the ancients, in a language nearly lost, in arcane Gaelic. The words had been taught to him by his father the first time the sword had been placed in his hands; however, he had never before had to use either the chant or the magical family sword in actual battle.

The entity screeched and plastered herself against the wall, ready to escape if need be but not quite ready to give up the fight. She was spitting sparks at him, hissing and making unintelligible sounds.

Chad smiled at it, but that smile offered a deadly warning. "Aye, then, we have established two things, you and I. _You_ don't like _m'sword_... and you know enough to get out of harm's way." He sliced air with the blade, and as sparks tripped against its metal they ricocheted with a clanging vibration. He grinned now and pursued the taunt. "'Tis black magic— _my sword_ —much like ye are. The spell I chanted is forbidden black magic, to be used only against its own. I think the formula fits. That's right, snarl all you want. It is what it is, and you and I know the inevitable outcome of tonight's meeting. My Dragar was meant for sech as ye... and I damn well mean to send ye back to hell where ye belong!"

It leaned forward, screeched as though all the venom in the world were being released from its mass, and then it swiped at Chad with lethally sharp claws of electricity. He was too quick. He knew already what the creature would do before it made its move, and he had Shawna safely behind him as he sidestepped its attack.

It raged at him with all the fury of having been bested. The sounds it made were pure evil and filled the air before it dove into the wall.

Chad and Shawna watched through the kitchen window as it ran howling in outrage across her yard towards the woods, where it suddenly vanished.

* * *

Shawna stepped away from Chad MacFare and tried to catch her breath, which was escaping in small spurts. If he hadn't arrived—that thing would have tried to kill her and might even have succeeded. She had weapons, yes, but a whole lot of good they would have done her in their trunk under the bed. And besides, she wasn't sure any of them would have been any good against this monster. All her weapons were spelled to work against vampires!

She looked at Chad's face in stunned silence before she finally said, "Your sword—how did you happen to have it?"

He looked at his sword, said something low, almost under his breath, before he slipped it in its sheath at his back. "I brought it with me when I took up position in my Jag... in the woods to watch the cottage."

Shawna gasped. "You were watching the cottage..."

"Aye."

She went through a series of interesting emotions before she said quietly, "Thank goodness for that."

"Aye—I wasn't sure it would kill the blasted thing, but now I am."

"What is she?"

"A demon of some sort, I suppose." He nodded. "So then, you realized it is female. Yes. It won't be easy though... I will have to master the trick of the thrust. I have to get close enough to plunge it into its head, and I'm not certain just yet how I can do that without getting seriously zapped." He frowned. "It will take some thought."

"Would it kill you—getting zapped?"

"No... but it might knock me out. Can't have that, as it would then turn on you."

She couldn't stop staring at him. His presence always struck her as 'otherworldly', but having watched him in action, she felt momentarily awestruck. _Oh, this is not good,_ she told herself. He was so damn beautifully virile. He was tall, strong, and capable. He was irresistibly handsome and seemingly unaware of his devastatingly good looks. His tawny head of hair framed his rugged, chiseled features in thick layered waves, and she wanted to take those locks into her hands and pull his face down to...

She shook herself away from that road and onto another, a safer, clearer path. The question that posed itself was, "Where the hell did you come from so fast?"

He smirked at her and moved towards the kitchen, went to the fridge, and took out a bottle of water. He offered it her way, and she shook her head. "Tell me." Think, she told herself, what had she sensed just before he arrived on the scene? Something in the atmosphere, something off balance and vibrating as though the airwaves had been parted, and then there he had stood. "Come on... what the hell are you?"

He grinned. "A reasonable question, but shouldn't you first be thanking me, lass?"

"Thank you— _now tell me!_ " She almost spat the words. " _What are you, Chad MacFare_? No sense trying to duck the question. The time is now. I want explanations, like _how the hell_ did you get here—and I don't mean just _here_... I mean, here—inside the cottage, _where you are standing_ , and there is no point trying to fiddle your way through this. I know damn well you didn't jog here in... what—less than a few minutes? I can see no car out on the road... and I know you didn't come through the front door!"

He took her hand and pulled her towards the sofa. She resisted, so he said firmly, "Sit."

She crossed her arms over her middle and eyed him furiously, intentionally daring him to make her do anything at that moment she didn't want to.

He exploded with a hearty laugh, shook his head, and stroked her cheek. She felt her eyelashes flutter and her mood soften.

"Sit with me, Shawna..." he prompted gently.

She wagged her body stubbornly. "I don't think so."

Shawna heard his intake of air, and she stared up and into his green, warm eyes. This man, whatever he might be, was getting to her. She wanted him on levels she didn't know existed in her mind's ladder!

"Doona look at me like that, lass. It chases all thought, and right now, I need to think."

She tried to snap herself to attention and still did not sit. "Answer my questions, Chad."

"Sit, and I will give you as many answers as I can."

"In that case," she offered as she stiffly took up a position on the couch, "I am sitting."

He sat beside her, took both her unwilling hands firmly into his, and squeezed. "I am not the enemy here, Shawna..."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at him. "No, you are not, and neither am I, so if you tell me some truths, maybe... maybe we can begin to trust one another."

"Shawna, you have to understand, lass... that I have kept m'secrets to m'self for a very long time."

She relented. "I understand that... because so have I."

"Aye _and I_ understand that it isn't easy to trust a man who stampedes into your life and appears to know everything about you, while you know nothing of him." He was stroking her fingers while he spoke, and his touch sent tingling sensations up and down her arm.

"That's right," she agreed. "Not easy." Something was happening to her. She found herself thinking about things that had nothing to do with what he was—

"So then, you need to know who it is I am—I understand that, because from here on out, you will need to trust me, because I won't be letting you out of my sight, and I won't be letting you stay here another night."

"Now listen to me—" Shawna began.

He put up a finger. "No arguments. If I have to hogtie you, take you to Darby Gray, and lock you in a room on the unused upper floor, _I will_ —mark me on that. I won't be letting you stay here unless I stay here with you."

Again, she watched him as he eyed her authoritatively. He put up his hand to stall the rush of words she wanted to throw at him. "You'll be staying at Darby Gray, or I'll be staying here—and that, my sweet lass, is that."

He was a superior being who had already displayed his effectiveness in the precarious art of protecting her, a voice inside her head shouted loud and clear, but her own independent nature fought for control. "Well, in the first place, I make the decisions about where I stay or don't stay and who stays with me and who doesn't."

"Do ye now?" His tone told her in this instance she had very little choice. She supposed Chad MacFare had made up his mind on the subject. The truth was, she was inwardly relieved.

His voice was low, his eyes were bright, and her gaze swept over his face and got stuck on his mouth, which was slightly parted. She wanted him more than she could deny.

"Och, lass, how much more convincing do you need to see you can't take on this thing alone and then turn around and protect yourself against Pentim?"

"I am not stupid. I know all that, but I am used to making my own decisions. I have to decide what the right course for me is." She said the words, trying them on for size. They sounded right, but the notion of having him with her, protecting her as he had just moments ago, was taking over her mind as logic eventually always did.

"And your decision, lass...?"

She wasn't fooled. He would hear her out, but in the end, she knew—she could see—he would not leave her to her own devices.

"My decision is that I feel you are correct. I may need some help with this—this _thing_... it seems it wants to kill me, and tonight it seemed stronger than it had been before. Perhaps it is gaining power with time."

"Then up with you," he said, getting to his feet. "We're off for Darby."

"But... but, can we not stay here?"

"Not tonight. Tomorrow we will return here, and together we will reinforce the wards to include the property and the building. Perhaps then we may spend some time here, as we will want to draw the thing to us, but not tonight. Tonight, we are for Darby."

"Yes, but first... I need some answers, Chad. That is why I agreed to sit here with you and hear you out. At the moment you have the advantage. You know—or _think you_ know—who and what I am. You think you know what abilities I might possess, and that is fine... because it allows _you_ to trust _me_. But how can _I trust you_ , when I don't even know what you are?" She reached for his hand and tugged him back onto the sofa. She was surprised when he sat and put her hand to his lips before he took a long breath.

"Aye then, because I need you to trust me implicitly... I'll tell you this..." He hesitated and then dove in. "Shawna lass, you ask what I am, but will you believe me when I tell you that _I am an immortal_?"

She felt her eyes widen and her eyebrows arch. " _An immortal_... like the old TV series... _The Highlander_?"

"Not quite, but something like that."

"Are there others—other immortals out there trying to kill you to get your powers... like in the series?"

He laughed and chucked her chin. "No... though there was a villain a long time ago who slaughtered many of us before my ancestor, my grandmother's 'real' mother, was able to destroy him."

"Real mother?" Shawna was surprised into interjecting.

"Yes, she didn't know it for most of her early years, but the MacFares adopted her. At any rate, apparently age can be a wearing thing, and the bad guy in the story finally lost it. He had wanted to rule the earth and savagely killed those immortals who tried to stop him, my great-grandfather included." He paused and allowed his words to sink in before he sighed and continued. "M'grandmother's mother, my great-grandmother, tracked him with our family sword, Dragar. Each immortal has a 'Death Sword', a weapon that can kill other immortals, you see. That death weapon is imprinted by blood to the family. She brought him to ground in Killarney, Ireland, but before she was able to sever his evil head from his body, he stabbed her with his own sword—also a Death Sword—and the wound he inflicted, would not, did not, heal. She came home to Scotland, wrapped up her month-old daughter, and went to her dear human friends the MacFares. She asked them the favor of raising her child as their own and keeping her—my grandmother—safe. They were childless and took on m'grandmother's care with great love. M'great-grandmother died at the MacFares, at peace in the knowledge they would care for her." Chad sighed heavily. "Sounds too fantastic to be true—but it is, I promise you, every word."

"No more fantastic than me being half vamp, half human." Shawna whispered as much to herself as to him. He had told her the truth. He had shared with her, something he had never shared with anyone ever before. She was suddenly consumed with emotion, and before she realized what she was doing, she dove into his arms. It was as though the weight of the world had been lifted and he was the one doing the lifting. She really wasn't alone.

He held onto her as though he never wanted to let go. He bent and folded her against his rock-hard body. She wanted to melt into him, be a part of him. Her mind was lost to the need, a need stronger than logic—the need to belong _not to_ a man, but _with this_ man.

The thing, the 'entity', was definitely a demon called out of hell by someone playing with the Dark arts. A demon such as this electric killing monster couldn't have gotten out of its prison without help. That thought needed exploring, but not at the moment. At that moment all she could think about was the way she felt.

He had wielded her into position and lowered his head so that his mouth found hers with easy skill. His tongue felt like velvet sliding, caressing, and engaging hers to respond.

At that moment, after watching him stand up to and take on a force greater than any other she had ever encountered, just to keep her safe, she was drawn to him in a way she had never thought possible.

She wanted his kisses, his touch, more than she wanted anything else. Caution and logic had no place inside her mind.

His fingers traveled over her, and even with her clothes separating his touch from her skin, she felt a wave of erotic shivers swim through her body. He teased another kiss out of the first, and all she knew was that she wanted to get lost in his arms. His touch took every romantic fantasy she had ever had, collected them into one titillating dream, and enveloped her into its center. She had a savage need to have more of him—a need she had never experienced before.

Then without warning he showered her with a splash of cold water as he took her shoulders and roughly set her away.

Startled, she looked into his eyes and saw dark conflict and hot desire. She felt a wave of confusion and ran her hand up his sculptured chest. He took her fingers, kissed them, and started up as though in retreat.

She grabbed his hand and stalled him. He looked tortured, and his voice came at her low and primal as he growled, "Och, no, lass—not here... not now... _I canna do that to_ _you_."

His brogue, thick and husky, swept through her senses. She felt chilled, now that he was apart from her. She could still feel the delicious warmth of his breath at her ear; she wished he would take her back into his arms. Almost dazed, she repeated stupidly, "You canna...?"

Her mind was shutting down and allowing her body to take over. She tugged him back down on the sofa beside her. She reached up and stroked his dark blond shadow beard with her fingers and then went to his waves of tawny locks.

"No..." he grumbled on a dark note, and this time he pulled out of her hold and stood up. Stiffly, he turned and walked a step away from her. "Do ye think I would take advantage of ye when ye be vulnerable? Is that what ye think of me?"

She could see the resolution in the set of his shoulders and his stance, and all she could think at that moment was... he _didn't want her!_ It was her first clear thought, and it repeated itself until she understood. _He doesn't want you, Shawna..._

She was flooded with the sudden heat of embarrassment. She felt the blush ride her body and land in her cheeks. She felt infiltrated with humiliation. _He_ had said _no_ to her.

_He had tasted her and found her lacking._ She wanted to hide, but she held up her head and attempted an unconcerned bluster. "Fine," she snapped and then got to her feet.

His grin further irritated her, and he had the nerve to look impatient. He did not even try to soothe her ruffled pride. Instead he said authoritatively, "Pack some clothes, Shawna. We have to leave."

"No." She felt ridiculously contrary at that moment. No matter what he would have asked—say a glass of water—she would have said no.

" _No?_ Och then, you'll come as you are."

"I am not going anywhere with you."

"Are ye not? I told you a secret about meself, lass... I trusted ye to learn what no other on earth save m'grandmother and father know, and ye say me nay?" He shook his head. "Right then, with or without yer things, ye will come with me."

His deep, beautiful voice always slipped into an ancient brogue, it seemed to her from another time—well, yeah, he'd said immortal!

She found his voice had more power over her than his words. She recalled her grandmother saying to her once when she had come back from a school dance without her date, _Shawna dear, there isn't a boy out there for you, because you have a man in mind and won't be satisfied until you find him._

Well, evidently she had found him, the man amongst all men... but he obviously didn't feel the same way.

It was so much more than rejection. It was more than wanting what she couldn't have—it was the realization that she did want. She wanted someone... more than anything... more than anyone else in the world, and apparently all he wanted was to keep her safe so he could use her as bait for Pentim Rawley.

Embarrassment was the least of her blues, although her cheeks were still bright red as she yelled, " _Your_ _bait_... is now safe and sound. You sent off the monster, and now I will be fine. You can go anytime you wish."

He made a low, grumbling sound and reached for her hand. She slipped out of his tentative hold, and just as she was feeling her sad victory, he astonished her. He grasped her hand again, firmly this time, and then something happened to the air all around her.

Everything in her cottage vanished. Damn, she thought, either her cottage had vanished, or somehow she had fainted. She wasn't unconscious though, and she hadn't lost time, or at least she didn't think so, and Chad was still with her, but they were somewhere outside in the cold, open darkness—no landscape, no stars, just darkness.

She knew he was with her because he held her hand, but she couldn't see him through the swirling fog that enveloped. Then suddenly the mist and fog cleared, and she saw a flash of night sky. That sky was filled with stars... and she seemed to be a part of the galaxy. She reached out to touch one of the stars she was certain was right there at her fingertips, and _whoosh,_ they were standing in the bedroom suite she had occupied just the other night at Darby Gray!

" _What the hell_?" she whispered as much to herself as to him.

He released her hand and said quietly. "It is called _shifting_."

" _Shifting_..." Shawna repeated as her mind clicked off the word and tried to prepare a reference. "Wait... I know about shifting. It's in the ancient texts my grams showed me. The Fae use shifting to get around." Her eyes opened wide with a sudden thought. "Are you Fae— _Tuatha Dé Danaan?"_

He put up his hands. "Have I not told you what I am? Did you not listen, lass?" He lowered his voice. "Immortal here, not Fae."

"So not connected to the Fae?"

"No connection."

"But you have the power to shift—move through portals... Can you move through time?"

"Not one minute. If I could, there would have been a great many things I would have changed, and that might have been catastrophic."

"Hmmm... I quite see that. However, Chad MacFare, you brought me here without permission. Now, take me back."

"Lass, make up your mind to this. It is the safest place for you."

"At least take me back so that I can get my stuff. I need my things," she said with resignation.

"I know, and I will be right back with them."

"You don't know what I want—need."

"Oh, I think I have an idea..." The glint was back in his green eyes.

She eyed him speculatively. "Take me with you... _shifting_ style, and I'll pick out what I want."

"I'll just go and get some things for tonight. Tomorrow, we'll travel in the normal fashion and bring back whatever else you need."

He turned from her, and in that moment, desperation, emotion, and confusion drove her to shout out, " _CHAD!"_

He turned, a frown furrowing his brow. "What is it, lass?"

As an answer she dove into his arms and kissed him.

~ Seventeen ~

JUST BEFORE SHE kissed him, he had been thinking, _Her closeness is driving me batty! Och, but her scent has taken m'senses in her small, lovely hands. For days she is all I can think of... and the hard-on I've been carrying around is threatening to take over m'mind._

Shawna... her name makes me shake inside. Shawna... how can I protect you when all I can think about is taking you in m'arms and in m'bed?

He had every intention of taking her to his bed... but not just then, not when she was open and vulnerable, scared and in doubt and in need...

_That woona be right_ , he had told himself.

And then she was in his arms and kissing him as though her life depended on him, and it did. He shouldn't take her—but her kiss had inflamed him beyond thought. He could not remember ever feeling quite that way. He could not recall ever wanting quite as much as he did now, and he knew, without a doubt, that he had never needed a woman the way he needed Shawna.

This was all new to him. He was used to being in control—of his mind, his emotions, and his actions regarding both. But when she was near—bloody hell, even when she wasn't—she took over somewhere in his brain, translated a foreign language to his heart, and made him hers. He knew it, but he'd not wanted to admit it to himself, let alone to her.

Now, he was lost to her kiss, and his response was all encompassing. His tongue made love to her. Erotic desire was entwined with feelings he had never before had for a woman, and it was devastating to the man who had never before given his heart. He reacted to her kiss with the primal possession of a feral beast, taking what was his.

His hands caressed her body, and before he knew what he was doing, he was flinging off his leather jacket, lifting up her sweater, undoing her bra...

_Och, her full, luscious breasts... nothing to their like,_ he almost said out loud. Then he did whisper in her ear, "Beauty, ah but, lass, you are a beauty I nae can live without _."_

She was melting into him, giving herself freely, and he knew himself lost to her. He had her clothes off easily, deftly, and he stepped just as quickly out of his own.

His passion got the better of him, and he almost lowered her to the floor. Some part of his brain still functioned though, and instead he gathered her up cradle-like in his arms and carried her to the bed. There he laid her against the quilt and pillows and stood, his huge dick dancing a tune that screamed her name.

Her eyes were molten silver, and she stared at him, whispering, "Chad..."

He bent to her, came down beside her, and hushed whatever it was she was going to say with his kisses. She was like a beautiful wild thing just unleashed. Her responses to him drove him wild with blind desire as he parted from her luscious mouth and started a series of kisses down the length of her neck. He fondled her breast and then suckled at her delicious nipple as his hand traced a line of fire down to her inner thigh.

* * *

She felt herself succumb to his magic—and it was magic. He did things to her body she had never dreamt possible. His kisses drove off any logical thought, and she felt herself turn into the savage that had been caged, always caged inside of her. She discovered a sudden thirst...

She was, however, in control and did not give in to the bloodlust. She watched his face as he suckled at her nipple, and she bucked against him, wanting, wanting...

His hand fulfilled her need as it found the tuft of hair between her thighs and used his fingers to vibrate her in a way she had never known possible. She arched into him and heard a stranger's voice when she demanded, "More... Chad...more."

"Och, lass, I want to take m'time."

His kisses traveled down her belly, and when his tongue found that spot she joined with him in a rhythmic movement that sent her over the top. When she climaxed, she shuddered over and over, and then he was on her, whispering in her ear, "Now, lass... do ye want it now?"

She couldn't speak, didn't trust herself to tell him all the things she wanted him to do to her. She had meant to tell him at first that this was the first time she had ever gone beyond the kissing, beyond the petting.

That didn't seem important as he wielded his cock against the opening between her legs. She met him with a grinding, circular dance that encouraged him further, but even as he began to enter he groaned, "Shawna love... ye are so tight..."

He took her legs and bent them at the knees. She simply allowed him to do what he wanted, whatever he wanted—it all felt so right. He then had his hands under her butt, pulling her into position. He held her there with a firm grasp, while his free hand took his cock and maneuvered it, positioned it, and worked it into place.

She wanted him inside her, and she bucked against him. "Now... oh Chad, please now."

Her words, her tone, her sweet movements drew a joyous sound from him. His face was drawn in desire, and his voice attended her with a primal underlining.

"This... Shawna sweet—is this what ye want, m'love?"

She couldn't speak, so she showed him by bucking towards him, and he smiled softly as he started to drive his dick inside—and then, suddenly, stopped!

* * *

_This canna be_ was his first thought as he broke through the membrane of her virginity. It wasn't possible that such a beauty in this day and age could be untouched! What had he done? He had never before taken a virgin—at least not since he had been one himself.

He was a man born two hundred years ago, and the basic traditions of his early days were still a great part of who he was in the present. He had always believed a man should not take a virgin unless he meant to keep her—love her. It was part of his code. He had been infatuated with a woman or two, but never in love... and now, he knew what he felt for the beauty in his arms, for he realized all at once that he meant to keep her and never let her go.

He had been startled into immobility and was surprised to find her wiggling and encouraging movement from him. He chuckled and bent to kiss her nose, feeling so many things he had never felt before. He stroked her hair, and his cock throbbed inside her, feeling her muscles cling to him, and a low snarl of desire infiltrated his throat. He touched her lips with his fingers and said on a hushed note, "Shawna love, why dinna ye tell me?"

"Och, lad, what difference should it make? Now if ye please..." she teased him with a brogue all her own as her hips showed him what she wanted him to do. She had stolen his heart, he realized in one blinding ray of comprehension. She wasn't just his; he had somehow become hers!

He murmured to her in Gaelic, and he felt her tremble. She nibbled at his lips, urging him to take her to where she wanted to go.

He couldn't resist her. She had become the most important human being in his life. Consequences and the future be damned; he would deal with those things later. _Now, she was here, beneath him..._

He rolled over onto his back and had her on top, encouraged her to take control as he held her hands to his chest. He watched as her breasts bobbed with her dance... and as he brought her to her climax. That satisfied him as it never had before, and the ancient, feral sound of a man in possession escaped his lips, but it was more—he knew it was so much more.

He rolled her over onto her back once again and rammed her hard, over and over until she was mewing with pleasure, until she climaxed again, and then he released himself inside her and took her to his heart and held her tightly, because he knew he would never let her go.

As she snuggled against him he heard his own voice, the voice of a stranger, speaking, in hushed tones of awe, Gaelic words he had never truly understood before.

Shawna traced her finger against his mouth. "What did you just say?"

"Och, lass... in Gaelic it means so much more. It bonds a woman to her man because she has touched him—and allowed him to see her spirit. Loosely, what I said was—I don't know what ye have done to me with your fingers working themselves into my heart, and your lips kissing so much more than my body. You have kissed and captured my soul."

She held him at bay and looked up into his eyes, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

He was immortal. He did not believe she was, because she was only half vampire. Being without her... doing without her at some future time... would lead to devastating pain. But it was too late now to think of that. _Now_ _, now she was his, and more to the point, he knew that he was hers._

* * *

How had all this happened? Shawna asked herself as she awoke with the sun streaming in through the open curtains. The rays of bright light delivered a morning full with new realizations.

She stared at the beautiful man asleep beside her. She had arrived at a place in her heart that she never knew existed. A place in her heart—no, how trite it was to think of what she felt in such terminology. There was a world inside her that made her heart beat—made her lungs work, made her brain function—and that world had a name: Chad MacFare!

Somehow he had taken all her good sense and presented her with an alternative that made better sense. It had taken her by surprise. Had this thing—this thing they shared—been there from the start, slowly sneaking up on her all along?

Their night had been filled with lovemaking and had opened her up to so much.

He had driven her into an erotic fantasy she had not known she was capable of feeling, sustaining, and giving back in like. He had whispered Gaelic words of praise and had translated them to her in the moonlight.

Had it all been real? She had purred like a satisfied wildcat at the time, and she remembered it now as she stroked his velvet skin. She peeled away the sheet and quilt, exposing his massive chest with the intricate set of tattooed runes and Celtic knots. She had traced their patterns in the moon's glow. She had told him he was exquisite, as a man, and as a lover...

He had chucked her under the chin. "'Tis good you think that way, lass of mine, because—as they say—what you see, love, is what you get... _no other_."

She had laughed and nestled into his arms, but he had made a rumbling sound deep in his throat. His lips made their way from her nose, brushed against her lips, and moved down to her chin and along the hollow in her neck before he caressed her breast and then suckled at her nipple...

All thoughts, questions, answers swirled in her head and got lost in one another as she gave herself over to him.

Nothing in her life had prepared her for what she had felt, what she was feeling. She had always relied on herself—independent to an extreme. But when he had whispered to her that _she belonged_ to him, instead of taking offense, she welcomed the words, relished them, melted to the sound. She became a part of him in that moment of revelation and felt that special moment when she knew and understood that he reciprocated her feelings.

However, she had a problem... a physical problem.

She was a vamp—half vamp, yes, but a vamp all the same. Their lovemaking had done something to her, depleted her in some way, and she needed to refurbish herself, recoup her energy.

There was only one way to do that— _with blood..._

~ Eighteen ~

PENTIM, CLOTHED IN LAYERS of Armani dark silks, stood in the middle of what had been Shawna's loft in New York City. Outside the sound and lights of Manhattan were at full beat.

He closed his eyes and blotted away the distractions from his head. He needed to listen to something else altogether.

He combined his heightened awareness into one sensory machine as he swept the empty rooms of Shawna's loft with a lift and a slow wave of his white hand. His slender fingers with the long, sharp, black nails cut through the atmosphere. He was searching for more than her scent. He wanted to find— _ah_ , he thought, _there it is_ —the sweet residue she had left behind.

It appeared that his daughter, like her mother, was magical. The magic was probably what had drawn him to Rachel in the first place. It came to him that Shawna was a white and powerful witch, and this excited him.

He could feel her mana in the atmosphere. _She had danced and sung in these rooms_! He could almost hear her voice, and the residue of her essence that clung to the walls frenzied him; his need to find her overwhelmed him.

It wouldn't be long now before they discovered what new alias she carried and where she had gone. He smiled to himself at the notion that she would soon be his, as she rightfully was meant to be.

All at once he sniffed the air with distaste. _Pig's blood!_

She drank pig's blood here in this apartment! How could she lower herself...? She must be brought to know who she was, what she needed to be, and how she must honor his name.

_Pig's blood_ , indeed—but he would put a stop to that. He would correct such behavior, born no doubt from maudlin sentiments. His daughter must have no such qualms. He would teach her to rule beside him, be the eyes he needed at his back. He would teach her to seduce her target, to savor it, to drink richly from it, and to kill without regret or remorse. They would rule, side by side, invincible...

"Pentim?" A tall, bald, and muscular man in nondescript, casual dark clothes spoke quietly for attention.

Pentim regarded his first lieutenant, WB. The huge vamp had proven invaluable to him, but as of late he sensed impatience in the strong vampire's tone. "What is it, WB?" He put up his chin and displayed the irritation he felt at having his thoughts interrupted. He would not tolerate any dissent.

WB took offense, and spoke up, apparently unafraid. "I have followed you, helped you decimate the clans, helped you make ours the most powerful clan, but I fear, my Prince, that you are being... sidetracked."

Pentim controlled his temper. This was not the first time WB had objected to the new mission. He needed him still, however, and therefore allowed him some license. "We will get back on course once my daughter is found."

"We can do both. Send me with my team... and we will take care of Mollinure. He has turned more than his share and should be stopped."

"We may not. You will recall we had a visit from Dracula. He was not pleased. We will give it time, and in that time, we will find my daughter."

"She is nothing but a bitch to run and hide from her father," WB snapped.

"Enough! You will not speak of my blood in such a fashion." Pentim scanned his face with sudden interest, but WB did not look away as all his other clan members would have done. He had to wonder if WB had betrayal in mind.

"When do we go forward with our plans?" WB persisted.

"Ah... everything depends on timing. We must be patient and wait for the right moment to split our forces and take over different fronts. We will find my daughter and strengthen what we already enjoy. That is our first goal."

WB looked as though he had wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. Instead he crooked his neck with an impatient glance toward Clara. "My Prince... she looks a bit unstable."

Pentim considered Clara, who had been aimlessly walking around the loft muttering to herself. She had gone to stand by one of the large windows overlooking the busy nightlife of the city.

Pentim watched her. She had changed the shade of her hair once again. She still wore it spiked, but now it was yellow, streaked with flaming red. She was as always dressed in gothic clothes. She put her hands on the window and licked her lips. He smiled to himself. He always found the volatile Clara amusing.

"Clara, come here."

She skipped over to him much like a child and took his hand to her pale cheek. "We are in New York City. There are meals down there... so many meals..."

"They won't go away."

"Yes, but, Pentim... I am hungry now, and the streets are full of food." She grinned impishly up at him and purred like a cat looking for a treat.

He was feeling kindly towards her. She had gotten him this far, she had found him the apartment where his daughter had been staying, and his daughter's scent was everywhere and intoxicatingly seductive. "Where has she gone, Clara?"

"I don't know that yet, Prince, but I have friends working on it. Let's go eat, and then I'll go find them and see if they have anything new to tell me."

"Very well, but soon, Clara. I need to find her soon."

* * *

Shawna snuggled back against Chad's hard body. Curled up on her side and smiling to herself, she wiggled her butt into him as they lay there in the bed. He gave her rump a slow, lingering rub as his fingers ran along her skin and he whispered, "You feel so good, love... your skin is smoother than silk."

She smiled when he suddenly held onto her tightly, possessively, passionately. She could feel his power, his aura of magic, and something more—a protective shield he seemed to be slipping around her.

She squirmed and managed to turn around in his arms, throwing her own over his large shoulders as she laid her head against his chest.

He kissed her forehead and rested his chin on her head. She tilted her head back to look up and into his green eyes. What she saw in their recesses made her melt back into him. All other needs, doubts, questions were chased away by the all-encompassing rightness of what they were together.

She moved her hand down his shoulder, down to his tattooed chest. She traced the runes of black, green, and red that made the intricate patterns. Her finger slid further down to his belly, down even more...

"Ye are insatiable, Shawna lass," he murmured sweetly.

She giggled low in her throat and whispered his name. She wanted him, wanted to stay where she was in his arms, but... she knew she was in desperate trouble—or would be very soon. His name escaped her lips. "Chad..."

He must have heard something in the quality of her tone, because all at once he tensed and frowned. "What is it, love?"

"I... I don't know how to say this, but... I... I have to get to Inverness." There. It was out; she had almost said it. _She needed blood_. What would he think—what would he feel when confronted with the reality of it all? He had already seen her drink blood in her cottage after she had been badly sliced and wounded by the entity. He had not displayed any reaction... but now...?

It clicked in his brain, and she saw it, the dawning. Next his low whistle, and then she heard his sigh. It sounded grim to her.

"I am a brute," he said, closing his eyes first and then taking her chin. "Of course you do. I had forgotten how much you were depleted the other day from your wounds."

She noticed that when he became more efficiently businesslike and formal his brogue lost its thickness. "Yes... I have nothing left at home." She still could not allow him to connect with her eyes.

He held her face in place and gave it a slight squeeze. "Look at me, lass..." He waited.

She opened her eyes, and when she looked into his fully, he smiled. His entire face lit up, and she wanted to kiss him all over. "Aye, then, they'll be no shame between us. They'll be no secrets—and 'tis time that I come clean with you."

She snuggled into him. He wasn't disgusted with her. A huge sigh of relief escaped her lips as he stroked her long hair. She saw him holding the blonde strands. She watched as he sniffed the locks with relish and whispered her name, and then it dawned on her. He had said it was time to come clean with her. She pushed away from him and eyed him questioningly.

"You said it was time for you to come clean. About what? What have you done, Chad MacFare?"

He laughed and tried to pull her back into his arms. It took a hefty amount of will power, but she kept him off with one outstretched arm as she sat up straight in the bed and hugged the quilt around herself.

"Och, lass, I don't know where to start, so I'll just dive in—shall I?"

"Dive... _now._ "

"Today we'll go into Inverness, and we'll get you what you need, but ye'll find ye won't be needing as much of it—if any—after tonight. I mean to wean you off it forever."

Her hand fluttered in front of her face. What was he saying? She had tried everything she knew to stop herself from needing blood. Didn't he know that? How could he know her, if he didn't know that? She looked away from him. She felt his fingers take her face gently and turn her back towards him. "Och, lass... hear me out."

"Hear you out? What does that mean—you'll wean me off the blood...? Don't you think I would have accomplished that if I could have?"

"Aye, I think you can do anything, love—you have it in you. I've seen it. There are times when I can't look away from the courage that lights up in your brilliant silver eyes. There are times when I want to lower my head to you because of the strength inside of you..." His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her into his arms, and she was engulfed by the man as he whispered, "Shawna... there is an innate goodness emanating from you that humbles me." He held her away from his embrace suddenly, and she saw that he was scanning her for a reaction.

She felt herself go red, and he laughed and hugged her to him again before he started once more. "Shawna lass... can't you see what I think of you? Don't you know that I know what has kept you strong and in control? Don't you know that I know what it took to fight off the bloodlust?" He sighed gustily. "That isn't what I am talking about." He shook his head and then said in a hushed tone, "There is something we MacFares discovered well over two hundred years ago... and 'tis time I introduced you to it."

"What?"

" _The Blood Orchard_."

"Explain," she demanded, picking up on his excitement.

He laughed. "Give a man a chance, will ye then."

" _The Blood Orchard—_ if you please?"

"You see, we only know who we are and what our situation is—the fact that we are immortals—because of the visions my grandmother has had over the centuries. She didn't know what she was—had no one to explain it all." He frowned as though contemplating what his grandmother had endured. "We only know about the Blood Orchard because of a vision m'grandmother experienced right before I was born." He stopped and studied her face before offering, "Which... was just over two hundred years ago."

"Wait—you are two hundred years old?" she screeched.

"A bit more." He grinned and chucked her under the chin. _"Immortal_ —remember?"

"Yes... but..."

"M'grandmother and father are over one thousand years old."

Shawna's mouth dropped open, her eyes widened, and speech eluded her. It dawned on her... that dizziness she had experienced in their presence. They had used illusion to age themselves, but her magic had tried to see through it.

He brushed his finger over her bottom lip and dropped a sweet kiss there. "Do ye want me to go on...?"

She found her voice. "You better."

"Right, then." A devilish light glinted in his green eyes. "M'granny saw it in a vision while m'mother was nearly seven months pregnant." He shook his head. "Now we have the damn things growing like wildfire in all our residence hothouses." His green eyes glittered warmly. "Brea believes in covering all bases." He grew suddenly serious. "Once a month at the full moon, the Blood Orchard releases a nutrient that does any number of things. One, she had hoped, was to give immortality to a chosen human—like m'mother. The other thing it does is curb, and then after time eliminate, the bloodlust."

"What? How...?"

"Hush now, let me go on." He waited a moment as she controlled herself and then proceeded. "It quenches the thirst—how, we aren't sure, but it does, and here is where it gets tricky. We know it eliminates any and all bloodlust in someone who is _not_ a fully initiated human blood–drinking vampire, but we don't believe it would do so for a full-fledged vamp."

Shawna absorbed this. "You mean once a vamp drinks human blood—he can't go back?" She reached for his hand and held it. "How do you know this—any of this? What does all of this mean?"

He looked at her for a heavy moment and said gravely, "As I said, m'grandmother developed the orchard at first for m'mother. When m'dad married, he was sick with knowing that m'mother's human years would steal her from him. Then grandmother discovered the orchard and started giving its essence once a month at the full moon to m'mother. She had only been drinking the damn concoction a couple of months when she was killed by a _newbie_ vamp. It was Pentim who chose her for his newbie. Pentim chose her because she was nearly nine months pregnant—he thought the blood of a pregnant woman would give his newbie a special gift."

Shawna realized the enormity of what he was telling her and dove into his arms. She wanted to rage and cry and scream. Her monster parent had been at the heart of so much tragedy, her own included. Her voice was muffled against his skin.

"Oh... Chad... Chad... I am so sorry. How do you know all this?"

"M'mother had gone into town to do a little shopping. It was late in the afternoon when she started out of the shop..."

Shawna could see his distress in the telling and put her fingers to his lips. "Never mind. Don't talk about it now."

"No—ye must be told." He drew on himself and continued. "Pentim had seen her coming out of the shop. She was a beauty and pregnant, and he got it into his head that the newbie would be given a special power because of the baby she was carrying." He smiled grimly. "He hadn't counted on m'father. Grandmother saw it as it happened—shouted for m'father, and they shifted onto the scene. M'dad twisted the newbie's head off, but Pentim was already gone. They didn't at first know about him. They took m'mother home. She lived long enough to give birth... and lasted a few weeks after that before we lost her. She would have died immediately had it not been for the Blood Orchard, but she didn't have it in her system long enough to save her."

"I am so sorry... he is a monster and has ruined so many lives. I am so ashamed."

"Och nonsense, lass—you have nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be proud of... but you must know that I mean to destroy him."

"Yes, if I don't beat you to it." Shawna frowned. "But... how do you know about the Blood Orchard eliminating a vampire's need for blood?"

"The newbie had already sucked enough of her blood to kill her when m'father slaughtered him... and some of the new vampire's blood had already been transferred through his sloppiness into my mother's bloodstream. Some of that diseased blood filtered down to me."

Shawna snapped to attention, and her silver eyes searched his face. "Chad... what are you saying? Are you part vamp?"

"I could have been... but m'granny started me on the orchard's essence immediately, you see..."

"So then... you don't have any bloodlust at all? What if you couldn't get the essence of the Blood Orchard?"

"M'granny has a theory that the orchard has nearly destroyed whatever diseased blood started out in my system."

"Nearly—what do you mean, nearly?"

"There are times for no apparent reason when I feel something, not quite a bloodlust, but something, and I know I have to drink the essence that month."

"And you can only do so at the full moon? You can't harvest the essence?"

"No, it can't be gathered and saved. It deteriorates during the moon's waning."

"Oh Chad..." She dove into his arms and held him.

~ Nineteen ~

SHAWNA'S INSIDES WERE starting to convulse in pain. A concert of sharp razor blades slithered and sliced through her stomach wall, and she knew she was in trouble. She couldn't wait it out much longer.

By the way Chad was looking at her, she must look much like she felt. He frowned darkly just as they arrived at the butcher's and told her he was a fool. He should have shifted to get her what she needed. He didn't realize how quickly she had deteriorated.

She could remember only once before when she had been forced to go quite this long without her supply of blood. She hated herself at times like these.

She was bent in on herself inside the Jaguar waiting for Chad to step out of the butcher's shop. Tiny needles were pricking her skin, screaming for blood, screaming, screaming...

He had given her a drink containing the essence from the Blood Orchard, but she didn't feel any different, and it had not diminished her need for blood. He had explained it would take time.

A voice filtered through the pain. "Shawna, what has happened to you? Why did you wait so long?" Damon's face was at the passenger window, startling her.

Her mind assimilated that it was 'friend' Damon, and she immediately calmed herself to wind down her window and say, "No time to explain that now... what are you doing out in the light of day?" Sick, oh, she felt so sick.

"If you were feeling better you would have noticed—no sun. It's overcast and misting up. _Felt_ you in town... wanted to let you know, Shawna, wanted to warn you to stay away from a mutual acquaintance."

Trying to get control of the pain, she focused on his dark eyes. "A mutual acquaintance?"

"Ah, that's my girl—ever cautious." He touched her nose. "Yes, the Squire Kenneth MacDunn, and he has a _thing_ for you... in fact, I would call it an obsession."

"Nonsense—what are you saying? You know the squire—how?" She was going to upchuck any minute now...

"We travel in the same circles at night, which in itself should tell you to be wary of the fellow." He glanced around, and then Shawna felt the intensity of his stare. "Listen to me—this fellow likes the dark side, and he is dangerous."

She was surprised. "Does he?" She did in fact start to gag before she got control. She couldn't—wouldn't—throw up in front of Damon.

"I can't get a fix on him yet, but, yes... and he is hell-bent on having _you_. I saw it when he spoke your name."

"He spoke my name? Why?"

"He was looking for information on you."

"Why?"

" _There_ is the question." He looked up and across the street and then grinned at her. "You'll feel better presently. I'm off, but, Shawna, remember—he travels on the fringe, and you know what that means. There may not be any vamps in your little village, but Inverness is a whole different story."

She watched him vanish in a blaze of speed and looked around to find Chad's grim expression as he got into the car and quietly demanded, "Who was that, lass? And there is no point telling me he was an old acquaintance from college days... I caught a whiff of his vamp scent before he hurried off."

She eyed him and thought as she reached for one of the large bottles of dark blood, _My damn life went on a whirlwind spin six months ago and shows no signs of ever leveling off._

* * *

Shifting with her has done something unexpected to me. I thought I couldn't feel any more than I already felt for her, but while we were shifting, in that infinitesimal moment, I melded to her—I felt one with her. The newness of 'us' seems to have exhibited itself, blasting me with the realization that we are one and have formed a bond I don't ever want to break.

Chad closed his eyes and took in her scent. The fact that he knew she had come to trust him in spite of her mistrust of everything, in spite of the fact that she hadn't wanted to trust him, drew on his soul and made an inner path that joined them to one another. He knew that now he would be the first person, the only one she would turn to when things went awry, and he knew they soon would.

He watched her as she pulled out the case that held her ancient artifacts from under the bed. She was mumbling to herself, going down on her jean-clad knees, opening the case and fingering one in particular—an orb.

She had told him about Damon and the first time she had noticed him in her youth. He had felt a sudden rush of jealousy. She had sensed that and laughed at him. She had repeated what Damon had said to her about the squire, and it had confirmed everything he had felt in his gut. He had always believed Kenneth had been somehow instrumental in his fiancée's murder, and now with Damon's warning, he was sure of it.

He had sensed 'black magic' whenever he encountered Kenneth MacDunn, and his instincts told him the man did more than dabble in the black arts.

It was disturbing in the extreme that the squire had been asking around about Shawna. He wanted to go to MacDunn and confront him, put him in the earth, but he calmed himself. No good would come of that.

If Damon was right, and Shawna believed that he was, the squire traveled on the fringe of the vampire's inner 'high society' circles. If MacDunn was indeed asking about her, it would bring her unwanted attention. She wasn't ready to confront her father yet...

He had to equip her with additional skills. He had to help her hone her innate magical abilities. They needed more time to get her fully functional and ready to confront the powerful individuals that were going to come after her.

He reached for the orb and waited for her to put it in his hand. The purple glow with which it had been pulsating suddenly expanded, turned bright, and they heard a soft humming sound.

"Look at that Chad—it likes you more than me?" She pulled a playful face. "It must be a female."

He puffed up comically. He wanted her to laugh. "Immortal here."

"Yes, but my grams gave me this orb. She says it belonged to a Fae princess who was in love with one of our ancestors—a warlock. It has been handed down in our family. I have never seen it behave like that."

"It is welcoming me—nothing more."

She eyed him thoughtfully. "Well, I'm supposed to know what to do with it when the time comes, but I haven't a clue. Do you know?"

"Using Fae artifacts can be very dangerous, even when they are in tune with you. It is said they have a life of their own. We'll study it—and maybe it will show us how it wants to be employed."

"Will we need it, do you think, Chad?"

He did. He thought they would need it very soon, but he wasn't sure how. For a sudden moment, he felt desperate to whisk her in his arms and take her somewhere Pentim would never find her. That wasn't going to happen. The only way he could keep his beloved safe was to send Pentim to the hell he deserved. His beloved? How odd that the word had come so easily, so swiftly to his mind. All these years of cavorting and loving, never had he felt this way...

He reached for her, pulled her off the floor, and held her in his arms. "You and I will finish Pentim, and then we will make our own future." He kissed her then, slow and sweet, and afterwards she rested her head on his chest.

"Come on, love... I don't feel comfortable here... I want to get you home." He released her, but as he bent to close the lid, she stopped him and dove inside. She pulled out two silver wrist cuffs and slipped them on, saying, "I had forgotten about these."

He laughed. "Pretty... what do they do?"

"They can produce potent light rays against vamps."

"Okay... come on then."

Earlier they had shifted to the cottage, collected all her belongings, and shifted them back to his suite of rooms at Darby. She wanted her chest of artifacts and her leased car on hand, so they shifted back to the cottage with the intention of putting the chest of magical weapons into the car and driving back to Darby Gray.

A knock sounded at the door, and they stopped to look at each other.

* * *

Shawna bit her lip and put a finger to Chad's lips, for she could see he was about to curse. She reached out for his arm and stroked him. _What is wrong with me?_ She couldn't seem to stop touching him, as though his touch alone could make all things right.

The front window gave her a view of the squire's car parked outside. The day was quickly waning... and it looked like rain.

She eyed Chad and then without a spoken word walked purposely towards the door. There she hesitated, turning to see that Chad had her back and that his green eyes were full with promises—promises to support and protect.

Bolstered by this, she swung the door open—ready to pull the squire inside and find out why he had been gathering information about her.

The squire stood very still. He glanced from Shawna to Chad and then back to Shawna, and he appeared as though someone had just punched him full in the face.

Shawna watched him struggle to speak. When he did, his voice sounded strained.

"Shawna... forgive me, I had not realized you had company..."

She put on a cold smile. She wanted him to know that something was wrong between them. She wanted him off balance. "Come on in, Kenneth... I am so happy you stopped by."

She knew her movements were as rigid as she felt. She could almost feel the coolness of her gaze when she looked at him, but she managed to keep her voice low and quiet. "Come in then... won't you?" She stepped aside and waved him inside with her hand.

He took a step back. "No... no... it is clear that I intrude."

She was furious with him. He had been investigating her, and she meant to find out why. He wasn't escaping her now. "Oh, but I insist," Shawna said and reached for his hand. She clasped it firmly and then not too gently, though still controlling her vamp strength, pulled him into the narrow hallway.

Chad's lips had already formed a smirk as he moved out of Shawna's way. Her eyes looked into his and told him this was her show, and she felt a wave of pleasure to find he meant to allow her control. She knew that wasn't easy for the man he was, always used to having the wheel in his capable hands.

Shawna could see Kenneth was hesitant and wary. Good—that was just what she wanted. "Sit... we'll chat," she offered as she continued to hold his hand and draw him into the living room. She let go of his fingers there and motioned him to be seated.

He remained standing, and it was obvious he was ill at ease and ready to bolt. "I... I don't think..."

"No, you didn't think... I know, so we'll discuss what _I think,_ " Shawna stuck in quickly, softly. "Yes... that's right." She sucked in her lips, licked them slowly, and glanced over him from his mussed, thick locks to his leather boots. "What I think is that a person who has offered a friendship... does not win that friendship by investigating the very person he wishes to befriend." She turned to Chad. "Do you agree?"

"I do," Chad said, offering the squire a cold smile.

"I... I don't know what you mean?"

She made a clucking sound. "No...? Well of course, you never dreamt it would get back to me that you were... er... what shall we call it? Ah—I know, _investigating me_." She smiled sweetly as she pushed him backwards and into the winged leather chair. She watched him sink into its dark fold. "What I want to know now is— _why_?"

"I don't know who you have been speaking to or what they told you, but it was nothing like that. Honestly... I may have mentioned that you were leasing my cottage... and perhaps asked a casual question or two of one of your countrymen..."

His face turn various shades of red, and Shawna watched as the temper he was trying to suppress gathered and blew a storm into his brain.

And then, all at once Shawna felt something suddenly in the atmosphere, as though it was seeking out elements within itself and revving up.

Something was wrong.

She glanced at Chad and realized he was also aware of the sudden change in the airwaves and something else—a certain drop in temperature.

She tried to concentrate on the squire's answer. _Her countrymen_ _?_ What the hell was that about? "What does that mean, Kenneth?"

"Nothing—it was all so casual. I met some individuals from New York and simply inquired if they knew you... nothing sinister, I assure you."

"Really, and did they know me?"

"I think one of them did." The squire did not meet her gaze. "In fact, he told me that you had a loft in New York... but under another name. I, of course, had to wonder—why?"

This was not good! This was, in fact, very bad. Someone had investigated her and had reported to him. He was putting a casual paintbrush to it, but she knew the truth. Someone had managed to trace her back to New York and her previous identity. It wouldn't be long now before Pentim would find her...

"Cut the crap. Why were you asking about Shawna? What do you need to know that you don't already?" Chad took a menacing step forward. The consequences of the squire's investigation were obviously not lost on him.

The squire jumped back. "This is between Shawna and me. She leases my cottage, and I have every right to look into... her past..."

Shawna couldn't stifle the small intake of air. "Why? Did you expect me to steal the furniture? You have already been paid six months in advance whether I stay or not."

He moved towards her. "Shawna, you are allowing this fellow to influence you... steer you off the right path..."

"The right path? What is the right path, Kenneth?"

"She did the same thing. She started picking fights with me... just before... just before she took to doing cocaine, and... and men..." The squire's hazel eyes glazed over. A strange look came over him as he clenched his fists at his sides, and saliva gathered and spilled over his lips.

Shawna looked at Chad. While Kenneth MacDunn appeared to be in the heat of madness, something outside—something blue and electric—was rising up, and the temperature continued dropping...

* * *

Shawna heard Chad make a low, angry sound in his throat. He looked grim, and he looked dangerous. He had her wrist before she realized what was happening, and he shoved her behind him, reached an arm backwards, and held her tightly against his broad back. " _Stand and stay behind me, lass._ "

And then she felt it—what he felt, knew what he knew...

Apparently Kenneth MacDunn knew it as well and welcomed it, because he was grinning wickedly.

She was coming, charging through mortar and wood, howling against the pain the wards were inflicting on her, determined to reach inside.

"Now you'll see... you'll see what happens to people who betray me!" Kenneth shouted. A maniacal ferociousness twisted his features.

"It is connected to him, isn't it, Chad?"

"Aye, hadn't you guessed that already, lass?"

It dawned on Shawna in one blinding moment. Kenneth MacDunn had called his mother from the grave when she died. He had used black magic, and in place of the controlling woman she had been, he got the fury and madness she had taken with her into hell...

"She thinks we have attacked him," Chad said on a wary note. "Stay behind me—don't let her make you a target." As he spoke he reached behind and under his jacket and unsheathed the sword hidden at his back. He began the familiar chant Shawna had heard before, and the Dragar sword of death appeared in his firm grip.

The entity arrived in a bolt of fury. She was different this time: her rage was tenfold, which heightened her power. She loomed enormous and seemed to fill the small room. The electricity pulsing from within her mass shot about the room in lightning streaks, leaving furniture and rug singed in its wake. Her eyes were black sockets, but Shawna could see the expression of hate in the deep holes.

Without warning it stopped short and made a mewing sound. It was looking at Kenneth, who was breathing in spurts and holding a hand over his heart. He was no longer burning with rage but deathly white, and he appeared to Shawna to be in physical trouble. His lips moved, and Shawna heard his voice, weak and frightened, say, "I... I can't breathe..."

Suddenly the beating mass of electrically charged energy spluttered, and the entity's unclear form took shape, softened, became womanly. She moved towards Kenneth. Her mass seemed to withdraw into herself, and although sparks still flew all about her, she cooed pathetically and enveloped him with a gentleness Shawna had not thought possible of the creature.

Kenneth MacDunn whimpered and said in a hushed tone, "Mother. Mother, help me... this one has hurt me—just like the other one hurt me. _She is a whore_..."

The entity turned to stare at Chad and tried to look past him to Shawna. The sound that came from the entity's depths was a roar of rage out of control. Looking like a force from hell, it charged.

Chad stood his ground. Shawna dug in her pocket and withdrew her charmed mirror. It fit into the palm of her hand, and she lifted it up and out towards the entity and past the shield Chad had enacted around them.

In the midst of his rage it saw itself, felt the ray of white magic assault it from the mirror. It was thrown off for a fraction of a moment, but only a fraction of a moment. It lashed out with its razor-sharp tentacle and caught Shawna's hand and wrist—tearing her open.

Blood spurted out of her, and Chad cursed under his breath. "No! Oh, lass..."

The entity slashed at him but was bounced back. It was as though she had hit an invisible wall. She had—Chad's shield.

Confused, it took a moment to stare, consider; it seemed mesmerized by what it had encountered.

"Kill him! Kill him!" Kenneth screeched behind the entity.

She roared and charged, and Chad plunged his death weapon into one eye socket.

She screamed in agony and recoiled. Chad went after her immediately and plunged the death weapon once more—this time into the other dark eye socket.

"Nooo," Kenneth screamed in outrage.

The entity collapsed in a heap of blue. It spluttered, sparked, and disintegrated as though it had never been.

"What have you done?" Kenneth turned on them. "I will see you in hell for this!" And so saying he started to run, tripped, caught himself, and ran blabbering incoherently from the house.

Shawna gripped Chad's arm as they watched him get into his vehicle and squeal off into the looming dusky afternoon. She heard the rain before she saw the drops splash on the stone steps, turned to Chad, and collapsed into his arms.

~ Twenty ~

ON THE BANKS of the River Inverness resided a Tudor-styled pub that was both dimly lit and vibrating with the sounds of a very good rock 'n' roll band. The pub had been leased that night for a private party of very exclusive clientele.

They were the young and fashionable set of Inverness. They were affluent, had too much time and too much money, and were, therefore, traditionally bored and bent on having a good time, no matter the cost.

Most of them were seeking a thrill, something different to liven the evening, and tonight a select few would discover an experience that would take them to the edge, because they were knowingly mingling with vampires.

Pentim was dressed in dark gray Armani silk with a black tie. His raven locks were slicked back and tied into a knot at the nape of his neck. His amber eyes glittered as his gaze skittered around the room and came to rest on a newcomer.

Something in the manner of the man caught his attention. Something in the man's disheveled appearance, a wild look in the irises, spoke of madness. Pentim watched as the man threw down a shot of Bushmills and then another.

He could see that this man had suffered a trauma. As the man got very swiftly intoxicated, he seemed to glaze over. Pentim knew from the man's clothing and the manner in which he held himself (in spite of the wildness) that this was someone who traveled in the upper circles.

Pentim watched a group of pretty, beautifully clothed debutantes wiggle up to him—obviously he was known to them—but he brushed them off and downed yet another shot.

And then Clara was beside Pentim, taking away his attention from the newcomer. She touched his hand, licked her lips—teased him for attention. Pentim noticed the blood still on her bottom lip and glanced around hurriedly, feeling the hunger tickle him. He had already fed earlier. They didn't want to draw attention to themselves at this private club. He had told her to take without killing.

"What have you done, Clara?"

"A taste of junior over there..." She indicated with her chin a dazed young man standing quietly, listlessly in a corner.

Pentim breathed a relieved sigh. At least she hadn't killed him. He looked her over. Her hair this evening was a shade of blue-black. Her makeup was thick and yet suited her small, pixie-shaped face. She wore a strapless black satin cocktail dress that hugged her slim curves. Clara excited him. She had from the very first. She even amused him, and she had proved one of his most useful tools in his clan. She had brought him to this point in his hunt.

She surprised him by clutching his wrist and saying in a hushed tone, "Pentim... _her scent_... _it is here_ _!_ " She sniffed the air and then looked at the young man Pentim had been studying a moment ago. _"_ _There_... it is coming from him!"

Pentim's eyebrow arched before he whispered, "Ah—shall we introduce ourselves to him, then?"

* * *

Shawna was bleeding profusely.

Chad suffered a moment of indecision before he knew what he had to do. He laid her on the sofa and then rushed to the medicine cabinet. He returned with the first aid kit, as he had the other day when the now disintegrated entity had wounded her.

"Shawna love... lass... I think it hit an artery..."

She opened her eyes and smiled at him but said nothing as he worked at wrapping her arm and palm, but the blood quickly soaked through. She was swiftly going into shock, and he could see she was about to pass out. She was losing too much blood.

There wasn't time to think, let alone do anything at the cottage. He knew he had to stop the bleeding, and to do that, he had to transfer her to the Darby Gray hothouse.

He cradled her in his arms, and a moment later he had shifted them to his manor home's functioning hothouse, full with many varieties of blooms and one in particular in amazing numbers.

Gently he laid her down on a wrought iron lounge and reached for one of the Blood Orchard blooms. He would use the raw essence and slather it on the wound to stop the bleeding. She was bleeding out so fast it frightened him. She wouldn't heal in time.

He gathered the essence from one bloom, and then another, swiping her wide-open wound with it from his fingers. He gathered more essence and repeated the treatment over and over.

The wound started to close, and his eyelashes flashed with the relief he felt; however, she had lost too much blood.

He picked her up and shifted once more, this time to his bedroom suite, where he laid her now unconscious body on his bed. He kept a bar in the sitting area of his bedroom, and that was where he stored the blood she needed. Luckily he had procured enough of a supply. He retrieved it and went to her.

"Shawna—lass... do you hear me...?"

Her eyelids fluttered, and when she actually smiled for him, he wanted to cry. He hugged her to him. At that moment all he wanted was to shift with her far away, somewhere where Pentim and demons and dangers couldn't touch her.

He lifted her into a partially sitting position, and she moaned an objection. "I'm sorry, love, but you need to drink this now..."

* * *

Okay... here it comes, passing out... can't... won't... did.

I looked around and saw the blood—it was pouring out of me...

The entity had sliced me open, caught an artery, and I could feel my life slipping away. Would I die and come back a bloodthirsty, full-fledged vampire?

Passing out now... again.

Came to but can't speak... where am I? Remember now.

Have I died and come back? If so, I will ask Chad to destroy me...

I felt him working over me. I saw his face just before I passed out...

Awake now, he is making me sit... making me drink...

Did I die? "Chad... do not keep me alive... don't want to live that way..."

He's frowning at me. Why? Ah, of course. He doesn't want to destroy me, but if I died and came back... would he tell me? Would I know?

"You don't know what you are saying."

His voice is so soft and soothing. I love his Scottish accent, but it's hard to hold on... I feel like I am spinning out of control... I think I am going to pass out again...

I want to pass out. I want to forget how helpless I was... my mirror...

"Stay awake, lass—for me... that's right... open those pretty eyes. Look at me and drink some more of this..."

"I... I will, but, Chad... my mirror—where...?"

"I have it safe, my love... here... next to you."

He's put it into my hands. The mirror didn't work. Did I do something wrong? I am not as powerful as I thought I was. "Chad—it is supposed to stop a demon... the demon looks into the mirror and gets transfixed while I whisper the words... but..."

"She wasn't a demon, at least not in the true sense. Shawna, I thought you realized, understood. Kenneth must have tried to bring his mother back when she died. What he got... was some kind of electric energy, and it was full of rage and hate... but not a demon, and even so, you did stall her long enough for me to plant my sword."

He's assuaging me with his words, with his eyes, so full with bright emotion. Does he love me? How could he—an immortal—love me, so weak? I was so full of myself, trying to take on the 'underworld' alone.

He is feeding me pig's blood. Not human blood—but blood all the same. Is he disgusted with me?

"That's my lass... that's right, drink up... you see, look... your wound has totally healed."

"Did I die and come back? Am I immortal?"

He is laughing at me, but oh, I love the sound of him.

"You didn't die. Immortals—at least my brand of immortals—don't die and come back. We just don't age after maturity, and we can only die at the edge of a Death Sword."

He's kissing my forehead... that's nice. What's he saying now? "But if you aren't immortal, lass, I mean to make you so, for I damn well don't mean to live without you."

His sweet words are bouncing in my brain. I want so badly to shake off this awful fatigue I feel.

I've always thought I would face my father one day and come out of it—at least I hoped I could. But the weakness I now feel makes me doubt my future. I know now I just might not survive my father.

"He won't have ye, lass." Funny... Chad must have read my mind. "He won't, I tell ye now—my own Shawna love. I will have Pentim Rawley's head and drain the last drop of blood from him and feed that blood to the heathens of hell!"

I know he is capable of doing just that. I know I might be capable if I can hone my skills—if I can train a little while longer.

The trouble is—I know I am running out of time.

~ Twenty-one ~

PENTIM SNIFFED AND glanced towards the river before bringing his attention back to Clara.

The moon was still enlarged although partially obscured by clouds—it still held enough light to illuminate the river walk outside the pub.

Clara held Squire Kenneth MacDunn in the shadows, pushing him roughly against a tall oak. Pentim sneered to himself as she ran her tongue over the squire's cheek. She had the squire temporarily quiet and under her power. His eyes were glazed over as he glanced at Pentim and swallowed. He was in a trance, but Pentim could see that he understood what was happening. This one knew he was in the company of vampires...

He had already told them a great deal. Apparently the good squire had been secretly playing with the power of the Dark arts over the last year and a half. It had all started when his mother died and he discovered his young fiancée didn't really love him. That set him over an edge he had been near for too long.

The squire had brought something of his mother back from the grave to punish his unfaithful fiancée, and that was what the demonized spirit of his mother did with vicious force.

However, someone this very night had destroyed his mother's demon spirit, and that had driven the squire further into the madness—a madness that had begun quite some time ago.

And then the squire babbled Shawna's name. He laughed wildly before he began to splutter uncontrollably. Apparently Shawna had rejected him.

Pentim looked the squire over, and his nose wrinkled with his displeasure. His daughter had been wise to reject this stupid human. Pentim already enjoyed the thought that she was strong and magical. He was looking forward to training her. Together, they would rule the vampire world.

"Where is she?" Pentim's lashes swept his cheek. His voice was languid—quiet, but it held a force the squire, even if he wanted to, could not resist. "Where did you see Shawna last?"

"In the cottage... m'mother's cottage, but she is probably dead by now. M'mother sliced her open..." Kenneth said these words and then burst out laughing. His laughter was crazed and out of control.

Clara pulled a face and turned to Pentim. "He is very annoying. May I kill him now?"

"No. Get him to stop laughing. I have more questions." Pentim decided that when the time came, he was going to kill this one himself.

Clara brought her hand back and slapped the squire hard across his face. It left a wide red welt of a bruise, and Kenneth started choking with sudden, sure fear as he looked from her to Pentim.

"Dead... you left her for dead?" Pentim inquired.

He stammered some incoherent words, and then as though suddenly aware his answer might buy him time, he said hoarsely, "He... he... he won't let her die..."

"He?" Pentim's voice was harsh.

"MacFare—he isn't normal... he had this sword. It disintegrated m'mother..." The words seemed to unhinge him, and he began laughing wildly again.

"Where is this cottage?"

Clara slapped him again. "Answer—you stupid fool."

"Stockton... on Darby Road." The squire began to giggle. He saw his death in her eyes, and then Pentim's fingers were around his throat. He couldn't breathe...

Pentim snapped his neck and left him to crumble in a dead heap at the foot of the oak. "Gather everyone—into the van at once. We are for Stockton!" he ordered Clara. Then he turned and came face to face with a vampire he knew and often avoided. Damon, who was broader, younger in appearance, and a good six inches taller than he, stood quietly disdainful.

Pentim's eyes narrowed, and he nodded his head. "Damon."

"Indeed... that is my name."

"As much as I would love to stay and chat with you... and I would because there are matters we need to discuss... I am in a bit of a hurry."

"Are you?" Damon studied his fingers and then looked once more into Pentim's eyes before casting a glance towards Clara.

Pentim noticed her intake of breath and her softening of expression. It irritated him. He had heard that Clara and Damon had once been lovers.

"Get the fuck out of my way, Damon. You don't want to cross me."

"Oh, but I think that I do and probably shall—sooner than later."

"What do you want?"

"I will give you a chance to get out of this intact, Pentim. You have a large, powerful clan. You don't need Shawna."

Pentim saw Clara stiffen. He could see this annoyed her. She was jealous. He smiled to himself. What the hell did Damon have to do with Shawna? "You know nothing."

"I know she won't be taken. You will only end by getting yourself or her killed. Is that what you want?"

"Get out of my way and stay out of this, Damon. I have the might to hurt you if you persist."

"You _think_ you have the might." Damon's grin was a sugarcoated threat.

"Damon... you would not like to be taken by my people."

"Try—see if that is possible."

Pentim's eyes twitched. Damon was a loner. Very little was known about him, other than he was super-powerful. Pentim did not wish to get into a pissing match with him. "Clara—go and collect the others and meet me at the van."

Clara had started to walk by both Pentim and Damon when Damon reached out and took hold of her hand. He put it to his lips and looked into her eyes under Pentim's angry glare. "Clara... it pains me to see you with _him_."

"I had no choice... You left me in the wind," she whispered back.

"I didn't want to. I gave you a choice."

"I couldn't do what you asked. I need blood, Damon, human blood, just as humans kill the cow and eat their meat. I usually only kill what I need. I am not you, and I can't deny what I am." She raised her free and shaky hand towards his cheek. "I wanted you to love me, but you don't. I know you never will." She pulled her hand from his and vanished into the darkness.

Pentim snorted and said, "So that is it. You have a grievance with me because of Clara. I did not steal her from you, and if you joined us... you could have her back."

"I am here for one thing—to warn you off the child, Shawna."

Pentim inclined his head. "We will meet another day, Damon—that is my warning to you." Using vamp speed, he left Damon at his back—a very bad mistake.

* * *

Shawna woke up feeling refreshed and revived and found Chad's arms around her. She snuggled in the bed and felt comforted. He had fed her the pig's blood in slow stages, and then he made a potion—a drink from the Blood Orchard—and made her swallow it down although it tasted vile.

She looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven, which surprised her. She had thought it would be later—much later.

She hadn't just awakened on her own though—something had shaken off her deep sleep. Pounding—heavy pounding below, at the front door. It started up again. Who could that be?

Chad was up and pulling on his gray jogging pants, an odd look on his face.

Shawna lay back and gazed at him dreamily. He was glorious to look at, with his hard, sculptured chest covered in intricate rune patterns. His hair was a mass of tawny shades of blond around his handsome face. "Stay here, Shawna. I'll see who it is..."

She smiled warmly at him and snuggled into her pillows, but when a few moments went by and he did not return, she frowned and a worry set in. Was he okay?

She got up, threw on navy sweats, pulled on her sneakers, and padded down the hall and down a few steps, where she stopped short. She could hear him whispering. She could hear a young woman giggling, and then the woman said, "You never took back the gate card... so I thought I would use it tonight... Do you miss me, love?"

She didn't hear Chad's reply, but something in the air felt like betrayal, and Shawna flinched.

She took the next step quietly and sat there, fully aware she was spying. Chad was standing in the Great Hall, not quite fully in her view. The woman stroking his face was quite a beauty.

Shawna watched the redhead fling her arms around his neck. He didn't seem to try and stop her, and then all at once—he was locked in a kiss.

He had just left their bed...

And now he was in the arms of another woman!

Shawna felt a jolt of pain skittle into her muscles before it tore through her heart. From where she sat, Chad was making no effort to deter the woman. In fact, he appeared to be kissing her back.

What had she been thinking to allow a playboy like him to wind his hands around her heart? She had been a fool. He had been using her all along. He had always wanted Pentim, and she had always been his ticket to that game.

He had seduced her with words and touching and more words... for one reason only: to keep her with him, to draw Pentim out.

Shawna ran to her bedroom, pulled on her silver cuffs, slipped her mirror into her jogging pants pocket, and grabbed her 'special switchblade' and her navy hoodie. She was set. She took up the keys of her Jeep from her nightstand where Chad had put them earlier that evening. He had said that he shifted back to the cottage to retrieve her chest of artifacts and had left them in the Jeep in his haste to get to her. _Yeah, right—he lied... he's a liar._ The word _liar_ tore at her heart.

Without any understanding of what she was doing, and with only one goal—to run, and run, and somehow outrun the pain—she took the hallway to the backstairs. She nearly fell in her rush but caught herself. She switched into vamp speed out the backdoor and into her Jeep.

The cool air hit her in the face but did nothing to clear her mind, which was fuzzed over with hurt. She felt the salt from her tears slide over her lips. She sat back in her Jeep and bolstered herself as she started the engine. At first she allowed the Jeep to just slowly move forward, and then with a foot pressed hard to the pedal, she peeled out, leaving dust and gravel in her wake.

* * *

Chad MacFare's voice was hushed. He had no wish to hurt Mary Beth, but he had to get her out.

He knew Shawna well enough to know she would not tolerate watching another woman work him. He stepped back and tried to nicely ask her to leave. "You have to go, Mary Beth... you canna be here."

"Why? Have you got another woman upstairs—in the bed where we slept together...?"

"Hush now." Chad glanced up the wide staircase. "You canna be saying that now... you have to leave. You and I... well, I always told you, Mary Beth... told you on that last evening when you left..."

"I know. You want to keep it simple. Well, I am here to do just that... we can keep it simple." Her hands went around his neck, and she pulled him in for her kiss.

Chad frowned and took her hands in his to push her off, but he didn't want to bruise her, and she was holding on with all her might. She managed to free her hands and throw them around his neck as she locked her lips to his for a moment before he freed himself. "No, Mary Beth... you have to leave."

"Oh... _you do_ have someone upstairs!" Her eyes narrowed, and then she shrugged. "Well, it isn't as if we don't see other people. Right then, she can have you tonight... but I will see you to—"

"You'll not be seeing me again, and she... she doesn't just have me tonight... she has me for all my tomorrows."

Mary Beth stepped back, her mouth agape. "Never say so!"

It was then that Chad heard the start of the engine. He dove for the front door just in time to watch Shawna peel down the drive. "Och no, what have ye done? She must have seen you kissing me..." His hands went through his tawny mass of hair.

~ Twenty-two ~

PENTIM'S NOSTRILS FLARED as the scent of his daughter's blood wafted through the air in the cottage. He took a step forward and saw his daughter's deep, dark red blood all over the carpet, all over the hardwood floor...

"Shawna..." he whispered. "I have already made him pay."

The scent of rich blood had Clara uneasy. She had fed and didn't have the bloodlust at that moment, but nevertheless it did excite her. She thought Pentim's daughter must be dead—so much blood loss; however, she kept quiet and hung back. She knew better than to annoy him at that moment.

A murderous expression twisted Pentim's features. If evil had a face, it was his. He looked as though he wanted to kill, and he stomped through the rooms, raising his fists and shaking them. "We must find her. Where would this MacFare have taken her?"

WB walked into the cottage and sniffed. The scent of Shawna's blood made him close his eyes. Hastily he glanced at Pentim and saw that he was enraged. He waited and controlled himself. He was heartily sick of this chasing about. He wanted it over with and soon. He had noticed the sign of an estate, Darby Gray, as they passed its entrance on the way here. It had an unusual scent.

"No doubt this MacFare lives nearby—probably down the road."

"Let's go and see." Pentim growled.

"There is no trace of blood outside this cottage, and no recent scent of her outside," Clara offered musingly. "She did not leave in the ordinary way."

Pentim regarded her with interest. "You are proving to be an asset. How then did she leave, little Clara?"

Clara shrugged. "Perhaps he had her well bandaged and carried her. Perhaps her scent is disguised by his, and his, my Prince, is strong and different—so different." She licked her lips as she sniffed at the air.

"Then track him, Clara. Into the van... keep your head out the window and track his scent."

"I shall try..." Clara offered doubtfully.

"You will do it."

"Yes, my Prince."

* * *

Shawna sobbed in spurts. Wet tears gushed from her eyes and rushed down her cheeks—and even so, she caught the scent of several vampires just before she saw their van.

Shawna gasped, stopped her car, and started to back up to make a three-point turn on the narrow road. She zeroed in on her hearing ability and heard the jumble of their voices—they seemed to all be talking at the same time. A female vamp was amongst them, and Shawna heard her shout, " _It's her_... my Prince... coming towards us!"

Shawna squealed into her turn and raced back towards Darby—she had no choice. However, they were already speeding up alongside her Jeep. The female vamp was at the wheel and gave her a sneer as she gently bumped their van into the Jeep and made it swerve.

Shawna's car skittered, squealed, and nearly went into the ditch. The vamps used the opportunity to pull out in front of her and block the road.

She could try smashing through them. What would that accomplish? Perhaps nothing good, but it was all she had... that and her magic.

She softly spoke the words of a spell to keep herself conscious should the impact with the earth be devastating. She had to come out of this whole—she couldn't allow them to see how much magic she owned, so that she could use it when the time came...

What she needed to do now was get something heavy to pin her gas pedal in place. She looked around the car and found her denim handbag. She smiled as she spelled it, making it instantly heavier, and wedged it onto the gas pedal. She simultaneously took her foot off, testing—good, speed maintained!

She aimed her Jeep for the dark and large van just ahead. She was only half vamp, but she had some advantages they didn't. Daylight and bright lights didn't affect her adversely. She played with her engraved silver wrist cuffs, quietly chanting the spell. The engraved runes started to tickle as she whispered the words. She had an advantage—she was a _witch._

She would need to roll as she threw herself out of the car. She had vamp strength, perhaps not as much as a full vampire, but her sorcery skills would make up the difference. Rolling out of the racing Jeep shouldn't do too much damage with her shield in place.

She had only one shot. She needed to get out, roll, jump up, and use vamp speed to rush across the field to the woods.

She opened the car door, pushed herself out, and rolled onto the grass with a heavy thud that made her immediately feel sore all over. Ignoring the pain, Shawna was up and on her feet and running across the meadow towards the woods that would take her back to Darby Gray.

Her Jeep smashed into the van while Pentim and his vamps were still staring at the oncoming vehicle, believing she would stop. They didn't realize until too late that she wasn't in the Jeep.

They floundered about, screaming at one another before they collected themselves and jumped out of the van to give chase.

Shawna heard Pentim as he called his vamps together with a growl of irritation, and without having to look, she knew they were in hot pursuit.

* * *

Chad followed Mary Beth out of the house and frowned to see a dark BMW coming up the drive and pulling into his courtyard. "Who the hell...?" he muttered under his breath as he watched the pretty redhead slam her car door and speed past the new arrival.

Damon got out of his sporty vehicle, and Chad could see the dark amber of his glittering eyes. He suddenly had a very bad feeling.

"What are you doing here, and how did you get through my gate and past my wards?" He didn't wait for Damon's response as he dove into the central hall, retrieved his sheathed sword, and strapped it on.

Damon followed him, but Chad was already on the front steps. He grimaced. "What—is the sword for me?" he shook his head. "To answer you, your gate code might keep out most humans, but I'm not human. Your wards don't recognize me as a vampire. I don't drink human blood—like Shawna, I never have. Now, let's cut to the chase—where is she?"

"None of your business," Chad snapped. "What the hell are you doing here, and what the bloody hell is your interest in Shawna?"

"We don't have time for this." Damon stared hard at him.

"Listen to me, _English_ ," snapped Chad derisively. "Answer the question, and I'll decide what we have time for."

Damon's eyes lit with the challenge, but his voice was low and grim. "Controlling, aren't we? I can't fathom what she sees in you, but there is no accounting for taste. Too bad you couldn't have controlled this situation a little better."

Chad took a threatening step towards him. Damon smirked and put up his hand. "Like I said, we don't have time for this, but later, should you wish, we can make the time."

"What do you have the time for?" Chad spat at him.

"Aye, first, I will tell you that the squire is dead, but not before he told Pentim where she could be found. So I'll ask you again— _where the fuck is she?_ "

Chad closed his eyes and stood for a moment as he tried to see her in his mind's eye. The tattoo on her neck gave him a sense of her, and that sense told him she wasn't too far. He suddenly realized she was in trouble. _Where were the visions when he needed them_ _?_ He needed to know where she was, what kind of trouble she had encountered. "Damn it all to bloody hell! She took the Jeep and took off. I was just going after her."

"Then we'll go after her together." Damon was already turning to get back in his car, glancing back to find Chad behind him. He saw that Chad only had moccasins on, and he raised a brow at Chad. "No shoes?"

"These will have to do. As you say—no time." Chad grumbled as he put a hand on Damon's shoulder. He would have to shift. He shifted to Darby Road, and once there, Damon took a step away from him, his dark brows up. "What the hell was that, and what are you?"

"No time... we have to go further up the road." Once more he had his hand on Damon's shoulder as he parted the airwaves and stepped through, Damon in tow.

This time the two stepped through a misty cloud onto the paved Darby Road just short of Shawna's damaged and stranded Jeep.

There was no sign of her, and only a broken light and side mirror was evidence that another car had even been there.

Chad closed his eyes, and at that moment he felt frozen with fear. Her name was a whisper on the wind. "Shawna..."

"She ran there..." Damon was already in the field, his arm stretched out, his finger pointing. He was sniffing—picking up her scent as he closed his dark eyes. "She stood her ground here. She fought them off—there were two male vamps and Clara. She fought them, held them at bay, here... but something happened..."

Chad's mind opened up, and suddenly he saw it all. He hadn't had a vision in so long, but now it unfolded for him like a movie on a screen. He saw Shawna standing with her fists in the air, her wrists touching. She was wearing something on both of her wrists—the ancient and magical cuffs. They gave off a blinding light, and the vamps had their hands over their eyes and were stepping back from her. Three vampires were blinded and in some discomfort.

Shawna backed away from them, ready to run. She never saw Pentim, who had come up behind her, behind the light...

Pentim made a double fist and brought it down on the back of his daughter's head. Shawna had gone down.

Pentim didn't allow the other vampires near her. He picked her up in his arms while he threw his head back and howled with joy—and Chad's heart began pounding in fear as his mind moved into attack mode.

* * *

Shawna opened her eyes and remembered. Immediately, she closed her eyes again and feigned unconsciousness.

They hadn't bothered to tie her wrists—they knew that would be useless against both her vampire strength and her magic.

She touched the engravings on her silver wrist cuffs, which were still in place. Obviously they hadn't been able to break the magic that held them in place, and she was pretty damn sure they must have tried, because her wrists felt sore. _Okay, that was a tool she still had._

Cunning would have to be another. She had to stall, because something in her heart told her that whatever Chad might or might not feel for her, he would come after her. He wanted to kill Pentim. The thought of Chad kissing the redhead swept through her and made her grit her teeth, but she couldn't think of that now.

She groaned theatrically as she wiggled in place and opened her eyes. Beside her was Pentim Rawley—her biological father. She was surprised at the sudden curiosity that shot through her mind, although she felt no daughterly warmth, no daughterly concern, no 'feeling' other than a cold nothingness for the creature seated beside her. What had she expected?

She needed to buy time. He was a vamp with a humongous ego, so she allowed an expression of interest to flutter over her features.

Evidently he found that pleasing, for he smiled sweetly at her. She couldn't know that his charm was an act perfected over the years, and yet, Shawna knew. He was a sociopath—without conscience long before he had become a vampire.

"Awake, are we?" he said softly.

"No thanks to you," she said as she rubbed the back of her neck and sat up straight.

He considered her for a moment before saying, "You gave me no choice. You would not be taken."

"And why must I be taken?"

He chuckled. "Do not play with me, Shawna. You have been running away from me for months."

"I am independent. I want to live a life of my own."

"And when I discovered that I had a child—my blood— _I_ decided you must be at my side. I am your father, and you _will_ obey me."

"You may be my father, but I do not obey... _anyone."_

He laughed right out loud and took her fingers into his cold hands. "Ah, Shawna... you will carry the name of Rawley and do me proud. There is a fire in your silver eyes that will not be lost when they turn amber..."

"I want my eyes to remain silver-colored. I like who and what I am."

"Impossible—you are still human. You must be turned. You can't want to live and die a meager seventy to eighty human years? You cannot wish to hide from me now that you have met me."

_Smart, Shawna—play it smart_ , that voice in her head whispered. "I will admit to a certain interest in you... a certain feeling... I did not think possible." She was surprised at how easily the lie dripped off her lips.

He gave her hand a squeeze. "My daughter, filial loyalty does not strike out your natural independence. You will rule beside me, loyal to my wishes, but I shall deny you nothing."

"Father..." The word stuck on her tongue, and she wanted to spit it out and never say it again. It was a calculated risk. If she gave in too much too soon, he would not believe her, but he might enjoy the sound of the word and not be suspicious. "I do not wish to give up the human part of me."

She could see he was struck by the sound of the word _father_ on her lips. He answered slowly. "Father—you have accepted that, have you? Eventually, you will accept what you must. This is probably the only time I will not give you a choice. I _will turn_ you."

"I will die, as my mother did."

He frowned. "She gave birth to you... she lived... She did not die because of me, and she was not turned, although I tried..."

"Her magic, which is in our genes, kept her alive. She willed herself to stay alive as long as she could to nurture me, but in the end _your_ blood killed her, and she did not turn. She did not come back as a vampire... and neither will I."

"Don't say that. You will be turned. You are already half vamp. You already have my blood in your veins." His face was distorted by the wickedness of his purpose.

Shawna sat quietly for a long time and watched the passing shadowy landscape. Would Chad find her in time? How many vamps would she have to fight off? Would her magic work long enough to buy her time?

* * *

Chad watched Damon for an impatient moment. "Well?"

"I am designing our approach."

"I don't need you to design a damn thing. Just tell me where Pentim's hellhole is located, and I'll go there and manage them on my own."

Damon looked him up and down. "There are a total of ten of his best militant vampires waiting for him there. He has his first lieutenant, WB, with him, two of his personal bodyguards, and Clara. Think you can take them alone, do you?"

"I bloody well can try, because I will be aiming at only one."

"Ah, but to get to that one, _you need a plan."_

"I've got one."

"Then sharing it with me would be good." Damon's dark eyes lit with anger.

Chad was his own man, unused to working with anyone; however, the love of his life was in immediate danger. He would have worked with the devil himself to find her and keep her safely at his side. "Right then... what do you have in mind?"

"They are holed up in a warehouse on Douglas Row off the river. When we get there, one of us slips in first, the other brings up the rear."

"I'll go in first," Chad said on a feral sound.

"Hmmm, and while you get them all huffed up and ready, I'll have your back, and then, my friend..."

"I know what comes next." Chad reached out and touched Damon's forehead. Damon stood very still and eyed a silent question at him. Chad smirked. "Getting the location so that we can shift there."

"Don't like this shifting of yours, but... it serves," Damon grumbled as Chad held his shoulder.

Once again Chad parted the airwaves and they traveled through space to stand on a dark street overlooking the River Inverness.

"There now," Chad said on a hushed note as they clung to a stone building and peered inside the dirty, lead-paned window.

"Bloody hell, Damon, they aren't here—this isn't the right place!" Chad snarled and turned on Damon suspiciously, grabbing his leather jacket by the lapels.

Damon ripped out of Chad's hold. He frowned as he returned the snarl and said, "What the hell! Do you think that I lead you false? Don't be a fool."

"If this is some kind of vampire trick, you won't live to see another night!" growled Chad ferociously.

"Lovesick idiot—they aren't here, but I think I know where they might have gone."

"Why did you bring us here then?"

"Pentim likes to keep different places all over town. This is the last place I saw him and his vamps in. I did, however, follow his sorry ass to a house just a few streets away from here yesterday. I just didn't think he would use it for the ceremony."

"What bloody ceremony?"

"He will want a great deal of fanfare when he turns his daughter. He sees himself as the Prince of the Vampires. He will introduce her as his princess."

"We don't have time." Chad touched Damon's head and gave him a half apology. "I get a better picture this way." And they were shifting once more.

They arrived this time like bullets shooting out of a dark hole, and Damon shook himself and grumbled, "Don't like that mode of travel." Then he shrugged. "But I suppose it is useful."

"There are ten of them inside," Chad commented. "And they have humans with them—nearly past saving... but I don't sense Shawna inside or Pentim as a matter of fact."

"We've arrived before them. Your travel is instantaneous. _We shifted_. They drove. They'll be here, and I tell you what, old boy..." Damon pulled himself up to his considerable height. "We might have been too late to stop him from capturing your lady, but we won't let him keep her!"

"Aye—you got that right. Pentim dies tonight," Chad returned grimly.

"Heads up, MacFare— _here they come_."

"One thing more, _English_ —tell me why you care so much."

"Suffice it to say, immortal, that I care—perhaps not in the same vein as you, but strongly all the same. I've watched Shawna since she was a child." He pulled a face at Chad. "Damn, who could not watch Shawna and not care—so don't look at me like that. I am no competition for you."

"Mark me, English— _no one is_. Shawna is _mine!_ " This said, he put his hand onto Damon's shoulder and they shifted once more, this time _into_ the old mansion.

* * *

Shawna saw the river come into view. Clara drove steadily, and Shawna wondered what she was doing with this crew. She didn't seem a good fit. The huge vamp Pentim called WB seated up front beside Clara was another story. He looked like he wanted a fight.

She and Pentim were seated behind them, and the two quiet, militant vampires—Pentim's bodyguards—brought up the last row. There wasn't anything she could do at the moment to escape and make it any distance. She knew she had to sit tight and wait for an opportunity. She had to wait for the lull.

Clara brought the van down an unlit dead-end road to a corner property. It was a large, three-story house, old and somewhat dilapidated, of an uncertain era and design, that reposed in quiet obscurity.

Dim lights shone within the old mansion, and through the front panoramic window Shawna could see vampires milling around inside _. Shit, shit, shit! How would Chad ever find her in such a desolate location?_

He would have no reason to even suspect she had come to Inverness. He might not look for her in the city until it was too late— _way too late_. She only had herself to rely on— _she was totally on her own!_

Clara parked the van and was the first to get out and slam her door. Shawna could feel the waves of dislike emanating from her. The big one, WB, who was dressed in black leather and black jeans, got out as well and followed Clara inside. The two guard vamps waited for their orders; without speaking Pentim lifted a finger and indicated for them to follow him.

Pentim offered Shawna his hand. She took it and tried to give him an affectionate glance—it worked. She could see he was enjoying every minute of this, but she also knew the moment he realized she was not really falling in with his plans, the moment he felt betrayed, he would not hesitate to kill and would not suffer a moment's regret.

She stopped to look up at the mansion, and one of the bodyguards dared to take her arm. She hauled back, and when she shot forward with her sneakered foot, she landed him a blow squarely to his gut. She had vampire strength, and she had used some of it. He cursed loudly as he bent over his stomach and glared at her.

"Don't _ever_ try and touch me!" Shawna hissed and hoped he understood the threat. She meant to sound crazed and powerful. She needed to bluff her way through this with as much bravado as she could pool inside herself. Better to have some of them 'uncertain' about what she could do.

Pentim roared with pleasure and amusement and added his command. "She is my daughter. No one touches her without _my_ command." He took her hand once more, and although she cringed inwardly, she allowed him to hold onto it as they walked up the broken flagstone steps. She put on an air as she surveyed the other vamps. She had to get their measure—see just what she was up against. And she had to lull him into complacency and find a way to escape her situation.

Chad's image came to mind, soiled because in the image that redhead was there, in his arms... and she felt a tear start in her eye.

Chad had held her, professed his love for her, told her his secrets—had it all been part of his game to get her to his home, under his control to get to Pentim? Had she, in the end, only been bait?

She had the one hope that he might look for and find her—after all, he wanted Pentim Rawley. He so wanted Pentim dead. Would Chad be able to track her? Would he see the signs of the car collision? Would that help him to understand she had been taken? Even so, would he be able to track her this far?

"What are you thinking daughter?"

"I was wondering how far I could get if I ran," she answered honestly.

He chuckled. "And what conclusion have you come to?" He reached for the front door, and as he opened it some of its peeling paint fell to the stone step.

"Not far." She shrugged as she peered inside. She followed him into the hallway, which opened to large open parlors on either side. She made a head count and discovered ten male vampires of various sizes milling about. Three female humans languidly reposed on a couch that sported faded maroon brocade. She noticed it was torn in several places.

She nearly bolted right then and made an effort to calm herself as she tried to display unconcern.

However, deep inside she bellowed with disgust. Her mind and heart shouted out for one another, and she wanted to run and take her chances. She wanted to save those women but knew she had no way to do so, and it made her sick and horrified.

As Pentim walked her down the hallway, he bent and whispered in her ear. "Don't worry, daughter—none of those waifs are for you. I have one hidden away in my quarters. She is young and will afford you a delicious first meal."

He saw her expression and either misread it or chose to ignore it. "I know, I know—such poor, misshapen surroundings. But when we are done here, we will go to Italy, where the mountains are magnificent and our home even more so."

She knew she had Clara, WB, and Pentim's two bodyguards, plus the ten vampires to deal with. Running would never work. She needed stealth. She needed cunning. She needed the training she had in her to be able to kill at least five of Pentim's vampires before she escaped. She would have to do it quietly—somehow get each alone and snap their necks before plunging her 'special knife' into their dead hearts. Thank goodness she had her knife with her.

"I only wish we could return to our home in Italy to conduct the ceremony." Pentim sighed heavily after these words and flicked a finger towards the wide-open door of the foul-smelling bedroom. He led her to another smaller door with a latch equipped with a hanging chain and a combination lock. "But I don't want to travel with you until you are turned." He smiled wickedly. "Not that I don't trust you, daughter."

Shawna wanted to upchuck. She controlled the nausea and made her plans, amazed that she had any. "Of course, Father." The words flowed with her most winning smile. "You are quite right." Then, as though she were conceding, she added, "You are so much more intriguing than I had anticipated that I find myself almost wishing I hadn't run." She had to be careful, she couldn't flatter too much, just enough, just the right words here and there.

His ego ever inflated, he readily believed the compliment, and she realized with a touch of relief that he was pleased, too pleased to hear _the lie_ in her words. He opened the door of what she imagined had once been a walk-in closet and gently pushed her inside. "I will leave you here until the ceremony."

She smiled as she heard him snap the locks and chain into place. _First mistake, Pentim!_ _Clearly_ , she thought to herself, _you have forgotten that I am a witch_.

Her magic would open the locks and easily release the chain he had thought would keep her trapped. All she needed was timing!

* * *

Chad had shifted them to an empty room on the second floor of Pentim's hideaway. Waiting there took almost more patience than they could muster. When they heard Pentim's arrival, Damon sniffed the air and whispered, "He has her with him."

"Where has he taken her?" Chad asked with a low growl.

"Easy... we need cunning, not anger."

"Damon, we have to get her out of here. We don't have time for cunning. I'm for slash and kill."

Damon grinned. "Aye, in your position, I think I might think the same, but we have a better chance of doing that if we use some stealth."

"Agreed," Chad said, thinking he had to get to her and fast, before he lost his mind with worry. He had to get her safely in his arms and shift her away. Nothing else mattered.

Hurriedly they began a search of all the rooms on that floor and came up empty. Chad put out a hand to Damon's shoulder to halt him and then went into his mind and tried to connect with Shawna through the tattoo on her neck; there! He found her, felt her, and it filled him with warmth and need and aching.

"She is on the floor just below us," he whispered.

Silently he motioned to Damon as he took the lead, and they stealthy descended the wide, worn wooden steps to the lower level. It creaked terribly, but no one came to investigate. They arrived at a long and narrow hallway.

They could hear Pentim as he gathered his vamps in the front parlor and spoke to them about their roles in the ceremony to initiate his daughter.

Once again Chad reached for Shawna in his mind, and this time he knew she was very near. He motioned for Damon to follow him as he led them down the narrow hallway.

He stopped as a door opened at the end of the hall and two vampires emerged, evidently from a storage room, carrying black ceremonial robes and mumbling about something.

Their first reaction when they saw Chad and Damon standing stock still before them was to stop in surprise. Their second reaction was to snarl and release low-volume animal sounds as they dove into attack mode.

Chad went into action; everything he did happened so quickly and with such ease that Damon leaned against the wall to observe, a smirk curving his lips.

Chad put up his hand, chanting as he simultaneously withdrew his sword from its shoulder sheath at his back.

With one fluid and gracefully bold movement, he sliced air. One down. The vampire's severed head plopped with a heavy thud to the floor and rolled as the matching body collapsed in a bloody heap beside it.

The other male vampire—eyes wide—backed away, but Chad had anticipated this and was already on him, once more slicing through the air and separating the creature's head from his body.

He turned to Damon and grinned. "Two down."

"It looks as though you were right and _won'_ _t_ need me." Damon laughed.

"Oh, but I will. Distraction is always necessary when there are numbers to combat."

On cue, another vampire evidently had been drawn to the sound of a scuffle and had come upon his fallen bloody brethren. Rage rather than wisdom drove him as he growled and began his lunge.

* * *

Shawna heard Chad's voice!

Her heart pounded in her chest with a force that made her put her hand there and massage it to quiet.

Chad was near. He had found her. Chad... oh Chad...

Someone was with him. She could hear them—and she sighed with relief.

Damon!

She wanted to laugh but controlled herself. _Timing!_

She chanted, the door flew open, and Shawna stepped outside, ready, so ready for battled.

She moved along, her body close to the wall as she made her way down the long, L-shaped corridor. She turned the corner and immediately saw Chad.

Their eyes met, and for a moment they were distracted by one another.

The vampire was in the middle of his lunge as Shawna shouted, "Nooo!" She raised her wrists and clanked the silver cuffs together to produce a blinding light.

The vampire stopped in mid-stride, put up his arm against the blinding light, and began to groan with discomfort from the offending brightness.

Damon grumbled, "Shawna, tone it down... it has an some effect on me as well."

"Oh, sorry," she said and parted her wrists.

Given this relief the vamp renewed his attack, regained his footing, and zeroed in on Shawna. He growled and lunged towards her. _Bad mistake_!

Chad released a death cry and went after him. Another head rolled.

Shawna wrinkled her nose and looked away from the blood that splattered and covered the walls.

Damon and Chad exchanged glances and laughed, both now fully in the spirit of death and mayhem. Chad grabbed Shawna's arm and shoved her behind him. "Ye be a little fool—how could ye think—"

"Fool? Yes, fool to believe you loved me," she snapped.

"Why, because some girl threw herself at me?"

"She was in _your_ house kissing you—either she had a key, or you let her in. And I saw you _kissing her_!"

"I wasn't... I swear I wasn't, love—if ye had stayed long enough ye would have seen me pull out of her arms. If ye had stayed ye would have known the truth of it."

" _Do you two mind?"_ Damon drew their attention to their audience.

Four very angry-looking vampires stood in the central hall between the two parlors.

"Oh-oh..." Shawna sighed heavily.

"Damon— _keep her safe_ ," Chad roared as he stepped slowly forward and waited for the vamps to make a move. He wanted them to come to him.

Shawna wasn't going anywhere. She was staying right there, and she shrugged Damon's hand away.

She couldn't get into position. There would be no surprising any of them, so no snapping of necks. There was only one way she could help. She pulled out her switchblade but didn't click it open as she waited.

Damon eyed her, put up his brow, and said, "You are a handful."

"Damon," she said softly, ignoring this. "Draw them towards you..."

He looked at her and then at what she held in her hand. He released a low whistle.

"Right you are." He turned to the two vampires already moving towards them and said in a loud aside to Chad, " _They're chicken shits_. Too afraid to come after us..." A grin added to the taunt.

That drew their fire. Two of them charged like angry bulls, all power, no finesse. Chad worked the one, and even as he did his magic and downed yet another vamp, the other charged at Damon, who nicely side-stepped, allowing Shawna to wield her sharp, locust wood blade.

In the throat first, swift and deep, and then... quickly pulled out and shoved hard and with vicious intent into the heart.

" _Two down_ —two more ahead." Damon grinned at Chad.

"I thought I told you to keep Shawna safe," Chad complained.

"Look at her—she managed to do that all on her own. And, Chad, you might as well get used to it, this one—good luck telling her anything."

Chad smiled proudly and called to her, "Stay out of harm's way, lass, _for me_."

" _Too late_ ," she shouted back.

Pentim was there, full of fury and something else. Shawna saw it in his dark amber eyes; it wasn't determination—it was fear. She realized he had never seen his vampires taken down in such quick fashion. He was trapped in an emotion he had not experienced to this extreme for a very long time.

Shawna looked from Chad to Damon. _That's right, Pentim_ , she thought, _you are done. My Chad will have at you... and Damon, Damon, who has powers beyond the ordinary vamp..._

Damon had not even lifted a finger yet, and Shawna knew he was a force on his own.

Pentim knew what was coming...

Clara came into the hall, and all at once Pentim grabbed her and shouted at Damon, "I will kill this one myself, Damon. Are you willing to see that happen?"

"Who is she?" Chad asked softly of Damon.

"A friend," Damon answered quietly as his upper lip curled at Pentim.

Chad shifted, took Clara from Pentim with ease, and shifted her back to Damon. "Here... take her to safety," he said. " _I am for Pentim_."

However, when he turned away from Damon and Clara, it was to discover that the other vampires were scrambling to escape.

* * *

Pentim was already out by the car, with WB beside him and asking, " _What is he_? Why is he after you, Pentim— _is this all because of the bitch?_ "

Pentim didn't answer. He appeared to be gauging his options as Chad stepped out of a black hole and stood, sword raised high. He had left Shawna in Damon's care, as he didn't want her to be a part of what he was about to do. "Wait!" He put up his hand as he looked at Chad's raised sword. "You don't want to do this... I am her father... she won't like it if you do this."

"That bitch you call a daughter doesn't care about you!" WB sneered. "I can't believe we followed you, you whining coward."

Chad glanced at WB, and his voice was thunderous. "Call my woman by any name ever again, _and you won't_ live to see another nightfall!"

WB backed up, hands up. "No offense... it's what I call all women."

"Shut up, WB..." Pentim warned. "Just shut up."

"She isn't one of them. She is mine," Chad said, turning to Pentim. "I want ye to know why ye are going to die today."

"Let's discuss the options." Pentim attempted reason. "We can work this out."

Shawna and Damon ran out of the house and towards Chad and Pentim, each in attack mode.

"Ye have no options. Ye are the reason I was robbed of m'mother. Ye set a _newbie_ on her, and in the end she died an awful death. I mean for yer death to be slow, very slow, Pentim Rawley."

Pentim started to run and went into vamp speed, but he slammed into something—no someone, and pulled up short. "Shawna... I am your father. Help me."

"You are the reason my mother died young and in pain. Your time is at an end."

Chad was there, swinging his Death Sword. He caught Pentim across the middle, spilling his guts and his blood onto the pavement.

Pentim dropped to his knees.

"I want your death to be torturous—and, damn, but that is what it will be. It is what I have been dreaming of for so long," Chad said as he sliced off one of Pentim's legs at the knees. "Ye need to bleed out slowly and burn in the morning sun..."

Shawna stepped over to Chad, and although she didn't say a word, as she put a hand on his back and closed her eyes, he realized she was conflicted. He wanted his vengeance, and he wanted it over—for her.

He sliced off Pentim's arm and said, "You are going into shock... you won't make the morning sun. You will be dead before then. I should just let you bleed out... but I haven't the time. I have another life waiting for me." Chad's sword seemed to move in slow motion as the war cry he made released all the pent-up loathing and hurt he had felt for so many years.

WB watched Pentim's head roll down the roadside until it slid into a rut. He turned to Chad and waited for his attack.

Chad looked at him. "Ye could have run, but didn't. Why?"

"I wanted to see him dead," WB said with a sneer.

Chad considered him. "Do ye think ye can clean up this mess and get yer vamps, all of them, out of my town?"

"I can."

"Then do it, but, WB," Chad warned, and there was no compromise in his voice, "Doona ye let them come back here... doona ye ever think to come back."

WB nodded and then looked up at the sky. "At any rate, the sun will arrive soon and do most of the clean up for us." So saying he went towards the house.

Chad sheathed his sword and scooped Shawna into his arms. He held her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head. "Lass, lass... when ye left me... I went nearly sick with worry."

She cried into his shoulder, "Pentim is really dead... it is over... oh Chad... Chad."

"And how do you feel about it, Shawna?" He held her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"I know you think I am conflicted... about him. I am not. I should be—but it isn't as though he was really more than DNA, is it? What I really feel is... relief. All I can feel right now is that it is over..."

"And me..." He kissed her head, her ears, her nose, her cheeks and growled, "How does m'Shawna lass feel about me?"

"That all depends on your answer." She gave him a look that made him want to lay her down right then and there and take her over and over...

"What is the question?" His voice came out husky.

"No question really—kinda an ultimatum."

"I doona like ultimatums." He flipped her nose.

"Then we are done..." She started to pull away.

"What?" He pulled her back. "What bloody ultimatum?"

"Never, ever kiss any other women... all your kisses are mine," she said and looked saucily up and into his eyes.

"Och, lass, never ever will I kiss another, I vow it."

She laughed. "No more old girlfriends with keys..."

"I'll have the locks all changed." He smiled softly. "Now, where is Damon?"

She hugged him around his middle. "Making his peace with Clara—around back, I imagine," Shawna said on a long sigh.

"Come on. I want to take you home, but first I want to talk to Damon."

~ Epilogue ~

FREE OF PENTIM'S threatening shadow, Shawna and Chad decided to travel together. Chad began each month giving her the essence of the Blood Orchard and praying that not only would it wean her off pig's blood, but that it would make her immortal as well. _Only time would tell_.

They returned to Darby Gray in the fall because they had made the decision to wed.

The wedding was a simple affair, and Darby Gray was opened to all the villagers. Both the bride's and the groom's families were in attendance. The band played the kind of music that wouldn't allow anyone to sit it out, and it was a joyous night.

Damon was there for the evening reception and took them aside to give them news.

"It doesn't pay to be kind or fair," Damon said in aside to the happy couple. "We are headed for trouble ahead."

"What?"

"WB— _we should not have let him live_. He has gathered the vampire clans together, and there is something going down. Too many newbies on the streets, and they seem to have exceptional abilities. I don't like it, Chad."

"If he stands against us, it is trouble _he_ will have, no us." Chad grimaced.

"Hmmm." Shawna nodded. "I agree. Trouble for he—not for we three. I am a poet." She was not going to allow any worries about the future to interrupt the joy of her wedding night. She offered her glass of champagne to Damon with a silly grin.

He smiled back at her. "It thins the blood." He chuckled and downed it.

She laughed out loud and got on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I have noticed, Damon, that you are not like other vamps and don't worry about such things."

Her husband pulled her back into his arms. "That is enough, Shawna." This only set her giggles off once more.

Damon smiled warmly at her and then sighed. "There is also talk about a new slayer who has cropped up. She seems intent on bringing down the number of vampires."

"So, stay out of her way," Chad flipped at him.

Damon chuckled. "As Shawna just pointed out, I am not like other vamps. A slayer is no match for me." He shook his head over the notion. "That isn't what I am worried about. Apparently, she is set on getting one particular vamp... and that vamp is a friend of mine working on a problem for me. I can't allow the slayer to destroy her privacy, though she hasn't got a chance in hell of killing her."

"We are there if you need us, Damon—always," Shawna said softly.

He smiled at Shawna and then eyed Chad for a long moment before quietly saying, "One more thing—your grandmother and father should be told."

"And what should they be told, English?"

"Good ol' Drac has been suddenly putting out feelers. He is looking for a woman named Elizabeth. I heard tell that he thinks her to be over one thousand years old..."

"And what has he discovered?"

"Nothing yet, my friend— _nothing yet,_ but the word is out that he is planning to meet with WB, and that, that is going to be something we'll need to monitor."

Later that evening, they watched Damon drive off, and Chad turned to his bride and remarked, "I have seen Damon in a vision with the slayer he spoke of, and he is right. I saw Dracula in that same vision... meeting with WB in Ireland. Shawna... this is bad."

"What does it mean?"

" _It means Damon is going to have his hands full... and so are we."_

###

### Just how does a slayer end up with a vampire?

### Have a taste of Damon's story,

### Book 2 of the Shadow series:

ShadowHeart—Slayer

~ Prologue ~

DAMON DRUMMOND STOOD on a rooftop—arms at his side, legs spread in a wide stance—and stared at the scene that had just begun to unfold five stories below in an alleyway only dimly illuminated by the lights from the various apartments above it.

At both ends of the alley, New York City was ablaze with activity and bright with its city lights. Even at one in the morning the streets were still filled with a flow of people out on the town.

Damon made quite a picture. His black, thick hair fell in layered waves and framed his face. The wind at the top of the building whipped at his shiny locks and at his tall, rugged body, but he didn't bother to zip his black leather jacket closed. He rubbed his cold hands against his jeans as he watched the red-haired beauty below lure her prey deeper into the deserted alley.

Damon's eyes, brightly alert with interest, were lit in their recesses with gold at a striking variance with their dark depths. He was keenly intrigued as he studied her style and took her measure, filing away his observations as though he were a research scientist observing an exotic new species. He watched her move and sway and entice her prey deeper into her web, and he waited for the inevitable. This was not the first time he had followed her into the night.

He saw the newbie slink in after her as the beauty pretended she didn't know he was coming up behind her. She put on a grand show. Damon saw that her hand was already inside her unbuttoned denim jacket, and he knew her fingers were wrapped around her deadly weapon.

She stopped, turned, and pushed a long strand of her fire-lit hair away from her provocative features. She smiled bewitchingly at the young man now tripping with anxious need and awful, raging bloodlust towards her.

Her voice was disdainful when she spoke. " _Oh_ —hi there... Are you following _me_?"

An animal grunt came out of the newbie's mouth as his lips drew back, and he bared his fangs. What happened next went down so swiftly that a lesser person watching would not have realized the skill and strength it had taken. It looked so easy... she made it look so easy, but Damon knew otherwise. A newbie's brutal strength was derived from the bloodlust, and no human could withstand its onslaught.

The newbie charged, but she went into a spin and was lightly, easily, and gymnastically out of his way and at his back. Before the newly made vamp understood enough to recover, she had her sharply pointed stake plunged into the nape of his neck and just as quickly had it withdrawn.

He turned to stare, stunned but not down. He made an agonized sound and reached back for his neck. His hand filled with blood, and he stared at his hand as his body filled with the poison that wood inflicted on a vampire.

She took his moment of confusion and used it to ram the wooden stake into his undead heart, and he collapsed in a heap. He stared at her before he whispered, "Your time... will come..."

She stood back from him for a moment as though saying a prayer. Then she withdrew the stake, wrapped it in some kind of cloth, and slipped it into its Kevlar sheath, which was strapped around her shoulder under her jacket.

Damon's dark, well-shaped eyebrow arched with interest as she turned and slowly walked away, leaving the body in the alleyway. A newbie vampire would not disintegrate. She didn't seem to care.

He supposed, as she did, that the police would list it as they did so many others as an unsolved case, and it would be filed with the cold cases as time went by.

The beauty picked up her pace, and Damon noted the style of her walk was controlled; she was careful not to use her slayer ability at super-speed.

He couldn't stop himself from noting that her butt was perfectly shaped and tantalizing, and he could see she didn't give a damn about her looks. She had only one goal, and that goal was totally at odds with his.

She was confident—probably overconfident, and that wasn't good. She was killing at least two vampires nearly every other night, and one of these nights she would come across a vampire who knew just how to handle and overcome her...

However, she was smart, and she had been piecing the puzzle together. She had discovered bits and crumbs, and she'd tracked the clues relentlessly. It had Damon deeply concerned, because she was looking for one vampire in particular.

The beauty's name was Nikki Walker. She was a vampire slayer, and Damon Drummond—well _,_ _he was a vampire_...

~ One ~

NIKKI STARED UP at the small inn not too far from Harcourt Street in Dublin. It was a perfect location. Quiet, and it seemed to cater to older couples and a few business sorts. It wasn't too far from the Temple Bar area, where she would do her vampire scouting, and so it was perfect for a home base.

She picked up her two bags and climbed the high steps that took her inside, where a small but brightly lit lobby greeted her. A man behind a mahogany counter, with an office of sorts at his back, caught her attention with his deep, Irish brogue, and she had to concentrate in order to understand what he was saying.

He laughed and clipped whatever he had said into a simple, "Good morn' to ye, miss."

"Oh, hi." Nikki smiled as she put down her suitcases and moved towards him. "I have reservations... Nikki Walker."

"Ah, yes... ye requested the top floor... a suite." He looked to be in his early twenties, and she couldn't help but notice that he gave her an interested once over as inconspicuously as he could before he gently pushed some papers across the wooden high counter for her to sign and requested to see her passport.

As she bent to take care of the paperwork, her long, gold-lit red hair fell about her face. She pushed it away, looked up, and saw that he was staring. She smiled amiably, as she could see he was about to ask a question.

"Are ye here on business then?"

She smiled and said ambiguously, "In a manner of speaking."

"Oh, aye then," was what he thought an appropriate response, and Nikki gave him a warm, friendly smile. It was obvious that he wondered what a young (and she could see he thought her pretty) woman was doing all alone at a hotel frequented by the senior crowd on this quiet street in Dublin. He couldn't know it was the perfect place for what she had to accomplish.

Quiet and secluded was everything she needed.

She wasn't who she had been, not anymore. She didn't feel young and pretty and ready to take on the world in the normal way young women did. Graduate school was a thing relegated to another time in the future; friends, love... out of the picture for now.

What her mother had told her was her birthright (or bane depending on how you looked at it) had come to pass. She was a vampire slayer, and she had more than slaying vampire after vampire on her mind. She wanted one in particular—the one that had murdered her brother! She knew the vamp was a female of some years and experience, and she knew that the dangerous female vamp was known as Deadly Moon.

She and her brother had lost their parents to a drunk driver when she was sixteen, and her brother had stepped in and become the sun, the stars, 'the everything' she needed to get through the heartache of their loss. Jack had even taken over where her mother had left off and did his best to train her to become the slayer she might one day have to be.

During those early days with her mom, she had kept her own council. She hadn't wanted to disappoint her mother by telling her that 'slaying vampires' was not something she had ever wanted to do.

And then her mother and father were gone, and she wanted to accomplish all the goals her mother had set for her. She heard her mother whispering in her ear, "Baby... I know this doesn't seem fair... all this extra work, but one day it will save your life. Want it or not, you are a slayer, and one of them might come for you."

Jack wasn't a slayer by birth, but he had learned everything he could from his parents and took up the job of 'slayer training' when they lost their parents.

She'd allowed him to put her through all the trials, the gymnastics, the karate, the wielding of the deadly wooden stake, but now Jack was gone as well. He was gone because of a vampire, and she wanted to rip the creature from limb to limb and feed the pieces to the beasts of hell...

Nikki had money enough. Their parents had left them comfortably provided for, and Jack had made a fortune in the computer software business and left everything to her.

The weeks before she lost her brother, Nikki had graduated from NYU. Jack had managed to pull on a few friendship strings and got her started doing little fluff pieces for a national travel magazine. She had been accepted to graduate school and had been looking forward to it and the life that went with it, but... no longer.

She had to find his killer, and she had the advantage of her slayer abilities. She had questioned the police about what they knew, but all they had been able to tell her was that Jack Walker had met an incredibly beautiful woman at some charity function at Lincoln Center and that they had left together.

Jack had been found in a suite at the Plaza with his throat torn and most of the blood drained from his body.

The police thought it was a serial killer, but Nikki knew better. She called on her slayer skills and went to work. She quietly, unobtrusively took on her own investigation and painstakingly followed where the details took her.

It was leading her to a vampire of unusual abilities, and she would have to be careful, because although she might have super-hearing, super-speed, and super-strength, she could be killed as easily as any human. She _was not immortal_.

The same week that Jack had been mutilated and killed, she went out looking for information. She visited the clubs she knew vamps frequented in NYC when they went looking for easy prey.

She had walked into one dance club and was surprised to see a great number of vamps mingling with petty, expectant women. She made her selection and sidled up to him.

He wasn't expecting an attack from a human. He didn't know she was a slayer because she hid it well. And so her first encounter went off more easily than she had expected.

It wasn't difficult to get him into a position in the dark alley behind the club where she laid him low with the skill and the strength that was hers as a slayer.

Some of her success was due to the shock and surprise he experienced when she threw him hard to the ground. The rest was the point of the wooden stake held directly and threateningly to his cold heart. She explained to him then that she would free him if he told her what she wanted to know.

He wasn't a newbie, but he didn't have a great number of years or experience as a vampire, so he caved immediately and told her that the rumor was Deadly Moon had been with the Walker human. It was the first time she had heard a name in relation to the dangerous, 'never seen, ancient' vampire.

He told her everyone in vamp circles was talking about it because Deadly Moon did not usually make a spectacle of her kills.

He didn't know anything more, but instead of setting him free as she had promised, Nikki had made her first vampire kill.

Remorse? None. She had not kept her word—she had not released him when he gave her the information—but she had no regret. He wouldn't be able to kill some poor, hapless human, now would he?

Everything she did from that moment on was with the intent of finding Deadly Moon, the vampire other vamps seemed to fear.

Nikki knew enough to be discreet when she singled out a vampire for questioning... and killing. She never did so when other vamps could look on and listen in.

Her latest kill, two nights ago, had won her the information that Deadly Moon was in Dublin. Nikki still had no description of the female vamp. None seemed to know her, only _of_ her.

Nikki put aside these thoughts as she took the key the man at the counter handed her and went to the small elevator. She had taken the largest suite he had, as she didn't know how long she would have to be in Dublin.

She had been to Dublin and the Irish countryside once before, with her brother...

She arrived at her door, #110, and opened it wide before she stepped in. The day was misty and gray. Night would come fast on a day like this. She scanned the place with more than her eyes as she stepped inside. _All clear..._

Or so she thought.

A hand came from nowhere and clamped down on her mouth. Another strong, muscled arm went around her and pinned her arms at her side, and a voice with a distinguished English accent whispered in her ear, "Go home, Nikki Walker, before you get yourself killed."

She tried to spin around and see her attacker, but even with her super-strength she couldn't budge. One hand was still on her mouth, but the other managed to slip under her open jacket. She struggled hard then, harder than she had ever done before, but he was too strong and quick for her. He snatched her weapon and tossed it before he let go of her mouth and turned her to face him.

She could have screamed then, but she didn't. She didn't want to bring attention to herself, especially on her first day. And something in this one's aura made her think he wasn't really there to harm her—after all, he had warned her off instead of immediately killing her.

So instead of screaming like a banshee, which she desperately wanted to do, she looked him over.

What she saw made her raise her dark eyebrows. He was tall, and his black hair fell in layered waves around a ruggedly good-looking face. His shadow beard added mystery to his chiseled features. His clothes were expensive and jet-black. Black leather jacket, black tee beneath it, and black jeans and silver-tipped black boots. Whoa—just who was this?

_Vampire_ — _that's who_! All at once Nikki's slayer sense kicked in and told her, _Stupid... he's a vampire._

As though reading her mind he chuckled. "Aye, then—that established—all I am here for today is to indulge in a reasonable discussion."

" _That established_ —what established?" she returned warily. Had he read her mind? Different vamps had different 'abilities'.

A short laugh escaped his lips, but then he grew serious all at once. "Let's skip the game playing, Nikki, shall we?"

"I will if you will, English."

" _Again_ , game playing," he chided.

"I'm not playing a game. How could I when I don't know the rules?" She shrugged. "Besides, I don't play with strangers. You know my name... I don't know yours."

"Rules, eh? I shall have to list some for you. Firstly, and most importantly, stay out of _my way_ —meaning, don't look for Deadly Moon. As to my name?" He inclined his head and brought up his dark eyes to her face. "My name is Damon Drummond."

Nikki stiffened and shot him a warning look. "I have no quarrel with you, Damon Drummond. I don't know how you know what you do, but I don't follow other people's rules—especially when the person listing the rules is a... vampire. Deadly Moon and I... _we_ have a problem, _and I_ mean to solve it."

"You will have two problems if you keep trying to track her."

Was he threatening her? It felt like he was threatening her, and yet, she didn't really feel threatened. What then? Was he saying that he would be a problem for her if she didn't stop tracking Deadly Moon? Why? And if that was so, well then, he seemed to think a great deal of himself. Something told Nikki he probably had cause to do so.

He was not like any vamps she had ever encountered. She also wondered if Deadly Moon was his lover. She eyed him speculatively, but before she could retort he had her shoulders and brought her in close. A sizzling, spidery electricity tickled the air between them.

"I have never seen anything like you, Nikki Walker. From the top of your fiery head to your dainty and dangerous feet, you are unique. You look at me with eyes the deepest shade of blue I have ever encountered in all my four hundred years, and it would be a shame to see them permanently closed."

"Are you threatening to do that—permanently close my eyes?" Nikki shook her head. "Then go ahead, have at me, because nothing is going to stop me. My brother's eyes were even more blue than mine, and his were permanently closed before his time. I don't mean to suffer the same fate—at least not until I get my ounce of justice for him." She held herself stiffly aloof. "So that brings us to _my rules_... the first being, stay out of my way, Damon Drummond, and perhaps I will let _you_ live." It was bluster, she knew. This vamp could do her in with the blink of his eye.

He smirked at her and said, "You will get yourself killed if you throw words like that at some vamp you simply cannot take because he has age and experience, and there are some out there, slayer, that you cannot take." He let her go and wagged a finger at her. "So you want to know if I am threatening you. Fine. Call it what you will, it is still a warning. If you pursue Deadly Moon, you will find yourself a target because your presence will become obvious in their world, and these are bad times in Dublin."

"You don't know me. You are not concerned for me, but for Deadly Moon, and so everything you say— _jaded_. I keep my own council."

"Relieve yourself of the illusion that you are any threat to _her._ You are like a fly she can swat out of her way."

"Then why are you here—warning me away?"

"I have my reasons."

"You have wasted your time."

"I see that..." He suddenly reached for her shoulders and pulled her into his arms. He bent to her face and whispered something that made her toes curl, not because she heard the words but because his low, husky, and sensuous voice rocked her hormones into place and made her body tingle.

She knew all at once that he was going to kiss her. He was actually going to kiss her, and she couldn't stop herself from wanting that kiss. What the hell was wrong with her?

She should stomp on his foot—kick him in the groan, wallop him one across the face, and break the mood. She had the strength, the skill... and absolutely no inclination to do so.

His mouth was on hers, at first gently and deliciously. She had no will of her own as her lips betrayed her good sense and parted to invite his tongue to stay awhile. And that was exactly what she got—a kiss that drowned her in passion and filled her head with exploding rockets. She couldn't think, she couldn't pull away, and she didn't want to.

Gone! Zap—he was gone faster than any vampire she had ever witnessed on the move.

She stood for a long moment, and the question reared its ugly head and demanded, _Were you under a vampire trance?_ The answer was a big fat _no_. It would have been such an easy answer, and one that could have wiped the shame from her conscience, but it wouldn't have been true.

Slayers couldn't be mesmerized by vamps—slayers were immune to most vampire magic. The next question sent the blood to her cheeks.

You wanted the vampire Damon Drummond to kiss you—didn't you, Nikki Walker?

### When a smart and sexy shapeshifter  
teams up with a hunky hybrid,  
the sparks fly in Book 3 of the Shadow series,

ShadowLife—Hybrid

~ Prelude ~

Present Day,

Grampian Mountains, Scottish Highlands

HE FEELS HIS tongue hanging between his sharp canines, teeth that can crush through a man's bones, as he races with precision through the trees. The wolf in him has taken the scent from the earth and then lifts his head to the breeze to confirm the distance—a wolf can detect its prey in this manner almost two miles away.

He can feel the cold wind whip at his thick and beautiful black fur, and he loves the sensation it tracks through his body. The last of the winter snow is beginning to melt beneath his huge paws, and he revels in the freedom of the run.

He is at home in these woods; the scent of the sweet-smelling tall pines mingled with the rays of the new morning's sun has a soothing effect on his frazzled nerves—as does the hunt. He has abstained long enough.

The early scent of spring is in the air and fills his nostrils as he reaches the precipice where he can look over his valley. He shifts into human and lands naked on two feet.

He stands a huge, muscular man, with his long, black, shiny hair blowing freely in the morning breeze. The intricate tattoos on his chest and arms catch the sun's rays as his muscles flex and he raises his head to catch the scent of the deer off the wind. He has been tracking an old stag, and his cock is at full attention from the excitement of the hunt.

These woods have belonged to his family for centuries—MacAdams' Foothills they are called. He and his father, nearly lost to him, are the last of his clan. They are neither man, wolf, or vampire, but all three.

* * *

He had been alone and apart from all, but at peace in his solitary existence. He was alone by his own will, alone because society and the humans no longer held allure, alone after the murder of his dear mother...

He hadn't even bothered going into the village for more than a few errands: mail, supplies... now and then a piece of ass. And today that particular craving made him feel heady. He needed a woman, and the need was pushing him in that direction, if only for a night, perhaps this night? He thought of Anna—a willing and alluring playmate, ever ready and willing and nearly (though not quite) able to satisfy his unrelenting lust.

He was a hybrid, able to change at will because he was born that way centuries ago. Going wolf always cleared his head and heart, but feeding—that was quite another thing; he hadn't fed in the wild for so long, because contrary to the wolf in him, the human detested killing.

He was immune to the weather's biting cold against his skin. He could feel it, for it stayed cold in the Highlands until late spring, but it didn't chill the human in him as he stood patiently awaiting the right moment, his heart pumping exuberantly with the thrill of the hunt.

He didn't have to hunt, as he had a fully stocked cellar at my home, but the need... drove him at times like this.

He crunched for his lethal jump as he heard the old stag in the distance approach. He chose this particular buck because the twelve-pointer was aged and showing signs of decline. He would honor him by bringing his life full circle, and he'd make his death quick.

The stag had not picked up his scent and slowly wandered into range. The man transformed once more into wolf and waited with infinite patience. He wanted a clean kill, one that would be as painless as he could achieve.

All at once and with precision, he was on the stag, bringing him down. A wolf could overpower even something ten times his size. A hybrid had the strength of many wolves.

He made a quick, clean kill, tearing at the stag's throat to accomplish the kill in the instant.

He needed the fresh blood for the vampire so much a part of who he was, and he wanted the fresh raw meat for the wolf. The human honored the old stag with an ancient Indian prayer.

The human... Chase MacAdams was a hybrid extraordinaire, billionaire, and recluse, and he thought himself a pitiful being, alone and disillusioned with his lot in life. With all the power he held, with all the power his father held, they had not seen that his beautiful mother had a stalker and had been in mortal danger that fateful afternoon. They had arrived on the scene too late to save her, but they had taken on the ancient vampire—Dracula—though they had lost him even as they worked to annihilate him.

She had whispered in her last moment that she had not given up her dear friend's secret. She had not told Dracula what he wanted to know...

And then she had closed her eyes, and his mother, who was a hybrid, and whom he had always thought invincible, died.

Dracula had the only weapon that could kill an immortal hybrid... had it still, and Dracula, although he and his father had tried to trace him, was off the grid.

Chase's father had gone off to grieve, but he had stayed on at MacAdams in seclusion and self-pity, plotting what he would do if ever he found the ancient immortal!

Chase MacAdams was powerful beyond measure and equipped with skills that made him nearly invincible, and yet he was a dissatisfied man and an alpha wolf in desperate need of something he could not, would not name... a mate.

He had not in all his three hundred years imprinted on a female—he had never really fallen in love.

He raised his head, and his dark gold wolf eyes surveyed the craggy hillside as he released a long, soulful howl, one that was picked up by a nearby pack of wolves and returned with encouragement. Wolves have a deep and caring social order, and he had been accepted by the local pack a very long time ago.

The Cairngorms had always been his home, but he had never before retreated into such severe seclusion until last year, when he needed to get away from the misery of his disillusionment, the grief of his loss, and the guilt he felt when he was unable to avenge his mother's murder at Dracula's hands.

He fed now, fulfilling his physical needs, and left the remains for the stray wildlife that would surely visit when he was gone. Then he was moving again with grace and speed, a wolf reveling in the success of his hunt and the beauty of his forest.

In the distance he could see the ruins of Strathmore Castle, a local tourist haunt. Just below and not yet visible, stood his home, a mansion of stone and logs.

He was so tired of living this existence, for it was no more than that. He wanted more, but he believed there never would be more for him. He could not allow himself to love, for no doubt she would be human and live a human life, and when she discovered _what he was_ , she would be repulsed.

Or just when he thought life had everything to offer with a mate in his arms, he would lose her as his father had lost his mate to some unexpected horror...

So Chase ran to escape his loneliness, but it was always there waiting for him, around the bend, in the mirror... in the family home that he loved...

And then he saw it—a strange car in the bluestone gravel courtyard of his mansion. Why was it there, and who was the beautiful, black-haired young woman knocking at his big oak front door?

~ Prologue ~

HER LONG, SILKY black hair was a gift from her mother. In her stocking feet she stood at five-five, but with her heeled boots she was a good deal taller. She rubbed her cold hands against her jeans. She shouldn't feel the cold... she wasn't supposed to feel the cold, but somehow she did; perhaps it was because she had turned her back on what she was, suppressed everything into non-existence.

Her eyes were often described by the young men attempting to seduce her as exotic, but it was more than a line. It was the truth. Her eyes were almond shaped but large and green like a deep, dark lake, also from her mother, but if you looked closely and deep you would see the glitter of gold—and that she got from her mysterious Scottish father. At the moment her eyes held a wary expression and her body was tense with the anticipation of the unknown. She was about to do something she had never done before, seduce with a lie.

Her dark gray rental car was parked in the gravel courtyard, and although she had been knocking for a few moments, it seemed as though no one was home. The separate garage was made in the same lovely design of stone and logs, and she walked over to it, her heels twisting a bit in the gravel. Peering inside with her hand over her forehead she saw three cars inside the spacious building. One was a silver Jag, the other a Jeep, and the other a truck... and she smiled because it was a Ford 250—American made, here in the Highlands.

She sighed and wondered if Chase MacAdams was out walking his foothills. Where would he be? He only owned one thousand acres...

She returned to the front oak door and peered through its long, wood-paned side window. She put her hands on her jean-covered hips and turned to look down the long winding driveway.

"Well," she told the wind. "No one home... so I guess I'll leave it for another day?" As she walked towards her rental, her hips swayed and her provocative body moved gracefully. She fished in her pocket for her keys and stopped as she heard a sound in the woods that flanked and stretched upwards along the driveway.

* * *

Chase licked his lips as he watched her; she stirred a sudden, strong desire in his loins. She was a beauty, and he liked the way she moved. There was almost a stealth to her style. He watched her as she went to his garage, and he saw her delicate dark brows as they drew together. Who the hell was she?

He hurried the remainder of the way and entered his home through the back door. He threw on a pair of jeans and a black T and slipped into his Gucci boots, smiling to himself, for he had always enjoyed high fashion.

He opened his door wide. Her back was to him as she still stood by her rental and scanned the driveway. He said, "May I help you?"

She turned, and he almost sucked in air. She was breathtaking. At a distance he had not realized how incredibly beautiful she was. Her black, silky hair blew across her face, and as she brushed it away and smiled at him, he felt his hard-on throb in his jeans, making him damned uncomfortable. Then she spoke, and the sound of her voice sent shivers through his body.

"Oh, you are here..."

"So I am," he said in his Old World Scottish accent and had the satisfaction of watching her eyes look him over with what he thought was sure appreciation. Oh, och aye, this was going to be a good day. "Aye, then..." he said and stood aside as he inclined his head and offered, "Would you like to come in out of the cold, lass?"

She laughed and said, "Yes, thank you. It is cold—I didn't realize it would be quite this cold in your Highlands, and I don't think this little jacket is doing the trick."

He looked at the little brown, waist-length soft leather jacket and noticed the fullness of her breasts as his eyelids half closed. He asked, "American?"

* * *

"Yup, that's me... American... Native American in fact, on my mother's side." She had closed the distance between them and stepped into the central hall. A quick glance showed her a modern 'log cabin—mansion styled' home. Everything was in rich wood and stone, and it was warm and inviting. She put out her hand and said, "Hi... I'm Roxie MacBran, and your solicitor said you would be expecting me?" She tilted her head.

"Tom said that?" He frowned and turned to the round table sitting in the middle of hallway where a stack of mail he had picked up still sat. He went to it and sorted through until he found what he was looking for and slapped it across his hand. "Ah..." He smiled at her. "Save us some time... Miss MacBran, why are you here?"

"To fill the position of gatekeeper," she answered with self-assurance.

He stopped dead in his tracks and shook his head. "Noo... Oh, I don't think so."

"But you haven't even looked at my references... They should be in that envelope." She pointed to the letter he was still holding.

"I was looking for a man," he answered roundly.

"But I am fully qualified. I have a gun license, and I know how to use one. I am a black belt and—"

"Just what do you think being a gatekeeper involves? I don't need protection or that kind of a guard. I just need someone to man—the key word being 'man'—my gate at the beginning of my drive. People have a habit of sometimes driving in, parking along my driveway, and using my woods for camping. I need that to stop... and there is more of it during the spring and summer months."

"If that is all you want, an automatic gate is all you need."

"If no one is about, they park outside the gate and tramp on up—"

"Then I am the one for the job. No one will tramp on up while I am on duty," she said firmly.

"Yes, but—"

"But what?"

"Why would you want the job? It can be lonely here in the Highlands."

"You have a village nearby where I'm sure I can find a pub and make some friends, and there is Inverness on my days off."

He frowned and made a circle, came right up to her, and leaned in close. As his six-foot-something towered over her five-foot-five, he said, "I doona think it is a good idea for a woman to live alone... up here away from... the world."

"As I said," she answered softly, looking up into his gold eyes until she thought she could feel his heart beating between them, "I know how to take care of myself, and I need this job."

"Why? Why do you need this job?"

"The pay is more than I could presently make in the States. Economy not so good just now, and I'm working on my first novel."

"I don't have Internet set up in the gatehouse," he said firmly.

"Ah, but I looked into getting satellite for TV and Internet—no problem. If you give me the job they'll be out there tomorrow."

"I doona like this," he answered, moving another step closer.

She moved into him and looked long into his warm, gold eyes. "But you might change your mind."

"I doona think so."

"Give me a chance, and if it doesn't work, well you can always fire me, boss," she said and gave him a look that she hoped would blow his resolve away.

She put out her hand. "Deal? I need to hurry and get someone out to the house to install the dish, and I need to go shopping."

* * *

He studied her for a long moment and realized he'd decided to give her the job the moment he realized that was what she wanted. He gave her his hand, and when their hands clasped he felt a bolt of lightning shoot through his arm and aim straight at his heart. He was in trouble. This one... this little American... did something to him she wasn't supposed to be able to do. Only 'the one', his intended only one, the one he was meant to take as mate, should affect him the way this one affected him. He was momentarily off his game.

She smiled warmly and said, "Key?"

He went to a side table, retrieved it, and dropped it in her open palm. He didn't want to touch her, was afraid to touch her, afraid he would not be able to control himself, because at that moment all he could think of doing was tearing off her clothes, laying her down on the wood planking, and ramming into her...

What was wrong with him? He watched her sway as she walked to the door, and then she said over her shoulder, "If you need me... you know where I'll be, but I don't start till tomorrow. I have to get settled first."

He watched from the side window as she got into her car and drove off. Then he leaned back against the wall and blew out air... _What the hell?_

Read more about Claudy Conn's books

### Shadow Series

ShadowLove—Stalkers

Shawna Rawley has no choice but to run when Pentim Rawley, one of the most evil vampires who has ever lived, discovers she is his daughter. Chad MacFare has an offer for Shawna he thinks she can't afford to refuse: he'll protect her from Pentim and his minions. But Shawna doesn't trust the sexy immortal. She knows he has his own agenda—he wants to kill her father, and he wants to set her up as bait...

ShadowHeart—Slayer

Damon Drummond and Nikki Walker are on opposite sides. He is a potent vampire—she is a skilled and powerful vampire slayer. Problem right there... but when they look at each other, sparks of all kinds fly. Too much stands between them: He will live forever, she will not, and yet...

ShadowLife—Hybrid

WB and his clan have moved in, and section by section Dublin is going dark. When the team needs help, they turn to a shapeshifter, Roxie MacBran.

### Legend Series

Prince Prelude—Legend

In this stand-alone tale and the backstory for the Legend series, we find ourselves in 1814. Gais and the prince come head to head over a woman. We will see Lamia DuLaine when she first sees Julian Talbot, and we will meet the first Maxie Reigate. Come along and see their world unfold...

Spellbound—Legend

Maxie is a reluctant heroine who travels to Scotland to find and save herself. Julian is a Druid priest in a modern age, and he is full of guilt—Can Maxie turn to him? Or will she turn to Prince Breslyn, a Royal Fae hunk offering her everything?

Aaibhe—Shee Queen (Novelette)

This is a love story but it is fringed with envy, jealousy, and bitterness—oh and more. It is laced with the havoc those devastating emotions can bring. It is about the seeds of hate born of love, and what havoc that hate can wantonly roar over even immortals. This is a story of Aaibhe, Queen of the Seelie Fae, because she deserves that it be told.

Shee Willow—Legend

Half-human, half-Fae Willow Lang has never felt she truly fit in either world, but she's doing her best to ignore her Fae nature. But when she finds herself in the middle of a conflict between the Seelie Fae and the evil Dark Fae, she must embrace her Fae powers in order to protect the Human world.

Prince in the Mist (Novella)

Fact one: By tradition and treaty, Fae do not interfere with the human world—it is against the rules. Fact two: For a Royal Fae prince who suffers from the ennui of immortality, watching and interacting with humans—especially lovely, spirited human females—can be entertaining. Fact three: When entertainment changes to affection, and affection becomes love, rules will be broken.

Trapped—Legend

Magical powers, a castle, and a charming prince sound like the ingredients for a fairy-tale life, but for BJ Mulroy, reality turns out to be a whole lot more complicated. The war between the Seelie and the Unseelie is heating up, BJ has been drawn into the fray... and there's the matter of the seventeenth-century hunk in the painting.

Free Falling—Legend

They call her Z, and she is a handful ready to explode. She has entered the war against Gais and the Dark Fae and means to take him on all by herself. She is driven. Aaibhe, Queen of the Seelie Fae, has other plans, and she sends in Prince Danté to execute and preserve her wishes. When Z and the prince meet, hackles go up on both sides.

Catch & Hold—Legend

Half-human/half-Daoine Fae Radzia MacDaun—Z to her friends—finds herself in the Dark Realm, where she'll have to fight Gaiscioch on his own turf. Danté, Prince of the Tuatha Dé and Z's lover, is not about to let her face this danger alone, however, and the two of them are thrust on a ride that takes them to the edge of life as we know it...

### Time Series

Through Time-Pursuit

Revenge is the driver. Will love be the equalizer in _Through Time-Pursuit_? Chance LeBlanc and Princess Royce are about to find out in this contemporary fantasy romance, picking up where _Catch & Hold—Legend_ left off.

### Risqué Regencies

Myriah Fire

Myriah Whitney wants thunder and lightning, not a proper courtship and a sensible marriage. Then circumstances lead to an encounter with the mysterious Lord Kit Wimborne—in his bed, with both of them naked, no less!—and the meeting is an explosion of wills that finally sets Myriah on fire...

Oh, Cherry Ripe

Cheryl Elton has been in London for three seasons and refuses to be courted. When her mother takes matters into her own hands, Cherry runs!

Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

What happens when an eligible marquis pretends to be a rake and a gambler, and the woman he is supposed to be courting disguises herself as a masked French card dealer? Find out in this spicy, risqué Regency romance.

Taffeta & Hotspur

Hotspur wants Taffeta—how far will he go to make her his? Taffeta has a secret—will it land her in trouble?

Wildfire Kiss

Lady Babs is a rule-breaker, but has she met her match in Lord Wildfire?

Runaway Heart

Chelsea takes London by storm, but the only man she wants thinks she is no more than a child.

