

Hungry Moon: Quicksilver

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### Hungry Moon:

### Quicksilver

By

Claudy Conn

Copyright Page

Hungry Moon: Quicksilver

By Claudy Conn

http://www.claudyconn.com

Copyright © 2012, 2015 by Claudy Conn

Edited by: Karen Babcock

Cover Artist: Kendra Egert

All rights reserved

Published in the United States of America

Smashwords Editions

First edition, December 2012

Second edition, November 2015

Excerpt of _Hungry Moon: Destiny_

Copyright © 2015 by Claudy Conn

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.

### Contents

Hungry Moon: Quicksilver

Copyright

Dedication

Prelude

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Excerpt: Hungry Moon: Destiny

Chapter One

About Claudy Conn

More about Claudy Conn's Books

Dedication

I would like to dedicate this with my heartfelt thanks to my artist, Kendra, who is brilliant.

~ Prelude ~

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

—William Shakespeare, _Hamlet_

1575, Scottish Highlands, where many honored their clans and chose to follow the old ways

QUINN MACVALDANE HAD a great deal of weight on his shoulders, but those shoulders were huge and certainly capable of carrying the burden. The weight, however, was unlike any other he had ever lifted, and he was tired of constantly having to deal with it. He just wasn't ready to get married!

He was more than six months away from turning thirty and tired of the nagging as his birthday drew closer. He had to get out and away from it.

His mother's face flashed in his mind. She was a dear heart, but lately it seemed she would discuss only one subject at the dinner table: she wanted grandchildren, something to fill the void and still the grief of his father's passing. She wanted him to carry on the line.

He, however, wasn't in love, and he wasn't ready to tie himself down to one woman. He liked being single and enjoyed being with women, so he had told her to leave him be.

He was the only son, she enjoyed reminding him, and if he didn't have a son, the castle and the estate would go to his father's brother. What she didn't realize was _he didn't care_. He loved his good uncle—why shouldn't the estate go to him?

Mayhap he just needed a tussle with the pretty tavern wench, Sarah, to loosen up his nerves. Och, but he liked her full breasts. The notion of her naked body under him made him smile, and he felt his dick spring up, ready for action.

A crackle of twigs made him look around and hold his lantern up.

He had heard the rumors but had shrugged them off. He wasn't concerned—why should he be? He was a sorcerer with supreme powers and had naught to fear from the beast.

Thus, he proceeded into the woods to take the shortcut to the town tavern. He grinned and hummed to himself much like a boy at the thought of a few drinks with his friends and then a bit of fun with Sarah. She was a lovely, full-bodied woman, and she enjoyed—

He heard something again.

His hearing had always been extraordinary, and it told him now that something moved stealthily through the woods at his back and was eating up distance between them.

Once again, he held up his lantern and looked around—not afraid, but wary, very wary, for he could now sense that something evil was at his back.

He touched the silver-tipped sword that was tucked at his belt. If something rabid was out there, it was time to put an end to it. And, bloody damn, he was just the man to do it. He would erect his shield to protect himself from getting bitten and finish the beast once and for all.

Everything in the forest seemed to go still. Even the crickets had ceased their chatter.

Warily he started forward again, and Quinn MacValdane knew the creature was not only at his back, it had had gained ground.

Because his sense of smell was as good as his hearing, the first thing that assailed him was the odor: musky, with the scent of fresh, sweet blood filtering through. Whatever it was that followed him dripped saliva mixed with blood.

The second thing that assailed him was the sound of the beast, the low, wild growl. The sound was primal as the creature trumpeted hungrily with mindless rage.

The third thing was the sure knowledge that this was something sinister, something otherworldly. It was more than a rabid beast—and more than the werewolf he had actually expected to appear.

It was near, and it was exploding with Dark Magic.

This beast was frothing at the mouth and mad.

He would not be able to outrun it, and he wasn't sure his shield would hold against its Dark Magic. What was this? What kind of werewolf had magic?

He felt its power vibrate in the air. He had been just a teen when the male members of his family had hunted and killed a werewolf years ago, but he remembered the aura of that creature. This was similar but much, much worse.

Quinn MacValdane did the only thing he could do: he cast a spell that enswathed him with a protective shield.

_It should have been enough_.

He set down his lantern and withdrew his silver-tipped sword.

His shield should have worked like a coat of armor, but it was as he feared—this was darker, a boundless power, greater than the usual savageness of a werewolf. This creature wielded Dark Magic and stalked him with purpose.

It stood a foot taller than Quinn's six feet. It clawed the air, its amber eyes burning with bloodlust. It was drooling saliva and blood from its recent kill, and it roared with fury.

Quinn looked into its eyes and knew he was looking into the eyes of madness. It swiped at him, but its claws bounced off his shield.

Infuriated, it went down on all fours, and Quinn heard the voice, its voice, in his head as it began reciting an ancient Gaelic spell.

And then he knew.

It was tearing apart his shield with its magic.

He looked up and noted the moon was in its full glory as the feral creature attacked with a ferociousness he believed would kill him.

He picked his spot and began maneuvering it in a circle. It kept its head low and stared at his sword, which seemed to deter it.

Quinn couldn't get over its size. It was huge and pulsating with power.

He studied it, trying to get its measure, its weakness. Its fur was ragged, spotted with what smelled and looked like blood.

Fangs, sharp fangs, snapped as it snarled. Violence governed its purpose, and that purpose was to tear, maim, kill—and something else. Usurp. It wanted his magic. He could hear its thoughts in his head. What kind of werewolf was this?

_Devour! Take... take_ _Quinn's magic._

Damn, how did it know his name? How the bloody hell could it know his name? Who was this? Weres lost all memory of themselves, their loved ones—it was part of their curse. This one was a thinking, magical beast.

He could detect nothing of the human in it. And yet, somehow, it seemed familiar, must be familiar if it knew his name.

This thing looked to be unmistakably insane, and yet Quinn fancied he saw purpose in its amber-lit eyes.

Would his white magic work against the beast?

Once again it attempted to slash at him. Quinn jumped out of the way, knowing he had to call on stronger Dark Magic to protect himself.

He needed a ward, but he had no time to create one. He had but one chance for survival: the silver-tipped short sword he was never without.

And then the werewolf sprang into action, and Quinn sneered as he shouted, "Well, then, beast—come and get it if ye be a mind to!" He plunged his sword just at the right moment directly in the center of its beating heart.

But even as the were roared and suffered excruciating pain, even as it started to fall, even as death began to take it, its jaws locked down on Quinn's shoulder and bit— _bit hard_ —and Quinn's fate was sealed.

He was able to punch and beat the creature off, and he watched as it fell to the ground, rolled over onto its back, and began the transformation back into man.

Quinn saw at once it was Whelan MacPoole, clan leader of the neighboring estate. _Husband to his mother's sister_.

They had never been friends throughout their family's history. He should have known. He should have suspected. The signs had been there all along, if only he'd noticed.

Quinn bent, pulled his silver-tipped sword from the man's heart, and stood to look up at the stars before closing his eyes.

He had been bitten.

~ Prologue ~

All that glisters is not gold

—William Shakespeare

Present day, New Jersey

RAVENA MACALLISTER LOOKED at her wristwatch. It was nearly six o'clock. It had been a hectic day, but graduation was finally over, she had her BA in her hand, and her evening was unexpectedly free. She had thought she had one last class at the Fashion Institute, where she had been taking additional classes as she pursued her dream of designing clothes for the fashion industry, but it had been cancelled.

Todd Decker, her boyfriend of two months—a record for her, as she rarely dated, let alone ever thought of any as 'keepers'—wasn't expecting her. She was going to surprise him.

Tonight was the night.

He had been trying to get her into bed. She had been resisting. Why? She wanted him... didn't she? Perhaps she wanted more. Her friends told her she was nuts—that she would lose him. She didn't want to lose Todd, and she knew after two months he was getting impatient with her refusal to take it to the next level.

She liked his kisses. She was nearly sure he was the 'special one' she had been looking for, but she just couldn't put a finger on her reluctance to take it to the next step. Jump into bed with him, her libido demanded.

At twenty-one she was old enough and mature enough to handle what her mother had called the _consequences of sleeping with a man who may not want you the next morning._ Would he not want her the next morning? For that matter, would she want him the next morning? Did it matter? She was living in an age when a woman could be intimate with a man just for pleasure, just for a night. Even so, it did matter to her, but why—why should it matter? She wanted more, that was why; something in her inner being wanted more, and she knew with a shake of her head what that something was hidden, dormant... _secret._

A tall, beautifully framed mirror hung on the far wall of her bedroom, and she moved to stand in front of it. She blew at the wavy golden bangs that tickled her forehead. She cocked her head, gave her waist-length silky hair another brush, and twirled the shorter curls on either side of her heart-shaped face. She supposed she would do.

Ravena didn't consider herself stupid about sex and guys. She used to laugh with her friends and say she was a slow-blossoming flower waiting for just the right amount of water and sun.

She knew the general male population considered her hot, and she had to admit she liked the way she looked in the reflection staring back at her. _Yup,_ she told herself, her dress was really eye-catching. However, insecurity nibbled at her mind. What if her inexperience turned him off? What if she got clumsy taking off her clothes? What if... on and on.

She sucked in air. For Rave, this was a really big step. Guys had been coming on to her ever since she was fourteen, but no one had ever interested her before Todd. _Her_ Todd (and he had encouraged her to think of him that way) was big, bold, handsome, ambitious—a keeper. She liked him so much... _but did she love him?_

Her girlfriends had told her to go for it because it was time. Her best friend Meg had told her she was crazy if she didn't _close the deal_ with Todd because someone else would. Meg had laughed at her and told her she didn't need to be 'in love' to have a good time.

Her mother had told her to wait until she was ready. Her father had whispered over the phone quietly that he rather thought she should wait until she was in love. _Was she ready?_ _Was she in love_?

She wasn't sure, but she did think it was time to find out.

Her heart wanted to do what her dad had told her—fall in love and know it—feel it before giving in to a lust that might make her choose someone who didn't fit. Didn't he fit? She twirled her hair around her finger and wished she were with her father roaming the Highlands of Scotland like they always did every summer. She wished she could sit and talk to him; he didn't get her all crazy like her mother always did.

A heavy sigh followed this thought. It was because of Todd that she had told her dad she might not be staying the entire summer with him this year. That troubled her as well. She really wanted to return to the Highlands and her father—even more than she wanted to be with Todd. _Did that mean_ _she didn't love Todd?_

She smoothed the low-cut, silky black dress that clung to her curves. She had designed and then made the dress herself. She knew she looked sexy as hell and that her mother would raise an eyebrow—so the trick was to get past her overprotective parent without being seen.

She made it down the stairs of their Colonial styled-home and then remembered the keys were in the kitchen. She peeked into the kitchen. Her mother wasn't there, and neither was her stepfather, who was probably tinkering around in the garage. Rave scooped up her keys from the tray on the desk near the fridge and was out the door and nearly to her pale green Saturn parked out front when she heard her mother call her name.

"Rave, honey... _wait!"_ Her mother ran towards her.

Ravena couldn't stop the impatient tone as it escaped her lips. " _Yes,_ Mom." But she loved her mother, so she stopped and turned, glanced archly at her, and forced her irritation to subside. It struck her that no one would guess the petite, green-eyed redhead staring authoritatively at her was her mother.

Rave had her father's gold hair and his dark, multi-shaded gray eyes, and although she was not tall, at five feet five inches in her stocking feet she still towered over her mother's five foot one.

Her mother gave her back the challenge with a raised brow that said it all. Rave laughed and hugged her before holding her shoulders. "Don't worry."

"Where are you going?" She looked her over and sighed. "Wait, let me guess: to see _Todd_."

Ravena frowned. "I know you don't like him, but I don't have time now to argue in his defense."

"No, it is more than a simple matter of liking or disliking the young man. It is that I don't think he is the _right man_ for you. He is still a boy... and, Rave, that will never do for you—you need _a man_."

"And what sort of man are we talking about?" Ravena teased.

"This is serious. You will know when you meet him, and it isn't Todd, who is more interested in himself and _his needs_ than yours."

"You don't really know him."

"I do know him. I watch from the outside and know him very well." Her mother's brow was up, a telltale sign that Rave couldn't miss. "However, perhaps it is as my Tom says. He feels the same way as I do about Todd, but he doesn't want to be drawn into this. He says sometimes we each have to learn from our own mistakes."

Tom was her mother's husband. Her parents had been divorced since she was two, having married only because her mother had found herself pregnant. Her stepfather had come into their lives when Rave was ten. He was a good guy, and she had grown to love him over the years.

Affection flooded her, and she smiled in spite of her impatience. "Tom is right, Mom. I need experiences—good and bad." She had never called him anything but 'Tom' because although she did in fact love her stepfather, she felt she had only one dad.

"Look, baby, I don't want you hurt."

"Like you?" Rave again arched her brow.

"Don't be annoying to win a point. You know your father didn't hurt me. He and I were never in love—not really. And we certainly weren't made for each other. He was who he was... and I was so different. We were friends—we still are. But I have this awful feeling that Todd _will_ hurt you."

Ravena saw the look of helplessness in her mother's eyes and touched her cheek. "I am old enough to know what I am doing."

"We all say that at your age."

Irritation swept over Ravena's face, and she grimaced at her mother before she walked away with a wave of her hand. "Don't wait up." She jumped into her car and did not look back as she pulled away from the curb.

Guilt suddenly flooded through her. She shouldn't have left her mother like that. But what could she do? She would make it up to her tomorrow. Besides, she was a college grad. She was twenty-one. She was all grown up.

Over the years Ravena had heard her mother refer to her marriage to her father, Daniel MacAllister, as a mistake, and she hated hearing that. It negated all the good.

She was a great deal more her father's child than her mother's. An odd thing to admit even to herself but so true.

For the hundredth time she thought about changing her plans once more and just heading off to Scotland for the summer—maybe making a side trip and visiting with her grandmother, her father's Canadian Indian mother, first.

She took a long gulp of air and bolstered herself. Todd was a great guy. She was doing the right thing— _wasn't she?_ He had committed himself to her in so many ways. He talked about the future. It was what she wanted, wasn't it—a normal future? _Did she want a future with him? Was she making the same mistake her mother had made—settling for someone who made her comfortable? Because to date, he damn well did not make her feel passionate!_ The sorry truth was that no one ever had... yet.

Well, that would change tonight—wouldn't it? She turned the corner, pulled into the lot adjacent to Todd's apartment house complex, and parked. Princeton was a charming university town, and students were everywhere. Two acquaintances waved to her as she got out of her car and headed for the building.

She reached his door, key in hand, and hesitated. She had never used the key before. She was here unannounced. Should she use the key? _Don't be silly—he gave it to me to use._ She put the key in the lock, opened the door, and stepped into the small, sparsely furnished living room.

She froze.

Todd and her best friend, Meg, were on the small shag rug on the living room floor, grunting and going at it with wild abandon.

Todd must have felt a draft on his bare butt, for he suddenly turned, saw her, and started scrambling to his feet. "Rave... Rave... no... this... _this is nothing_... Rave!" he shouted as he threw his clothing on hastily.

_Too late_ —so few letters, such small words, such large meaning. Too late.

Ravena backed up clumsily until she hit the closed door at her back. She turned then, opened the door, and with shock and hurt flooding through her veins, _she ran._

~ One ~

This every grave we dug

The hungry wolf uptore,

And every morn the sod

Was strewn with bones and gore:

Our mother-earth had denied us rest

On Ederchaillis' shore

—The Book of Highland Minstrelsy, 1846

Present day, Scottish Highlands

RAVENA CROSSED THE large stone floor of her father's central hall. She needed air. She wanted to hike the high ground of her father's sprawling eight hundred and fifty-one acres just outside the Village of Buckley in the Highlands of Scotland.

Her dad caught up to her as she reached the huge front oak door, and he yanked playfully at the dark brown wool scarf she had wrapped around her neck.

"Not so fast, m'darlin'." Affection lit his gray eyes.

She smiled at her handsome father and touched the laugh lines at his lips. "Dad, I am fine... just going out for a walk."

He put an arm around her and rested his strong chin on her head. "I've been wanting to tell you how glad I am that you're here. I've missed you, lassie, but there is something else, _someone_ I want you to meet— _soon_."

Rave smiled and grabbed her father's hands, stood back, and looked at his bright, happy face. " _Finally!_ Dad, I can't wait. Is she sweet? Is she attractive— _of course, she's attractive_ _!_ Tell me _all_ about her." She had so wanted her father to find someone and be complete. She hated to think of him alone.

"You'll meet her today at lunch. Now go on, have your walk. It will do you good."

Rave flashed a wide smile and waved to him before she zipped up her wool-lined denim jacket. It just made it past her waist, and she knew it wasn't quite warm enough for the Highlands. Even in the early summer, it was still very cool.

She shivered as she stepped out into the cold and started walking. She picked up her step and smiled as her breath made a cloud of steam. She rubbed her hands on her jeans and then stuck them in her pockets, thinking she should have worn gloves but thankful she had put on her warm hiking boots instead of her sneakers.

The thought that her father was finally interested in someone put a wide, happy smile on her face. She felt like singing halleluiah. She was thrilled for him. She hoped it was a match because her father... well, he needed someone like himself, someone who would understand what he was.

She knew he wasn't monkish and that he saw women, but this time it sounded serious. He had never really introduced her to any of his lady friends before, and Rave wondered what this one would be like.

Good stuff here to think about, but even so, a flashback of Todd and Meg washed over her.

She shook her head and reprimanded herself. She wasn't going to think about that. Todd and all she had thought he was, she had discovered to her surprise, was an easy thing to get over. Losing her dearest friend, Meg, however, was quite another matter.

Meg had known she was heading over to Todd's. Meg had planned for her to find out in that horrible way. How could Rave ever trust her after that?

She hadn't taken the calls they had both put in to her. She hadn't read the letters from Meg that her mother had handed her, and when a huge bouquet of flowers arrived from Todd, she had thrown them into the trash without looking at the accompanying card.

She couldn't think of any explanations that made sense to her. It was done and over with. _Trust had been annihilated_. Her friend Meg—whom she had shared high school dreams with, gone to college with, trusted with her plans—had turned into a stranger. In the flash of a moment, her world had been turned upside down.

Now she was surrounded by Scottish trees and glens. She was home, and a smile crept across her face as a sound of pleasure escaped her lips. She looked around at the manicured lawns and neatly trimmed bushes of MacAllister's park grounds. It filled the senses with wonder. History had been forged here. This was where battles for land and power had taken place. The Highlands were filled with tradition and valor and wildness. It was where her heart had always told her she belonged, even more than in the Canadian mountains with her beloved grandmother, though she knew that a part of her—the part she wished to forget—was there as well.

She took a wide, sandy path that veered off to the left and then opened up to fenced-in pastures. She hadn't been on a horse in months. First school and then her designs—and then the time it took to beat the pavement and show them and still put in enough time to study and get her degree. It hadn't left much time for anything else, and Todd didn't like horses— _a sign right there_ , she thought with a smile.

She walked up to the fence and cooed, "Oh sweet boy, here you are." He was an old friend, and they had formed a bond when she was just twelve.

Butch let out a long whinny as he trotted to the fence line. He shook his head, and Rave laughed out loud as she climbed the fence and reached up to stroke his nose. "What do you want, Butchy boy? This?" She dug out the carrot from her pocket and put it to his lips. He snuggled her hand and chomped down on the offering with gusto. She patted his neck. "Okay then. You and me, later. We have some riding to do, and I know you'll be kind, because I am sure I've lost my legs!"

He snorted, and she laughed again as she jumped off the fencing. She headed towards the wooded path that ran into the wide expanse of forest and fields starting at the back of the stables.

Rave loved these particular woods. She had always enjoyed allowing who she was to escape in the privacy of its dark and secretive enclosure. She liked the scent of the pines and the sounds of the birds and the wildlife stalking about taking care of their business. She liked the dark shades and the mystery—and the earthy magic, the same magic that ran through her veins. She was in tune with nature, more so than most—and with more reason than most.

She hadn't been walking more than twenty minutes when she looked up and saw an old, familiar, and beloved face. " _Arthur!"_ She was in his arms and burying her cheek in his broad, wool-covered chest a moment later.

Arthur squeezed her tight. "Rave, darlin', I've been walking MacAllister hoping to bump into ye, I have. Did ye no get in yesterday?"

She linked an arm through his. She had seen him during the Christmas holidays when she had visited with her dad for a couple of weeks. He was dear and kind and always so much fun with his stories of the old days and the old ways.

He was just such a fine old gent with his thick, white hair always windblown (in or out of the wind). His round, gently aged face housed sweet though faded blue eyes.

He was their neighbor and dear friend. His wife had died fifteen years ago, and as they had been childless, he had happily "adopted" Ravena, becoming the grandfather she had never had. She adored him.

"Yes, I did, and I would have come right over, but I hit the bed and crashed, Arthur."

"Aye, and I know yer heart's been hurt by a scoundrel," Arthur said gruffly. "I'd like to get m'hands on him, I would."

She bit her bottom lip. "Dad told you, I guess." She didn't really mind. She had gotten into the habit of discussing anything and everything with Arthur a very long time ago. Even so, she felt the tears well up and fought them back.

"Aye, so he did." He touched her nose. "But I'd wager that fine heart of yers wasn't broken." He paused to look at her. "I see that ye no loved the blackguard—am I right?"

She cast a considering look up at him. "Yes, you are right. I guess I really didn't love him. But I could have, and he made me think he loved me, and that was not the worst of it. Meg was my best friend, Arthur— _my best friend!_ "

"Sech things fly out the window when love is involved."

"You said I wasn't in love with him." Rave stopped and put her hands on her hips.

"Aye, ye weren't," he said, "but I'm thinking this Meg _was_. She must have been besotted to do ye—the best friend anybody could hope to have—wrong like that."

Ravena shook her head and snorted as she thought of Meg. "Always on my side, aren't you, Arthur." It was more a statement than a question.

"Ye aren't to think of all that now. I have got something ye need to do for me. Will ye return to Valdane now with me?"

"Now?" Ravena had planned to do a few things before she went home for lunch with her father and his lady, but Arthur seemed oddly intent on her answer.

"Aye. We have a riddle to solve, we do. I should have realized sooner that ye were the key, but it escaped me until the other evening. Ravena lass, _ye hold the answer to all_."

She laughed right out loud and without mirth. "I hate to break it to you, Arthur, _but I_ don't hold the answers to anything."

"Ah, but ye do. Wait till we get to the great hall. Then ye'll understand. While we walk, tell me about yer graduation and that fashion portfolio yer father is so proud of."

~ Two ~

RAVENA STOOD IN the library of MacValdane castle. It was furnished in antiques and housed ancient books and manuscripts. She was, amazed as always at the twelve-foot shelves upon shelves of leather-bound manuscripts and books. She turned to smile at Arthur and was struck by the sudden and sad realization that he was getting on in years. She had never really thought about time and aging, hadn't wanted to because of her own problem. However, she saw in him now a sure weariness in the way he moved that she had not noticed before.

She guessed he was probably over the seventy-five mark. He hadn't aged well, and she put that to his loneliness. Her father had told her that when Arthur's wife died, he had lost the love of his life. She'd considered that to be a cliché until she spent time with him and listened to all his heartfelt tales.

She smiled softly and reached over to touch his arm as he bent and unlocked an ornately carved oak chest. He set the latch in place and rummaged through the antique chest's contents for a moment before he unbent his neck and looked up at Ravena. His faded eyes shone with an inordinate measure of excitement. "Now, lassie— _now ye will_ _see_."

"See? What is it, Arthur? What is this all about?"

"Patience is what ye be needing. I'll tell ye all, and this, this is naught to the other ancient tales of Valdane I've told ye before. What ye are about to hear is like nothing ye have ever heard." He made an exasperated sound before he waved his hand and exclaimed, gustily. "No doubt when I am done ye'll think me mad, but I have to make a push for it, don't I?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, but don't worry about it, Arthur, I already think you're crazy and love you just the same." Ravena giggled and put a hand to his dear, weathered face.

He didn't answer her, but he patted her hand affectionately. He then produced what looked like an ornately carved wand of dark wood. He held it with a visible reverence and sucked in air.

The dark wand was no more than eighteen inches, but as Rave looked at it she felt a potent vibration fill the air all around it. And then the damn thing started to glow.

She should have been frightened.

She wasn't.

Power pulsed from the wand, and though it would have bounced off most, it entered her, caressed her with the warmth of affection, as though it knew her. She felt magic course through her veins and knew without looking in a mirror that her bright silver eyes had turned dark... charcoal dark.

What was going on?

No one save her father knew her secrets.

Even her mother, who had refused to accept that such things existed, didn't know, didn't want to know.

Arthur MacValdane brought himself up to his full height, which was well over six feet, and he laid the wand portentously on the nearby table. His eyes were intense as he looked into Ravena's shaded but curious eyes. "There, lassie, ye know what this is. Ye know, and I know that ye know. Ye have already bonded with it—for one day it will be yers. I have no heir, and Quinn... well, Quinn has one of his own, so this, this will go to ye. It is my... special gift to ye, for ye'll need it when I'm gone—and that might be sooner than ye think."

"Quinn?" she said, and felt a fool because the name made her shiver. She shook the sensation off. "Never mind. You stop it—you are not going anywhere anytime soon." What did he mean, he was passing on his gift? He wasn't sick, was he? He didn't look sick. He was—she hoped—just trying to add drama, the way he often did when he told stories of the old days.

Out of curiosity, she reached out with one finger, touched the wand, and immediately felt an enormous surge of power. Then she heard it—heard something—in her mind.

The vibration traveled from her pointer finger and made a journey through her body. It wasn't frightening; in fact, it was almost soothing. She certainly felt a strange connection. He was right. Ravena knew what the ancient wand was. She knew what it could do and what it meant.

But when she grasped the wand, she suddenly had to fight not to gasp out loud at the stronger sensation that raced through her blood.

She stood perfectly still as the humming drummed on louder and louder, until it finally subsided to softly say, "Ravena."

Her eyes flashed as she looked up at Arthur. Had he heard that?

"Aye, she has called to ye. She's recognized that we'll share her now... in our last battle together," Arthur said softly.

She backed away from him. What was happening? What was he talking about? She didn't want this. She wouldn't be a part of magic...

"It feels a harmony with ye," Arthur added in his sweet voice.

"And you," she whispered. "It's touching you as well."

_What the hell was_ _going on? What was she saying to him?_

She looked at the wand, glowing still, then at Arthur, and then back at the wand. In spite of who and what she was, she wanted to deny all this, deny it the way she had been denying it for years.

Arthur did a jig in place, and as she watched him with wide eyes she called for an explanation.

"Arthur, stop now and explain—explain all of this." She had to be careful. Her situation—condition, whatever she called it—was a secret. Her father had sworn her to secrecy to keep her safe, and then later she kept the secret to keep herself sane and to fit in with her friends.

What her father was had always kept him apart from general society. What her father was had kept him from her mother. They weren't meant. Even as a child, she had always known that. It was as though he knew he had a mate out there, waiting for him—and it definitely wasn't her mother.

Now, here was Arthur pulling this out of a hat. Somehow he knew what she was, and it appeared he wanted her to face and embrace it. She didn't want to. All she wanted to do was run.

Arthur clapped his hands boyishly and then reached for and took her hand as he pulled her to the sofa and made her sit. " _It's ye, Ravena_. It has always been ye. I don't know why I didn't see it before. I should have. My clan and yer da's go back forever. Yer da is a Druid high priest, _as ye are_ —and don't be denying it. I know he has been training ye since ye were a babe crawling aboot his feet, and doonae fratch yerself on this, fer _he knows I know_. But ye, ye are more than a Druid. He dinna tell me so, but I feel it. I feel it here." He pounded his chest near his heart with his fist. "So tell me true— _ye are more_ _!_ "

Ravena stared at him. His deep accent displayed his strong feeling. She answered warily, "Arthur, what is all this about?"

"I've told ye stories aboot m'family's history—but not all of it, not by a long shot. I've hinted at the magic when I told ye aboot the Valdanes. I've said we MacValdanes always believed in the Fae and magic, but now 'tis time fer ye to hear it all."

"Well, I would love to hear more of your stories, but—wait. You said my father knows that you know we are Druids? Tell me how this came about."

"Happened I wandered up by the monoliths on MacAllister land during the Beltane. Yer father was there, performing the ceremony. He saw me, and he knew I knew what it was he was doing. After that, I told him what I am... about my clan."

" _What you are?_ " Rave was half afraid of his answer. She was too astonished by all this to grasp it, and a voice kept telling her to run home. However, she was getting tired of running away. Maybe it was time to face up to things head-on.

"Don't be a widgeon," he said exasperatedly. "Doona ye see, lass? _Magic_ is all around ye. The women and their firstborn sons of the MacValdanes have always been born to magic."

Rave backed away from him. He put out a hand. "Noo, Rave... doona look at me like that. I am no different than ye thought me just a moment ago, just as ye are no different than ye have always been. Owning up to what ye are... well, that doona change the facts. Ye are what ye are, whether ye want it or no." He shook his head. "There are things I never told even yer father, things we Valdanes have kept secret, but the time has come to trust ye... I doona have a choice, if I am to _save him_."

"Save him? _Save who?_ " It was getting harder every second to stay the course, but something made her. She just couldn't run out on him.

" _Ye be_ the answer!" He raised his eyes heavenward. "I never realized it till last week, when..." He stopped and waved a hand in the air. "Never mind. I shall have to start at the beginning."

Ravena gasped for air and time. A gut feeling told her this was everything she had been blocking out of her life for as long as she could remember. But this was Arthur, and besides that, _he knew_.

She thought of her nana, who after centuries still looked like a beautiful, twenty-five-year-old Indian woman.

Her nana, who had told her sooner or later she was going to have to accept and embrace what she was.

Her nana, who had prepared her for this moment.

Her father had not been, as she put it, blessed with the gift. It had skipped him over and took residence instead in her.

She could feel her grandmother now, whispering the chant in her ears, telling her to hold on.

Yet, she had managed to keep it all under wraps. She had managed to beat it down. _It's bad enough I'm a Druid priestess, let alone—_

She didn't want to think about it. The only time she had allowed that side of what she was to manifest was when she was with her grandmother and still young enough that she enjoyed—

But those years were gone, and she didn't want them back.

When she entered her teens she'd turned her back on it. All she wanted was to run with her friends—her human friends—and be as normal as they were.

Being a Druid was nothing compared to the other thing that clawed at her insides and wanted out. That other thing that was... well, a legacy she had chosen to ignore. She knew what potential she had brewing inside her, and she rejected it. She didn't want to contemplate being anything but human. Matters, however, were moving out of her control.

What should she do?

_Listen_ , a voice in her head said, _just listen to him. You can do that without telling him anything_ _._

Sounded like solid advice. This was Arthur. First she would listen.

She decided to be cautious and said, "I need explanations and lots of them."

"Aye, and so ye shall have them. Ye need to trust me, fer I tell ye roundly, lass, in the end, there is only one and that one is ye." He stared into her eyes. "Ye will be the one to break the dark spell," he answered.

"The dark spell?"

"More like a curse."

"What are you saying—like a witch's curse?"

_Rinnnnng_. She nearly jumped out of her chair; with an apology, she pulled out her cell phone. It was her dad telling her she had to hurry back or she would be late for lunch. She could hear the excitement in her father's voice. He wanted her, he said, to meet his Mary; it was very important to him.

She got up. As much as she wanted to continue the conversation with Arthur, she had no choice. She had to go. She hurriedly apologized and promised to return after lunch.

He held her hands. "I'll look for ye then, lass... doona forget this ol' man, now."

"Never!" she said with feeling.

~ Three ~

HUGE AND PULSATING with instinct, the black wolf weaved and jumped over logs as he ran through the forest. He stopped and marked his territory as his yellow eyes took in his surroundings.

He sniffed the air, and then a low sound quivered in his throat as he bared his teeth. He was tracking and getting closer. Somewhere, Lassiter was hiding in the dark earth... somewhere.

Quinn put his nose to the ground and then back up to the air. It wasn't here—this scent had age.

Frustrated, he snarled and shifted into human.

He had been working on a spell to trap Lassiter in his hiding place, but he had to find that hiding place to test it and see if it would work.

He had to finish him. Lassiter's latest victim had been a child.

Lassiter was a monster.

The thought of the poor little girl broken and bloodied as Arlie had described set Quinn's teeth to grinding. If he had ever felt any sympathy for the demon Lassiter, all that was banished.

For now, Lassiter's scent was lost at the edge of the clearing where he had taken to the sky.

He would have to wait till nightfall and try tracking the demon without his knowledge. If he could get in the general vicinity of his lair, that would be all he would need.

_Bloody hell_ , he wanted to run him to ground and tear him apart, but what good would it do? In the morning, Lassiter would be reborn—that was one of Lassiter's burdens to bear, as it was his as well, the two of them engaged in a never-ending battle.

He had not yet found a way to permanently destroy him.

He shifted back into his wolf and loped leisurely back to the Portal Garden. Through his wolf's yellow eyes, he saw a woman on the other side. She was uniquely mesmerizing. He couldn't look away.

_She was exquisite_ , and his wolf made an odd sound in his throat, a sound his wolf had never in all the past centuries made before. He licked his lips and stepped closer to the mirror.

Her mass of yellow curls fell about her piquant face. Her silver eyes were bright and full with expression. Her body... _damn,_ but her body made both his human and his wolf yearn. She was stunning—but it was more than that.

He shifted into human and watched the woman in conversation with Arthur. He listened to her speak, and the lilt of her voice traveled through his blood and filled his mind.

He went closer still as he watched and listened to their conversation, and then all at once he was thunderstruck with sudden knowledge. She was not what she appeared. She concealed a latent power he had never before come across.

He stood back, aware even with the mirror between them of the magic that throbbed inside her. _Who was she?_

He could not allow her to see him on the other side of the mirror. He and Arthur had gone to pains to keep this mirror and what it was a secret.

She wasn't looking towards the mirror; even so, he hung back in the shadows and continued to watch her because he couldn't look away.

_Leaving?_ She was leaving.

Something wrenched at his heart as he watched her go. What the hell was wrong with him?

She turned back to kiss Arthur's cheek, and he closed his eyes, wishing it were his cheek, wishing she were close enough to touch.

Gone.

He ran a hand through his thick hair and shook his head at his kinsman and friend. "Arthur, what are ye planning? Fer I swear, ye are up to something."

"She is the one, Quinn! She is the one who will help get ye out of there," Arthur answered excitedly.

"No! I forbid it. Ye'll get the wee lass hurt—or worse—and I canna have that on m'conscience."

"She will do. Dinna ye feel her power?"

"Aye, but if Andrew gets wind of it, it'll go badly for her."

"Ye doona know what I know. Ravena is a match for the scoundrel. She just doona know it yet. Ye'll see, Quinn... the lass has heart full with loyalty and courage. She fits the prophecy, and she is _the one_ , Quinn—I'm sure of it." Arthur stepped up close to the mirror.

Quinn saw Arthur was studying him, and he ran a hand through his black hair as Arthur paused and then said, "Trust me, Quinn... trust me in this."

"No time to discuss this now, Arthur. As much as I doona like it, ye'll have to hide me in the antechamber. I have seen— _he_ is coming! Not sure exactly when, but it would be best if we were prepared," Quinn said grimly.

"Aye, that explains this sick feeling I have had in the pit of m'belly! Devil he is, Quinn. Mark me—he needs killing."

"Would that I were on yer side of the mirror. He would bother ye no more," Quinn said harshly with all the anger coming to the fore.

"Aye, I'll put the mirror out of sight before he gets here," Arthur said, lifting the tall looking glass with the lovely antique frame off the back wall of the library and carrying it away.

* * *

" _Married?_ " The fork in Rave's hand stopped in mid-air. Then with an excited cry, she jumped from her chair, rushed to her father, and hugged him around his broad shoulders. Even as she squeezed him tightly she reached over and, as Mary drew closer, threw an arm around her as well.

"I knew my dad was brilliant," she said smiling warmly. "You are perfect for him, Mary. There is something inside you that glows in your eyes... a kindness..."

She had taken to Mary Duffy the moment she met her. She also knew as soon as she touched Mary that there was more to her than met the eye.

_Yes, yes,_ she had immediately thought, _perfect for my dad._ Now holding them together, she got another sensation, felt a tingle of something she could not name.

The lovely redhead was soft-spoken as she said, "Oh Ravena, I know we are going to be great friends."

When she first saw Mary, Ravenna had grinned to herself to think that her father seemed to have a preference for redheads. It was probably what had drawn him to her mother, she thought fleetingly. However, as Mary smiled at her, she knew this one was different, _so different_. There was something about her...

"When are you planning this?" she asked as she pulled a chair close to her father and held both his hand and Mary's in hers.

"Well, we thought we would run off and have a quick little ceremony on the cruise ship, and then do a tour of Italy," her father said with a slight worry line between his eyebrows. "What do ye think, Rave m'darlin'?"

"I think that's fantastic," Rave said, letting their hands go and clapping her own. "No fuss, no mess, just a wonderful, simple thing." She paused and smiled happily. "Married on a cruise. How wonderfully romantic! And then Italy? Dad, I didn't know you had so much romance in you," she teased.

"I was so concerned that you might wish to be a part of the ceremony. I told yer father perhaps we should have the wedding here," Mary said sweetly.

"As my father would put it, _och, no_... whist now, why would ye be wanting to do that?" Rave laughed and held both her father's hand and Mary's. "I am so happy for you both. You suit one another."

"Then, darlin', ye doona mind my leaving ye like this? We'll be gone for a few weeks, and, well, it means you and I haven't spent any real time together—"

"Don't be silly! I'm a big girl." Rave laughed. "I'll be here when you get back, and then we'll party— _big time_."

The next thirty minutes was spent chattering happily before she left them to themselves and went to the wall coat rack and took up her jacket. She was happy for her father. He had been too lonely too long, and this Mary of his was just what he needed. She wondered if Mary knew what her father was. She made a mental note to ask him later.

_Now_ , she thought, back to Arthur and this outlandish new puzzle she had to deal with.

* * *

He was a huge wolf, and his fur was mostly gray, sprinkled with black. His eyes were not yellow but amber.

He loped off for a tour of MacValdane land, thinking one day this too would be his—though once he managed to get to Lyken, it would be left to rot.

For now, planning his immediate future was the key to everything he would need in the far future. Right now he needed Valdane Castle with all its Fae artifacts. He needed the very magic that existed in its stone walls.

The vibrations on Valdane lands were strong, more powerful than those on his own MacPoole Grange. He wished he could suck up Valdane magic and use it against Arthur. How he hated the old man. But to do that he needed more mana... so much more mana than he presently had, and then... he would own everything. No one would be able to deny him a thing.

A rabbit appeared and froze in place.

He stared at it. He crouched lower, his neck nearly touching the earth as he got into position for the kill. He was still, careful, instinctively careful, not to make a sound. He was a skilled hunter, though it generally wasn't the way of wolves to kill unless threatened or hungry.

_He, however, liked to kill_. He gave himself the right. He should have the right. He was magical and strong and deserved it all. He deserved special pleasures. He liked the feeling a kill, especially a large kill, gave him. He had a need to lunge, to ensnare his prey with his powerful jaws, shake it until he had broken its neck, then tear it apart and spread out its entails...

He moved into action, the rabbit was his, and he did just that.

When he was done, he put up his head and, against his wiser self, _howled_. Smiling inwardly, he licked the blood off his huge wolfen paws and scanned his surroundings. He wondered if Arthur had heard his triumphant howl.

He was a powerful alpha wolf, but he lacked a pack. In the past, he'd been glad of it, pleased to be on his own. He had lived for centuries—an immortal. But life had grown tiresome. His instincts called for him to take a mate. He found he wanted company, a pack he could rule. He wanted sons, beta wolves to grow up and watch his back. Perhaps the time had come to put his whoring away and find her... but how? Would he have to turn her, as his father did to his mother? She would be a werewolf and suffer the torture and madness of the full moon. He had never wanted that.

_Werewolf_ _?_ If humans saw him in his present form, they would think him a werewolf, a beast, but he was so much more. It was true that his father had been a half-breed and his beloved mother a human, but he still considered himself a Lyken—though he knew his own kind might consider him less. When the time came, he would show them. However, his grandfather's dominant gene had carried through, and he knew he was more than they would expect. He would use it to his advantage.

His grandfather, Whelan MacPoole, had been a true and pure Lyken from the Lyken Realm. He had taken a human woman for his mate, biting and changing her. It had made her a pitiful werewolf, and she had never been like him. When the moon wasn't full, she remained the dear, sweet wife and mother of his father, or so he had heard. However, when it was full, she'd suffered the transformation—and the agony and madness that accompanied it.

His father, although a half-breed, did not suffer the pain of the changes. His human gene wasn't a factor. Again, Whelan's true Lyken ancestry won out.

His grandfather should never have taken a human as a mate, should never have brought a half-human son to the world. He should have braved the portal, returned to his world, and demanded to take back his rightful place and his rightful mate.

That was what Andrew told himself _he_ would have done.

His father had been no better than his insane grandfather, and Andrew could only remember him with bitterness. His father had been a coward. He should have stood up for his rights and challenged the Council of Lyken. Andrew's father had been innocent of his father's crime. Why should he have remained banished? Andrew was furious that his father had not attempted to find Lyken and make his way there. He was of royal blood. He should have taken his rightful place.

Instead, he'd remained in the Human Realm, took a human mate, and subjected her to the horrors of the full moon. Andrew hated both his grandfather and father. They had been cruel and selfish men.

Andrew told himself his life would be different. He would usurp all the power he needed, at whatever cost, and he would return to his Lyken Realm. There he would demand to take his place, and at his back he would have his demon army, subservient to his will!

Soon, very soon, he would own Valdane and all the artifacts inside. He wanted those Fae Relics more than he did Valdane. Those relics were the path to power. He had found a portal that could open a door to the Demon Realm, but he still wasn't sure the ruling Demons would obey him, and so he kept that portal closed as a passageway to them.

He had yet to find a way to open the portal to his native realm, but he was nearly certain one of Arthur's Fae Relics would allow him to do so. It would allow him to enter Lyken undetected. He needed that element of surprise.

Something had been gravely wrong with his grandfather. He knew that now; Whelan's fits of madness were not something he had been able to control. No doubt it was the reason he had lost himself and committed murder on Lyken. Too often, Andrew wondered if it had been passed on to him. It had obviously been in his grandfather's blood.

He always shook the notion off. He was a different man. He had his mother's Gypsy blood keeping him under wraps and safe from the tainted genes of the MacPoole bloodline. _He_ was always in control of himself.

Yes, he did like to kill, rip apart things, but only when he chose to do so, and it was always for pleasure, not to appease a mad need. He could stop killing whenever he decided he should, whenever it threatened his balance—that was what he told himself over and over.

Ears twitched. A rabbit... another rabbit. Without realizing what he was doing, he automatically pounced, but this one got away because even as the thing slipped away from his snapping canines another scent filtered through and distracted him enough that he put his nose to the air.

It was the scent of a female, and he suddenly saw her in the distance. Her blonde hair blew about her lovely face as the breeze whipped at the scarf she wore around her neck. The wind brought her scent directly to him, as though this moment was meant, and she smelled delicious.

Her lips were luscious, her movement provocative... and he was at full attention as his wolf crouched and watched.

He couldn't stop himself. It was as though invisible wires had taken control of his body and moved him towards her.

But then all at once she slowed, turned, and frowned as she looked around herself and then into the forest. It was as though she sensed something—someone—in the woods at her back.

And for a moment his racing heart stopped, skipped a beat, and then felt as though it pounded harder than ever.

Looking at her face, he felt an emotion, a desire well up inside and demand that he reach out and take her.

She was exquisite, yes, but it was more than that. He knew she, human or not, was intended for him _. Here was his mate_. He knew immediately: _this was the one!_

* * *

A sound and a musky smell wafted through the trees and drew Ravena's attention away from her thoughts.

What was that? She saw the flash of dark gray, and then nothing. What was it? Her imagination playing games with her?

She shrugged and wanted to dismiss it. Probably a deer still sporting its winter coat. Some animal at least—nothing more. Yet she knew this explanation wasn't true. She did not know how she knew it; she just did. Instincts had kicked in. And every instinct warned her it was something else.

She stood very still and scanned her surroundings before she finally gave it up and shoved it aside, telling herself perhaps it was just a trick of the eye after all, because she could not see anything. Yet the scent remained in her nostrils.

She hurried out of the woods and took the shortest route to Valdane Castle. After another five minutes' walk down his drive she raised her hand to the large dark oak door, but it was thrown open and Arthur stepped out to take her hand and tug her within.

He hurried her along to the library, jibber jabbering all the while so quickly and with such a thick Scottish flair she found it difficult to follow what he was saying. However, one thing got through because he said it more than once: Quinn MacValdane. And when he said the name, for some unknown reason a shiver worked its way through her.

After he saw her seated he went to the sideboard, poured two small shots of Scotch, and handed her one.

"Drink it... drink up. Ye'll need it," he said.

She wasn't a whisky drinker but she downed the shot. It made her screw up her features and nearly gasp.

"Just so, just so—now then, where did I leave off?" He put a finger to his nose and then shook his head. "Never mind. Let's just dive in, shall we?"

At this juncture, both he and Rave turned to the sound of his manservant, Lewis, opening the library door wide and announcing, "Andrew MacPoole, my lord."

"May I keep from choking the bastard—how dare he come here?" Arthur said beneath his breath, his outrage evident in his body language.

Rave heard all this with surprise and upraised brows. This was turning out to be a jam-packed day.

A tall, well-dressed, and extremely good-looking man entered the library. He looked well built beneath his dark silk suit. His dark blonde hair was slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck, and something "Old World" sexy hung about him.

Rave felt immediately attracted to him on a primal level and was surprised at herself.

However, it was obvious he and Arthur had some kind of history, and that history couldn't have been good from the stance each took as they faced one another.

MacPoole's voice was smooth and self-assured, and when he gazed at Rave, she felt more than a little intrigued by the soulful look in his hazel eyes. A vibrant air of masculinity gave off the hum of a well-oiled engine; he seemed 'on' and ready, and—

_Hell, this is crazy_ , she silently berated herself. What was wrong with her?

She saw his glance shift reluctantly away from her as he returned his attention to Arthur. "Arthur," he said lightly, "so glad to see you looking so well."

"What do ye want, Andrew?" Arthur's voice was clipped and impatient.

"I was in the area, thought I would stop by and visit... nothing more."

"There is always something _more_ where ye be concerned," Arthur said in a low, hard tone.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I wanted once again to press m'offer to you and let you know that it would benefit you no end if you would accept."

"Get out," Arthur said.

"Yes, but, Arthur, have you thought this through?"

" _Out,_ damn ye—out of m'home!"

"That is no way for you to speak to your neighbor. After all..." MacPoole said smoothly and without warmth. "After all, we both know the codicil of the Valdane family trust specifically bequeaths to the existing MacPoole—in the event no Valdanes are left alive—this castle and its land."

" _Never! This will never be yers_ , ye wicked creature, and as to the relics ye are forever trying to buy, they aren't a part of m'will, _are they_? Noooo, they are not, and ye shall never have them. They are m'own personal treasures handed down from father to son, and I will no be leaving them to ye. Mark me on this!"

"Perhaps, but as to all the rest, I understand your attorney has been working to find a loophole in the codicil willing Valdane to me," Andrew answered softly. "He won't. I am, in a manner of speaking, your heir, like it or not—"

"We'll see." Arthur cut him off.

"Yes, we will see." Andrew turned to Rave and said, " _I am_ sorry. I had hoped Arthur and I could be civil, and I had also hoped his lordship would introduce us, but his aversion to me has led him to forget his manners. I am Andrew MacPoole... an in-law of sorts—even a neighbor, though my estate is two miles north from here."

"She'll no be talking to ye. I want ye out of my house."

"I'm sorry, but under the circumstances, perhaps it would be best if you left," Rave said with a frown as she stood. She went to the library door and opened it wide. "I don't like seeing Arthur upset like this."

Andrew MacPoole shot Arthur a deadly look as he approached the door. He stopped there, gave Rave a long, smolderingly sexy look, and said, "I do hope Arthur's dislike will not give you a poor opinion of me. I should like very much to get to know you better."

Rave was aware of her attraction and felt a charge of something else as she looked into his eyes. His voice, which was surprisingly not deeply accented, was low and somehow both alluring and frightening all at once. She said, " _You_ are the only one who could give me a poor opinion of you." As she watched him, she wondered what she really did think of him. He was hot, yes, but there was something in those eyes of his, something that made her own narrow.

He shot Arthur a look of hurt and sadness and then without another word turned and made his way out. Rave stood in the hallway and made certain he was out the front door before she returned to the library and closed its door.

She looked directly at Arthur and asked, "Who the heck was that, and why do you hate him so, and how are you related? I never even heard Dad mention him before, or this estate he says he has in the north. Has he been abroad? Because he doesn't have much of a Scottish accent at all."

"I will answer all yer questions, but there are other things ye need to know first—fantastic things that ye will find difficult to believe. We'll need to start at the beginning." He waved her to the sofa. "Sit... sit."

She plopped on the maroon damask couch and sat, her hands folded together on her lap. "Okay, I am sitting."

"So ye are. As I told ye earlier, the Valdane firstborn is born to magic. We are wizards or sorcerers—ye pick which title ye be more comfortable with—and the magic we own is in our blood and canna be denied." He allowed this to sink in.

Rave nodded. She had already accepted that. Considering her own background, the only thing she found fantastic about this was the fact that she had not already known it. Now, she very clearly felt magic pulsating from Arthur. A quiet, soft, white magic. She smiled. "I understand."

"Do ye? Good, because that is nothing to what I am about to tell ye."

Rave sucked in her upper lip as she gazed at him and tried to digest everything all at once. She could almost see him in a wizard's hat—not exactly like Dumbledore but a wizard all the same, which made her want to giggle. However, something dark was going on, and that sobered her.

Nothing ever was what it seemed, she thought briefly. She was, in fact, a Druid priestess with magic she didn't want to acknowledge, so sure, she told herself, why not wizards? She smirked to herself as a voice in her head suggested that there might be something in the water in the Highlands.

"Aye, we are wizards, and the MacPooles, well, they have always been something else. As far back as our ancestors' journals can tell us, the MacPooles worked with Dark Magic. However, what we found out the hard way was that they aren't even human... not native to the Human Realm... and everything about the MacPooles is more sinister than the very fine appearance each MacPoole male tries to portray."

And because Arthur hesitated, she prompted him. "Not human? Not from the Human Realm? Arthur...?"

"As I said, they don't just dabble with Dark Magic, they have become one with it, and that kind of magic uses ye up and spits ye out... different. Not human, aye, believe me. And killing is something each MacPoole enjoyed—thrived on. They hunt and kill not to eat, but to destroy. It is in their nature. Doona ever make the mistake that Andrew with all his soft words is any different than his mad grandfather and father." He sat heavily beside Rave and took her hands. "I'm sorry he saw ye... met ye, for I tell ye, lass, he is the devil, and I dinna like the way he looked at ye."

"How do you know this? And if it is true, who have they killed? How do they get away with it?"

"Believe me, child, they each have had a penchant for committing unspeakable crimes against humans—anyone who gets in their way. And they get away with it because there's never anything to link it to them. Ye have to listen to me—"

"They're murderers—all of them? Wait. I'm confused. Are you saying that Andrew MacPoole is a murderer? Again, tell me how you know this. What makes you say this?"

"Och, lass... lass, not just a murderer. _A_ _vicious killer_." He put up his hand. "Let me explain. Ye see, 'tis in their blood. They canna help it—or, if they can help it, they doona try." He shook his head. "Sad was the day we became connected to them. Ye see, Andrew's grandmother was Quinn's mother's sister, connected to the Valdanes through marriage."

"Quinn? There's that name again. Who is this Quinn? But, wait—earlier you said something about his being your heir, but if Andrew's grandmother was this Quinn's aunt, he must be older than..." She cast Arthur a doubtful glance and demanded, "Arthur, what's going on?"

"If ye would be still and let me explain from the start—"

"Yes, yes, you are right. I keep interrupting. Go on."

"Quinn's aunt on his maternal side married Whelan MacPoole, grandfather to Andrew."

"How old is—"

He put up a finger. "Quiet now and listen. Ye see, I already told ye the MacPooles aren't human. We dinna always know that, och, no. We found out the hard way. They be immortals of a sort. There are three ways to destroy them: beheading, silver in their food or stabbed into them, and, of course, fire."

"Whoa," said Rave.

* * *

Quinn's alpha wolf was out and panting. All fours rested on the huge boulder at the top of the rolling hill that overlooked a stretch of the Delmire Valley.

A soft whine curled in his throat, and a snarl whipped at his lips, displaying his sharp canines. Then his head went up, and a soulful, resonant howl bayed through the atmosphere.

The wolf pranced in place with sudden need and started to launch himself into a run. Quinn took a back seat and allowed his wolf free rein. He needed the run as well. He was edgy and irritable, tightly wound, and he needed to spring into action. What the hell was wrong with him?

His wolf had been driving him hard. He didn't just want to run; he wanted to return to the Mirror Garden and take a stance at the mirror.

His wolf wanted to see her, needed to hear her voice, was driven by something more than need...

His wolf whispered single words in his mind. He tried shaking those words off, but his wolf growled, threatened, demanded, and then, frustrated, was reduced to whimpering deep inside as it begged him to return to the mirror.

_What was wrong with his wolf?_ His alpha had never exhibited these traits before. His alpha had always been a dominant force within him. Now, it was acting like a lovesick puppy. He wouldn't have it!

A familiar female scent redirected his thoughts. It wafted pleasurably through his senses as it was carried by the soft, warm breeze. The man in him reacted warmly, but, damn, his alpha was deeply annoyed and bared its teeth.

What the hell?

_Mirror,_ his wolf howled in his head. _G_ _o... mirror!_ His wolf was fiercely single-minded.

When he'd first picked up Arlie's scent, the man in him had thought perhaps she was what he needed: a little play time to assuage his frazzled nerves. Evidently his wolf thought otherwise.

What the bloody hell was going on?

Arlie arrived in demon form, and romance appeared to be the last thing on her mind as she approached him and said in clipped tones, "Quinn, we must talk."

He shifted into his human form and stood there bare-chested in leather pants and sandals as he watched her pace in a circle, her hands clutching themselves.

She was a leader in her tribe, the Blue Demon Clan of Delmire.

Her skin, which was smooth and a light shade of blue, looked silky, and he knew already it was soft to the touch and enticingly sensual. She was exotic, with slanted brows and eyes of darker blue. Long, dusky, and silky hair fell to her waist and presently covered the breasts partially hidden by the small gold halter and shorts ensemble she wore. Her feet, as usual, were bare.

Her features were uniquely attractive and her movements enchantingly graceful even as she paced now in a frenzy. He wondered what was wrong. He waited, and finally she turned to him and touched his bicep ringed with a rune tattoo.

She usually flirted with her eyes but not this day. Instead she said, "You have to listen to me with an open mind, Quinn. As difficult as that may be, you must."

"Do I?" He eyed her doubtfully, wondering what this was all about. "Why would ye be thinking I would do anything less than give ye an open mind?"

"Because I know that what I am about to ask... well, will be difficult for you to accept."

"Arlie, what are ye going on about?"

"It is Lassiter... I have come to speak to ye of Lassiter—"

He raised his hand irritably. "I doona wish to discuss him with ye. Fact is, ye know better—"

"Yes, but, Quinn—"

He turned away from her and started walking towards the Mirror Garden. She fell in step beside him.

He didn't look at her as he said curtly, "Drop it, Arlie. 'Tis a sore subject. I doona know what ye have in yer pretty head, but Lassiter and me... well, it is what it is."

"But, Quinn, I've discovered something, and I could use your help," she said with a frown. "Faith knows, I need to trust someone, and, well... I trust you— _only you_ —in this matter."

He glanced at her, and his eyes narrowed. "What matter is that, Arlie? Ye have said things to me lately that make me think yer way of viewing things has taken a different road than mine. So I ask ye, what do ye need help with?" He eyed her and allowed her a small smile.

"Quinn..." She took his hand and pulled him to a stop. "I have to get through to you on this."

He touched her chin. They had history.

Her clan was small, and the males of her breed were aggressive. She was a widow, because there were always ways to kill the so-called 'immortal' demons, and her mate had not been expecting the attack.

Her husband—his friend, Rail—had been killed by someone he had trusted, someone cunning and more powerful because he pretended otherwise.

Killing Rail was intended to leave the path free for the killer to "comfort" and woo Arlie and thereby obtain a more exalted position on their council.

Quinn had arrived too late to save Rail, but he'd tracked Rail's killer to high ground, and when he cornered him, Quinn had been filled with rage. He'd named himself judge, jury, and executioner. He had the killer cornered, and in his wolf form he tore into the demon's flesh with his canines. Quinn ripped out the killer's throat and then his heart before shifting into human to burn his remains into ashes.

It had, in fact, eased the pain of witnessing Rail, broken and twisted on the grass damp with morning dew, Arlie wailing over him.

Rail was still gone, but justice had been served, and that justice stood as a warning to others. It had been the best Quinn could do for his friend.

He remembered that at first he'd thought Rail's killer must have been Lassiter, but that assumption had proven wrong. Could he be wrong now refusing to listen to Arlie?

In the following years, Arlie had spurned all offers for her hand, and she seemed always more comfortable coming to him for relief. The rest had seemed a natural progression of their friendship. They took solace in one another's arms, neither wanting more than what the other gave: comfort.

She was a beautiful and lusty female; he had been—was still—a lonely wolf. Theirs had been a natural and uncomplicated relationship. This past year, however, they'd sought one another less and less. He, because he was more and more dissatisfied with his situation; she, he assumed, because comfort perhaps was no longer enough. He wasn't sure and only knew they were not as close as they had been in the past. And now, he realized with some surprise, he suddenly couldn't think of her sexually even though he'd previously found her desirable. It was as though he had lost all interest in any woman other than the one on the other side of the mirror.

"We must speak of Lassiter," she said pleadingly. "Quinn, there are things you need to know, must understand, so that—"

He cut her off. "He's a cold-blooded monster— _I know that_. What else must I know?"

"Stop, Quinn." Arlie reached for his hand and held it. "Do I not even get your time any longer?"

That stalled him. He put an arm about her shoulders. "Arlie, ye know better, don't ye? It's only that ye be a soft-hearted woman looking for another way for me to end this with Lassiter. The problem is, there is no other way. That is the curse we live under."

A sad expression flitted over her face as she put her hand up his chest, and then her finger traveled lazily to his chin. She eyed him flirtatiously. "Quinn, dearest friend, can you not forget all that about the curse and just listen to me? I need you to have an open mind. I need to get through to you and tell you my thoughts. Do you mean to turn me away?"

"Arlie, doona ye think sech a thing." His burr was heavy with his frustration. "I will always help ye, but doona think me a fool." He took her fingers and kissed them lightly. "I know what ye want to tell me— _I know_. It doesn't change a thing."

"What do I have to do to get you to listen to me?"

He found it difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. His mind was elsewhere. All he knew was that he wanted to look through the mirror, now only a few feet away. He needed to look into the mirror and find _her_ —

"Quinn, _you aren't listening to me_ _!_ "

"No. I have had other things on m'mind," he said as she moved in close and this time put her arms around his middle and lifted herself to her toes.

He put his hands on her shoulders and set back on her feet. She was not deterred and ran her hand down his belly, down further towards his crotch. He grabbed her hand and arched a brow at her. "Arlie... is it so important ye would sell yerself short?" he teased.

She laughed. "Need your full attention... and I think that might be the only way to get it." Once again she held him, and once again she was on her toes, reaching for his neck as she pursed her lips.

He found he just could not respond romantically at that moment. His wolf was snarling inside him, and he could barely think. "No, Arlie... doona do this."

"Why not?"

"Because I have things to do."

She eyed him. "Ah, no doubt, it is something to do with Arthur and the mirror?"

"Aye."

"Something that will free you?"

"I am hoping."

She backed away from him and took up a relaxed position on the grass. "So then... go ahead. Go look into the mirror, and we will talk later."

He sighed, but, damn, if he didn't look into the mirror he was afraid his wolf would emerge and snap at her. He couldn't allow that.

What was a fact was that the Druid priestess called Ravena MacAllister occupied all his thoughts. Simply saying her name in his mind brought her ravishing features looming into view and caused his wolf to whimper in his throat once again. _Seeing her_ in his mind—just remembering her image—gave him a raging hard-on. _What the hell_ _?_

With Arlie determined to remain at his back, he went to the mirror because he couldn't stay away from it another moment.

~ Four ~

"OKAY, OKAY... I DON'T know how a Valdane ever allowed even a sister-in-law to marry an enemy of his clan," Rave said to Arthur as a frown pulled her brows together.

"Lassie, that was part of the problem, don't ye see? She _wasn't_ a Valdane, and at that time Whelan wasn't an enemy. There was no love lost between the two clans, aye, but they were not enemies. There was nothing the Valdane clan could do. It was her decision, and her family agreed to it. Of course, the poor, wee thing didn't know what he was—or what he would do to her. How could she know? None of us knew what Whelan was. He had kept his secret for centuries. The fact is, we Valdanes didn't know until Quinn killed Whelan MacPoole," Arthur said with a downward turn of his lips.

Shocked, Rave squeaked, "Your Quinn—he killed a MacPoole?" She had not expected that. "Are you telling me a Valdane was the first one in the wrong?"

"No, lass. It isn't what ye think," he said, putting a hand to her shoulder.

"Just what is it?"

"Wait then, and I'll be telling ye."

"Sorry. Okay, go on," she prompted. The wonder was that she believed every word he spoke. But just what did it all mean?

"As it happened, Quinn MacValdane went out one night during the full moon. It was back in the late 1500s." He stopped and eyed her, but Rave kept quiet, waiting for more. "As I said, it was a full moon, and there had been rumors of a beast, a rabid beast killing anything that moved during the time of the moon. But the rumors came from neighboring villages, not their own, and they had no reason to believe the MacPooles were subject to it. Besides, that wouldna stopped him, sech as he is."

"What are you saying?" she asked as he paused and felt a wave of nervousness. Full moon? What was he going to tell her next—that the MacPooles were werewolves?

He just ignored her question as he collected his thoughts before continuing. "At any rate, in the end, was that fateful night that Quinn was attacked by the beast, what he thought was a werewolf, what was in fact a werewolf _of sorts_ —mad and yet quite cunning. Quinn used his silver-tipped sword and managed to kill the were, but even as it went down... it took a bite out of him."

"It bit him? But legend has it that one can be turned by the bite of a werewolf," she said more to herself than to him. "So you are saying... Quinn...?"

"Ye know what I am saying. Aye, so it was that Quinn was bitten." He put up his hands to stall her, for she was about to interrupt him and he obviously wanted to get it all out. "As it happens, the MacPooles—Whelan MacPoole—and all his descendants are werewolves, but they are true weres." He eyed her for a long moment and continued, "Do ye know what that means? No, of course ye doona know. How could ye? _True weres from the dimension called Lyken!_ "

"True weres," Rave repeated stupidly and then with her hand waved him on. "More, please— explain."

"We learned over the years that Whelan had been banished from his home, the Realm as I said known as Lyken. From what Quinn could gleam, he was mad, and in a fit he killed a royal... and was banished to the Human Realm."

"How did Quinn learn this?"

"Quinn is a wizard and has visions from time to time. When he was bitten by Whelan he received a flash of all that had passed, and then later... he saw it in one of his visions, but that doesn't matter. What matters is—"

"They knew he was insane and a killer, and they plopped him here on Earth? Seriously?"

"Aye, we are agreed, but here he was sent."

"And Quinn killed him, so good riddance," Rave summed up.

"Not so simple as that."

"Ah, which brings us to Quinn once more—turned by Whelan," Rave said, clucking her tongue.

"Aye, lass, he was turned, and for a number of years he had his family chain him in the dungeon during each full moon while he suffered the torture of bones breaking, rearranging, and the madness that goes with it."

"But you said the MacPooles aren't affected by the moon?"

" _They_ aren't, but their victims are. Their victims know great suffering and pain, and it makes them savage, unthinking creatures, but Quinn, because he was a sorcerer and tenacious, well, he found a way."

"A way?"

"To control the change and make it his own. He refused to be a wild beast."

She put up a hand. "Wait. So then... Quinn became a shapeshifter, could change at will—not by the moon?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Okay, now tell me why it didn't end there," she said, clicking the story off in her head and storing it for future reference.

* * *

Quinn paced in the Garden. He could see Arlie out of the corner of his eye, watching him, but she maintained a silence.

Nervous energy surged through his body as she stomped around. He went down on his back and released his angst with twenty sit-ups. He then turned on his stomach and did a set of push-ups before he made a low, guttural sound and jumped to his feet.

Strands of his black hair fell in front of his eyes, and he pushed them away impatiently as he paced back to the mirror. It still had not been moved, and it looked not into the library but into the secret chamber.

A sudden, irrational urge to tear at the vines of colorful blooms that crept up the trellis moved him, and he found himself snarling.

He looked back and saw that Arlie was surprised, but still she did not speak or ask him anything.

He gazed back into the mirror, but all he saw was the dark and secret chamber hidden behind shelves of books in the library. Still no sign of Arthur—or Ravena. His wolf growled, and it was in his throat that he felt the vibration.

This was his fault. He had known Andrew would pay a visit and had told Arthur to put away the mirror. But Andrew was gone. He sensed, felt, that Andrew was no longer at Valdane.

So where was Arthur? Where was the lass?

And then, with his wolf's hearing, he heard the muffled mumblings of conversation. He closed his eyes as he drank in the sound of her voice. He couldn't make out the words, only the lilt of her voice. And then out of nowhere, he had a vision of Andrew in the woods, staring at Ravena with hungry eyes...

_Hell and damnation_! He felt so damned helpless stuck in Delmire while he knew Andrew planned trouble...

He felt a tug at his hair, loose about his shoulders, and he turned to Arlie, whom he had nearly forgotten was behind him.

She smiled quizzically at him. "Quinn, what is it? You look like you are about to have a fit. You look crazed."

"Time for ye to go, Arlie sweet. I canna listen to anything about Lassiter."

"What if I told you I could be in danger, that someone in our clan means me harm. Would you listen then?"

He frowned. "Aye. What is this? Who would want ye hurt? 'Tis impossible. Yer clan holds ye dear."

"I'm not sure, Quinn, but lately... someone has been watching me. I have picked up on the scent, but I haven't found him yet."

"Then we'll look for him together. Do ye want to stay with me at the palace for the time being, Arlie?"

"No. As to that, I think I can take care of myself. I'm not really worried—just concerned."

"I doona like this, Arlie. We need to investigate the situation. Go up to the palace, and I'll join ye when I'm done here."

"No, I need to do some investigating on my own. I'll let you know when I need you to watch my back. I don't think it has gone that far... yet."

"That far? What are ye talking about? Tell me true—has this something to do with Lassiter?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"Arlie..."

"I have been trying to tell you, but you wouldn't listen, Quinn, and now I see you have family matters on your mind."

He frowned and wondered what Arlie was talking about, but she reached up and hugged him around his neck as she whispered softly, "Attend me in this, Quinn. Tomorrow, we must talk."

She kissed him then, sweetly and without passion. It was a kiss of friendship, and he smiled at her before she left.

He returned his attention to the mirror. "Come on, Arthur," he said in a low, hard tone. "Come on..." He had an overwhelming need to see _her_.

And as he envisioned her face and the way she had of moving, he had a hard-on that had pulsated with Ravena's name—no other. It was Ravena's face that he saw in his mind. It was Ravena that made his pulse quicken. And what good was that going to do him, with her out there and him stuck forever on the other side?

* * *

"Ah, because life is never that simple," Arthur answered her. "It didn't end there because of who Whelan MacPoole was."

"Tell me."

"Do ye accept that I am a wizard born of a wizard, though not immortal, lass?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, I accept that," she answered immediately and shrugged. "Why not, makes sense with the way my life has been going these days. Me, Druid priestess. You, wizard. Sure."

"Do ye accept what I have told ye about Whelan MacPoole?"

"Harder to believe," she answered truthfully. "Yet, I believe it—as much as I can without witnessing it for myself."

"Fair enough," he said with approval. "Right then. When Andrew was here earlier, ye felt a vibe, did ye not?"

"Well, yes. There was... something about him. I thought at first it was his attractiveness, a certain masculinity, but then I felt an aura of power kind of... not sure what it was."

"Right. I know we always believe when we see it with our own eyes, and even then we think it is a trick, but in yer heart, lass, I know ye know the truth of it."

"Agreed. So tell me," she said and sat back. "But first tell me, does my father know Andrew MacPoole?"

"No, they have never met," Arthur said with a shake of his head.

"So then he is not privy to this whole werewolf story?"

"Oh, as to that... yer father is a sage. He often surprises me with what he knows."

"Hmmm. Okay, and you never told him the story?"

"It had naught to do with him, and I dinna wish him drawn in and made a target by Andrew, ye see."

"But it is okay for me to be a target?" She raised a brow.

"Ye be a power onto yerself, lass, a match for MacPoole, and ye should know that." He gave her a direct, no-nonsense look. "Ye are different than yer dad. _Doona forget I am a wizard._ I know what ye won't speak of."

She eyed him warily. "Go on," she said on a resigned note.

"Aye, then, so, like his grandfather and his father before him, Andrew enjoyed the hunt, but even more the kill, the savagery, and the blood. He does still but manages to keep a low profile."

"You believe that Andrew goes out and kills, what? People?"

"I doona just believe it. I know it. But he covers his tracks very well, usually going to Inverness and down to the larger cities to prey on the helpless."

"How? Why?"

"At first, I dinna know more than what I read in Quinn's journals and what Quinn told me. Then I decided to find out more for m'self. I tracked him with m'magic and saw him— _tried to stop him_."

"Arthur, if what you are saying is true, he could have killed you!" She shook her head.

"I know this is all so hard for ye to believe," Arthur said.

She shook her head again. "Yes, yes, it is."

"No doubt ye think me a silly old man, but I know once ye meet Quinn and hear what he has to say, ye will understand it all."

"Quinn? Now how can he explain—is he still alive?"

"Alive, aye, my beloved Quinn." Arthur stared into the fire for a long moment. "Aye then, so it is that I am a wizard but not one of the more powerful ones, more is the pity, for though I was the one that discovered the _Quicksilver_ hidden in the ante-chamber, I'm without the magic to free him."

" _Free him_ —Quicksilver?" Rave pushed on, thinking again that she should run. She could feel herself being drawn into quicksand and was helpless to save herself.

"Imagine what it would be like to watch the beloved family members of yer clan age and die and never grow a day older yerself. Being immortal is a curse, really," Arthur said.

It hit home. Rave did imagine it and closed her eyes. "Go on."

"Remember now, it was Quinn who killed the werewolf Whelan MacPoole, Andrew's grandfather." He sighed heavily. "But some things must be seen to be believed. Come along," he suddenly said, taking her hand to help her up.

She stood and allowed him to tug her along. "What now?"

"I could explain more, but I think first ye need to see what we are dealing with, and ye won't truly believe it all until ye see with yer own eyes—feel with yer own hands. Coom along."

"Yes, but, Arthur, what is this Quicksilver thing you found?"

"Right now, lass, ye know enough to piece it together once ye have seen," he said as he tugged her to a wall made of bookshelves. There he removed a few books and undid a latch. They heard the spring come loose, and then he slid the wall away from its compartment to display a small room.

At first she thought the room held only a couple of wooden high-backed chairs and a small throw rug. However, at the far end of the dark chamber was a tall, beautifully framed old mirror, and in it something—someone—moved.

She took a step backwards, but Arthur took out his wand and lit the kerosene lamps hanging as sconces on the wall. "Come along, Ravena," he urged. "This is why _ye,_ _why now_. Ye see, the prophecy claims that 'one who is pure and true of heart will be the key'. _That is ye, Ravena_."

" _That is me_ _?_ What do you mean? _What is me?_ "

"Och, have ye not heard me? The prophecy calls for someone pure of heart. I knew—all at once, I knew that was ye!"

" _To do what_ _?_ No beating about the bush now, Arthur. What exactly are we talking about?"

"Why, what else? Opening the portal in the Quicksilver and freeing m'dear, beloved Quinn."

* * *

Ravena backed away from him. Her hand fluttered towards her forehead, and she shook her head in a very clear and definite display of the word she whispered, "No!"

And then, "Oh no."

"Come inside, child, do. I should like ye to meet Quinn MacValdane." Arthur pulled her towards the mirror, and she allowed him to do so, curiosity winning over uneasiness.

She wasn't afraid. This was Arthur, and he was caught up in some sort of a legend, but all she had to do was humor him, right? Or was it all true? Her heart and her instinct told her every word was the truth. _Yes, okay, even so_ , her mind argued, _what if it is true—is this what you want? You want normal—and this, this, girl, is so not normal!_

She took a deep breath, ignored the voice of reason, and slowly approached the mirror and peered at it.

_She saw only herself_.

Looking back at her was a girl in a black sweater and low-cut jeans. She looked up and down. Yup, her jeans, her boots, her windblown blonde hair—nothing and no one else. She sighed with relief and turned back to Arthur. "I only see myself."

"Look closer, lass," he said as he came up behind her.

To humor him she turned her attention back to her own reflection. "Me, only me. My hair is a tangled mess—" And that was as far as she got.

_Push_ — _swoosh_ , and her world began reeling!

Falling. She was falling through a tunnel of dark and gooshy membranes, but a voice in her head kept repeating, _Arthur pushed you. Arthur. Pushed. You._

Arthur had pushed her?

Shock immobilized her for a fraction of a moment, and then she was reaching out and trying to hold on to something, anything. A tendril—was it a vine? She grasped it, but it was slimy and smelled of decay, and she released it immediately.

She heard herself screaming, and then all at once, she landed—hard and on a grassy turf. Disoriented and confused, she looked up even as she scrambled to her feet and backwards, away from the man standing before her.

He was half naked, and his torso was buff and tattooed, as were his huge biceps. She recognized the tats, as they were similar to her father's.

Through her confusion, she couldn't help but notice as he reached for her that he was beyond _hunkiness._ Added to that was the fact that his black hair was thick and silky as it fell around his ears.

_Damn_ —what was wrong with her? That wasn't what she should be noticing. Where was she? How... but she knew how: Arthur had pushed her through a portal. She knew all about portals. They had a set of monoliths on MacAllister land that were as a unit supposed to be a portal to other dimensions.

She had never taken it seriously. She did now.

She stepped back further and saw that his blue eyes burned with an emotion she could not name. And then he reached for her again, and without thinking, without realizing what she was doing, she shifted into a defensive posture. He hadn't even touched her, but she jumped as though stung by a bee.

This time when she landed, she landed on all fours.

Her clothes were gone, relegated to her magical cubby for retrieval later.

She shook her body, and her creamy fur puffed with her warning stance against the stranger even as she bared her canines and snarled low and dangerously, ready to attack. _Without willing it, her wolf had taken over._

She knew what she looked like, and she could feel the warning glimmer in her wolf's eyes, which she knew were no longer silver but gold.

She felt the ease of movement she possessed as a wolf. She was poised, ready to attack, and as the stranger stared at her, she growled again and snapped at the air, warning him off. _Instinct took over_. She was at once all wolf, a wolf that was too smart to engage in battle unless she had to. The fear of injury in the wild that could, and many times did, lead to death was deeply ingrained in wolves' basic instincts.

And now Rave's other well-kept secret was out: _she was a shapeshifter_.

~ Five ~

"OCH, NO..." THE stranger said, putting up his hands as he watched her wolf.

She was hunched down, her neck low to the ground defensively and her body slightly crouched as she prepared herself to spring if he moved towards her.

She felt her fangs drip saliva, and she issued another low warning growl, letting it reverberate in her throat, displaying her intentions.

She watched him, but he stood perfectly still.

He made no sudden moves except to shake his head, and his deep, masculine voice was a soft, soothing apology. "Och, no, lass. I'm sorry, lass... I doona know what Arthur thought he was doing. _Forgive him_ —forgive _me_ for this."

_Och, no?_ Ravena and her thoughts were her own even when she was in wolf form. It was as though her wolf and her human had combined mindsets.

_Damn straight, och, no. What is this? Where am I? Who are you?_ Still in wolf form and on guard, Rave moved with sinewy grace, giving him the promise of retaliation if he were to make a wrong move.

He spoke, and again his voice was soft, his action non-threatening. "I am Quinn MacValdane, and ye have come through the Mirror Portal called Quicksilver to the Realm of Delmire."

She hadn't expected him to hear her thoughts, so she was taken aback and stopped. She put her head lower to the ground and snarled at him before biting the air and letting him know she wasn't pleased. But then her wolf suddenly made a strange sound and went down on her belly.

What the heck? She eyed him and was completely surprised to find that her wolf had been mollified.

She studied him for a long moment and found that his authoritative stance and his masculine voice were somehow soothing. She remained in wolf form and watched him, however—though she wasn't sure why.

Arthur called from the other side of the mirror, " _Forgive me_ , lass, but I dinna have a choice. Ye needed to see it for yerself, and ye needed to feel threatened—ye needed _to be who ye are_ , and ye wouldna believe me unless ye experienced Delmire fer yerself. Doona worry—unlike with Quinn, I can help ye leave through the Quicksilver whenever ye choose."

Rave knew she should want to shake off her wolf and revert to human, but somehow the wolf had gained the edge, and it felt really good. Being wolf was part of who she was, and finally she saw that it was something she needed to embrace. She stared again at Quinn and experienced a strange intoxication that made her wolf suddenly whimper.

What the hell was that?

A whimpering wolf? Since when did her wolf whimper?

There was something about this Quinn MacValdane. Something electrifying in his voice—in the way he moved. Blue eyes glittered, looked into hers, and held her almost motionless. He approached with a natural stealth that was primal and seductive. She couldn't help but glance over his sinewy muscles as he moved with precision and feral grace.

She was momentarily taken aback by the enormity of the aura his presence exuded. More than that, she was shocked by her wolf's sudden soft sound of welcome and a supplication she had never felt before. What the hell was happening to her?

She wanted to move towards him. Wanted wasn't the word—she _needed_ to move towards him. She silently tried to get control of this. It was absurd.

She had to remember that once again she had placed her trust in someone, and once again it had been violated. _She had trusted Arthur_.

And now look where she was!

Arthur—whom she had always considered family—had betrayed her faith in him. He had taken away her choice.

She forced herself to turn away from Quinn for just a moment and looked towards the mirror to see that Arthur stood on the other side gazing sadly back at her.

Arthur's standing in her book of whom she could trust, a book that held but four entries—her father, her mother, her grandmother, and Arthur—had been severely compromised, and that made her world feel off-kilter.

She lay there, but even her wolf would not allow Quinn to approach. When he tried; she growled low and threateningly. Her wolf was interested but not thoroughly convinced yet. _Good, because she damn well wasn't._

Quinn put up his hands and said, "Doona worry, beauty. I will stay back as long as ye wish."

His eyes as he watched her were soulful eyes—the eyes of a caged wolf, hinting of deep passions and deeper resolves.

Her wolf sniffed the air, got his full scent, and whimpered once more, still not quite ready to make his acquaintance and yet... wanting... needing to. Her wolf was confused, and she felt oddly curious. Just what was going on here?

Another thing was taking place inside her and was beyond her present ability to control. Her wolf, whom she had maintained in secret for so long, was glorifying in her newfound freedom. Her wolf had been tearing Rave's mind up since they had arrived in the Scottish Highlands. Her wolf wanted out, needed to run, required attention and release. Her wolf had been howling deep inside her, and she had been getting harder and harder to deny. Now, Rave realized, her alpha wouldn't stay caged any longer.

Silently Rave's mind went to work. She had denied her wolf for so long, but now...

She didn't—or at least had convinced herself she shouldn't—want to be a shapeshifter. But, no matter the wants and shoulds, she reminded herself, it was a part of who she was. Her wolf had told her over and over that being only human would never work. It was simply just a matter of time, her wolf had whispered in the past, just a matter of time. Apparently, that time had arrived.

These past weeks she had felt her wolf restlessly beating at her for release. Her wolf had not really liked Todd and had whined and growled deep inside her whenever she had been with him. Her wolf had been right. Maybe she should listen to her wolf more often?

She hadn't listened, and look where it took her. Perhaps now she should take a back seat and listen to her wise inner self?

She had always wanted to be as normal as she could be, and suddenly here she was, _wolf_ —and letting her wolf take control, letting her wolf shield her from this situation with its instinct to survive. She was now as far from normal as she would ever be. _Time to embrace what she was._

Flitting memories scurried through her mind as she watched Quinn pace. She had been no more than ten when her father had taken her to the wilds of the Canadian Rockies to visit with her grandmother. Before then, her grandmother had always visited them in Scotland during her summers there.

But that particular summer, both she and her father stayed with her grandmother and the tribe. She had loved that holiday. She had loved the friends she had made in the tribe, _her tribe._ And, too, in that summer the bond between her grandmother and herself had deepened, strengthened. It was then that she came to understand so many things and to realize that, like her grandmother, she was immortal.

That summer she had learned to master what she was—a shapeshifter. She learned skills, she learned magic, and she mastered changing at will, including the important art of removing her clothes with a thought instead of shredding them during the change.

_Magic._ Her grandmother had told her it was always there in her head ready to be called when needed.

It had all come together, and while she was with her grandmother she had embraced the wolf in her. Living with her mom, however, she could never be a wolf. Her mom hadn't a clue. Being with the friends she so enjoyed, wanted to fit in with, also meant denying her wolf.

Now, she realized, the wolf was there, ever ready to take over and protect, and she was comforted with the feeling of freedom.

However, it was time to revert to human.

Thus, with a thought and a shake of her beautiful wolf's head she was once again in human form, fully clothed and angry. _Very angry._

She sneered, and with her temper now unleashed towards the mirror and at Arthur on the other side, she said, "So, you say I can leave whenever I choose? Then I choose now— _I choose to leave now_ _!_ " Hands on her hips, she glared across at Arthur.

"Aye, then, Arthur. _T_ _his is no right_ ," said Quinn MacValdane.

"I am sorry," Arthur answered as he took a step back. "I did this for a reason."

She looked around and found that Quinn had moved in close and was standing right behind her. He towered above her head, and she could smell his natural scent. What was it? He smelled of Highland pines and... some unfamiliar, almost hypnotic herb. What herb was that? It filled her senses with its aroma.

She didn't want to look at him, but she couldn't stop herself from studying his face a moment. Then all at once she felt ridiculously shy and looked away, glancing around at her surroundings to really take in for the first time where she had landed.

She was momentarily diverted by the exotic new Realm. The landscape consisted of rolling green hills and at first glance seemed somewhat picture perfect and unreal. "Okay," she murmured as she put a hand to her forehead, "Why does this look like a painting? Where am I? What is this— _Faery_?" A bright blue and yellow parakeet flew by, and her jaw dropped. "Huh... we _are_ in Faery—or Disney. I hope it's Disney."

"No. Sorry, lass, neither Disney nor Faery but a Realm created by the Fae where they held some of their... amusements." He smiled. "One could say they used Delmire as a vacation spot," Quinn said softly.

Her wolf quivered at his nearness, or was that her human that quivered? _Hell_ , it was both—she _and_ her wolf were quivering!

He said, "Och, lass, are ye cold?"

"No, not cold. Furious, hotly furious," she snapped, glancing back at Arthur.

"I am sorry for it, but we'll make it right," Quinn said softly. "I promise ye."

She eyed him curiously. "How do you know about the Fae? My father says, other than the Druids, very few people really believe that they exist, and even if they do, they don't know anything about their history. The Fae have dwindled into legend."

"'Tis what they wanted—to be left to themselves. However, I have reason to believe. Just accept that for now," he answered, his blue eyes sweeping over her in a way that caused that primal wolf of hers to make throaty sounds deep inside her. She had never heard her alpha make such sounds before.

It was difficult to concentrate on what she really wanted when her wolf's demands were fighting to take precedence. She wanted out of this place, but her wolf just wanted _out of her._

She turned back to Arthur. "Okay. _R_ _ight_. Time to leave. Get me out of here."

Arthur replied firmly, gravely, "I'll be bringing ye back, have no fear of it, lass, and I'm sorry ye be so angry at me. Whist... if I could have done it any other way, doona ye think I wouldha?" He shook his head. "Ye needed to feel it fer yerself. Ye needed to change into what ye really are, but, even so, I don't want ye in there forever. I need ye here—to help on this side. Canna ye trust me in this, lass?" He put up his hands in prayer form. "Will ye no sit with Quinn and let him tell ye his story?"

Rave was stunned by all this and, yet, not quite as shocked as she thought she should be. She stood deep in thought, going over everything in her mind.

After all, she told herself, she was a Druid priest's daughter on her father's side and a shapeshifter on her American Indian grandmother's side. Why should anything surprise her? The answer, of course, slapped her across the head and shouted, _Because you have been in denial. This is who you are—_ magic _. This is your world—_ magic _._

Well, I'm not in denial anymore.

Her mystical talents were many and diverse, but she had rarely put any to use over the years unless she was training with her dad. On her Druid side, her magic was a result of the Fae's connection to the Druids. Her immortality, however—and she had admitted to herself that she was immortal when she was still quite young and always healing immediately from any injuries—came from her grandmother. It had skipped her father, who had received his father's Druid powers but not his mother's immortal or shape-shifting genes.

Thus, she had enough reasons to believe she wasn't going insane and that everything she had experienced was real.

The trouble, her trouble, was clear: she had no wish to be a part of all this. She had no wish to fight someone else's battle.

Her father had trained her as a Druid priestess—a thing she had always been reluctant to embrace. One day her father would be too old to conduct the rituals, and then she would be expected to go the MacAllister Monoliths and perform the ancient rituals four times a year. She even had a tattoo of Celtic knots and runes on her left hip to protect her from Dark Magic, and yet she had not been mentally prepared for all of this. She had always hoped she could just lead a normal life.

Rudely and thoroughly this insanity had been shoved in her lap, and now she was totally aware that _normal_ was never going to happen. She was what and who she was. _Time to wake up and accept it all._

She was, however, shocked at Arthur's treatment of her—shocked that he had pushed her into this dimension without warning. She frowned and said to him, "I have always trusted you, Arthur. What disturbs me is that you did _not trust me_ to listen to your tale without pushing me into it in this manner. Okay, then. I'll sit and I'll listen, and then I want out!"

"I did trust ye, but yer denial wouldna let ye see into the mirror... I had no choice, lass."

Quinn took a few steps away from her and sat down heavily. He pulled a few wildflowers out of the ground, his hands working nervously as he pulled at the petals and watched her.

When she felt his eyes scanning her from the top of her head to the toes of her boots, heat rushed through her body and exploded in her cheeks.

She glanced at him, with his knees up and his arms resting on them, just as he brought up his gaze, and their eyes met. For a moment she was diverted by his bright blue eyes and the raw way he had of looking her over.

A current tingled up her spine, and she hurriedly looked away from him and drew in air as she steadied herself. Her hormones were in overdrive. She shook off the feeling that tickled through her. She ignored the fact that her wolf was making odd little noises and said, "If I didn't know myself, I would say I had gone nuts, but... this is all real. I know that it is all real. I am not unconscious somewhere, dreaming."

Arthur dismissed this with a shake of his hand. "Ye need to find what it is that will break the curse Andrew put on Quinn that makes him a prisoner in Delmire. Perhaps it is some relic there on that side that he canna see? Explore Delmire with him, see if yer Druid senses can pick up on anything Fae that might help." He shook his head. "I doona think ye will find it on that side, though. To m'way of thinking the relic that will free him is here, at Valdane."

"Then why waste time?" Rave asked, frowning. "Why don't we just search Valdane first?"

"Process of careful elimination," Arthur said.

"Okay, so if I believe you, Andrew managed to curse Quinn. Doesn't it then make sense that Andrew has the key to his release?" Rave suggested after a long moment. "Maybe we should get Andrew out of his place and search there?"

"No!" Quinn said, standing up. "I'll no allow her to go anywhere near MacPoole!"

"Calm yerself, Quinn. She'll no be doing that."

"Well, I don't think either one of you can order me about. I'll do what I want," snapped Rave, her outrage once again heating her up.

"Forgive me," said Arthur. "We are merely concerned for yer safety."

Her eyes narrowed. "Yeah, sure. Okay, so what do we do?" What was wrong with her? She was falling right in with their schemes. Had she, in fact, lost her mind?

"Aye, but there has to be more than one way—there always is when dealing with magic. Ye see, his is Dark. Ours is Light, and 'tis the Light Magic spell we are looking for to break his dark curse." Arthur answered.

"That makes sense, but tell me, why did Andrew do this?" she asked, turning to Quinn.

"We never were friends, but I never knew until he brought the Quicksilver how much he hated me. Andrew said it was a peace offering... for our past tiffs. I should no have trusted him. I doona know why I dinna see it coming." Quinn shook his head. "I get visions of the past and the future. Not a great many and not always accurate. Since I landed here in Delmire, the visions I get are mostly of the past, as though Delmire is trying to fit the puzzle together for me."

"Right, sure." Rave nodded. "He gets visions." She sighed heavily and made up her mind. "I will help you... both, but, Arthur, you made a poor choice shoving me through the mirror portal."

"I am sorry, lass, but ye needed to come to grips with who ye be, if ye were going to have the power to help. I did what I had to do," he answered, not sounding sorry at all.

Rave gave him a narrowed look and turned back to Quinn. "So you and Andrew have some sort of history." She frowned. "We should try and discover what in particular moved him to take his revenge on you. That might help us discover how he thinks, what he would turn to in order to create the kind of curse that would spell a wizard and keep him spelled for so long."

"Ye see, Quinn? She is the one. Only see how she thinks—brilliant." Arthur's voice held hope, and Rave, hearing this, found her anger with him subsiding.

"Aye, but I doona really know Andrew or his way of thinking. All I know is that his mother was a Gypsy... and that he turned to Dark Magic." He shook his head. "And as a wizard of the Light, I deplore Dark Magic, but even so, I have learned a thing or two about it since then."

She couldn't stop herself as she reached out and touched his tattoos. "Yes, I see... so then, you have backup. That's good." However, as something occurred to her she looked up at his face with her concern. "You were turned by a bite. Arthur mentioned that you can change at will—like a shapeshifter—but are you bothered by the full moon?"

"Another story for another time. For now, what ye need to know is ye have nothing to worry about. I change at will, not because of the moon."

"Arthur said you are a sorcerer and found a way to control... your werewolf?" She wanted to know everything about him, better, she told herself, to be prepared for anything.

"Curious lass, aye, I created a natural potion from a rare bloom," he said simply, not elaborating. "Coom now—will ye let me show ye Delmire?"

"I suppose as long as I am already on this side, okay," she said and then saw Arthur walking away from the mirror. She went up close and called out, "Arthur! Where are you going? _Come back here!_ "

"I promise ye, lass, if ye want to leave, ye can. Ye have but to say the word. I'll no keep ye against yer will," Quinn said gravely. "I canna get out m'self, but I can spell ye out whenever ye wish."

She gazed at him thoughtfully. "I'll stay long enough for you to tell me more and show me around. Maybe I will sense a relic."

"Aye then," he said, reaching for her hand.

She allowed him to take her hand, but as soon as he did, rockets went off in her body and exploded in her brain. Her mind was a vortex, swirling and disintegrating as her libido took control. Her wolf growled and clawed for release. Hunger made of passion built itself up inside her, and a primal desire she had never before thought possible erupted. Without realizing what she was doing, without trying to stop herself, she moved into him, even as he pulled her into his embrace.

His delicious tongue waltzed with her own, gently, slowly creating a feverish desire for his kiss to go on and on. His scent enveloped her, and her body clenched with need. His hands were all over her, and she was losing herself to the most erotic kisses she had ever experienced when someone in her mind broke through the blatant feral need and demanded she stop.

_Stop?_ He felt so good. His hard body pressed against hers felt... _felt... oh my... oh no... what am I doing?_

Suddenly she realized what she had done. She had very nearly attacked him. She had instigated this. Embarrassment went reeling through her, and she pulled away and put a hand to her swollen lips, shocked at herself, unable to speak.

"Och, lass..."

"I... I..." she answered.

"I am so sorry, lass. Never did I mean to take advantage of ye. I doona know what came over me," he added.

"I... I..." she contributed.

"Coom, we'll walk," he said with a heavy, beautiful burr that filled her senses with pleasure.

"Walk... yes... walking... good—walking is good." What had just happened? _Sex_ , a voice answered. _You want sex—_ _and you want it with him. Your wolf wants sex with his wolf. Your wolf has chosen._ Have you _?_

And then, out of nowhere, the prophecy came to her mind and repeated itself.

Suddenly she knew why the prophecy was so troubling. She had heard it before, in her dreams, not so long ago, as though it were a forewarning.

However, what was worse than that was the fact that there was more to it than either Quinn or Arthur were telling her. She was the one, all right: the one to free him or die in the trying—that was the entire prophecy!

~ Six ~

ANDREW MACPOOLE'S THOUGHTS bumped into one another with vicious clarity. He was getting flashbacks, and they were so real he thought he could reach out and put his hands around his father's neck.

It was the journal—his father's journal. He had found the journal when he was still so young, and he had learned what he needed to know. It had explained so much.

He had read it again the previous evening in the hopes he might glean something about the mental condition his paternal side suffered. Why had he re-read his father's journal? It always set him on edge, and now, now... his mind rewound all those ugly events and displayed them in full color over and over again.

His grandfather had been already afflicted when he was in his native Realm, Lyken. Whelan was about to be joined with his true mate when suddenly everything had gone wrong for him and his mind sent him on a course from which there had been no escape.

They had said there was no cure— _he was rabid._

His family had watched him for years before, hoping he would retain his sanity, but at some point he lost control and lost his mind. He went on a rampage, killing his fellow citizens as he tore through the streets of Lyken. Then he'd crashed into the council building and killed the king's nephew— _a royal._

His father's words in the journal, a journal that contained some of Whelan's disjointed sentences from his own diary, drew a picture Andrew never forgot.

His grandfather stalked and savagely tore apart members of the council—his own council—a council he had once presided over.

They could not kill him under Lyken law; he was also royalty, cousin to the queen. They chose not to imprison him, for they believed the disease that drove him was not his fault. Instead, they believed the best thing for him was to send him to live amongst savages. That was how they saw humans: as savages.

They transported him to the Human Realm during the Scottish Wars.

His lust for the kill was satisfied during those barbaric wars, and he would return to his castle for long periods of calm and peace.

_Peace, however, wore on him_.

For a diversion, his grandfather decided it was time he took a mate. He wanted his own pack, but the problem was she wasn't a true mate. He did not feel her in his blood; he barely held her in affection, even though he changed her.

She wasn't like him. She wasn't born a Lyken, and thus she was little more than a werewolf and only painfully, maddeningly during the full moon.

One night, in the 1500s, it happened. While their fourteen-year-old son (Andrew's father) was asleep, she transformed into the werewolf Whelan had made her, and while she was in that state her husband viciously attacked and killed her. He left her in pieces in their central hall.

_His son found her in the morning_.

John MacPoole found his mother while he was alone—alone because after killing his wife Whelan went out into the night, unwisely attacked his wizard neighbor, Quinn MacValdane, and had been killed by him.

John had been sole heir to the MacPoole fortune, title, and estate. Although he was only fourteen, he took control. He was wise enough to hire a tutor for himself because he wanted to be educated, but other than that he required no guardianship.

He reached maturity and married his tutor, a Gypsy older than he by fifteen years, and so it was that Andrew was born.

Andrew never bonded with his father, but he had always assumed that his father loved his mother. She was a beautiful Gypsy whose bloodline carried magic. She had been intelligent, and she had been loving and fun. She gave Andrew a wonderful, caring childhood. She gave Andrew the magic his own father withheld from him.

Andrew's father had turned her. She was like, his grandmother, a werewolf, and Andrew hated but understood that she needed to be chained during the full moon. He saw that the terrible, painful change always made her ill and out of control. That too was a part of his growing up.

And still he adored his mother.

As he got older, he barely tolerated his father.

Andrew discovered while he was still young an interest in the dark arts. Dark Magic was very addicting and drew him in; by the time he reached maturity, he had perfected spells that he knew made him superior to his father. And then he saw that his father, like his grandfather Whelan MacPoole, was quickly diving into rabid madness—no doubt due to an inherited gene.

Andrew wasn't about to allow his father to hurt his mother the way his grandfather had hurt the grandmother he had never known, and he stood guard over his mother every month during the full moon.

However, one night he forgot the full moon was upon them, and he went out to the local tavern to meet a wench he had been seeing. She was luscious, and he was ravenous for the relief she gave his body. It was as though he could not stop taking her in every position imaginable...

Then the moon came up brightly and glared its promise. And it hit him like a rock slammed against his head.

He jumped off the wench and blinked his clothes on with the magic he had perfected. He ran out of the tavern and into the woods, where he shifted into wolf and raced to MacPoole Castle.

Too late.

_His fault!_ He beat at himself. He had forgotten her—his own mother—and that beast he called a father had torn her apart.

Her dear body lay in tatters all over the floor. His father still in rabid wolf form hung over her. His father pivoted sharply to face him—

_Hell, bloody hell_ , he remembered it now as though it were yesterday. He remembered the raw hate he felt.

He lunged at his father, chanting the dark spell in his mind to freeze him in place, and so it was done. He did to his father what his father had done to his mother.

_Retribution_.

As he looked at his father lying there—a nothing creature that had destroyed the sweetness in his life—something changed in Andrew that night. Rage mixed with guilt and sorrow tore through his mind.

He went into himself with his grief. Only one thing in those days assuaged his inner torment: _w_ _omen_. And in those days, he took so many. His mother had taught him to revere women. They were mothers. They were sisters. They were soft. His mother had also told him he would not suffer the rabid disease of his grandfather because of her Gypsy blood in him, and he had believed her. And he made it a point, always and in all situations, to treat women with a gentleness he did not always feel.

_Women_ _!_ He took many, but he knew he would never marry and turn one—never. His mate was on Lyken, and to Lyken he would one day go and claim her.

Reaching Lyken was an obsession.

The years that followed were empty, but then he found a Gypsy pretty. She was absolutely beautiful, and he meant to have her. This time, however, he couldn't seduce with a word and a caress.

He dined her, he wined her, he took her for a carriage ride, and still she wouldn't have him, and it infuriated him. He wanted her, and she would submit. He couldn't stop himself; he began to take by force what she was determined to withhold.

That had been seventy-five years ago.

He had chosen the lovely wench for a specific reason. She was magical, and he wanted her power as much as he wanted her body. He tried to tell her he wouldn't hurt her.

She screamed.

Her cries shocked him. That had never happened before, as his experience was such that the women he hand-picked always wanted to please him, and he always made an effort to satisfy them—always.

Out of the dark, out of nowhere, Quinn arrived, poised to attack him. Andrew didn't want to be seen. He couldn't afford to engage Quinn in an open battle; he liked his life and did not want to be labeled.

He ran off, using magic to shield his identity from Quinn MacValdane.

The incident left him furious.

How dare MacValdane interrupt him? Who did he think he was? What damnable bad luck that Quinn should happen to be on the spot in Inverness!

He made up his mind to get rid of the interloper for daring to interfere. The trick was... how to do it?

And then, quite by accident, providence gave him the tool.

He discovered the Quicksilver artifact and knew it for what it was: a portal, an ancient and forgotten Fae Relic. And thus he had planned how best to use it, for the wizard Quinn... ah, Quinn could not be overpowered. His magic could not be usurped by the usual methods, but no matter; Andrew had the means to dispose of him.

He wanted Quinn out of the way. His power as both a werewolf and a wizard was too great to be ignored. Andrew wanted to be the only one with power in his chosen world.

Thus he'd begun his preparations and careful planning, and he'd succeeded in trapping Quinn in Delmire. And now, now a new prize was in the offering: the woman, Ravena MacAllister.

His wolf wanted her. Nay, his wolf didn't simply want her—his wolf screamed for her. Was she his mate? It felt as though she were his mate. How could she be? She was not from Lyken.

Nevertheless, he meant to have her—but this time Arthur MacValdane stood in the way. Therefore, he decided, _Arthur would have to be dealt with_.

* * *

They had been walking together in silence, both lost to their thoughts, when Rave stopped and turned to ask, "What I don't understand is, how did Andrew pull it off? You look very capable of protecting yourself."

He shrugged. "I let m'guard down. I actually believed he was giving me a peace offering, and for one moment I turned m'back on him to look at the mirror, which intrigued me, for I sensed magic. I didn't realize it was a portal until it was too late."

"I see. _B_ _am_ —like me, you got shoved in." She made a face at him. "So you know the feeling."

He smiled ruefully. "Aye, I know the feeling, the difference being ye can leave when ye choose. I was a fool—an unsuspecting fool. I should have known, because I knew he had reason to want me out of his way." He shrugged. "Like ye, I turned to look at the mirror and got shoved in. However, unlike ye, I discovered that I was spelled and unable to return."

She skipped a step to keep up with him, as he had started forward. He slowed and said, "I'm sorry. I was forgetting that ye are just a wee lass. Was I walking too fast for ye?"

"Where are we going?" She ignored his question.

"To the Elfin Glen."

She shook her head and her voice was full with resignation, "Well, of course we are. _Elfin Glen,_ _Mirror Garden_. You probably have a _Demon Forest_."

"Aye, we do." He laughed. He glanced at her, and she turned up her face to his, all too aware of the electric current that passed through her. This had to stop. Why was she still leaning towards him? Why were her eyelids getting lazy? What was happening here?

Her wolf inside objected to her reticence and yelped angrily. She tried shutting herself off, and her alpha whispered, _Touch... touch him... lick... lick him_...

_Stop_ , she told her alpha silently.

_No stop... connect... connect now... touch_... Her alpha made her demand known with resonance, and Rave almost put her hands to her ears. Almost—the problem was they were busy, reaching to touch his naked, hard chest.

She was moving up close, pressing herself into him. She couldn't catch her breath. A voice of reason berated her. The wolf voice cajoled for more. She almost stomped her foot on the ground and rebuked all the voices.

Both she and Quinn stood stock still, riveted in one another's aura—and then the hand she had put on his chest traveled down his midriff.

She was losing control.

Her body was flooded with primal desire so intense she felt the heat of this encounter fill her lace panty with sticky dampness, and her thighs clenched as they had at their last encounter.

She caved under the onslaught of sensations.

Suddenly, once again she was in his arms and lost between those huge biceps, lost to the thunderous beating of her heart—and what was that? Did she hear _his heart_ beat wildly as well?

She knew logically this had to stop.

She called for some order. She called for reason. She told herself to stand up straight and back away.

This couldn't happen. What was wrong with her frigging hormones? _Damn_ , but she was in deep sheep dip.

Why was her alpha wolf making those odd sounds? Why was her alpha... purring? No, wolves didn't purr, but it was making just such a sound, which bordered on being a contented mewling.

This had to stop... and oh, he felt so good... so... oh, he was so amazingly hard and sensual, and she was hot... too hot to think logically any longer.

His lips brushed hers gently, making love first to her bottom lip, nibbling at the top lip, and then licking her tongue as he found his way inside her mouth. The sound deep in his throat made her knees weak.

His tongue teased hers until it quivered and wrapped around his to demand more, and then his tongue withdrew and returned to her bottom lip, licking it lightly and then nibbling there sweetly.

The seduction was swift and complete. She was out of control as her wolf moved into position for more, and she pressed herself against him, inviting him to continue his electrifying ministrations.

His body was so firm, so... oh, his tongue was back in her mouth, joined with hers, and a burst of vanilla and honey filled her taste buds. He... oh, he tasted good. He smelled so good... and all thought was suspended as she ground her body into his.

She felt like she was floating, gliding, as all her senses filled with erotic vibrations. She opened her eyes and saw that a dark blue sky had engulfed them—sky all around, blue and soothing—and then she closed her eyes once more as his fingers went under her sweater and traveled to her breasts unhampered by a bra.

One thought only buzzed in her head: she wanted to see him naked. She wanted to touch his cock and feel it against her body—

Where had that come from?

Time, it was time... and he was the one.

She felt as though he had lain her down on a cloud, and oh, his hand manipulated her nipple, teasing her into arching her back. And all she knew was that she wanted him, wanted more of him... wanted him there and then.

Her tongue worked with his as one, and sparks of hunger singed her mind and sent her thrusting against him.

His tongue down her throat robbed her of her will to object. Object? She would rather die at that moment than object to his touch. Her wolf had taken over and made its choice, and she was being drawn into that decision. Her wolf howled low and sweetly for more.

His huge body gently rocked her. His hard-on pressed into her belly as he bent her to his hungry kisses and one kiss melted into another. His hand cupped the triangle between her thighs, and through the jeans she felt convulsed with pleasure.

She wanted him to grab it tighter... she wanted...

Filled with feral need, she thrust into his hand.

A voice inside her head called her name sharply. _Ravena! You are_ more _than a wolf._

_Yes_ , she answered. _S_ _o?_

Her wolf snarled at the intrusion and snapped at the voice of reason to go away. _But it didn't_. Her sense of self was strong, and it kept on calling, logical and clear and—

_She heard it._ The voice got through with a blast of power. She almost jumped out of Quinn's arms as she got control of herself.

She certainly had had enough practice keeping her wolf at bay, but this time, this time it had been impossible. This time, she admitted to herself, she hadn't wanted to keep her alpha at bay.

She couldn't explain what had just happened. She wanted to run rather than look into his eyes as she whispered, "No... no..." while she worked on steadying her breathing and readjusting her sweater and jeans.

His desire was still bright in his eyes and the way he stood hovering, trying to cool himself. She could sense him panting inside as though he were fighting back his alpha wolf—the wolf she knew was there at the edge, ever ready to spring, ever ready to join with hers.

He said, his eyes ravaging her still, " _Forgive me_."

She said, without being able to breathe, "Ah..."

He frowned "I don't know what came over me."

"I... I... well, it is... I mean..." She felt a fool.

"I can't explain it."

"I—I don't know... my wolf... oh... I..." She couldn't find the words.

"Ye are so beautiful," he whispered huskily.

"Well, I suppose... I mean... no doubt it has been awhile since you... have been with a woman."

Then he answered, breaking the spell entirely, "On the contrary." His smile completely stabbed, pricked, and annoyed her as she wondered, _On the contrary?_

"Coom then," he said and purposely avoided touching her. "I promise to try and behave," he added.

"Umm, yeah," she answered, not looking at him, knowing it was as much her fault as his. What the heck was she going to do with her wolf? It was killing her with its clawing and howling deep inside.

"It isn't far to the Elfin Glen." He looked back at her, as she had decided not to walk too close.

His voice, low and tinged with something that set her blood gurgling in her veins, was almost more than she could handle. What was she going to do? She felt like she was in heat! Actually, she was in heat, she admitted. .

She hadn't answered him so he added, "The Elfin Glen is the most logical place to look for Fae artifacts. It is there that I have spent the most time looking for the relics, but in all these years, I haven't found a thing."

She glanced at him. _Mistake_ , she thought at once. _Don't look at him._ His luscious lips were too... just too, and his kisses were still playing havoc with her senses. She looked away and then back, saw the ripples of his muscular chest, and she wanted to lean into him again. Oh... oh, lean? Hell, she wanted freaking all of him. _Get control, Rave—get control!_

She cleared her throat and said, "And when we get there—what do I do? I have never really done anything like this before. I don't have a clue as to what I should be looking for."

"Mayhap if ye are near a Fae Relic, ye will feel its power?"

"Not all Druid priests have that ability," she said thoughtfully, remembering that when her father had introduced her to the few Fae artifacts they housed in their hidden room, she had indeed felt something, although her father had not.

" _But ye do_ ," he said softly, taking a step away from her.

She noticed that he, like she, was making an effort to keep his distance. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. She frowned at him. "How could you know that?"

"I told ye." He grinned mischievously. "I'm a wizard." He shrugged. "I have white magic that has sensitive... fingers, and those fingers tell me ye have the 'sounder' in ye."

" _Sounder?_ " She had never heard her father speak of such an ability.

"The gift that some Fae and a few Druid priests have that allows them to hear when a Relic calls," he answered simply and turned away from her.

"So if there is an artifact in this dimension with power, my particular Druid sense should be able detect it?" She shook her head. "I dunno."

"In yer father's home, doona ye ever recall feeling a connection to the Fae artifacts he keeps safe there?"

"Well, yes and no. I didn't really pay much attention, as I tried awfully hard not to learn any more than he taught me, and he didn't teach me anything about... the Sounder thingy." She frowned. "But I have noticed that when he takes out a Fae Relic, I feel connected somehow." She shook her head. "Don't know if that's what you are talking about."

"Aye, ye are a Sounder. It will bloom when ye call on it." He gazed into her.

She looked around and noticed that the greens of the shrubbery were 'greener', the colors of the flowers brighter, and butterflies of blue and gold and variegated shades were everywhere. She smiled and asked, "This has to be the Elfin Glen?"

"Aye, we just stepped within their borders," he said as he looked around. Then he nodded with his chin towards a low and rocky hill in which she could make out a dark, cavernous mouth. "And that is their Cave of Treasures."

"Cave of Treasures?"

"Delmire was in existence when the Queen and her Council... er... adopted and expanded it for their own use. When the Fae left, Queen Aaibhe decided to gift the native inhabitants for their hospitality with a few Fae treasures. Those treasures were kept safe in the cave."

"So, why don't you ask the, er, native inhabitants to help you look for them?"

"There was an earthquake one hundred years ago, and the treasures were buried deep inside the cave. They haven't been able to locate them and gave up trying years ago."

She frowned. "Okay, this isn't any good. How can we excavate them even if we knew where they were? I wonder if we have any information at home. My dad has a book of Fae with all sorts of information about the various modes of transportation they used, like portals, before they discovered the ability to shift. It might contain something we could use to help us."

"Good idea, aye, wise wee lass."

She glanced at him and was wondering if he knew the entire prophecy when he interrupted this thought and asked, "Tell me something, lass, ye doona allow yer wolf out much, do ye?" He eyed her with keen interest.

"No, I have a great deal of control, but when I am in the mountains—back home with my grandmother, I do. We, er, run together and mind-link and catch up on everything. My nana is so special. Very rarely do I let my wolf out here in the Highlands," she said with a sigh, "but now and then, I must. It is the least I can do for her. You see, I've never wanted to be what I am, which I guess hasn't been fair to my wolf."

"Ah," he said as he led her down a narrow path through an ornamental garden.

She arched a look at him. " _Ah?_ " she repeated quizzically.

"Understood. Ye were born to magic of a different sort, and ye just wanted to be human." He shrugged. "I never felt that way, but I can understand how a lass might."

She grimaced. "But here's the thing. You can't run from who you are. Sooner or later it catches up to you and takes hold. Like now."

"Aye, like now," he said, and his eyes began to glitter dangerously again.

She stepped away and gave him a tentative smile. "Every single time I let my wolf out it screams back at me that I am so not normal. As a Druid, well, I could still think of myself as human, but as a shapeshifter... an immortal." She looked away as though staring into the future. "Well, it was more than what I wanted to contemplate."

* * *

They walked on a bit more, and Rave continued to scan her surroundings. Then they came upon a garden featuring a fountain with a rainbow of bubbling water. She stared at it for a moment, for the water was genuinely many colors.

She arched a brow at Quinn, who laughed and shrugged. "Delmire... very different than our Realm."

Rave smiled and looked past the fountain at the thick evergreen shrubbery that had been shaped into large animals. Past these were flowering trees and roses; the entire picture it presented was absolutely beautiful.

"It looks like an Elfin Glen," she mused out loud. A sudden movement caught her gaze, and her nose wrinkled at the scent that wafted her way. She put a hand out and grabbed his arm to whisper, "Hold on. I think I saw—yes, I saw something."

He laughed. "Aye, that ye did. _Cariel_ , come on out."

A graceful and young female wearing only a white lacy halter and matching shorts stepped out of the brush and stood there. Her hair was white and streaked with blue. Her eyes were gold and her face piquant and pretty. Her ears were peaked. If Cariel were human, which Ravena was fairly certain she was not, she would be no more than eighteen years old.

Ravena felt Quinn's eyes watch her as she studied the newcomer. Was this what he meant when he had implied earlier, after he apologized for kissing her, that he didn't lack female _attention?_

Cariel's movements when she approached were slinky and coveting as she moved towards Quinn. She went right up close and gave Ravena a look of pure dislike.

Rave tried to melt the girl's ice with a smile, but Cariel shot her a narrowed look that said she wasn't interested in friendship.

Cariel slid her body against Quinn's side, but he objected gently. "Cariel, now stop that." He spoke as though to a child.

He set her aside, and she turned with some annoyance and hissed at Rave, who was taken aback by the hostility.

Just what was she dealing with here? Then all at once, she was given the answer. Cariel shifted into a leopard and gracefully ran for the woods, looking back once to offer a low cat's hiss before vanishing.

" _Okay_ ," Rave said. "What was that all about? We are in Elfin, but... leopard shapeshifters live here as well?" She looked at Quinn for an answer.

He laughed. "Elves come and go as they please, as do the Pixies, and they allow some of the inhabitants of Delmire to enjoy full access to their territory."

"And that particular one... is your, er...?"

He laughed. "No, _not my_ anything. Ye could say that the child, for she isn't much more, has a bit of a crush on me."

"Ah yeah... and she doesn't seem to like me."

"Well, ye _are a wolf_. She's a cat," he offered.

" _You are_ a wolf, aren't you?" Rave countered.

"Yes, but... that is totally different." He shook his head.

"Well, you're right. She is a bit young for you," Rave said and felt a pang of jealousy. What was wrong with her? She didn't even know him, and she was already what? Just what was she in his regard? It was all so ridiculous.

"As I said, she has a crush on _me_ —that's as far as it goes. I do not rob cradles, cats' or otherwise."

"So then you have different types of companions here in this Realm?" Rave asked curiously as she looked around. Her wolf had picked up on another scent.

"There is life in Delmire—very different than our own _,_ but a great deal of life."

"Okay, so we have—what, a pack of leopard shapeshifters, elves and pixies that come and go. What else?"

"There's a world here in Delmire—ye can't learn about it all in one day. There isn't always harmony amongst the different packs and tribes, but they have united against a common enemy." He shook his head. "We'll leave that for another time."

"Interesting, but tell me one thing before I go and before I agree to return here?" She leveled a look at him.

"Of course," he said quietly.

"Do you, when you change, become violent?"

He looked away for a moment and then back at her. "I am a werewolf, not a shapeshifter, but, no, though the moon makes me... edgy, I am always in control."

"You drink something," she said.

"Moonbane. I used to drink it every day, but after a time the affects of the moonbane became permanent, I suppose because of the inherited magic in me. Now I am a were but fully in control."

"What happens during a full moon?"

"My... urges become... intensified," he said, his voice lined with a quiet suggestiveness.

She looked away and asked, "Do you get the urge to kill?"

He smirked at her. "Not usually."

She couldn't stop the rush of excitement she felt when he looked at her. She didn't want to feel it. She believed a relationship should be more than animal magnetism, but evidently her wolf thought otherwise. This wasn't really her, she told herself. It was her wolf. For some unknown reason, her alpha wolf was more than a little attracted to his wolf, and her wolf was scratching at her hormones until they made little sizzling fires in her blood.

His blue eyes burned with a hunger he did not try to hide. She glanced away.

Oh, this was trouble. So much trouble.

~ Seven ~

QUINN'S HAND REACHED for her. He suddenly realized it and dropped it to his side. What was wrong with him? _Bloody hell_ _!_

He had never felt this way before. It was as though needing to touch her was like needing to breathe.

It was as though his fingers had a will of their own. He clasped them into fists behind his back and stepped away from her.

Cornsilk-colored and luxuriously thick hair floated in the breeze around her exquisite face. Her silver eyes burned with warmth and compassion. Amusement glittered in their depths.

He found himself staring at her full lips, and his dick did a dance in his leather pants that made him damned uncomfortable. He needed to adjust himself and turned away for a moment to do just that.

When he turned back he couldn't stop his glance from straying to her breasts... and those full breasts he had just touched earlier got his cock dancing again. Damn. She looked his way, and for a moment he thought he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He wanted to reach out and grab a handful of her hair and pull her into him. He wanted to kiss her until she begged him for more.

The notion and the picture this presented in his mind made his lip lift with the primal sound forming in his throat. She smiled at him sent him into overdrive.

She was absolutely ravishing.

She literally took apart his will power and threw it in the hearth. He was burning inside, burning for her. He wanted to hold her again, kiss her again, lay her on the ground, and ram into her with—

_Hell and brimstone_ _!_ This had to stop.

He couldn't keep his glance from her breasts. They were high and pushing against her sweater with their fullness. Her nipples were hard and poking at the soft material of the knit top she wore.

A low rumble inside him threatened to set his wolf free. His alpha clawed for release, but he managed to keep his wolf restrained. He couldn't chance letting it out—not the way it felt, not the way it demanded. His wolf wanted hers. There was no getting away from it.

_Did that mean the prophecy was actually true?_ Arthur had told him the prophecy denoted 'one' such as she would arrive to free him. Was it really true?

And then his wolf did something it had never done before: it whimpered, deep inside him. His wolf whined and then made its needs known. _Have_... take... _have now_... _mate_... _bend her... take her... nibble... lick her lips... must lick her_ _nose... her_ _teeth... her tongue... bond... lick... take her—take her now_ _!_ His wolf screamed those words over and over in his head. Quinn blinked hard and drew on his total will power as he kept his wolf at bay. Think—what was she asking? She wanted to know if he got urges to kill during a full moon? _Answer. Her. Stop staring at her. Answer_ _!_

"Not usually?" she repeated. "Does that mean you _do_ get urges to kill now and then?"

"Not in the way ye mean," he managed as he stepped and looked away. "My senses during the full moon are heightened many times over. I keep them in control, but if something were to attack me or mine, I might not be able to stop from killing it, even if it didn't need killing to stop the attack. The full moon has a strong force over a were."

"Uh-huh," she said, and he noticed she glanced past him and towards the deer path in the woods.

She was so close to him; somehow, instead of continuing his stride away from her, he found that he had moved towards her. Somehow, she had moved towards him. He had not meant to...

He stood with his arm only inches away from hers. His world was a swirl of desire. His thoughts were centered on calming his wolf.

Her interest was in the woods that lay ahead, and that caught and diverted his attention.

Something was there, but he couldn't quite make it out.

And then the leopard appeared, shifted into human, and stood in the open. Quinn smiled a welcome at him. He wore only a leather napkin over his front and rump. He was young but appeared a virile male adult all the same as he stepped forward. Quinn watched Rave's eyes open wide as she said, " _Whoa._ "

"What is the meaning of such a word when ye are not on horseback?" Quinn asked.

The leather napkin–clad young male came forward, and Quinn waved and called out, "Kalo, welcome!"

However, the young man looked Rave over and then, without a word, returned to leopard form and lunged once more into the woods.

"Another leopard." Rave's eyebrows rose with her curiosity.

"Four separate feline clans inhabit this Realm. Kalo is a friend and was probably curious to see ye, for yer entrance into their Realm has been felt. However, he must have sensed yer wolf and wasn't ready yet to make contact. They don't like confrontation, and I suspect he means to watch ye for a time before he accepts ye."

"And they all get along—the four clans?"

"Well enough." He put up his hand. "We will have to get up to the palace before dark if ye mean to stay the night."

"Palace? _S_ _tay the night?_ Oh, _no_. _Oh, no_." She eyed him and then asked, "Why before dark _?"_

"Lassiter roams at will in the dark—a monster," he said darkly.

"Here? I find it hard to believe that the Fae left behind a monster in this beautiful Realm."

"At any rate, I have warded the palace as my own. Ye will be safe there," he said with a frown.

"No, no—not staying the night. I've seen enough for now... I... I had better leave now— _right now_."

Quinn inclined his head. He wanted her to stay, but he was relieved for the moment that she was leaving. He needed her to go. He had to get more control over his wolf, who was about to burst out and take over. He could not allow that to happen and frighten her.

It took only fifteen minutes to walk back to the Mirror Garden, and they did it in silence. A force hung in the air, one so palpable he thought he could reach out and touch it.

Too soon, he thought as they reached the long looking glass. How could he let her go when every fiber in his body wanted her to stay?

No choice. As always, his choices had been snatched away; he wanted to pound his fist into a nearby tree to ease his frustration.

She stood at the mirror. He stepped up behind her.

Her scent wafted through his nostrils, and there it was again, the sound of his wolf whimpering deep inside him.

He chanted the Gaelic words that would open the portal for her, and his wolf heard her softly repeating the words as she put them to memory. _Clever little lass._

When he was done, she turned and cast him a brief glance before turning back to the mirror and stepping into the portal. He couldn't help but note that she was hesitant, but she overcame her fear and went right into the portal.

It closed after her, and he leaned into the mirror and set his fists at its frame as he gritted his teeth. He was helpless, so helpless on this side. Every instinct told him he needed to be on the other side with her, _because she would be in danger_.

She turned to the mirror rather than just walking off. She put her forehead to its glass. He met her silver eyes with his own and looked long into them.

She spoke, and although it was almost a whisper, it was the sound of a promise, firm and resolute. She said, "I'll be back tomorrow, I do promise, and I will try and help you... find what you need to get home."

"Aye, then, lass, but be careful. Ye mustn't let anyone know what ye are about," he said with one finger pointed at her.

"You mean I mustn't let Andrew MacPoole _know that I know_ ," she answered with one brow arched at him in such a way that she drew a smile from him. "I am not such a dummy, Quinn MacValdane."

"No, lass," he said, taking one step back from the mirror, "and still, be careful."

A frown flitted over her features, and she put her hand palm up to the mirror. He put his palm to hers on the other side. He couldn't feel her flesh, but he felt the intent behind the action, and his heart filled with hope.

* * *

Rave turned and stepped away. She hadn't realized how difficult it would be to do that. Something inside had in that last moment responded to the hope in his blue eyes. More than any other argument, his hope made her feel a sweeping, very real need to help him.

"Ravena, lass," Arthur called as he came towards her.

She wagged a finger. "You are in the suds, my lord," she said, although she had already forgiven him for pushing her into the portal. Life had become desperately complicated, but not so much that she did not see clearly, and she knew he thought he was running out of time and had therefore resorted to desperate measures. Well, no harm done in the end. No harm meant, so although she gave him a totally reproving look, all was forgiven in her heart.

He sighed and led her into the library. "Aye, lass. I doona blame ye fer being annoyed with me."

"Annoyed is a mild description," she answered sharply.

"But ye know, doona ye know—we haven't the time to waste. There is no saying at m'age how long I have..."

"Oh, that is beyond bad. Pulling at my heartstrings!" She threw her arms around his middle and hugged him fiercely. "Don't say things like that, Arthur. You are too strong to do anything but live forever."

A short laugh escaped him as he patted her shoulder. "Aye, but there it is, and with Andrew hovering about—"

"Andrew, Andrew—I am really sick of him. We need to find out what spell he used and then—"

"Don't involve yerself with Andrew. Trouble lies in that direction," Arthur snapped.

She eyed him but didn't want to distress him further. "Well, it was just a thought."

He returned her look and asked, "Did ye discover anything on the Delmire side? Anything that might help?"

"Not this time, but we will do this. Doesn't the prophecy say so?" She wondered again if he knew the entire prophecy, the part about her being the one to free him or die. When he smiled but didn't say anything, she told him, "I have to go, Arthur. I want to get home and do some research." She picked up the jacket she had dropped on the sofa earlier and headed for library door.

He walked beside her. "Aye, good. Ye know now, 'tis ye that will break the spell and free him from Delmire," Arthur said. "I am desperate, Ravena. I canna die and leave him trapped—I canna."

"I know," she said softly. "You won't, and like I said, you are not allowed to die."

"I'm depending on the prophecy," he said with feeling.

"Right, the prophecy," Rave said ruefully.

"Aye, _one who is pure and true of heart_ , and that is ye," said Arthur. "Do ye believe me now, lass?"

"I was in a fairytale land, and I got there through a mirror, _so, yeah_ , I believe you."

"Then do what ye have to do," he said and gave her a hug.

"I don't seem to have a choice," she said with a long sigh.

A few moments later, she was walking through the woods away from Valdane and towards home. Her mind was in a million places all at once, and she scarcely noticed her surroundings.

What was happening to her life? She had so believed she could put what she was away. She had told herself, _Fine, shapeshifter_ , but in the past she had convinced herself that she didn't have to change into her wolf, that she didn't have to use magic. Now, however, that was all she wanted to do. _What had happened?_

She would outlive her father and mother by forever, with no hope of being reunited in the hereafter because she would have no hereafter; she was immortal. Her father had not inherited the immortal gene from her grandmother. That was so _wrong!_ She knew, she had always known, one day she would lose him—and the thought had put her into denial of all that she was.

She had never felt like a freak, because she had never accepted what she was. Now, it was hitting her full in the face, but instead of absolutely hating everything about it, she found herself wondering more about her powers and hoping she could help Quinn MacValdane by using those powers.

And then, sharp claws pressed into her neck!

A cold breath at her ear whispered, " _Join me..._ "

What the hell? She spun around and saw nothing. She swiped at her ear, but the cold whisper had left as though it had never been. _Damn, she was in deep! What the hell was that?_

* * *

When he watched her go his entire body had trembled from the effort it had taken to allow her to leave him.

It wasn't just his wolf that had reacted to her. He had to admit it to himself and deal with it _. He_ wanted her _._ His damn wolf wanted her, yes, but so did he. His cock had been at attention since the moment he had seen her, and when she opened that luscious mouth and spoke...?

Was this the 'bonding' he had been told about?

Had his wolf recognized his alpha mate?

When she spoke, her voice traveled through his body like a firestorm, waking something hidden and repressed: _hope_. It awoke something else as well: _desire—desire for her, only her._ It was as though he suddenly wanted no other woman—no other wolf. Only Ravena MacAllister would do. _What the hell was that?_

His thoughts were interrupted by the blast of a distant but thunderous roar. It filled the atmosphere with its evil trill, and he looked towards the Demon Forest in the north.

_Lassiter!_ Dark was approaching.

The demon Lassiter was stepping out of its hole.

Dark would soon engulf the forest and stretch its shadows, and Lassiter would be free to roam and bear down on the innocents who had not yet reached their habitats.

Lassiter was the demon beast MacPoole had released from a demon dimension, spelling him into the mirror for only one reason: to torment Quinn and the innocent inhabitants of Delmire. Quinn hated the air Lassiter breathed.

For seventy-five years he had tried over and over again to destroy Lassiter. The problem was that he did kill him, over and over—and then Lassiter would be reborn the following evening.

As far as Quinn was concerned, Lassiter was a vicious, ruthless, cold-blooded killer with one mindset—to maim, hurt, and kill.

Lassiter had made the night in Delmire something to be feared.

A voice broke in on his thoughts. "I don't want her here," Cariel said as she came up behind him. She flung her blue-streaked white hair behind her back and pouted.

"And why not?" Quinn patiently responded.

"Because. I don't like her— _she is wolf_."

"As am I," he answered softly.

She purred up against his body. "I could please you... I am of age, and I know what would please you."

He frowned. "Cariel, doona think of me like that! I canna think of ye as more than the child ye are." He stopped there, not sure what else he could say.

She took his hand and placed it on her breast, which was small but very alluring as she exposed it to him. "Not a child." She pouted prettily.

He was a man with needs, but he pulled away from her immediately and stepped back. "Cariel, ye have to stop thinking about me like that. Yer family wants ye to pick a mate."

" _You_. I pick you." She shrugged and slinked provocatively into a graceful move clearly intended to entice him.

"Cariel!" snapped a male voice at her back.

She turned and hissed. " _What do you want?_ "

"Father says you must come home at once—it will soon be dark."

She purred, moved back up close to Quinn, and rubbed herself against him before turning and changing into feline for her run home with her brother.

Quinn glanced at the sky. Dark always came suddenly and horribly in Delmire. Tonight, he planned on using it to advantage. Perhaps Lassiter would not stay dead, but he could put him out of commission early enough that he wouldn't get to do any damage.

Quinn shed his human and shifted into wolf. He shook his body of rich black fur and looked towards the demon territory with purpose on his mind. Somehow, he would find and stop Lassiter for yet another night.

* * *

Rave had been conflicted all night and unable to sleep. Though she had thumbed through the antique manuscripts in her father's library, she did not feel as though she had learned anything helpful.

Her father had stopped by. "What is all this, lass?"

She smiled. "Getting in touch with my roots."

"Ah, not ready to talk about it yet?"

She hugged him around his trim waist. He knew her so well. "Not yet, Dad. Maybe when you get back from your honeymoon."

"Precious daughter, are ye sure ye will okay?" He frowned and stroked her hair.

"Dad, I will be okay once I know you and Mary are wed and enjoying marital bliss. She's perfect for you."

"Aye, she is. We knew at once."

"Ah—is Mary a Druid?"

"No, not Druid, but m'mate all the same. Ye should know, Mary is... well... she's a white magic witch and understands our ways."

" _I knew it!_ " Rave said, for she had sensed something when she met Mary.

He laughed. "Aye, I saw the moment it occurred to ye, and so did she." He patted her shoulder. "We'll be leaving for the airport before ye wake up, so I'll be kissing ye good-bye for now."

She hugged him again. "Be happy, Dad."

She had watched him leave the room and then returned to her reading, but she had not found anything revealing. She hadn't told her father what was going on because he would have shut Arthur down, no doubt about it, and she was in too deep to back out now.

She went into the artifact vault and stood there, her arms folded across her midriff as she studied each piece.

It was then she realized that she did indeed feel something coming from the Fae artifacts, but this time, it was so much stronger—so strong it could not be explained away with rationalization.

At first it was a tingle that started in her spine, but then it sped like a rocket to her neck and lit a fire behind her eyes that was almost uncomfortable.

She was drawn to the Relics, and when she touched each one she felt warm. She said out loud, "Okay, I suppose you feel the Druid in me?"

One artifact in particular, the Syrinx (an early creation of panpipes made of reeds), actually hummed a response. She touched the rudimentary instrument. It was harder than she imagined it would be. She knew the ancient tale in which Pan, who though commonly considered part of Greek mythology had actually been a Fae, lay desolate because the nymph he adored did not reciprocate his feelings. To assuage his disappointment, he'd created the Syrinx.

It played for her now, and though it didn't speak, the tune translated into words in her mind, and she understood and knew what her next step would have to be.

Excited at this first clue and ready to take on her assignment but unable to do so, she had no choice but to head for her room to try and sleep.

She supposed it was inevitable that her sleep would be tortured by nightmares. She had put the incident in the woods down to imagination. Well, she'd tried to, and yet she had not quite convinced herself that was what it had been, and it had repeated itself grotesquely in her dreams.

She was up early, poured down some coffee, threw on her jacket, and pulled on her boots. She needed to get to Valdane and work out the puzzle the Syrinx had given her through music.

Nuts. She was nuts—honestly, that was what she was if she thought she could actually solve Quinn's problem. But the bottom line was that she had to try.

The question remained: how could she un-spell him, when Quinn, who was a powerful wizard, and Arthur, also a wizard, had not been able to break the spell after years of trying?

A cool breeze bit at her cheeks, and she hugged her open wool-lined denim around herself.

And then she stood still, very still, as a shiver traveled through her, and she knew that the shivering had nothing to do with the cold. A swift, frozen path swept up her spine. Something was in the forest with her, and that _something_ was laced with evil. She felt it permeate the air around her. She felt it dig into the ground.

_Okay_ , she told herself, _take stock_.

A part of her wanted to run. _Y_ _es, good idea—run_ , a voice yelled in her brain.

A part of her shouted, _Yup, that's right_ , _get_ _the hell out of Dodge and go home!_

Another part, a stronger part, made her grit her teeth and take a good look around as her mind and heart joined in as she whispered to whoever was out there, " _What?_ Looking for me?"

The sweet music of the birds had stopped.

The sound of the breeze through the branches full with spring buds? _G_ _one._

The scent in the air? _L_ _ike the smell of decay or old garbage._

All her wolf senses were on the alert.

She gave in to her wolf and sniffed the air. Then, without her consent, her wolf growled low before snapping at the breeze; it was a sharp warning on the still air and in her throat. If something meant to approach, she would be ready for them.

The sudden sensation that something was gathering made her pivot in place. What she saw made her gasp in spite of her bravado. A swirling, dark mist was picking up force, and slowly it seemed to grow tentacles as it converged on her.

_Dark Magic,_ her mind said, and she fought to remember what her grandmother had taught her not so very long ago.

Once when she had been in the woods with her grandmother when she was a teen, her grandmother had suddenly gone very still as she pulled Rave behind her.

A dark mist had formed, and Rave sensed the moment it came towards them that it meant them ill.

Her grandmother had said softly to her, " _Evil_. It is she who haunts me and means me harm _through you_ , but remember, your Light Magic—our Light Magic—is always stronger than Dark, anyone's Dark." She chanted old words from another time. And when the danger had been dispelled, her grandmother had made her memorize those words.

Later, when her nana had tucked her in at night she had asked, "What did you mean, Nana—why does evil haunt you?"

"We'll talk about that when you're older—when you come of age and accept what you are."

Well, she had come of age, but she had told her grandmother she didn't want to be a shapeshifter... so now, she was going into this blind.

It was a similar evil that she felt now, and it was all around—a wickedness that could not be mistaken—and sure enough, it had began to gather around her.

Her body quivered with this first real confrontation. She told herself she was ready.

She felt her eyes begin to change as her sight became focused. She was on the edge of her wolf, still maintaining her human form, but while on that edge she remembered and began chanting the spell her grandmother had taught her.

The darkness seemed to gather substance as it surrounded her. She felt it reach for her, but the clawed tentacles bounced off the invisible wall she had built around herself.

This evil was so like the one she had encountered with her nana.

This evil was also different—more complicated, more intense, and with one sole purpose. It was filled with fury.

The scent of a wolf was strong in the air, but something else caught her attention.

She peered with her wolf's eyes and her Druid senses and was able to see that _something_ moved within the dark mist. Wolf—yes, but without form.

She couldn't be sure, though. And then she saw its fangs, dripping with drool and blood as though it had just come from a fresh kill and was looking for more. But it was without substance. It was only an image in the dark mist.

She chanted furiously, loudly, and still it reached for her with its enormous claws. Just as the chant concluded, those claws tore through the mist at her. They were razor sharp, and they tried to connect with her flesh, using the power from its body—putting it all into that one swiping force.

Slam—whish!

And the evil was gone as though it had exploded into a myriad of dark dots, though not before it showed some of what it could do. It had managed to slice through the shield she had erected but not without injury to itself, and thus it had vanished. Still, its residual affect had left a mark.

Ravena's jacket sleeve was slashed, as was her arm, and blood poured out of her.

For a moment, she felt dizzy. She stepped back until she hit a tree and stopped to breathe in and breathe out. It was more than the deep gash in her arm. Its claws had been laced with something, a familiar herb, something she had encountered before, but she couldn't concentrate as the collision with this new dark force left her swooning.

_No!_ She would not pass out. She called on her wolf, and with a snarl her clothes were off and her cream-colored, huge beast was out

The blood curdled in her veins as she spun around, aware, oh so very aware that the entity was a force of black magic. She had felt its intent in the air. It wanted her dead.

She tried to get a fix on it. If she knew if it were male or female it would help her during the attack. Light Magic existed for each, but when she tried to probe, she was slammed with wicked Dark Magic, a magic that had no gender, only purpose: to torture, maim, tear apart, and kill. That was all she could get.

This was a killer, but there was something else.

And then, as she had been taught by her father, she quieted her brain and probed with her Druid senses.

The beast wasn't really there; it was not in corporeal form. That didn't diminish the damage it could do through its black magic, but it helped her decide how to defeat it.

No longer overwhelmed, she got angry.

Remembering what she was, she gained confidence. Her nose wrinkled as her eyes narrowed with her determination.

Quiet assurance swept through her as she gained bravado and as adrenalin rushed with exploding bubbles of power in her blood.

Her skills might be rusty, but they were enough to deal with this. _Okay, creepo. Come on, sheep dip, have at me_ , she said in her mind and grinned a grin she did not really feel. _Bluster is good_ , she told herself. Bluster... more bluster. This thing didn't know what she could do, but would it hear her wolf?

Rave was still bleeding but healing more with each passing moment. She could hear her grandmother's whisper in her ear, _Light Magic... white magic_ , and all at once she knew what to do. She began creating a web of white magic just as she felt the dark, mystical beast, for it was a creation of Dark Magic, powerful Dark Magic. It lunged at her through the dark fog.

She stood her ground, snarling and baring her canines as it struggled to free itself from her magical netting. She looked into its dark amber eyes, and then, just as swiftly as it had appeared, it was gone, like the proverbial puff of smoke.

What the hell? Just what the hell was that?

Her first thought was that she needed to keep one of her father's Fae weapons with her at all times—and she knew which one! Her second was that she needed to brush up on her skills.

The next thing she did was to settle into a lope. On all fours she headed the heck out of the woods and made her way to Valdane.

~ Eight ~

RAVE SHIFTED INTO human as she stepped out of the woods onto a narrow country road that separated Valdane lands from her father's estate, but even as she crossed the lane, an open dark green jeep headed towards her.

She stood her ground as the jeep slowed, and she recognized the driver with a trickle of misgiving.

"Good morning, Miss MacAllister..." His voice trailed off, and then solicitously he remarked, "Oh, what have you done to your sleeve?" He frowned and looked irritated at the sight of blood on the sleeve of her jacket.

She had already considered the fact that Andrew MacPoole might have been behind the attack she had just experienced in the woods. However, his concern seemed genuine and gave her room for doubt.

"Oh, this? I got caught on a ragged branch... it is the most nothing of a scratch," she said, blowing it off.

"Looks like a great deal of blood for a scratch," he said, scanning her face.

"It is nothing, honestly," she said and wondered how such a handsome, seemingly pleasant guy could be such a backstabbing creep. Had he been responsible for the attack? Was it his magic, warning her off Valdane?

A quick scan as she glanced at him showed her he was dressed for outdoors in a heavy parka and jeans. She picked up on his scent—wolf, but more, so much more. Had he attacked her? And if so, did that mean she really was the 'one' Arthur thought she was? And did that mean Andrew would be willing to kill anyone who got in his way?

"Well, love," he said with what seemed genuine concern. "You must be more... diligent when alone in the woods. I would not like it if anything were to happen to you."

"Ah, diligent, yes, I shall be on guard and more watchful in the future," she answered with a half smile. If he had been her attacker, well, she was letting him know, wasn't she, that next time she would be ready for him. She shouldn't give anything away. If the attack had come from him, she had to keep him guessing if she were going to stay on top of the situation.

He smiled, and with his sexy eyes he looked her up and down, then up again, and into her eyes. "You are a beautiful woman, Ravena MacAllister. I don't want you hurt because of, er, feuding families. It is always best to leave those matters to the families involved."

Okay—was that a threat or a warning? _It was something_. She felt his words vibrate in the air. She looked at the top of his windblown dark blonde hair, then down to his shoulders, over his chest, and back to his face with a smirk. "Oh, as to that, there is a fine line between family and friends—and I think I can take care of myself."

"You will have to take care of yourself if you get involved with Arthur and his crazy ideas," Andrew MacPoole returned with a hint of anger.

"Why concern yourself?"

"Oh, everything that goes on at Valdane concerns me, since I am the legal heir," he answered sharply.

"And are you?" Rave taunted, immediately asking herself, _Why, why are you drawing his fire? This isn't your fight._

His eyes narrowed. "Until anyone can show otherwise—and I don't think they can."

"I see," she said, starting away from him.

He leapt out of his jeep and towered over her, blocking her path. "Ravena, I don't want to see you hurt. Isn't it obvious that we—you and I—have a... connection?" He put his hands on her shoulders, and she was conscious of his animal magnetism.

Conscious of it, not drawn in by it. She had always been so laid back about hunky men that she wasn't fooled by the exterior of a man's cut. She felt something towards him and suddenly realized he was bouncing his own 'feelings' off her, trying to make her think they were her own.

Ha! He would soon learn that wouldn't work on her.

He said softly, "Let me take you to dinner. Let me take you dancing. Let me, Ravena. I can take you to the moon and back... allow me to do that, Ravena." His hazel eyes glinted into amber shades of heat. "Don't get involved in matters that will only get you hurt." His eyes spoke a warning.

She gave him a rueful expression. "You think that I would allow you to wine me and dine me when you are obviously trying to hurt a dear friend—someone I consider family?" She shook her head. " _I don't know you_ , and you certainly don't know me. If you did, you would know _that this_ —" She moved her finger between them. "—won't work."

"Oh, it _will_ work, Ravena. _You_ can feel it. You know it is meant," he said, his voice hard.

"Rave!" Arthur's voice called out from across the country road.

She walked away from Andrew without answering his remark or looking back as she put up her hand and waved to Arthur. "Stay there, Arthur—I'm coming!"

She wanted to keep Arthur as far away from MacPoole as she could and broke into a jog as Arthur still strode towards her, his eyes glaring in Andrew's direction. He put up his fist and shook it at Andrew. "Get off m'land, MacPoole."

"Open road," MacPoole answered, and she heard coldness in his tone.

"This is a private road, owned and maintained by Valdane! Now, off before I call the police and report ye for trespassing!"

A few moments later Arthur had her hand and hurriedly pulled her along, blabbering and mumbling about putting Andrew into the ground.

In the house, she slowed him down, and once in the library she removed her jacket and said sadly, "That was one of my favorites."

Arthur took out his wand, waved it over the jacket, and 'poof' it was as healed as though it had never been ripped.

"Oh, wow—what else can you do?" Rave remarked, and then she saw that the Quicksilver Mirror had been reinstated in the library. "Oh, wonderful! It's back."

"I had to put the mirror back in here for Quinn. I told him it was safer in the hidden chamber, but he would have none of it." He sighed and waved it off. "How were ye hurt, child? For no use telling me it was naught."

"Old magic, and definitely Dark Magic, but I think I did more damage to it than it did to me." She laughed.

"I'll have his head in the end for it—I swear, lass."

"That is just it, Arthur. Not sure it was Andrew," she said thoughtfully.

"Then who?"

"Never mind that now. Tell me, have you found anything? Because I found the Syrinx, and it played out a tune, and words formed in my mind. It's a clue."

"What is the clue?"

" _Angelic of face, evil of deed... untrue. Sly of eyes, evil of deed... so true_. It played a tune, and I heard those words in the song."

"Nothing else?"

"I'm afraid not. It's not much, but it's something."

"Well, I found something in m'grandda's journals."

Rave had a difficult time looking away from the mirror. She felt a magnetic pull, and for a moment all she wanted was to step through to Delmire and Quinn MacValdane. It was ludicrous, but it was how she felt. She forced herself to give Arthur the attention he called for.

As if from faraway she heard Arthur jabbering, and then he took her chin with one hand and pointed to the journal with the other. "I came across this passage." His voice was filled with excitement. "And have been trying to decipher its meaning. As they say, Rave, two heads are better than one. Take a look and tell me what ye think."

In the heights unseen by human eye—

Faithfully knows the lie

Ancient is its power

Subtle in the hour

When need outweighs wisdom

And the dark obliterates the sun

There is one... there is one...

"What do ye think, lass?" Arthur asked hopefully.

She scrunched up her face and shook her head. "I hate riddles. I'm never any good at them. It's bad enough the Syrinx gave us a riddle—now this." She sighed heavily. "Okay, apparently there's something in your attic."

He regarded her with an openly stunned countenance. " _Brilliant!_ What else?"

" _Ancient_ , powerful—okay, no riddle there, but _subtle in the hour_? What is that?" She shook her head. "Let's go up to your attic and have a look-see. Maybe it will be clearer then."

"M'attic, meaning the tower? It has been locked for years."

"Do you have the key?" Rave asked.

He jumped with excitement. "I do, lass. I do." With that he pulled out his wand. "The key!" So saying, he laughed heartily.

He said there was something else he needed to fetch, so she walked over to the mirror. She looked in and saw him with his leather-clad legs apart, his fists against the mirror, his head leaning towards her, gazing now into her eyes—Quinn.

Was that her heart? Something suddenly whipped up her heartbeat.

Was she having a heart attack? It was beating and pounding in her chest, and she couldn't breathe. Something was going on outside her control.

The air was wrenched right out of her lungs. A flash of light blotted out everything except Quinn, standing there, looking at her.

Her eyelids felt lazy; her body felt willing.

_Willing?_ Willing for what? _No, no_ _, Ravena_ , she told herself.

And even with that saner, wiser voice in her head, all she could do was lick her lips and admire him. He was absolutely the hottest, most handsome man she had ever seen in her life, yes, but something else, something like an aura pulsated off his body and infiltrated her own.

His blue eyes were full with warm glitter, and his voice seeped into her head as he said, "Good morn to ye, sweet lass."

He said _good morning_ —nothing in that to pant over, just _good morning_. Yes, and with that Old-World Scottish accent that wound its way through her system and whispered, _Come here, Ravena... come into m'arms_.

_That isn't what he said_ , she told herself, and yet, somewhere in her mind she heard the words.

"Good morning, Quinn," she managed to say, but the words came out squeaky, and she felt a fool.

A movement behind him caught her attention, and she saw the flash of blue-streaked white hair. _Ah_ , she thought. _Cariel is with him._

She felt a pang of something she did not want to explore. He had said he was not involved with Cariel, but her latest experience had showed her that men (even those you were sure of) and best friends (even those with whom you had shared years) _lied_.

_Lust made even a best friend a liar_ —a betrayer.

She had explored this so many times in her mind. Todd had been easily dealt with—he was just a player. She should have realized that; her mother had tried to tell her. He was nothing, but _Meg_. The betrayal by Meg, her dearest friend, had been so much worse to handle. Meg was a loss for her.

Meg had known—had known she was planning to go to Todd's that night.

Meg had gone over first so that Rave would walk in on them.

Rave had reversed the situation in her mind. Would she have done the same? The answer was always _never_.

Not even for love, not behind her friend's back, not without telling her friend how she felt and dealing with it openly and honestly.

"Got it!" Arthur called at her back, breaking into her thoughts.

She turned away from Quinn, although it was the last thing she wanted to do. She heard her wolf whimper and inwardly hushed it.

He was holding a silk scarf with the colors of his clan—green, black, and purple—and he said, "Yes, we'll do it right, with the Valdane colors in hand."

"Good. Okay."

"Aye, ye already be proving it—ye be the one. There be no other, just ye."

"Shit," was her comment on the matter as she followed him down a long corridor.

"Aye, we have load of it to work through," agreed Arthur.

With that she burst into uncontrolled mirth, with Arthur joining in, bending over his waist and holding his knees. After some moments, her laughter and his died down, and she shook her head. "Right, then. Let's go shovel it out of the way and see what's left."

* * *

Quinn turned away from the mirror, his fists clenched at his side. He was nearly sick with frustration. _Fire and brimstone!_

What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn't remember ever feeling this way, certainly not because of one woman.

When she'd walked into the library and he saw her, it was as though the world had stopped and everything around her froze in time. There was only her, with her cornsilk hair and those silver, speaking eyes.

_Ravena_. He said her name in his mind, and it curled its way around his senses.

She was there, finally, with that body that was made for a man— _no, och, no, no other man_ , only him, made for _him_ —to caress, and work, and lick, and—

Damn, he was losing his mind.

He waited patiently, expecting her to say the words and come to him in Delmire. He called her, he willed her to come to him, but instead she merely greeted him, turned away, and went off with Arthur.

Damn the spell. Damn the artifacts. Damn everything. If he could but keep her with him...

He felt like punching the tree he stood beside, but he controlled himself, and then he saw Cariel. She hung back, watching him, twirling her hair with her finger.

"What's wrong, Quinn?" she asked, and her cat-like eyes were narrowed as she studied him.

"Naught. Go on home, Cariel. This is no place for ye."

"Why not?"

"Because _I am not_ for ye, child!" he snapped, all out of patience. Perhaps he needed to be a touch cruel to destroy the crush she had on him.

She blushed and pivoted, obviously highly insulted as she shifted into leopard and leaped gracefully into the woods.

He grimaced. Had his lass seen Cariel? His lass? Ravena wasn't his. He couldn't think of her that way—should not think of the lass like that simply because his wolf needed her. She was a free agent. The bloody problem, however, was he did think of her as his. And he was nearly certain _her wolf_ felt the same about him.

Why the devil had she gone off with Arthur? What was so important? Why hadn't they taken the time to tell him what was towards?

He had seen something in her eyes just before she turned away from him—something that changed the flame in the iris to a cool, dark fire. Had she been jealous of Cariel? Oddly enough, the notion made him grin, and some of his frustration abated. If she was jealous, then she was not indifferent to him.

His wolf was driving him mad. He had been up nearly all night, tossing and turning and listening to his wolf whimper like a pup.

First there had been Lassiter The demon had led him a hard chase and then vanished. He must have a new lair.

Finally, he had returned to the palace, bathed, and then sprawled naked across the width of his large bed. All he could think of was Ravena MacAllister and what he wanted to do to her, with her... damn... and sleep eluded him.

He envisioned himself reaching for her, taking a handful of hair, and bending her to his kiss. He imagined pulling her into his arms, pressing his hard-on against her body, and whispering words he had never said to a woman before.

He thought of what it would be like to strip off her clothes. He imagined her full breasts and her hard, perfect nipples...

He could almost feel them in his hands, taste them on his tongue... _Damn!_

And then she stood like a goddess—a beauty like no other—in his home, beside Arthur, and all he wanted to do was smash the mirror and get to her.

He was usually in more control.

His wolf took over, and he shifted onto his four webbed paws and raised his head. A long, mournful howl hit the breeze and was taken by the vibrations of the atmosphere deep into Delmire. His wolf called to his mate.

An irritated and ferocious growl worked its way up his throat, and he found himself pacing on all fours in a circle near the mirror, waiting for her to reappear.

Suddenly the scent of a female caught his attention, and he put his head up to the wind and sniffed.

He shifted into human. _Arlie._

* * *

Rave heard an unmistakable sound in her mind and snapped to attention. She had to listen—her wolf was rigid with need and began a series of noises she had never heard her make before.

Her wolf had heard Quinn's wolf. And then, before Ravena could stop it, her alpha returned the call. Long and baleful, her wolf howled deep inside her.

_What the heck was going on_? This was all new to Rave. Never before had her wolf behaved like this, not ever quite like this.

She tried to ignore the pining going on inside her and turned to Arthur, for he was mumbling the words of the riddle over and over. Of course, he had no idea what was taking place inside her. It was so loud in her head she had thought he must have heard something, but no.

She tried concentrating on the riddle and finally threw her hands up in exasperation. "Your grandfather sure didn't make this easy. If he wanted someone to figure out the riddle, he should have made it clearer!"

Arthur pulled a face but said nothing.

She repeated a line out loud, " _In the heights_. I am going to gamble that it is here, tower, heights—what else could it mean? Whatever he wanted us to find has to be here in the tower."

"Aye, but where, lass?" Arthur shook his head.

Rave said the words again. " _In_ _the heights unseen by human eye_. Okay, not seen by human eye but perhaps by the eye of a wizard?"

He stopped and looked at her. "Of course! A wizard's spell to make it visible." Arthur closed his eyes briefly and then said, " _Ne follaghtym_."

"Ancient Gaelic. You asked for the concealment to be broken," Rave said excitedly. "I know that spell—Dad taught it to me when I was still a kid. I should have thought of it."

They waited, but nothing was revealed.

Rave sighed as Arthur ran a hand through his hair and grumbled unintelligible things. She moved on to the next part of the riddle. " _Faithfully knows the lie_. Okay, so there is a lie in the first line. What lie? _Ancient is its power—Subtle in the hour_. Okay, that means it is a Fae artifact that is not quite recognizable as such... and it will help us at the right moment." She shrugged. "Fine, but it can't help us if we can't find it."

And then Arthur recited, " _When need outweighs wisdom / And the dark obliterates the sun / There is one... there is one..._ "

"Arthur, it isn't here. The Fae Relic we need must be in the tower in Delmire. Your grandfather figured it out. The relic is in Delmire! _In the heights unseen by human eye_ must mean in Delmire."

"Aye, aye! He wrote this last page on the day he died, and I know why he didn't chance revealing it. He knew none of us could help Quinn save yerself. He knew ye would come."

Rave ignored this and said thoughtfully, "But where in Delmire?"

Arthur regarded her with sharp interest.

"What if it's in the tower of the castle the Fae left behind in Delmire? What if it has been underfoot all this time?" Rave suggested.

He took her shoulders. "Lord love ye, lass!" He started out of the circular room towards the stairs. "Come on then—don't dawdle. Ye have to go into Delmire!"

* * *

He turned slowly and saw her. She was in blue demon form and had not bothered to shapeshift into human. In all forms, Arlie was lovely, made so as much by her smile as her exotic appearance.

He returned her smile, in spite of the fact that he was in no mood to see, talk, or be with anyone other than Ravena MacAllister.

"Sweet Quinn," Arlie said as she stepped towards him. "I need you to listen to me today. Will you?"

"Arlie... I..." How could he turn her away? And he needed to turn her away. He needed to work out his problem alone, but he had no wish to hurt her.

She smiled and reached up to stroke his face. "I know where Lassiter went last night. I know what he did to... prevent himself from..." She stamped her foot. "Quinn, are you listening?"

"No, I am not listening. I doona listen when ye talk of Lassiter. Fie on ye, Arlie! Why would ye care about a monster?"

"I don't care about a monster, but I am not so thick-headed, as you are, that I can't look for other means to end this, this violence."

"And how would I be doing that?" he said impatiently.

"Before you leave Delmire, will you not help Lassiter the demon?"

"Arlie, have you gone mad?"

"He is here because of you, and he was cursed and bound by the same curse that bound you. He cannot help but do what he does. Have you not realized that yet?"

"I will not speak of this with ye. He killed a child just the other night."

"You don't know that it was him, and I have my doubts," Arlie said softly.

"Who else would do such a thing?" he scoffed.

"As I said, we shouldn't draw conclusions but investigate. I cannot believe it was him. I have been watching him for the last few years, and I know that he only kills when he must, and then it is always only aged animals. In all these years he has never killed a woman or a child—why would he suddenly do such a thing?"

"He kills. Who cares why? The wee thing probably got in his way. He has to be destroyed. That is my solemn promise to ye. It is my fault that MacPoole trapped him in here, and I shall not leave him here when I finally gain m'freedom. Though freedom be given to me tomorrow, I shall still work to remove him from yer Realm and send him to the hell where he belongs!"

She touched his chest. "I must make you see... what I see when I look at Lassiter."

"Why, Arlie? Why all this interest in Lassiter?"

"I have talked with him, and I see what you do not. I have helped on occasion ease his suffering when he was determined not to kill anything—not even an animal." She put her arms around Quinn and touched his face, turning it to hers, pulling him down towards her. "A favor for an old friend, Quinn."

"I doona know if I can."

"Will you try?"

"Mayhap... I will... if I can."

She laughed and said, "One kiss, then to seal our deal." She got to her tippy toes, as he did not bend towards her. She used his strong neck to lift herself high enough to brush her lips on his.

~ Nine ~

RAVENA STARTED TOWARDS the tall mirror, hesitated, and turned to see Arthur fussing with a book and mumbling incoherent words—something about trying to remember something he had read once.

She turned back to the mirror and saw Quinn standing in deep conversation with a female whose blue beauty was absolutely exotically stunning. Her hair was dark, her eyes darker, and her clothes, of brown leather, scant. Rave watched the female put her arms around his neck, and she saw him hold her in place by her bare waist as the halter hiked up.

Ravena's wolf growled low and threateningly in her throat, and before she knew what she was doing, _she was wolf,_ chanting the words in her head and diving through the mirror!

The blue female jumped away from Quinn, and he stood in front of her as wolf Ravena hunched down on her forepaws, her neck low, her agitation clear, and her eyes glowing yellow fire. Inside herself Rave demanded her wolf retreat. Inside herself Rave worked to regain control. _It wasn't happening_.

Evidently the blue beauty wasn't waiting for the wolf to spring. She smiled back at Quinn as she broke into a jog, saying over her shoulder, "Sweet Quinn, you have met your match."

Quinn blinked as he watched her go before he turned to stand with his legs apart and his arms folded across his chest. His eyes were filled with warmth, and his lips curved into a smile.

He spoke quietly and yet authoritatively. "Ravena... coom to me, lass, _Ravena_."

His voice worked like a balm on her wolf, and all at once she was in control again. She hurriedly reverted to human, blinked her clothes on in one fluid movement, and stepped, instead of towards him like he had asked, away from him.

Even as she moved out of his reach, she found herself unable to look away and felt the accusation in her eyes. She looked into his blue glitter and gritted her teeth.

He shook his head, and his blue eyes held her locked to him—and that sensation made her shiver. Rave tried to speak, but it came out as a stammer. "I... I am so... sorry. I don't know what came over me... _my wolf_... she has been behaving so... I... she... seems to have a mind of her own these days." She knew she had no real reason to be angry. He wasn't hers to be jealous about, and yet, she was, was so completely jealous.

He was on her in a flash. She could feel his wolf, sensed its need for release as he wrapped his arms around her body. He held her against him and held her in place with his powerful embrace.

She wasn't sure she wanted to be released, yet she struggled for a very short moment. She had a flash of sensation, as though in his arms was exactly where she was meant to be.

She liked being wrapped up in his arms. No, she loved being in his arms. But he had just been kissing a blue beauty! And although he didn't owe her an explanation, she couldn't be involved with a player.

"You can't do this. I won't be one of your... interests," she said softly.

"Ye be m'only interest—and what a clever way of putting it, lass," he said while bending her for his kiss.

She told herself she couldn't stop him; he was so strong, so... But she knew better. It was herself she couldn't stop. She could have had she really wanted to. He wasn't forcing her. He was so gentle, so...

Oh, but she wanted his kiss, and when his lips met hers, the sparks that flew through her body to her heart threatened to dissolve anything she had ever been and make her new and whole and better, so much better. This felt so completely meant, so right.

His embrace took them to a magical arena where nothing else existed, only them and this moment together. His lips nibbled and traveled over her lips with such gentle power that all she wanted was for him to close the deal...

And he did—he prodded her lips apart and drove his tongue deep inside. His body against hers drove her instincts, and she met his thrust with one of her own. It was bold and yearning and—damn, but rockets went off in her head, banishing any objection her rational self tried to make.

Instinct took over where logic had vanished. Her wolf drove her forward, reveling in his touch and the prospect of joining with his alpha. No other reason for being came to mind—only their union, their bonding, and the fire consuming all other emotions and burning them down into one emotion, one tenor, one need.

Only the moment existed.

A voice inside Rave's head kept trying to be heard. It was a powerful voice. It was the person she had always been and was so difficult to discard. It was her human, rational self, and it demanded she consider the consequences.

Consequences? What were they? She only felt what she felt, needed what she—oh damn, but his hands were fully charged with sensation.

_He was just kissing another woman, an exotic beauty in blue. You saw with your own eyes! He says you're the only one—words, just words. What were his actions? He was kissing someone else only a moment or so ago. Think, Rave. Think!_ But thinking was not what she wanted to do. She tried to block out the voice, but then it said, _He will use you and walk away, and you will be left emptier than you are now. Think!_ He will leave _, Rave._

It was cold water in her face.

It was bad memories of a betrayal too recent to have been totally forgotten.

She yanked hard and pulled out of his arms, and her fists went to her hips.

"Do not ever try that again!" she snapped.

His look and then his words in her mind said, _But, lass, ye wanted it as much as I_.

She answered him out loud, "No, I didn't—at least, _I_ didn't, and my wolf is confused." She spoke with a shake of her head, refusing to answer through the mind link, a thing she knew would be beyond seductive if she did.

"Not _ever_?" He now spoke out loud and looked so damn hot she found it difficult not to throw her arms around him and tell her logical voice to get out of town. However, she managed to wag a finger at him and evaded the question with a bit of a shrill sound. "You were just kissing another woman—just now. _I saw you!_ "

" _No_ , lass, _she_ was kissing _me_."

"Oh, games—is that who you are? Word games are so... so stupid! It is so stupid to think I would fall for that nonsense!" she raged.

"' _Tis no_ game, lass. Arlie and I were... once involved, yes, but that has been over since before there was ye, and the kiss was naught but friendship. And I tell ye plainly _, she_ kissed me, but m'arms did not participate, m'tongue... did not join with hers, m'heart wasn't in it."

"Oh... oh... oh..." She couldn't find the words to tell him she didn't believe him. She could still hear Todd as he shouted after her when she had run away from the scene she had stumbled upon. _It isn't what you think_ was what Todd had shouted. Well, Todd banging into her best friend certainly wasn't what she'd expected, _but it was what she saw_. And now, here was another man telling her in just so many words—different words, same thought pattern—it wasn't what _she thought_.

_Yeah, right_ , she thought to herself and folded her arms across her middle.

He took a step towards her, and she flung out her arm, her hand going against his bare chest. The meeting of her flesh against his sent sparks of desire through her body—sparks she wanted to ignore, delicious and thrilling, and she needed to deny them.

"I... I am here for one reason only, and you will respect my space," she said as she decided to strike up a deal.

"I'll always respect ye, love... always—"

" _My space!_ " she repeated. "That is the only way I will stay here and work with you."

"Where did ye go before... with Arthur?" he asked, ignoring her request.

She decided to let the other matter dwindle away for the moment and said, " _That_ is _why_ I am here." So stating, she hurriedly repeated the riddle and what she and Arthur had figured out while in the MacValdane tower.

"And ye think that what ye need is in the tower of the Fae Palace, here in Delmire?" he asked thoughtfully.

"I do," she said, trying not to look into those mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Then coom, lass, but it won't be easy."

"Nothing ever is," she said and looked away momentarily as she put her thoughts in order.

"The thing is, the Fae built a palace with many turrets and towers, and many mansions surrounding it, all abandoned and empty, but... well, ye will see."

She eyed him for a moment and then said, "Here is the crux of the matter. There is a part of the riddle that reads, _And the dark obliterates the sun / There is one... there is one..._ " She sighed. "I think that means we won't be able to detect the particular artifact we need until nightfall."

"And according to the riddle, ye be the one," he said on a low, husky note.

She didn't see the double meaning of his words but only that she was at the heart of this thing, and she pulled a face. "For the time being, it looks that way, but some things, I suppose, we are just going to have to play by ear."

"Aye, but, lass, remember ye shouldn't believe anything ye hear, and only _a bit of_ what _ye see_."

"Well, I think that old saying needs some sprucing up, ' _cuz_ if I hear a train coming at me, and I look up _and see_ the damn thing, I'm _gonna believe_." So saying, she started off down the trail they had taken the day before. She hadn't gotten far when she realized he was not behind her. She turned and gestured with her hands. "Well?"

"Begging yer pardon, lass, but it is _this way_ ," he said with an inclination of his handsome head and a dramatic wave of his hand, "to m'palace."

She eyed him suspiciously, but as he was already moving out, she followed. Inside her head she heard, _Trouble. He is trouble_.

* * *

Andrew MacPoole stood naked, his dick throbbing and at full attention. Leaning back into him was a pretty blonde, also naked.

They stood at one of the tall windows overlooking his land. At their backs was his huge bed, but he wanted her standing. He wanted to bend her over and hold her by her hair as he looked out on MacPoole land.

It was his, all his—the pristine gardens, the manicured lawns—but he was willing to give it all up to get to Lyken.

He was royalty, and he meant to claim his place there. The blonde pushed against his cock, and he bent her over, put her palms on the sill of his window, and rammed into her. "Is that what you want?" he asked in a low, hoarse voice.

He needed relief, and he continued to ram her while his fingers worked her breasts, fondling and playing and imagining another blonde, one he meant to take for his mate.

He had chosen this one out of a line-up at the escort service he frequented from time to time—simply for convenience—this time because he wanted a woman who looked like Ravena MacAllister.

When he closed his eyes, it was easy to imagine it was Ravena in his bedroom, naked from the top of her beautiful yellow hair down to her painted toenails.

It was easy to imagine that the full breasts he fondled were Ravena's, to imagine it was she he drove himself into with a sexual frenzy that was sure to please her. He always pleased the women he took to bed.

He pulled out, turned her around, and bent his head low to suckle at her full, pert nipples. She arched for him, and he said softly, " _Ravena_."

"If you like," she answered.

He stopped and stood away from her, his dick dripping, his need suddenly on hold. He frowned at her because she had broken through his imagination. He didn't want reality. He wanted Ravena, and she wasn't—not by a long stretch.

For one thing, her voice was all wrong, but he would make it work. He had to. He needed relief. "Yes... for the time you are here—and it will be for quite awhile—you are Ravena." He took her hand and led her to his king sized bed.

He had been hot from the moment he had met Ravena, and it wasn't just a physical need that drove him. Inside, his wolf keened for her, wanted her, demanded her, was howling now, dissatisfied with his choice, commanding him to bring his true mate to him. He didn't understand this; he was sure only another alpha female from his native Realm, Lyken, could be his true mate, and yet his wolf had decided otherwise. He had known his wolf would object to any but Ravena, but his human needed this because his hard-on wouldn't subside and was near the point of becoming painful.

He told himself to get one quick fuck out of the way, and then perhaps his discomfort could be alleviated. He laid her on her back and stared at her for a moment; her creamy skin against his dark gray silk sheets looked lovely, so lovely.

He rarely got rough during sex. He liked females, really liked them. They were intriguing and soft, capable and smart, and he honestly had no wish to ever hurt any. He would if he absolutely had to do so—but that was something else. Thus far, he hadn't had to.

His need, however, made his kisses rough, and his hands groped wildly as he played with her nipples and then grabbed her between her thighs and pulled up hard.

She didn't seem to mind and confirmed this as she reached for his cock, stroked it, and said, "Come on then, honey... give it to me... and then we'll play some games..."

That was all he needed to send him over the edge.

He positioned himself and slammed into her once more, pounding his shaft hard and fast, and he repeated her name, "Ravena... my Ravena... this is what you need... this is what _we_ need..."

"Yes, oh yes," the blonde answered. "Oh honey... you're good—oh, oh yes. Oh... oh... honey... yes..." she added as she matched his thrusts.

_He wanted her to shut up_.

He wanted to imagine it was Ravena, and he put a hand over her mouth for a moment. He didn't want any more of her kisses anyway—he just wanted to ride her.

He was so damn bloody hot he nearly shifted into were, and it took some effort to control his wolf. He was driven into a frenzy by thoughts of Ravena, and just as he shot off his seed, he groaned, " _Mine..._ "

"Oh, honey, if you like—"

"Shut up," he said softly. "Don't speak. Your voice... so different. Let me just think of her." He was already hard once more. "Here," he said going onto his knees, "keep your mouth busy with this."

Andrew MacPoole closed his eyes as she started licking off his wet and sticky shaft, and he thought the next time he needed relief, it was going to be with her... with _Ravena MacAllister_.

He was sure she was attracted to him. He had felt a spark ignite between them. He believed she fought it because of her friendship with Arthur. Well, very soon, he would finish Arthur MacValdane off and have everything he needed, including Ravena.

For now, he was going to relieve himself with the pretty tart in his bed, and when he was done, he would be ready to make Ravena his own and feast on her in ways that would bind her to him forever. Oh yes, he had Dark Magic planned for Ravena...

~ Ten ~

IT WASN'T AS long a hike to Delmire Palace as Rave thought, and as they drew closer, she stopped to stare in some awe.

The main castle building was larger than any she had ever seen in all the UK. It was as though they were approaching a city, and she released a low whistle before remarking, "This is amazing."

"Aye, the Fae created the palace as a place of pleasure. There are many, er, comforts within its walls. Somehow they spelled it to maintain itself, and so it does." He shrugged. "I know at times humans have regarded the Fae as gods, and in a manner of speaking, so they were."

"So what—they used this place as a retreat?"

"Yes, my research led me to believe that, but who really knows?"

She stared up and said, "So many towers."

"Precisely," he agreed. "Searching all of them will prove daunting."

She laughed. "Daunting, eh? Nah, we can do it." She stared up at the many tiered, shapely structures and saw that they were still, after thousands of years, creamy and pristine. The landscaping was textured, trimmed, and overflowing with flower and rose beds. It certainly was breathtaking.

"How can it possibly maintain itself just by magic?"

"It just does. Fae magic sometimes is confused with Fae science. They are actually incredible scientists and are able to construct and produce what looks like magic to us." He grinned and shook his head. "All I know is the lawns never need cutting, the hot water pipes keep working, the fruit orchards produce, as do the vegetables, and the chickens lay eggs. No meat though, unless I hunt for venison."

Everywhere were exotic blooms, fountains, and manicured lawns. She even saw topiary shrubbery and a hedge maze set invitingly with exquisite garden furniture. Ivy grew neatly on many of the smaller buildings they passed as they walked through the palace grounds until they stood before a set of huge double oak doors.

A soft female voice said, "Welcome home, wizard," and the doors opened wide.

Rave rolled her eyes. "Your housekeeper?"

He laughed. "No. I have always supposed the voice is female because I am a male, but that is all it is—a voice at the entrance, nothing more."

"Weird. Does it know I am here?"

"Yes, welcome, lovely Druid," a deep male voice responded.

Shaking her head, she walked in and stepped onto the wide marble flooring of a central hall that was larger than even the huge central hall of her father's castle.

"What stops the monster from getting in here?"

"Lassiter?" He shrugged. "I found out early on that all of the palace grounds are warded against attack of any kind. No violence can be committed on Fae grounds. However, I took that a step further and used their ward to increase the power of my own warding ability. Lassiter cannot enter anywhere near Fae grounds."

"What is Lassiter exactly?"

"Andrew dug him out of a Demon Realm and thrust him into this Realm shortly after he trapped me here." He shrugged. "Who can understand what Andrew had in mind?"

"And you can't destroy this Lassiter?"

"I have killed him over and over again, but his curse, and mine, is that he is reborn every night, does his worst, and then crawls into some hidden dark hole."

"Oh my God—but how awful," she said, frowning. "And it doesn't seem fair."

"Doona feel sorry for him," Quinn said sharply. "He is naught but pure evil."

"Then we need to find a way to put him to rest, once and for all—and sometimes you have to look at a situation from a different point of view."

"And what point of view would that be?" he quizzed her, one dark eyebrow arched.

" _Mine_ , from my point of view," she said and gave him a smirk.

He moved close to her, so close that she felt her body break out—throwing off its lid as she exploded out of its encasement. Her eyelids fluttered, and in spite of her resolve to keep him at bay, she didn't move away from him.

"I'd like to explore... yer point of view, lass." His voice was so damn seductive and worked to heighten her senses.

" _You_..." _Get control, Ravena,_ she told herself. "You... need to put a shirt on!" she said, stepping back.

He regarded her for a moment and then burst out laughing. When he was done he shook his head and said, "Aye, then, which tower would ye like to start with? We have thirteen of them."

"Thirteen?" she returned with surprise. "Thirteen... it can't be a coincidence. It has to mean something."

"Like what?"

"Well, thirteen has always been a meaningful number in magic and such, so... I don't know—must mean something. Are they actually numbered?"

"Aye, they are," he said thoughtfully.

"Have you never wondered why?"

"Many times." He shrugged. "But I gave it up as it didn't seem to have any bearing on m'situation."

"Right you are, and maybe that wasn't the original intent, but Fae Relics evolve over time, and now... now, Quinn MacValdane, we shall start with _numero uno_." She waved him forward. "Lead the way."

"Och, lass, _I intend to_ ," he said, a gleam in his blue eyes.

* * *

Since it had stopped drizzling, Arthur shrugged into his heavy jacket, took up his walking stick, and threw a scarf around his neck, tucking part of it into his lined blazer before opening his front door. He stood for a moment and gazed out on Valdane land with a soft smile. "I miss ye, m'dear," he said, speaking to his wife, Beth. "But I canna coom to ye till Quinn is safely installed. I know ye know that—but lord knows if I could I would... I miss ye."

He made his way down his driveway, admiring his manicured lawns before he headed for the path that took him past his stables and horse paddocks. He had been an avid horseman most of his life but not of late. He used to ride out with his Beth; when she passed... he'd lost interest.

His head groom with the aid of an assistant maintained his stables and horses, of which there were still three. They spent their days grazing on the lush grass in their pastures, retired, as he was.

He loved to watch them in the field and sighed as memories curled around his heart. If Andrew got his hands on MacValdane, there would be no horses, no dogs, no animals of any kind.

For some reason, animals didn't like Andrew, and he couldn't tolerate them to be near. In the past, Arthur had witnessed his dogs shy away and snap at the air when they happened to be in the same room with Andrew. Och, no, but Arthur couldn't bear the thought of Andrew taking Valdane.

Arthur thought of Quinn and Ravena. That was a match. He had seen it at once. They were fated for one another. Now, she had to find a way; this had to work. He needed Quinn released and in place at Valdane. He wasn't really worried on that score; he was in good health, so he was sure Rave would find the answer in time. He was sure she was the 'one'.

An unexpected, unfamiliar sound from the far side of the woods caught his attention, and he looked into the pine forest with a frown. Something evil stalked. He could feel its unnatural aura. A swirl of sinister energy, a cloud of Dark Magic, hovered by the edge of the piney woods.

Andrew up to his old tricks, perhaps? It wouldn't be the first time. However, it occurred to Arthur that while his health was certainly intact, he wouldn't put it past Andrew to try and cause him an 'accident' of some sort.

His eyes narrowed as he began to chant a protective spell and took a few steps towards the forest. He silently refused to be cowed on his own property.

One of his two chestnut geldings lifted its head and snorted in the direction of the pines before it took off in a canter towards the barn.

The other two horses followed suit, and Arthur felt convinced that Andrew was definitely up to something more than a prank. He should confront it. He should, but if anything happened to him all would be lost—and he owed it to Quinn to maintain Valdane for him until he found a way to release him.

He wasn't a coward, but he was wise enough to know when to retreat to safety, and so he did just that, turning for his home. He had his home and some of his immediate acres warded against black magic, but he had not bothered to ward his vast stretch of woods in recent years. Clearly an error on his part. Andrew's proficiency in the art of Dark Magic was strong, and he couldn't withstand it alone at his age.

A voice whispered in his ear, " _Old man_... are you afraid, old man?"

"Of _one_ thing only," Arthur answered.

"You are afraid _of me_ —admit it," said the disembodied voice.

"No, never afraid of ye, only of meself. I am afraid that I won't always have the wisdom to be patient enough and wait for Quinn to arrive and send ye to the hell ye deserve!"

A laugh, horrible to his ears, filled the atmosphere before the hoarse whisper returned, " _Quinn is a lost cause._ "

"We shall see," said Arthur as he reached the steps of the castle and shook his walking stick. "We shall see, ye black-hearted devil... we shall see."

~ Eleven ~

THEY WERE AT tower number three, as one and two had been thoroughly searched and found totally empty. Rave looked out the window adjacent to the circular steps. "It's getting dark."

"Aye," said Quinn, coming up behind her. "Are ye tired, lass... _hungry_?"

The sound of his voice at her ear, the way he said the word _hungry_ , made her knees weak, made her will weaker, made her turn partially towards him.

His hand held her midriff as she turned; his other hand held her back. "We could stop and have... a bite to eat... before we tackle another tower," he suggested.

"Well, we are nearly there... let's do this... and then... yes, _food_ would be really nice." She started up the stairs and felt a fool when she tripped over herself and nearly went down.

He had her firmly supported, and she felt his arm brush up against her breasts. She made the mistake of turning her face up to thank him and found she couldn't breathe, let alone speak.

"Are ye all right then, lass?" he asked, his own voice a tremor of huskiness.

"All right? Yes... just clumsy," she managed as he held her steady against him. And, oh damn, hot damn, what was that pressed up against her rump? Him... oh my, he was hard. He was right up against her, and she could feel him _through her jeans_ — _hell,_ she could feel him through his leathers! She hurried forward and up the stone steps, running her hand against the stone wall for support until she reached the top and an undersized door. Sure enough, the number three was in brass on the door.

Something swirled around her body, as though a thread of leftover magic had left its mark within, and she hesitated.

"What is it, lass?" Quinn asked. His hands were on her shoulders, ready, she knew, to protect. There was something comforting about it, something more than the sensuality of his touch. She realized that when she was with him, _she felt safe_.

"Nothing... just... it is as though a Fae left behind... a whiff of magic."

"Aye, no doubt about it," he said. "Aye, I feel it as well, but it is no sinister, naught to worry about."

His voice trailed off as he opened the door, for when it swung open a male voice whispered in an intoxicating and ancient accent, "Welcome."

Inside and dominating the circular chamber was a huge bed enswathed in black silks and ornamented with blue velvet pillows strewn about in careful disarray. No one was there, but magic hummed in the air as soft music began to play, and suddenly she saw the Fae Royal's image in holograph form. From the way Quinn tensed and drew in a sharp breath, Quinn must have seen him as well.

The image was of a huge warrior prince with dark blonde hair, tied at the nape of his neck. He was shamelessly naked—even proudly naked—as was the beautiful Fae female he waltzed about the room.

And then the image was gone.

"Er... what the heck?" Rave looked up and into Quinn's blue eyes.

He grinned. "Did ye see that, lass?" He shook his head. "Do ye know why ye saw it? Because we are linked, and ye saw what I saw in a vision."

She pulled a face at him but didn't want to think about the implications of what he had just told her. "So what—you get visions of the past?"

"Aye, when magic is strong, as it is here. Och, but a great deal of magic of various kinds went on here." He grinned like a naughty boy.

"Never mind that. So, what was it we just witnessed then?"

"No doubt this was a Fae's little hideaway, but he wasn't _just_ Fae. He was a _Royal_." He grinned.

She looked at that bed and made a move to turn and leave. "Well, there won't be anything in here."

"Och, now, lass, we can't leave without searching it first... Coom," he said, taking her hand.

* * *

_What are you doing, Ravena MacAllister?_ She didn't answer her practical self as she allowed him to lead her into the room. _Touch him_ , said another voice, a voice that had been hounding her for hours. _M_ _ust touch him, be with him... mate._

What was she going to do? _Touch... touch... touch_ , it howled at her.

She scrunched up her face as she attempted to rid herself of the wolf's voice, and _he_ touched her. His finger touched her belly, which was exposed because her hands were raised to her forehead while she tried to control her wolf's demands.

"What is it, lass? Are ye not feeling well?" His voice was dripping with what she believed was genuine concern.

She dropped her hands, but he did not remove his finger. The spot he was touching began to burn and cause a chain reaction through her body. She almost tightened her thighs together to try and stop the tingling sensation... and oh, no, she was wet... so wet...

His voice low and soft, he said, "I think ye are right... there is nothing here that can help us."

She looked around and tried to stop thinking about him, sprawled on the bed, her climbing on...

And then she felt a warm glow that shot through her in a direct line from a wall panel across the room. " _Do you feel that_?" she asked.

"Och, aye, and it is driving me mad," he answered and then frowned and added, "What... no... what...?"

She was already at the cabinet and reaching for the knob. He rushed in ahead of her and put her at his back. "Let me, lass—just in case there's something that isn't right." He pulled, but the door wouldn't open. He hit it with his fist, but it remained closed. He chanted a 'release' spell, and still nothing.

Whatever was inside began to hum. " _Do you hear that_?" Rave asked in a hushed tone.

"Hear what? I doona hear a thing, lass."

She pushed him aside, saying, "Let me."

"How is a wee thing like ye going to—"

The door immediately opened in her hand, and she swung it wide. Inside was an antique oval framed mirror just large enough to see one's face, shoulders, and part of one's chest.

"Bless ye, lass, what is this?" Quinn said to himself as much as to her. He reached in to take it, but as soon as he touched it he jumped away. "Bloody hell!"

Rave reached past him, and he shouted as he reached to pull her out of the way. "Doona touch that evil thing!"

She didn't pay any attention but went with her gut. The sound of purring began even before she touched it; when she lifted it out of the cabinet, the purring sounded like a well-oiled motor.

"And now," said Rave, "we have to figure out just how we can use this to get you out, because... I know... I feel... I am certain, _this is the key_."

"Aye, it isn't the room that was in darkness, it was the mirror. Aye, but how can it release me when it won't let me near?"

"That will be the trick of it, won't it?" She shrugged. "Perhaps it just needs a moment to acclimate itself. My dad told me that Fae Relics are quite alive, each in its own way, and that they change through time, evolve and grow."

"Aye, that is true." He reached for the mirror and spoke softly. "Now then, mirror, I mean ye no harm... and the lass here... can't be carrying ye down all those stairs... now can she?" He reached for it, and this time it did not burn his hand but instead continued to hum pleasantly. Apparently it had accepted Quinn.

Quinn had warned her that nightfall always came suddenly in Delmire, and Rave saw what he meant. There wasn't much time between dusk and the dark velvet of the night's sky. They made their way down as Quinn used his wand to light the way.

Dinner was a simple meal of goat cheese, grainy breads, and fruit. He spoke of some of his childhood memories, and she spoke of hers.

However, she stiffened when he asked, "What has put that sad, distrustful look in yer eyes, lass? For it is there, where ye doona want anyone to see."

"If it is there where I don't want anyone to see, then don't look." She took a moment and added, "I am tired. I think, if you will walk me back to the Mirror Garden, it would be a good thing."

"Och, no, love. I thought ye knew. We canna go to the mirror at night. Lassiter is always about, and I canna put ye in his way."

She considered this. "Then perhaps if there is a room here I could use, I will just turn in now. Then we can get an early start in the morning—because we have to get back to Arthur and show him what we have found."

Nodding, he picked up the mirror that had been leaning against the wall. Then he led her up the wide staircase to the next floor and the room she would be using. He smiled as he opened the door wide. "No TV, no computers, and no phones," he teased. "But all other things here—the bath, the sheets—the Fae left all up to date. Ye should be comfortable."

She took the mirror from him and set it down against the wall before turning to find him hovering. Damn, she had to keep her distance, she just had to, but he was already moving closer. She took a step back and away from him.

"Is there anything I can give ye before we say good night?" he asked softly.

"Er, no, I don't think so," she said, wishing he would kiss her again. In spite of seeing him with the blue demon woman, she wanted him to kiss her. What was wrong with her?

"So then, there is nothing I can do for ye? Massage yer feet... yer back... bring ye some tea and cookies..."

"Massage my feet?" was what she zeroed in on.

"Aye, I can make ye feel... so good..." he said, now towering over her and neatly slipping an arm around her. His fluidity and agility brought her close as he folded her into his embrace.

_Don't do it_ , that annoying, nagging voice in her head warned. _Don't kiss him._ Her alpha, however, demanded the kiss, screaming, _Touch, touch, mate, bond—mate!_

Someone else altogether, someone she didn't quite know, someone who was the new, never to be normal person, sighed and asked, _What have you got to lose? Enjoy yourself_.

She liked that person. That person made sense.

His tongue was in her mouth, romancing her own, as he sucked and licked and made her want to rip off her clothes.

His kiss blossomed into another and another, and then he blinked with wizard magic and she was naked to her waist. Surprised, not shocked, she suffered a moment's panic. She shooed it away as his deft fingers explored her breasts and played with her nipples. He broke away from the kiss, and his lips traveled over her neck, down to the cleft between her breasts. He fondled one, and then he was suckling at the other.

"Och, lass, but ye are the finest beauty there ever was created," he whispered as his kisses traveled back up her neck and nibbled at her lips.

A sound of thunder cracked and rolled, and sudden lightning brightened the room as though a floodlight had swept across the windows; they broke apart.

A siren wailed.

It sounded like a school fire alarm, but this was louder and more encompassing. Quinn turned rigid with anger.

" _It is Lassiter_. He has attacked the Elfin clan." He started out the door.

"Wait. I'm coming with you."

"Ye are to wait here," he growled.

"No way, José! I am coming."

"Who is José?" he asked, his expression puzzled.

She grinned. "Never mind—just lead the way."

"Then doona leave me side unless I tell ye, lass. Do ye promise?"

"Oh yeah," she said. His fingers once more held his wand and flicked it, and her sweater was back on.

* * *

The Elfin clan was a small band of magical and peaceful beings. That was why he chose them for this evening's entertainment. He flew into the starlit sky, and for a moment he felt at peace. His wings carried him swiftly to his goal.

His demon eyes burned hotly as he began his circle, and immediately he was reminded with scorching pain what he had to do. Every night, the same riveting, mind-bending pain, until he completed his mission, until he created havoc—threatened to kill and, thus, tortured Quinn.

_It was his eternal punishment_.

He had been given a silver dagger, but he didn't have the magic it would take to get past Quinn's defenses and use it.

He would have been hailed a hero had the criminal he'd killed been a commoner. He hadn't wanted acclaim, nor had he wanted to be vilified. But he had killed the king's younger brother, and the king wouldn't listen—wouldn't hear a word against his own.

The young prince of his Realm had been evil to the core, but the king had refused to hear any evidence against him. The prince had trampled on his people, taking what he wanted, hurting any that got in his way. The people tried to tell the king, but he would not listen.

And then he began raping young women and committing unspeakable crimes, unhampered.

The king would hear none of the many witnesses with their lists of accusations against his fallen brother at Lassiter's trial.

He would hear none of the witnesses brought forth who were actually there when Lassiter dove in to save the young female.

Instead, when Andrew used his magic, looking for a demon to torment Quinn MacValdane, the Demon King had sent Lassiter forth to be Andrew's toy.

His home was forever lost to him.

Unbearable pain was his if he did not murder innocents. That was what his life had been for over seventy years.

He had tried for so long to withstand the agony that was his when he refused Andrew's edict. Eventually he gave in and became what he most despised, _a hunter_. He was not a meat eater, and the killing of large game was abhorrent to him, but the agony and torture inflicted on him when he did not hunt and kill was almost impossible to endure. In all the years he'd spent suffering in this Realm, he had only killed an inhabitant of Delmire once—and it was when he first arrived and was overwhelmed with all the agony inflicted upon him.

He had only given in to the need once, when someone was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he had lashed out against the pain; it had resulted in the man's death.

More often than not, he allowed Quinn to track and kill him. At least with it came oblivion—until he was reborn the next evening.

He looked down from the sky into the Elfin Glen and hovered there. The Elfin were a peaceful lot, blessed with Light Magic. Theirs was a life in harmony with the land. Oh, how he hated himself—and them for not fighting back, for not devising a plan to eradicate him.

The inhabitants of Delmire were simply a means to an end. If he inflicted pain on the Elfin, it would translate into pain for Quinn, and he needed Quinn to be in pain so that he could have a measure of relief. That was the duality of Andrew MacPoole's curse.

He made one final flyby and then descended slowly, gracefully, looking more like a winged angel than a monster, into their village square. He touched ground, folded in his wings, and stood.

He had to be staunch in his purpose; he had to appear ready to strike. He needed to do the least harm and yet enough to minimize the agony that would be his when he did not kill. He flicked his wrist, and a burning torch lit a path before him. The first house, a modest one, stood only one hundred feet away.

At least it would only be property he was destroying; property could be rebuilt, but its destruction would agonize Quinn—and he needed to cause that.

Then suddenly, unexpectedly, a tall, regal Elfin male emerged from one of the nearby houses and stared at Lassiter with his hands outstretched as he made his plea. "We have no quarrel with you, Lassiter. Please leave us in peace."

Elfin were ageless but easily killed. Burning and beheading were the simplest ways of ending an Elfin's immortal life.

Lassiter stared at the man who seemed in spite of his youthful appearance to have great age. He hesitated before he barked, "Go back inside, old one."

Suddenly a siren sounded, and Lassiter smirked. _Good_ , he thought, Quinn would arrive, and they would engage in battle. Quinn would send him into oblivion for the night, and no one would be hurt.

He would be reborn the following night, and for a few hours the pain would be bearable. That was all he could hope for.

First, however, he must play his assigned part in Andrew's show, so he bellowed with rage, his fists raised high. Quinn must witness his aggression. "Yes! Now go inside, Elf. Do as I say, and you won't be hurt. _G_ _o inside_!"

All at once, a young female Elf ran outside, grabbed the male's hand, and tugged. "Grandfather, come... please..."

Lassiter was on her in a flash. He held her high, and the threatening act tempered his pain for the moment. He held her tightly against his chest as she kicked and struggled and told him to put her down.

"Where are you, Quinn? Don't you want to save this child?" Lassiter screamed into the dark.

The child's Elfin grandfather put his hands up as though in prayer. "Please... _take_ _me,_ I have lived a full life. Don't take my grandchild! Please, please, not the child..."

Lassiter growled ferociously. "Your pleas are useless. I am without heart or soul. When Quinn arrives, I will tear her apart for him to see. He must suffer, and watching the child tortured will make him suffer."

"I beg of you—what can I do? _T_ _ake me, please_ , take me!"

" _No_. But you have influence with your clan. Talk them into helping me kill Quinn MacValdane, and perhaps then... this will all end." If Quinn died, so then would he, and then perhaps he would have peace.

A female's voice shouted at his back, and he closed his eyes. _She_ was here. She who made him feel, made him remember a time, a time when his heart and soul were still intact.

" _Lassiter_ ," she shouted again.

He turned to her and said, his heart full with feeling, his mind reeling, " _Arlie_."

* * *

Arlie moved towards him. She had to stop him. She had to get through. "Lassiter, put her down."

He stood his ground as he stared at her, but he put the child down and watched her scramble away from him.

"Arlie, you shouldn't be here. I don't want you to see this."

"You can fight it, Lassiter."

"You don't know what you are talking about. Even your magic cannot undo Andrew's. It is a curse, a Gypsy curse—I am bound to suffer unless I torture and kill."

To all, he was a monster. Everyone in Delmire feared him and wished him dead. She stared and wondered how they couldn't see what she saw.

She wondered why they didn't see how his goodness had kept them safe all these years. There was no evil in Lassiter. Why couldn't they see that and help him?

He was, in fact, magnificent. His heart, his soul were still intact. She could see the aura they emitted.

He was as he looked, beautiful, tall, with blonde hair forever a tumble around his handsome face—a face that was as beautiful as the heart he still owned. His chest was ever bare, discounting the intricate tattoos, and his wings were gloriously white, tipped with silver edging. _He looked like an angel._

"I know I can help you," she said softly. "Let me."

"Arlie," he said grimly, "you can't help me. I am doomed. I don't want you nearby. If I lose control, I could hurt you."

"You won't lose control," she said simply.

"Don't you know how I feel? Don't you realize if I could fight this, I would... if only so that I could make you my own?" He shook his head. _"It won't work!_ I am cursed, forever cursed, and that curse is tied in to Quinn. Let him kill me when he comes so that I may be oblivious for a time," he pleaded.

She could only guess at his suffering. His strength drew her to him as nothing else could, but she knew what it took to keep himself from killing. She knew he walked a tight edge. At that moment, she could see the pain had begun to overwhelm him. She had so many skills, and she believed one might be able to ease, just ease, some of his agony. "Lassiter, I will be yours—take me, and we can leave the Elfin in peace."

"I am a devil made. Don't you see that?" he shouted through the rage starting to slip into his mind.

"Let me try a spell," she pursued.

His dark eyes looked at her with bleakness. "There is no spell."

"Then cut me," she offered. "Hurt me. I will heal, but the act will upset and hurt Quinn... and that will give a few hours of relief."

"No— _never!_ "

"So then, Lassiter, you admit you have control," she said.

"I choose who—rather, what poor creature—I will maim, and then the pain subsides. Now leave, please, Arlie. Don't watch me do what I have to do now." He held the torch in place as he walked towards the house he had chosen to set on fire.

"Quinn will be here soon," she said. "Let me try to help you. Please let me try to ease your pain before he gets here."

Lassiter frowned. "I am a monster. It is my curse—don't try to help me." He shrugged. "If you don't leave, I have enough magic to make you."

"Lassiter, why don't you and Quinn join forces to break your curse? If you are locked in this together, perhaps—"

"There is a way out for him, but not for me," he said, cutting her off. "Now get out of here, so you don't have to watch your friends' homes destroyed."

"Why will neither of you listen to me!" Arlie wailed.

" _Arlie, fall back_!" Quinn shouted as he ran towards them, shoving Rave away from himself.

Arlie reached for Rave and took her by the hand. The two regarded one another warily, but Arlie pulled her aside.

"Damn yer black soul to hell!" Quinn shouted at Lassiter.

"My soul is already there," Lassiter shouted back.

Quinn growled as he raised his Fae Death Sword. The sword and his white magic were the edge he had always had over Lassiter. Yet, lately, what troubled him was the undeniable fact that Lassiter simply stood, faced him, and seemed scarcely willing to try to fight him off.

"Come on, werewolf," Lassiter moaned, "have at me."

Quinn frowned as he watched Lassiter's wings rise and open, displaying their full twenty-foot expansion. "Doona stand there like a martyr we both know ye are not."

"Say what ye will, but be done," Lassiter raged.

Quinn looked at his face then and noticed something he had not really understood before. Lassiter was in pure hell. It was in his burning eyes; it was etched on his ravaged countenance. He was barely able to contain what he suffered. For the flash of a moment, Quinn felt a wave of pity.

"Do it now, or I'll have yer lady love and fly off with her, and ye'll never see her again," said Lassiter, his voice harsh.

Quinn raised his sword and struck him down.

Lassiter fell, bleeding across his middle, and looked towards Arlie. As he began to fade, he gave her a parting smile, soft and clearly meant only for her.

Her fist went to her mouth, and she cried out, her hand extended towards his fading image, and then he was gone.

She turned on Quinn. "Would that you could end this. You don't know what he has been through. You don't understand." So saying, she loped off into the woods towards her home.

"Quinn...?" Rave said, not sure what she wanted to ask. Everything was wrong and upside down. She shouldn't feel compassion for that creature. Wasn't he the monster Quinn had spoken about? He didn't look like one. He hadn't acted like one; instead, he had simply stood and allowed Quinn to kill him. What was up with that?

"Coom now, it's sleep we be needing," he said and took her hand to lead her away.

"Yes, but—"

"I know, lass... doona ye think I know? Hush now. It is late, and I am tired of it all." He put his thumb to her lips. Then, without warning, he shifted into wolf—and before she could stop herself her wolf was out and at his back.

He was the largest were she had ever seen. He was black, and his gold eyes seemed to glow when he turned his head to look at her, and those looks... drove her wolf into ecstasy.

It was glorious running through the woods with him, and when they got to the open field he waited for her to come up alongside. He licked her nose, her mouth, her face. Then, at a slower pace so that she ran beside him and not behind, he headed once more for the Fae palace.

Both she and her alpha wolf were in harmony. The joy of all the wonderful scents came to her off the breeze. It was intoxicating.

He pulled up short suddenly just before they reached the palace, and playfully he got down on his forelegs and growled as he mock attacked. Her wolf rolled over for him submissively, and she couldn't stop her alpha. Joy filled her.

She had to stop. She had to... and she shifted into human, jumping naturally to her feet, her fur replaced by her clothes and her joy replaced by her confusion.

"I... I... don't... my wolf... seems... to like your wolf..."

Quinn shifted into human as well. "I don't want to make excuses for what just happened. I just want you." He stepped forward and took her into his arms.

"Och, lass, lass... doona ye realize it yet," he said huskily as his teeth nibbled at her lips and his tongue teased her mouth to open.

"Realize...?" She knew what he was saying. She was trying to withdraw from the game, but her body wouldn't let her. She pressed into him as that delicious tongue of his found her tongue and teased it for a response.

She was lost to him. She was lost to the moment. She was simply lost.

She made a sound that told her just how lost, for it was primal, it was low, it was more a growl than anything else, and it was the sound of her wolf bonding with his.

He didn't bother to physically remove her clothes but instead used his sorcery to wave them off as he lowered her to the warm blanket he had produced over the grass. He gazed at her a long moment before his own clothes vanished. He knelt over her as she stared at his muscular body and the huge shaft doing a dance above her belly.

"Oh..." she said.

He moved to lie beside her, covering her mouth with his, kissing her in a way that made her want more, made her want forever, made her want him without question.

He nibbled and licked a path to her breasts. "Lass... m'own precious lass... I love yer big, beautiful tits..." He fondled them and then bent his head to suckle.

She arched her back. His voice, his words, engendered a hot response from her. Putting her hand to the nape of his neck as he suckled, she whispered, "Oh... yes... yes, I like that."

"Do ye, love? And this... do ye like this?" he said as he licked, kissed, and nibbled his way down her midriff to her belly and lower still to the wedge between her thighs.

"Yes... that..." she answered, liking it very much indeed—and knowing that _like_ would be far too tame a word to describe what she was sure he would do next with his clever, talented mouth.

He spread her thighs and lifted her up by her rump as he positioned his tongue there and licked at her clit. He groaned and said, "Ye are delicious..." and began nibbling at the pink nub until she jerked with pleasure. She groaned as he blew on the nub with short, hard spurts, and then suddenly, passionately he grabbed her crotch and began to vibrate her until she let out a series of moans to accompany her climax. He massaged her through the shudders she experienced in the aftermath, and then he smiled as he put himself between her legs. "Right now then, m'sweet... m'very own..."

"Wait," she said as she scrambled to her knees. "My turn."

"Ye thrill me, lass... everything about ye melds just right with me. I need ye, want ye to be mine in every imaginable way, want to be yers... am yers..."

She stroked his cock slowly with one hand, and he encouraged her. "Aye, lass... yer hand, so small... so perfect... aye then..."

She bent her head and licked the head of his shaft, kissed it, and shivered pleasurably as he took hold of it and put it into her mouth.

"Suck it, lass... a wee bit at a time... till ye..."

She sucked it hard and took it in deep. She might not have actually done this before, but she damn well had heard enough to know exactly what to do, and she found herself wrapped up in the act and loving it. Touching his cock, kissing it, sucking it, made her wetter still, sent her into a frenzy of deep desire. His moans thrilled her and gave her a sense of sexual power that eradicated the insecurity that came with the 'first time'. She was all grown up, and oh, he was perfect.

He had her hair in his hands as she worked him, but then he pulled himself out and laid her back. He looked at her and said, "I'll try not to hurt ye, love."

She took his hand and yanked at him. " _Now_ —I need you now," she said.

He took up her rump and held it high as he put his hard, throbbing dick in place with the other hand.

His first thrust got it over with. She felt a moment's pain and released a short squeal. When he stopped, however, she immediately pumped herself onto him, and he groaned as he shoved himself inside, deep inside.

And then he rocked her world.

He moved expertly, with finesse and an obvious desire to please, and please he did, hard and fast, touching every sensitive pleasure spot she had never been aware was there. His hands traveled over her, fondled her, made love to her, cherished her. This was not just a sexual encounter; it was love at its pinnacle, it was greater than the lust going on. This was a bonding of two souls meant for one another in body and heart. This was an explosion of matter that brought a physical, mental, nerve-ending fusion.

Her second and third climaxes burst from her in quick succession as his hands worked over her with joyful desire, and then he released his hot seed inside her, forcefully bucking into her all the while and building up her pleasure to a peak once again.

He had no sooner gone off than he picked her up by her waist and held her for a moment before positioning her on her hands and knees. "Now, love... now for my wolf... and yers."

And he held her breasts as he drove himself home...

He held her hips and then moved his fingers around until he found her clit. He vibrated her with his fingers in quick, short movements, and she exploded once again.

"Och, love... I knew it the first time I saw ye... I knew ye were mine..."

She didn't answer this; she just bucked against him for more. All she wanted was for him to keep touching her all night, under the stars...

~ Twelve ~

THE MORNING LIGHT streamed into Quinn's enormous bedroom, and Rave blinked against the light.

She looked around but saw no sign of him.

She still felt bathed in a dreamy aura of pleasure. Last night had been like nothing she had ever expected. He was in one word, _magnificent_.

In another word _, tireless_.

He had carried her to the palace and his bedroom, and there he had been ravenous. He had made love to her in ways she had never even heard about. Smiling at the sweet satisfaction flowing through her, she pushed away the covers, slid off the high bed, and padded towards the bathroom. A hot shower would be so good.

She luxuriated in the hot water for what seemed like an eternity, until she finally shut it off and wrapped herself in a towel.

Ugh. All she had to wear were her dirty clothes from the day before. Yuck undies. She pulled the black lacy things on and determined that she had to run home, shower again, and change.

Where was he, she wondered as she slipped into her hiking boots and started out of the bedroom. She made her way downstairs and heard the sound of a happy man. He was singing a song in Gaelic, and his beautiful voice swept through her and touched her heart.

She stood in the kitchen entrance, watching him at the stove as he cooked to the accompaniment of his song, and smiled.

He turned, and his smile comically vanished. "Och, no, lass—I wanted to bring ye breakfast in bed."

She ran into his arms and said, "You're real. You can't be— _men_ like you just don't exist."

"Mayhap, but I am a wizard," he said proudly and kissed the top of her head. Then he maneuvered her in his arms, kissed her lips, and was about to go exploring when she pulled back and said, "Do I smell toast?"

He jumped. "M'eggs!"

She laughed and came up behind him to peek. "Hmm, they look fine."

"Because, like ye, they are... now sit, lass, and I'll bring ye coffee."

She went instead, got a mug, and poured her own, eyeing him saucily. "Thank you, but I like to be self-sufficient."

He had set eggs, toast, and potatoes onto a large platter; he put it down on the table and turned to her then. With one quick movement, her coffee mug was taken away and she was in his arms. "Self-sufficient, are ye?" His kiss took her breath away.

When he let her up for air, he picked her up cradle-like and set her on a chair, retrieved her coffee, and set it in front of her. "I said," he murmured, "I would be serving ye this morning."

She laughed. He kissed her nose, and then they ate everything in sight before she leaned back and groaned. "No more..."

He was wearing his leathers, vest and pants, and he slapped his bare, tight, hard belly with a wide grin. "Och, lass, I can't remember when I have eaten so much. Ye gave me... an appetite." His grin now was naughty and suggestive, and she laughed as she pushed away from the table.

"Quinn, I have to leave."

His smiled vanished. "Leave? No... ye can't leave."

"I must. I want to go home and change my clothes, but I also want to see Arthur." She frowned. "In fact, I have been thinking about Arthur all morning. It isn't right that he should be left out in the cold, not knowing what we discovered."

"Aye, ye be in the right of it, lass. We'll go to the Mirror Garden, then."

"Yes, and maybe we should bring the Fae mirror with us, show it to Arthur."

"Aye, we'll do that as well." He got up, went to her, ran his palms up and down her arms, and then allowed his hands to slide down to hers. "Aye, but ye'll be quick about it, won't ye? Ye'll coom back before dark?"

"Of course, and in the meantime, you can go into the Fae library—and see what you can discover about this new mirror."

He winced. "I'll try, but most of their journals are written in Danu. Over the years I have taught m'self some, but not enough."

She took his hand and put his fingers to her lips. "You know what you are looking for now. You didn't in the past—now, see if you can find the Danu word for mirror and take it from there."

His blue eyes lit up. " _Too smart_ by half, ye are, love... too smart." And then he had her closeted in his hold once again.

* * *

Rave stared through the mirror into the empty library and frowned. "Where is he, Quinn? I thought for sure he would be in the library waiting for us this morning." She had an uneasy feeling; the truth was she had had it now for the last thirty minutes.

"He is out for his walk. Doona worry, love," Quinn said, putting a comforting arm around her.

"You haven't had any visions," she asked, looking up at him, "anything about Arthur, have you?"

"Och, no, the only vision I've had was ye in m'arms," he said and dropped a kiss on her lips.

She smiled, but every instinct had her on edge. "I have to go." She started to chant the words.

He reached to stop her, but she was already stepping through the portal, and he called out after her, "Be back before dark, Rave—promise me!"

"Of course, before dark," she said absently. She had one thing on her mind: Arthur. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones.

She stepped through and stood on the dark Oriental rug looking around. She turned once, blew a kiss to Quinn, and then sighed to herself. Leaving him now, after last night, after... oh, but it was one of the hardest things she had had to do since she had been pulled into this bizarre situation. But she couldn't think about that now—now she needed to find Arthur.

She made her way to the kitchen, where his staff was gathered around the table having coffee and chatting one another up. They stopped as one unit and stared with some surprise to find her peeking her head inside the doorway.

"Hello... has anyone seen his lordship?" Rave asked, smiling hopefully. She felt sick to her stomach. A voice in her head said, _Hurry, something is wrong_ _!_

"Why, no. He went out for his walk some hours ago. He should be back," Lewis, the manservant, said with a frown. "Aye then, he usually rings for some coffee when he gets back."

If they were wondering how she had gotten into the house, no one asked. Instead, they all began talking at once about the fact that his lordship's walk had indeed kept him out longer than usual.

Something caught in Rave's throat as she turned away, rushed down the hallway, and made for the front door. She had forgotten her jacket in Delmire and snatched up one of Arthur's tweed blazers from the coat rack. Although it hung on her, at least it would keep her warm.

Outside, she scanned her surroundings. She knew that Arthur liked the walking trail that took him to the edge of her father's land.

She picked up her speed on the trail, but after ten minutes of walking and stopping to call his name, she knew what she had to do.

Running on adrenalin and pure instinct, she shifted into her wolf. And her wolf was on it. She put her nose to the wind and took a long sniff and then a few short ones. A wolf could pick up a scent even a mile away, and _her wolf_ could outdo that. And there it was, Arthur's scent—and he wasn't that far from her!

She could tell Arthur had been running hard, and as she tracked she realized he had been dodging something, evading and working up a sweat. As she sniffed the ground for an exact location, she knew he was being stalked by something threaded with Dark Magic.

Arthur's sweat held the unmistakable aroma of fear, like a deer who becomes trapped as it wearies and feels its predator at its heels. And she knew what the predator was—it was a werewolf, and this one was the Lyken, _Andrew MacPoole_.

She put up her head and howled to send Arthur a message and, she hoped, to stall the predator. If Andrew knew help was coming, would he bolt? Just in case he meant to stand his ground, she growled into the wind, hard and threateningly, giving the Lyken the challenge to engage. She knew that this time he would understand she and her wolf were united and ready to fight to protect their own.

She called on her magic, allowed it to infuse her wolf with power as she loped easily through the brush. The scent of Dark Magic was all around her. Its awful stench mingled with Arthur's Light Magic; he must have been using it, trying to thwart Andrew's onslaught.

However, Rave also sensed that Arthur's ability to draw on his magic was fading, for its scent was weak and drifted aimlessly.

Arthur was out of time. Her heart pounded with worry. She had to get to him. She had to, because she knew Arthur couldn't run any longer. She could hear his labored breath as she got closer.

_And then she saw him_.

Arthur was hurting from the effort he had put into his run. He tripped, and the elderly man fell to the ground with a heavy thud and a loud groan.

She could see the Lyken coming in from the west, bearing down on him, its fangs drooling with saliva and bloodlust in its eyes.

Rave leaped into the air, using her magic to help her cover the distance between herself and Arthur. She landed on all fours, her neck down to the ground, her body poised to spring, her teeth bared. She put a threat in her growl as she took a stand between Arthur and the oncoming werewolf.

And she knew she _would_ fight to the death before she would allow Andrew MacPoole to hurt Arthur. It was her heart that would not allow her to back off. It was her wolf's instinct to protect.

She snarled and sent the were a message. _Back off_!

She lunged a few steps forward and snapped the air, displaying her alpha presence to the fullest.

_Make me_ , Andrew answered her in her mind. His growl was low as he tried to circle around her.

She lunged at him and went for his throat. He leaped out of her way and backed off, and she realized he did not really wish to engage her in battle. She sent him another message. _I am not an ordinary wolf—just so you know_ , she told him sharply.

_Show me,_ he growled low and threateningly, derisively.

She knew he wanted to test her, but she also knew it wouldn't hurt to give him a taste of what she could do. She had skills her grandmother had taught her, made her practice on every visit, because her nana had sensed a sleeping threat that might one day take her on. Well, this was a threat, and it wasn't sleeping. _This one was_ _out for blood._

Rave knew what was happening to her eyes. She could feel them begin to change; although she couldn't see the color, she sensed what was happening, felt the glow they were giving off, as she called on the power deep inside her and increased it within herself. She could feel the glow of bright white fire in her eyes, and then she gave him a taste of what she could do. She was infused with magic and used it as she created a beam of burning energy that was laser bright and hot.

He jumped back, his nose singed, and yelped with the sudden pain.

_I can do more if that didn't prove my point. Shall I?_ she asked.

_I have no doubt of it, and I appreciate your mana. Ah, little beauty... one day you and I will rule Lyken—that is what is in store for you_ , he replied.

_Yeah, right. Now get off my land._ And she left no doubt she would follow through on her implied threat.

He drew back and growled low _. Do not think you have beaten me. I am giving him to you today as my gift, but only for today._ And with that, he turned his back to her and loped off into the thick of the dark woods.

Rave retrieved her clothing and dressed all in one thought as she shifted into human. She hurried to bend over Arthur and stroke his face. " _Arthur, are you hurt?_ "

"Only m'pride, darlin', only m'pride. But it was all worth it to watch ye, it was. Lord bless ye, child, I've never seen the like."

"Can you get up?"

"Aye, though I am a bit winded, lass," he said and drew in a long breath of air. "That was Andrew, ye know."

"I know," she answered quietly, deciding not to tell him she and Andrew had spoken telepathically. "Don't think about it." She drew on her magic for the strength to help Arthur to his feet. "Lean on me," she said as she called on her wolf's strength and helped pull him into a standing position.

"I've lost m'walking stick... must find it..."

"Not now, Arthur. You have me."

"No, ye doona understand... m'darlin' Beth gave it to me just before she passed. She chose it... and I must have it..."

"Oh, Arthur, don't you worry. I'll get you home and then come back and find it, okay?"

"Right then, lass... right then... but I doona like ye out here alone." He frowned. "Though from what I could tell, ye can handle yerself well and tight."

She laughed. "Now let's cut through here to the open road. It'll be quicker."

"Aye then, lassie... aye then," he said, and they did just that.

* * *

A couple of hours flew by while Rave saw to Arthur and made certain he was resting in his library. She went to the mirror, but Quinn was not on the other side. She wondered what he was doing.

It took some time to regale Arthur with most of their day and what they had discovered, before she was able to force him to lie down on his sofa and take a short nap. Satisfied that he had not incurred any permanent harm, she left him and made tracks for home.

The house felt empty without her father, but she noticed an envelope bearing her name on the center round table in the central hall that she had missed when she had rushed out yesterday morning.

_Yesterday_ morning? Had it only been one day?

It seemed an age. So much had happened. She and Quinn... She sighed happily and picked up the small manila envelope. Something inside slid around, and Rave opened the envelope to find the most exquisite gold-framed black crystal she had ever seen. Its cut was very unusual, and at its center lights sparkled mysteriously.

Magic tickled her—white magic—and she felt its comforting power. She knew immediately that the crystal hanging from the gold chain was a protective pendant.

My sweet Ravena,

Thank you for welcoming me into your family.

Because we are now forever connected, there should be no secrets between us.

I would like you to accept this pendant as my gift to you. It has been passed down from mother to daughter in my family.

_I want_ you _to have it. Its mana is profound, and when I return, I will teach you all its secrets. For now, it can help to keep you safe, and I have this instinctual feeling that you are about to embark on an adventure and will need it._

Don't be afraid to use it, and know that I have spelled it to respond only to you.

With my love,

Mary

_So_ , she thought, _Mary must be even more powerful than I assumed_. Should she trust her? Rave's nature was trusting—or had been before her best friend had hurt her so badly. Should she trust this woman who her father loved? Yes, she decided. She found the crystal comforting, and she'd sensed only good from Mary.

Rave adored her mother, and she was as close as she could be to her. What kept them slightly apart was the secret she kept from her. Her mother couldn't handle anything paranormal and didn't want to know anything 'unusual' about her daughter. So that part of her life was something she couldn't share with her mother.

Since Mary was now a part of her father's life, it was somehow warming to know she and Mary were, in a manner of speaking, 'alike'.

And it was beyond wonderful, for it meant Mary and her father were well suited. She smiled happily and hurried upstairs to shower and change her clothes.

She donned a skimpy black lace bra and matching thongs before she slipped into her tight stretch blue jeans. A soft blue sweater and navy leather boots completed the ensemble. She slipped her new pendant around her neck and took up a wool-lined jacket of dark navy leather and hurried out of the house. It was nearly four o'clock, and she had to get back to Arthur and the mirror. She had promised to be back to Quinn long before dark, and she still had to find Arthur's walking stick.

She was in the woods, scouring the ragged path he had taken, using her tracking ability to follow his faded scent, when she stopped, hands on hips, and looked around.

Something was off.

The birds no longer chirped. The breeze had suddenly gone still. The air smelled foul. She almost stomped her foot on the earth with her irritation and said out loud, "Seriously—every time I take a walk?"

She knew something evil lurked with her in the woods—something so completely devoid of the least spark of good that she could feel living things cringe with fear from the vibes it gave off.

_Damn_. It meant to challenge her.

She was in for another battle, so she bolstered herself and dispelled the initial fear that scurried over her nerves. She was a shapeshifter. She was an immortal with immortal power. She was a Druid priestess with Fae gifts of magic.

"That's right, bud," she said to the darkening cloud gathering in the distance. "Bring it."

Only one thing disturbed her as she readied herself for the fight: she wouldn't make it back to Delmire before dark, and that would worry Quinn. The amount that worried her made her realize the depth of feeling she had for him. How had that happened?

_However, every now and then_ , she supposed, _like good intentions taking one to hell, promises are impossible to keep._

~ Thirteen ~

QUINN HAD SPENT some of the morning collecting flowers, smiling like a boy in love as he thought of Rave's eyes when she saw their bedroom alive with the fragrant blooms. He sang favorite Gaelic tunes and baked, made a mess, and pointed his wand to clean it himself before the Fae magic cleaned it up for him. This made him laugh like a fool.

Damn, but he loved her. Now he knew what that old saying 'with every beat of yer heart' meant. Aye, with every beat, he loved her. Beyond words, he loved her, beyond thought, beyond himself...

As soon as she stepped through the portal, he would rush her here and take her to their bedroom—and, yes, he smiled to himself suddenly, he thought of it as 'their' bedroom.

It infused him with wonder as he acknowledged to himself that everything he now did, he did with her in mind. He needed to please her. He needed to make her laugh and smile and sigh...

He missed her so much it hurt. The ache in his heart only she could soothe. He hated being apart, especially now, when he had finally found her. She was, simply, _everything_ to him.

However, he knew she was right about perusing the Fae manuscripts that dealt with the lists of relics left in the palace. He needed to get to work.

He made his way to the Fae library and pointed his wand, casting a spell to bring him anything to do with the Fae Relics in the castle.

A leather-bound journal engraved with gold etchings floated towards him, and when he opened it, he saw a list of all the Fae Relics in this Realm, not only in the palace but those that had been left with the inhabitants of Delmire. The list had been signed by Seelie Queen Aaibhe.

He knew the list did not specify the individual power each relic owned, for he had scanned this book in the past—he had in fact looked at every book in the library multiple times over the years in his efforts to find a way to reverse Andrew's curse. This time, however, he found a notation, signed " _Breslyn, Prince of Dagda_ ," next to the relic called the Mirror of Ral, which he assumed to be the mirror he and Rave had discovered. Perhaps the list itself had been spelled to reveal additional information about only those Relics that were out in the open?

Breslyn wrote that he had taken this mirror and hid it in the tower room to keep it out of the hands of his young sister, Aida, who was scarcely old enough to understand the consequences of its use. Apparently his sister, whom he referred to as young and wild, had discovered that it was a portal and had used it to travel clandestinely to the Human Realm.

Quinn closed his eyes and growled in frustration—if he had seen that notation before, he would have used every bit of his magical skill, every ounce of his physical strength, to locate the mirror's hiding place in the tower. He could have left Delmire decades ago if not for Fae meddling. But then, he realized with a rueful grin, that delay had brought Ravena to him, so perhaps the Fae meddling wasn't such a bad thing. Somewhat mollified, he read on.

Breslyn had discovered what his sister was about and had waited for her when she returned. Although he'd scolded her soundly and she had promised not to use it again, he rather thought he would remove the temptation.

Quinn even found himself chuckling over the manner in which the prince described the incident. The prince added a few subsequent amusing anecdotes and descriptions of the social life of his fellow Royal Fae.

However, whether due to another Fae spell or not, he could find no instructions on how to use the Mirror of Ral nor any information on how it might be affected by spells or curses. Would Andrew's curse prohibit him from traveling through any portal or only through the Quicksilver? Very soon, time would tell.

A shadow from a far window made him look up, and he noted that the hour was late. With a snap he shut the manuscript.

_Dark_. It would soon be dark in Delmire, and he had to get to the Mirror Garden. Why wasn't Ravena back yet?

* * *

Ravena did not shift into wolf. It wasn't the time. She needed to gather her strength by collecting her thoughts.

She stood her ground and called on the entity to show itself. A mist appeared and swirled in shades of gray and black.

"A mist? You want to make an impression with something that is wet and useless?"

As wicked a laugh as she had ever heard crackled through the darkening forest. " _Girl_ , do you think you can challenge _me_?"

The voice sounded as though it could be feminine, and it was darkly powerful. It could also be a male's voice—it was so difficult to tell.

"Uh-huh, I think I can," she said, not sure of anything but determined to at least try and bluster on as she dove into her mind for the magic both her father and her grandmother had taught her.

" _I am power_ , attained over the ages."

" _So,_ oh great, powerful one," Rave said sarcastically, "what do you want with me?"

" _To hurt you_... to make you suffer... and then perhaps, to kill you." Loathing filled the tenor of the disembodied voice.

"Okay then, less talk— _more action_ ," said Rave, waiting for the right moment. She knew just what she needed to do. "Come on. _T_ _ake form_ —have at me."

It laughed again. "Do you think _I_ can be goaded? You think so little of me as that?"

"Actually, I think the only 'big' thing about you is your ego—that's what I think." Rave knew her taunting would work. She could feel the entity's growing wrath. It was a palpable thing that made the mist pulse. This being was vibrating with anger.

" _You are a speck_ , and perhaps I shall just dispense with you now and enjoy the pain that your death will bring."

"Who are you?"

" _I am Dark Magic_... and I am for you." And with that, it took the form of a huge beast and lunged at her.

* * *

Quinn arrived in the Mirror Garden and looked around. Dark was nearly upon them in Delmire. He heard something rustle at the forest's edge and frowned, for he could just make out the shape of a leopard: _Cariel_.

He went to the mirror, peered into the library, and saw Arthur fussing over some papers. "Arthur! Arthur, where is she?"

"Quinn... I... Quinn... we had a run-in with Andrew. I've been looking fer ye all day! Where were ye?"

"Run-in with Andrew?" Quinn's heart rate jumped. "What kind of a run-in?"

He was in Lyken form... stalked me. I did what I could, and just when I thought it was over, when I thought... Rave was there, on the spot, and she was magnificent. Her wolf is magnificent. I have never thought to see anything like it, and she made him back off... got me home—"

"Where is she now?"

"That is the thing... it's my fault... my fault. She said she was due back to ye by dark, and I didn't think—"

"Arthur!" Quinn shouted. "What are ye talking aboot?" Quinn's burr had thickened with his concern.

"M'walking stick, Quinn—it was lost in the scuffle, and I said something about it, only because m'darlin' had given it to me... Rave said she would find it on her way back. She only went home to shower and change... should have been back, but no doubt wouldn't give up till she found the blasted thing."

"I doona like this, Arthur—I doona like this at all." Quinn was thinking, but the bottom line was that he was stuck. He couldn't get through. He couldn't get to her, protect her when she was on the other side, and had no idea how to use the Mirror of Ral. Would it transport him to where—and when—he needed to go? Would it transport him to the castle with Arthur or somewhere else entirely—possibly even to Faery? He couldn't take the chance and lose her.

A movement at his right caught his eye, and he saw Cariel as she shifted into human and approached him. "Cariel, go home," he said impatiently.

"Quinn, my father has chosen a mate for me," she said and eyed him curiously. "What do you think of that?"

"What I think isn't important—it's what ye think of it. Now go home, Cariel. It's going to be dark, and ye need to get inside."

"Well, I've known him all my life, and I think at times that I love him, but then there's _you_..."

Quinn had no wish to hurt the child, but he didn't have time for this. "There isn't me! Cariel, go home, now." He looked up and scanned the skies. He had a bad feeling, such a bad feeling. A flash of blood and gore came as a sharp vision and then was gone. He took her by the arm and shoved her back towards the forest. "Home, now—get to yer family, Cariel!"

"Yes, but... will you mind... if I choose to mate with him?"

"Mind? Why should I? Cariel, this is not the time— _go home!_ " He felt desperate to get her away safely. She was just a youth, with her whole life ahead of her, and something was coming. _Lassiter_. He felt it with every fiber of his being. _Lassiter was close_.

Darkness came as though someone had splashed a paintbrush. Dusk vanished into a midnight sky. Stars glittered above, but with their glitter he could make out the movement of a wide wingspan.

_Lassiter_.

Quinn steeled himself as he heard the unmistakable _swooshing_ of large, strong wings beating at the air. He shoved Cariel into the woods and pointed. "Home— _now!_ " While Cariel was in the thick forest, Lassiter could not get to her easily without landing to follow on foot, and as a leopard, she could outrun him.

All at once, from high overhead Lassiter swooped down towards Cariel, who still stood at the edge of the vast forest.

She gasped, shifted into leopard, and managed to dodge him as she lunged into the thickest part of the forest.

Quinn shook his sword at Lassiter. "Come on, coward—take on someone yer own size."

"That is what I do every single time I go after one of your own—I take you on. My job... is to take you on, Quinn MacValdane."

Quinn saw that Cariel was nearly safely out of range. "Kill me then, Lassiter."

"I cannot. Haven't you figured that out? My curse is that I cannot kill you and that _you can_ kill me time and time again. Did you think all the while, each time you killed me, it was because of your skill?" Lassiter raged.

Quinn had in fact suspected that it was all tied in with Andrew's twisted curse. "Why tell me this now?"

"Because there is a new element."

"And what is that?"

" _Your mate_. Now it is for _her_ that I hunt."

"I'll burn yer eyes out, slowly cut ye. I'll take out yer heart and feed it to the beasts if ye so much as—"

"And still I will be reborn... the next night."

Quinn slashed into the night air, but Lassiter flapped his wide wings and hovered higher than Quinn could reach.

All at once, Lassiter released a blood-curdling bellow of pain before crying with the sound of a man beyond thought, " _Relief!_ Damn you, Andrew MacPoole! Damn you, my king! I need... _I need relief!_ " Lassiter howled and swooped down on a deer grazing in the distance.

* * *

Ravena waited as the beast charged at her, and every inch of her wanted to disappear. She couldn't, though. She needed to face this. Her grandmother had taught her to face evil and to beat it with the bright fullness of white magic.

The beast was nearly seven feet when it stood on two. It was covered in ragged, knotted fur. Its canines were jagged, it drooled blood, and its eyes glowed amber. It went onto fours, stopped, stood on two, and swiped the air with its claws. It bellowed with fury and went back on fours, its head low as it protected its throat.

Still, Rave waited.

It would have to lunge.

It would be at its most vulnerable, its throat exposed, when it lunged, and she would appear to be at her most vulnerable.

The moment she had been waiting for arrived, and as it lifted off the ground she shifted into her wolf and dove for it, sinking her canines into its throat and ripping with all the force she had. Another first, she thought as with great disgust she tasted its blood and spat it out. She had never before torn out anything's throat.

All the while, she maintained her plan and mentally whispered the binding spell.

The beast fell to the ground, rolled over, and slashed at Rave's wolf with its claws. She fell away, pain shooting through her abdomen. It had caught her in the gut. Not good. Healing would come if she lived, but if it ripped out her heart...? Immortals didn't age, were immune from disease, and recovered from most injuries, but they could be killed by beheading—and by having their hearts torn out.

She was still wolf as she scrambled sideways on the earth.

She could see enormous amounts of purple blood pouring out of the beast's throat as it got into position to lunge again at her.

It should be dead. Why wasn't it dead?

She had ripped out its throat. Its head lolled to one side, no longer supported by its neck.

Even so the beast—rage alive in its glowing eyes—lunged. She repeated the binding spell in her wolf's mind, and still it dove at her, teeth bared.

She yelped as it landed, for when she had jumped onto all fours, panting heavily as blood poured out of her wolf's body, excruciating pain ripped through her.

She managed to get partially out of its way, but it swiped at her again with its poisonous claws and caught across her rump, and _she went down_.

Rave's howl blasted through the air, and the beast started for her once again. This time, it would take off her head. She saw that—she saw its intention in its dead eyes. Something inside the beast controlled its body. She thought of Quinn and then her mother and father... She assumed human form even as she took hold of the pendant hanging from the chain around her neck.

Mentally she whispered _, Mary, I have been saving this for last! I hope it_ _works!_ She held up the black crystal with the multi-colored center, and she felt the earth beneath her rumble.

Power from the earth exploded in a stream. It centered itself in the crystal and then made another jet stream towards the beast. The crystal radiated with powerful magic that fed on Rave's immortal power.

The crystal made a circle of magical and deadly fire, consuming the remaining vestige of neck to which the head of beast was still attached. And then that head fell to earth and rolled as its body crumpled into a heap.

Rave writhed in agony as poison traveled swiftly through her blood, and she switched into wolf to fight it off. Her wolf whimpered while she mentally said the words of a spell that would consign the creature's soulless body and dismembered head to the Death Realm.

Rave watched as the machinations of her spell floated in blue and green around the beast's carcass and its remains vanished in one quick explosion.

She closed her wolf eyes and lay still. Her wounds were extensive and so painful it was difficult to breathe. She wondered if she would die from her wounds. They didn't seem to be healing...

And then a voice raged at her, showing her that while the beast was dead, its master was not. " _You think you have won? Did you think I was trapped in my beast's body? I shall recoup, and when I come back for you, Ravena MacAllister, I shall have your heart!_ "

Ravena listened to the warning and learned something from the words: her enemy had only been residing within the body of the beast. She knew now... She started counting off what she knew, trying to ignore the agonizing pain surging through her body.

One: this entity was female. Two: the entity was capable of taking corporeal form. Three: the entity could escape its corporeal form before death occurred.

However, what she didn't know was just who this enemy was and why it wanted her dead.

Something kept floating about in the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite grasp it as she drifted into consciousness and then out again.

She didn't have an enemy, but her nana had said... Was this disembodied entity arriving in a cloud of mist and shadow what her nana had meant when she had warned about an evil lurking?

She had so many questions, like just how did it project itself—through an orb? Did it also use that orb to send through whatever corporeal monsters she could conjure?

_Oh, aghh_... pain bolted through her body, and she slipped off again. Her wolf refused to stay unconscious and shook free, yelping and howling and calling for her mate, and Rave was roused once again.

She blinked her eyes open. She wasn't healing.

The crystal... where was the crystal...?

She could just see it glistening brightly near her paw. Its chain must have been broken during the struggle. When she reached with her webbed paw and touched it, she immediately felt a soothing balm shoot through her veins, but the poison worked against her, and once again she felt herself slipping.

She began dreaming, and the dream turned quickly into a nightmare. She could see her life's blood oozing out of her wolf and covering the earth around her. It was sticky and warm, and the healing had totally stopped.

She woke with a whimper and felt her wolf's senses ebbing. She had to do something... she was dying.

She couldn't die. Quinn needed her... and how awful for her parents... She just couldn't die like this.

Injuries? _Concentrate on healing the injuries_ , she told her wolf. Ah, across her abdomen... it was bad, and over her wolf's hip and rump... soaked in blood. She couldn't move, couldn't shift into human.

Her wolf believed it was dying and began calling to Quinn's wolf. She heard it baying and whimpering as her human gasped in pain.

Rave began to feel cold, and it wasn't just the outside temperature. She knew enough to know she was going into shock. She shouldn't be. This was all wrong, as though her human, the human in her, had taken the blow, as though the human were dying and her immortal wolf were being dragged into the deathblow.

It was after dark... She had promised to return before dark. Quinn would be worried... so worried... and then there was sweet oblivion as the pain took her beyond endurance, and once again she passed out.

* * *

Quinn watched Lassiter tear the poor creature apart. He knew Lassiter wasn't feeding. Lassiter was doing the only thing he could. He had to maim; he had to kill. He could hear Lassiter's animal grunts, and Quinn winced to think that Andrew's pure evil had created all this chaos.

He heard Lassiter give a ragged sound as though the agony he had been experiencing had finally subsided and that he knew for a while it was over. With a _swoosh_ of air, Lassiter hovered overhead. The demon shook his fist and shouted, "Find a way to end this! _F_ _ind a_ _way_ , Quinn MacValdane." And he was gone.

Quinn returned to the mirror to find Arthur staring with horror at what he had just witnessed. He didn't have time to explain.

He needed to track Lassiter, so he simply ordered, "Don't let her come through the portal when she arrives. I have to track him—have to stop him from killing any Delmirian stupid enough to still be outdoors!"

* * *

Arthur watched him go and then took to pacing.

With a sudden nod, he made up his mind, took up his wand, and headed outdoors. He knew just where Rave would be. She would have retraced their steps. She would be in the dark of the woods.

Once in the forest, he twirled his wand and produced enough light to brighten everything that lay before him. It only took him ten minutes to locate her, but it felt like an eternity to him.

He saw her in wolf form lying helpless and whimpering. She was so still, and he said her name tearfully as he approached, "Och, no, no, Rave, m'darlin'... What did this? Och, no, but ye are torn..." He groaned, and a hand went to his old heart to see her laid so low. He fell down on his knees. "Lass... och, lass..." He stroked her nose and played gently with her ears, which twitched to his touch.

She opened her eyes, and her golden orbs glistened wetly from the effort, _Arthur,_ her mind said to him. _You have to go home... get away from here in case it comes back..._

"Who did this—what did this? Was it Andrew?"

_No—not Andrew, but,_ _Arthur... go back... just in case, go to Valdane... I need to lie still_.

"Och, no, lass... do ye think I would leave ye here alone? What happened—no, doona use yer strength to tell me. But if this was Andrew's work, I swear I'll be visiting him this very night with m'gun loaded with m'silver bullets, and I'll be putting one in his head. Damn the law—what can they do to an old man? Send me to jail? _So be it_."

She whimpered, and her voice in his head held a plea. _Don't... Arthur... not Andrew. I am nearly sure of it. Something... someone else_.

"Och, aye, lass... doona fret it. We'll manage. I promise ye that, but I also promise ye, I will have his blood."

Arthur... something's wrong... I should be healing... I'm not healing. Could the poison be preventing me from healing? What would do that?

Arthur watched her as she closed her wolf's eyes, and he thought she was concentrating on healing. He took up position on a fallen log and said softly, "I'm here, lass... never ye fear, I'm right next to ye." And then after a moment, he said, "I have to get ye to Quinn... _he's a healer_... He can help ye."

_I don't think I can move,_ she answered him in his mind.

"Ye doona have to." He jumped to his feet. "There's enough magic left in m'old bones to do what I have to do." He swirled his wand in the air, and sturdy branches came together with vines to make the frame of a crude but firm stretcher. He pointed his wand at leaves and moss, and a thick layer of bedding covered it.

"Right," he said, satisfied as he then pointed his wand at the bleeding wolf—at Ravena—and elevated her gently onto the stretcher.

Once again, he pointed his wand and created a harness from vines that quickly entwined and secured themselves to his well-made conveyance. With this strapped over his shoulders, he had one last thing to do. She couldn't be jostled, so he pointed the wand at the back of the stretcher and elevated it only a few inches off the ground. He smiled grimly. _That should do_ , he thought, and started making his slow, careful way out of the woods. _The old man still has it,_ he thought, but he felt no joy in it, only concern. _Rave is both a shapeshifter and an immortal—why isn't she healing?_

As he carefully walked his way to safety, his wand kept Rave steady so she wasn't jarred or further injured.

His progress was tedious, but with some relief he finally was able to nod his head and chant one word.

His front door opened. Thankful his servants were all in the kitchen having their early dinner, he crept to the library.

He set down the stretcher with Rave's wolf body looking deathly still—too still—and bit his lips. He had to do something. He wasn't a healer. He didn't have that gift in his closet of magic. Quinn, however, was a healer.

He peered into the glass, and when he saw only the dimly star-lit Mirror Garden and no sign of Quinn, he sharply exclaimed, " _Dash it to bloody hell_ _!_ Where are ye, lad—where are ye?"

Arthur looked back at the blood-soaked wolf and had to control the sob that got stuck in his throat. He was losing her—he could feel her life force ebbing! He went to her, smoothed over her nose with his hand, and said softly, "Hold on, Rave, m'darlin' lass... hold on... Please doona die, ye lovely child... doona die... hold on... fer me, for yer dad..."

Her eyes opened, and he could see the silver of her human eyes behind the gold as her voice in his head whispered, _Tell Quinn... love..._

She closed her eyes again, and he jumped up and strode back to the mirror. "Damn it, Quinn... _we need ye!_ "

* * *

Quinn went very still. Every fiber in his body felt his mate's sudden call. What was happening? She was saying good-bye? No... what...? Damn it all to bloody hell, she was hurt! _Why wasn't she healing?_

He took off into a run, shifted into wolf, and shouted into her head, _I'm coming, love, I'm cooming... doona ye die... doona ye do it!_ His heart was breaking. His mind was convulsed with fear unlike any he'd ever felt on his own behalf.

He roared with the helplessness of his situation. He should have never let her go back. He should have told her he was happy to stay with her in Delmire—forever. He'd known, he'd _known_ , it would be dangerous to let her go back.

His heart convulsed with terror. He had never known terror like this. Faced with the possibility of her death, he knew he could only do one thing: die with her.

He reached the mirror and looked into the library to see his beloved mate blood-soaked and still.

His wolf's head went up high with his howl, a sound that raged with agony and split through the air. It was the saddest sound any being could ever hear: the sound of a wolf grieving in fear for its mate.

"Arthur, can ye float her to me? Arthur, through the mirror..." He shifted into human, and his fists pounded against the frame of the mirror. How could he endure this?

"Aye, but we have to be gentle..." Arthur twirled his wand to levitate her and began chanting the words until she floated through the mirror and into Quinn's arms.

Quinn realized immediately she could not shift into human, and she shouldn't. Her wolf could heal better in wolf form. Bu then he saw her eyes. Silver clearly sparkled just behind the gold. That was the problem. Her human was trying to break through.

"Doona try to shift now, lass... Stay wolf... Yer wolf needs to heal ye, and she can do it better than yer human," he said tenderly to her.

He put his hand over her eyes and spoke to his mate, mind to mind, _Can ye coom to me, my wolf? We'll raise our heads to the moon and race over the Grampian Mountains together. Can ye lie with me on the pine straw beneath the sweet-smelling pines and nuzzle me as we watch life come and go? Will ye banish the human for now and heal—will ye do that for yer mate and be mine forever?_

She whimpered her response, and he wiped the large tear that fell down his face. He couldna lose her...

And then he remembered: he was a healer. He forced the panic back and, whispering words of magic and love, ran his hands over her wounds. Blood covered his fingers, and this was a shock to his system. He could smell her blood, and there was death in it...

"Coom... coom back to me, lass... doona leave me," he cried out loud as he placed his hands on her wounds. Once again he whispered the ancient words.

His magic was limited. It couldn't heal her if she was truly dying; only her wolf could do that.

Rave's alpha raised her head, and her eyes told him, _Pain... pain... all over pain... Quinn... my own mate..._

Do ye feel m'hands—do they soothe, m'own true lass? Aye, the pain is less... I see it in yer eyes. My hands can ease the pain, and ye will find the strength... Will ye no do that fer me? I need ye, darlin' Rave... I need ye for all time. Doona go, please, now that I found ye, doona go. Heal fer me...

It wasn't working. The healing power he had always had as a wizard, a power that had been increased when he had turned into a werewolf, wasn't working. He would lose his mind if he lost her now.

He got off his knees and put up his fists to the sky. The words were torn from his heart. "Doona do this to me! Doona... please... I have borne all... _but not this_."

* * *

Arlie was in demon form because she was tracking and because it was her most comfortable shape. It seemed nearly everyone on Delmire was a shapeshifter. Certainly everyone in Delmire owned some magic. Her magic specialty was the ability to track better than any other on Delmire. She had other lesser skills, but this was what she presently needed.

She weaved through the woods, keeping her tracking senses focused as she scanned the air for Lassiter. She had to get to him. She simply had to find him that very night.

Arlie was beyond excited. She had finally remembered what it was that had been nagging at the back of her mind.

It had been centuries ago, just before the very last of the Fae had left Delmire, when little Elana had fallen into the Forbidden Pool.

The water in the Forbidden Pool was deadly to her race, who were only immortal in the sense that they lived longer than was imaginable. They could die by many ways, and a fall in that spelled pool was one of those ways.

Elana's mother lay over her child, wailing for all of Delmire to hear.

She had been with Elana's mother, trying to console her, for the child was dying right before their eyes, and they could do nothing to stop it.

It was then that a Royal Prince of Dagda had arrived.

He had the stance of a warrior, yet he was soft spoken and beautiful to view. He came forward and moved Elana's mother out of the way. Then he knelt beside the child and began to sprinkle what looked like gold dust all over her body.

Within moments the child's eyes opened wide and she yawned as though she had been sleeping.

Prince Breslyn smiled, got to his feet, and bowed to take his leave. Before he left, however, he handed a huge glass container to Elana's mother and said with affectionate amusement, "In case the children of Delmire disobey in the future and find themselves in a precarious situation. This is Fae Dust. Use it sparingly, use it wisely—and for all." So saying, he was gone as he shifted Fae-style into the atmosphere.

It wasn't until she had walked by the Forbidden Pool earlier that she remembered: the _Fae Dust!_ Perhaps it could help Lassiter?

But he had flown off... to suffer in silence alone.

She had to find him. Confident that her tracking abilities would overcome Lassiter's skill at disguising his scent, she continued her search.

~ Fourteen ~

INVERNESS STRETCHED OUT before him as Andrew MacPoole drove his black BMW into the city and took the River Road.

He was headed for a little dive he visited from time to time... when a human or two was needed for a job he did not want traced to himself.

He parked in an empty warehouse parking lot and walked the short distance to the Red Lion Inn, a bar and grill that also served up rooms one could pay for by the hour.

The Red Lion had seen better days. Its red paint was peeling, and its wide window was so covered in soot and dirt one could not look in or out. However, the dirt was left there not from neglect but for its patrons, who enjoyed the anonymity the dingy establishment afforded them.

Andrew MacPoole was on a mission. He gritted his teeth every single time he thought of Arthur—and how his intended mate had come to the old man's defense. He would have to train her. He would have to use his Dark Magic to erase her memories and establish new ones with which he could control her.

First, however, he needed to get rid of Arthur, and if he was to do that—which he damn well meant to do immediately—he would have to go after him from another avenue.

Sometimes humans could be called upon to accomplish his needs while he was well out of the picture.

He thought of Arthur with pure hatred. That Arthur should have dared to speak to him with disrespect in front of Ravena was beyond his ability to tolerate. He wanted to tear the man apart himself, but this would have to do.

He didn't want Rave to suspect him of the crime. He would visit with her and make a vow to leave Arthur alone if she would forgive him; all the while, his plan would be carried out by his hired pawns. Then, during Ravena's grief, he would be there for her, slipping her the brew of forgetfulness and spelling her with false memories.

He smiled as he thought of the love for himself he would instill in her. Then, after time, she would indeed really be his.

He had to have her: she was meant to be his. However, she cared for Arthur and had put herself in harm's way for him, leaving Andrew no choice.

Killing Arthur was a given, and he had lit on a plan that would work perfectly for him. He was indeed brilliant, he thought confidently.

It would appear like a simple robbery gone bad. A simple robbery by ordinary human thieves—who would never be found once this chore was done. He would make certain of that.

He entered the dimly lit bar and sneered slightly at the unpleasant odor. The floor was littered with dirt, and the tables didn't look much better. Still, he knew he would find the men he needed here. At this time of day, they were usually in a corner with their ale, waiting. He had used them before.

They saw him and nudged one another as he approached, but he was stalled when the waitress stepped in front of him and said, "Oooh, darlin' man, I've seen ye here before."

"Have you?"

"Aye, that I 'ave, and I'd be pleased... to please ye..."

"Then bring me a pint and whatever those two want—" He inclined his head towards the two men. "—now, and we'll see about the other... later." He smirked at her as he started off.

"I'll do that, but..." She reached out for his arm and stopped him. "Doona ye want to go upstairs first?" She took his hand and put it up to her small breast.

She was darkly pretty, tall, and well shaped. He fondled her breast and found her nipple through her thin red sweater. She wore no bra, and he knew he made her tingle by the way she shifted her thighs. "I mean to have ye, pretty lassie, I do, but not till my business is concluded. Then, if you are up to an adventure, I'll take you to my hotel room... and show you what else I want."

"There's a price for that," she said, her eyes glittering at him.

He touched her nose. "There always is. Nothing wrong with that." Briefly he wondered why he was still attracted to others if Rave was his intended mate. The legend was that once a mate had been found, a male Lyken was bound body and soul to her.

Perhaps this had not occurred yet because he had not concluded the deal, because he had not bedded her? He would make her realize they were fated for one another, and then she would be his body and soul. He smiled to himself as he thought that soon all that had been would begin to change.

When he reached the table in the corner, the two grisly-looking brutes eyed him questioningly. His lip curled as he pulled out a chair.

"Gentleman, I have a job for you."

* * *

"What's happening?" Arthur cried from the other side of the mirror. "Are we losing her? Och, no, doona tell me that," he wailed. "Are we losing m'darlin' girl? Och, no... 'tis all m'fault... all m'fault..."

Rave lay still, her fur matted and bloodied as her nerves worked on realignment, as her blood flow slowed and the healing process shifted from stagnant into something new. Suddenly, healing had begun. Rave's wolf had responded to her mate, felt his touch, listened to the magic words, and had whimpered back to life through the pain and the torturous fatigue that the blood loss had exacted on her body. Her human essence had fought for control, but this time her wolf had to win, because if her human won, they would both be lost.

_Blood_ , she needed blood replacement to heal, she whispered in Quinn's mind.

"I hear ye, love... ye need blood," said Quinn, immediately slicing his arm. "May it stay open long enough fer ye to drink," he said, putting it to her lips, watching as his wound already began to close.

Rave knew that shapeshifters, just like werewolves, were not bloodsuckers per se. They did not feed like vampires, but they had the ability to do so when they made a kill and devoured the bloody meat. In this case blood was the only thing she would have the energy to consume.

Gently, Rave's wolf licked the blood from his artery, suckling and then putting her head down with exhaustion. She closed her eyes. Her wolf had never torn into anything alive, although her grandmother had encouraged her to do so when they ran together as wolves in the wild. Her human had never allowed her wolf to kill until when she'd torn into the entity's beast.

When she was young, the thought of hunting and killing an animal had been repugnant to the human, and so the wolf had been denied. Rave was beginning to see that she had been wrong. A wolf kills for food, not pleasure. She should have given her wolf her freedom. She could have done so without losing herself. She had not, and that was why she had not been able to recover from the wrenching wounds she had sustained. She had never completed the process of accepting that she and her wolf were one unit, and she was now paying the price.

The taste of blood surged through her system, solidifying what and who she was. She felt sudden vibrations as the healing began. She knew she was now totally joined with her wolf. Never before had she felt as one, wolf and human, _one._

Low in her throat, a growl formed.

She smiled to hear Quinn laugh with joy, and he shifted into wolf and began licking her wounds with his healing saliva.

* * *

Arthur screamed from the mirror, "Is she all right, man? Is she..."

Quinn continued covering her wounds with his saliva. With this done, he got up and padded to the mirror. Still in werewolf form he mind-spoke with Arthur. _Aye, then, she'll do... I don't know how long it will take, but she will do._ He turned from Arthur and took a moment to look at her. With total abandon lifted his head and howled as though he had encountered no greater joy. In that baying was the unmistakable cry of victory.

_His mate would live_. His wolf was bound to her, as he was to her human, but it was love, so much love that wielded his every thought and action. He loved the tenor of her voice. He loved the brightness of her silver eyes; he was enraptured by her little quirks, her expressions, her smile; and, damn, the combination of it all made her the unique person she was, the most special woman he had ever encountered. His heart roared with love. Her image always glowed in his mind. She radiated in his heart, making it throb with pleasure and need. She—

A _swooshing_ from above caught his attention, and he looked up. _Lassiter!_

He shifted into human with his sword drawn.

" _Blood..._ " Lassiter said, as though irresistibly drawn to it.

Quinn knew he was talking about the blood—Rave's blood—that covered her fur. Within a flash he waved his sword threateningly. "Not tonight, Lassiter. Ye best find something else to do." He slashed through the air as a warning and then held his sword pointed purposely. "I'll have ye head off and fed to the vultures before the dawn—see if ye are reborn then! Get out of here."

"Would that you could end for me forever," Lassiter bellowed and swooped down to land behind Rave, who was still lying motionless on the earth.

Quinn jumped over her to get to Lassiter, but the demon had been there one second before him, and that one second had been enough.

Even so, Quinn managed to send his sword slicing across Lassiter's arm. Lassiter reacted, pulling out a club he had hidden within the folds of his wings and flinging it at Quinn. It caught him across his head and sent him off balance.

It was the moment Lassiter needed.

With a snarl he bent, scooped up the wolf too weak to fight, and lifted her with him as he flew out of Quinn's range.

Quinn jumped into the air and caught Lassiter's wing as it swooped downward in flight. He heard Lassiter's blood-curdling cry as his sword made his mark, but even so Lassiter kept on climbing higher.

Quinn watched, helpless, as Lassiter flew off with his mate into the dark sky.

~ Fifteen ~

ARLIE HAD TRACKED Lassiter's flight to the Mirror Garden. She ran towards Quinn as she watched Lassiter snatch Ravena away and fly off.

She closed her eyes with dread and then hurried towards Quinn to scream, "Come on! _I will track him_."

"He will kill her..." Quinn sounded terrified, hopeless, ashamed.

"No, he won't. I know you don't believe me about Lassiter, but just think. He needs you to suffer. You know that. So he will prolong this... so that you will suffer. He can feel your suffering even at a distance."

"How do ye know? Arlie, how do ye know so much about him?"

"We don't have time—just keep up with me," she answered and started off at a jog. She had demon speed as he had wolf speed, and she knew he would be able to follow her as she slipped into her fastest mode. Her clan had the ability to run and appear as no more than a flash of blue. It would leave her exhausted when she was done, and she would need to rest, but this was worth it.

She looked back and saw keeping up at a distance. He was able to follow the flash of blue. Good.

She had to get to Lassiter.

She knew in her heart Lassiter wouldn't hurt Rave. She had begun to understand it all some months ago. She'd begun to see a way clear. Now, at last, perhaps Quinn would see.

She used her magic to track Lassiter's flight. She waited for Quinn to come up close to tell him, "Quinn, I know where he has gone."

_Arlie, would that ye be in the right... would that he woona harm her. I canna bear_ _it. This is my fault. I never should have allowed her to get involved in my mess. This is my fault_.

"Stop it! Not like you to look for blame when instead you need to look for a solution. Come on, Quinn—we'll get to your mate. I promise."

_Doona promise what ye canna deliver_ , he said, sounding hopeless. _We may get to her, but she'll be dead... and then I will have but one job left—to kill him and then meself_.

"You're talking bullshit," said Arlie, ever frank. "Don't talk, don't think, just track with me," she demanded, though she didn't really need his help.

She had to get to Lassiter. She had known for a long time that all but one of the gruesome murders that had occurred in Delmire had not been committed by Lassiter. There was another; she had picked up his scent when she found the poor child he had killed. Someone else was committing these crimes, someone working with Andrew MacPoole, someone who had been working with him from the beginning—and that _someone was one of her own_.

* * *

Lassiter laid the bloody wolf down at the opening of the cave and stared at her. "Who did this to you? Andrew MacPoole?"

_No, but something just as wicked_ , she answered in his mind.

He appeared surprised by the mind link, but he recovered quickly. He continued using his voice to communicate with her. "I used to have the power to heal others, but when Andrew spelled me... everything changed."

_Are you in pain_ , _now?_ Rave asked.

"No, _Quinn is_ —the spell works us one against the other. When he is in pain, I get relief. I have tried to cause him pain without the killing, but—"

Perhaps I can help you.

He snorted and sat, folded his wings at his back, and dropped his head before lifting it to look at her. "How can you help me? You can't even help yourself. You should have healed by now."

Never mind me—long story there—but by helping Quinn, and I will, I can help you. When we break the spell and release him from Delmire, the spell will break for you as well.

"And then what? What is there for me? I won't be able to stay here in Delmire. They think me a killer, and I was banished from my Realm."

_Are you not a killer_? Rave asked in some surprise. She was so tired. Her wolf's healing was moving along but slowly, so slowly.

"No, I am not, but no one will believe me."

She found that she did believe him—at least the part about causing Quinn pain giving him relief. _I do, and we will take it one step at a time_. Rave's intake of breath was long and full. She was beginning to feel some of her strength return. Not enough to shift back into human, which was just as well, as her wolf was the one working the healing process.

_Tell me why... why were you banished?_ Part of her did in fact believe him, but even if he was lying, a thing she saw no reason for him to do, she suspected he would try not to hurt her. The other part of her was stalling for time in case she was wrong and he did mean to kill her.

"I was banished because I killed the king's brother."

Why?

"Because he was a despicable rapist and I caught him in the act."

Then you had cause.

"The woman died from his demon bites... he was a royal. He could have subdued her to commit his ugly crime without injecting the venom from his teeth, but he chose her death rather than have a witness. She died shortly after I pulled him off. We fought—he lost. I was arrested, and the king would hear no testimony against his younger brother. I was going to be executed when Andrew MacPoole came along and propositioned the king. He convinced the king to allow him to punish me for eternity here in Delmire."

How did Andrew know... about you... about...?

"He had been using his Dark Magic to search for a demon to do his bidding. He found my dimension quite by accident." He made an irritated sound. "I don't know why I'm talking to you. Leave me be, wolf. Leave me be." He stalked off and out of sight.

Rave sighed to herself. She had quite a bit now on her plate. Keep him calm, stay alive while her wolf healed, escape and get back to Quinn, who must be losing his mind over her abduction, and then free this poor soul as well as her Quinn.

Lassiter returned holding a dead rabbit in his bloody fist. He dropped it near her nose. "Eat—it will help you... recover."

She looked into his eyes for a long moment.

"It did not suffer. The kill was quick... so just eat," he said softly, encouragingly.

Though the human in Rave recoiled, the wolf reached for it with her nose and then got hold of it with her teeth. She pulled it in, and although she still could not get into a sitting position, and though every movement still caused wrenching pain to shoot through her body, her wolf did what came naturally and chowed down.

* * *

Quinn saw that Arlie was tiring as she raced to clamber over the rough rocks as they climbed the cliffside following Lassiter's scent.

Quinn shifted back into human, produced his wand, and took a moment to cast a simple spell, one he had perfected when he was still a boy.

The rocks suddenly rumbled and began falling into place, mixing with dirt and roots to form a collection of steps.

Arlie looked at him and gave him an encouraging smile. "Well done, Quinn. Now if you could make us sprout wings and take us the rest of the way..."

He didn't speak. He couldn't. He reached and gave Arlie his hand as he helped her up the first long step.

Nearly twenty minutes were spent in climbing, and when they reached the top, Arlie bent over her knees and sucked in deep breaths.

He watched her as she whispered in the language of her demon clan, and he knew she was calling on her demon's inner strength.

Quinn prayed that they would reach his beloved, and then his eyes opened wide as Arlie's blue skin took on a soft, yellow glow. She gazed at him for a moment, and then her lashes brushed her cheeks. When she raised them again she pointed with her chin. "That way."

" _Arlie, his scent is everywhere_ —how do ye know which direction he took when he landed?" Quinn could not pick up Rave's scent at all. He knew Lassiter had not touched ground with Rave at this point. He had not flown her to this area. That was the only thing he was sure of.

"I know because I am tracking more than his scent, Quinn. _I know him_ —I know where he took your wolf mate. He would take her to shelter. He does not expect that you would be able to track him so quickly. He does not _expect me_ , and if he doesn't have to hurt her, _he won't_."

Quinn followed her as she shoved past him, and his heart began to pulse irregularly. What if Lassiter had injured her during the flight? His beloved was so weak—would it be too late to heal her? _He had to heal her. There simply was no alternative._

Arlie pulled up short, and Quinn stopped just inches away from her. They stood frozen in place, disbelieving, as they watched Lassiter feed small pieces of rabbit to Ravena.

Lassiter spoke without turning. "Arlie, you should not have come. Take him and leave before it begins all over again."

* * *

She was too weak to tear into the flesh and dropped her head after the first bite. Time was against her. It appeared she needed time to heal, time she didn't have.

Then Lassiter gently put a small morsel of meat between her teeth.

"Chew, wolf," he said, and then as she did he added, "That's right... each piece of meat will return your strength." So saying, he patiently fed her another, waited for her to swallow, and then put yet another piece in her mouth.

All at once, Rave felt him. It was as though the wind whispered his name to her. He was near; Quinn was near. Even in her weakened condition, she picked up on his scent, felt the vibration of his breathing, and knew he was not alone. She looked past Lassiter and saw the blue demon woman, the same one she had seen Quinn kissing... the same one who had pulled her out of harm's way the other day. When was that? It seemed so long ago.

She saw the flitting expressions of joy and thunderous rage pass over Quinn's face as he shouted, "Lassiter! Prepare yerself— _this time_ , ye shall not be reborn!"

Lassiter stood, his wings slightly opened and fluttering, his bare chest exposed. "Would that your words could be carried out. I gladly would die and remain dead."

Quinn started forward, but Arlie rushed between them. " _Stop!_ Quinn—"

Quinn took her arm and pushed her aside.

"You fool—didn't you see him helping her?" Arlie cried as she tried to shove herself between them again.

He took her arm, and Lassiter exploded. " _Do not touch her_ _!_ "

Rave watched Quinn stop short. He looked startled. She could see that her Quinn was in a rage and his logic wasn't working.

Rave knew she had to do something. She had to, so somehow with every ounce of her being, with every bit of magic she owned, she managed to crawl on her belly before collapsing at Quinn's feet. She lay there, all her energy spent and in excruciating pain as she mind spoke to her mate. _NO!_

Quinn stopped in mid-charge and bent to her. "Och, m'darlin'... m'poor darlin'..."

Arlie ran to Lassiter and put her head without reserve on his chest. "Lassiter, I have it, I have the answer—at least part of it! Won't you listen... and believe me?"

Quinn was on his knees bending over Rave, putting his hand over her wounds, and then he shifted into wolf so he could lick them with his healing saliva. One eye was on Lassiter, who was in deep conversation with Arlie.

_You are here_ , Rave said in his mind. _Y_ _ou are here._ No other words were needed; those said it all.

Tears tumbled silently from his wolf's golden eyes, but he did not answer as he continued to lick her wounds.

Lassiter broke away from Arlie and shouted at Quinn, "The meat—give her the meat!"

"Lassiter, the pain—is it returning?" Arlie asked as she opened the large pouch she had tethered to her belt.

"Not yet. Quinn is still in pain, worrying about her. Relief is temporarily mine."

"Relief will be forever yours, at least I believe so. There is no Dark Magic stronger than Fae magic, and this..." She took a handful of gold-colored powder that Rave's Druid self recognized as Faery Dust and started spreading it over his chest. Arlie then lifted her hand and threw more dust at the top of his head, where it seemed to sparkle before it settled.

Suddenly, Lassiter collapsed in a heap.

Arlie gasped. "What have I done? It was supposed to heal him!"

Rave spoke into Arlie's mind. As a Druid priestess, she knew a great deal about Faery Dust. _It's healing him, changing him—it's seeping into his brain, his organs, his blood._

"Then it will work—will it work?"

_When Faery Dust is willingly given, it will work,_ Rave answered, and then she passed out.

* * *

In the high mountains of Scotland, not far from MacAllister land, a dark force was working with everything it had to regain the strength it had lost when it had engaged Ravena in battle.

Rave had been correct in thinking the force was female. _It was._

When she had been human, her name had been Trella.

She still thought of herself as Trella, although she had not enjoyed the human form for many years—not since the day she killed the one great love of her life.

After that she hadn't wanted to feel. She hadn't wanted to think. All she wanted was oblivion. She had turned to the worst of the forbidden black magic and promised not only her soul in exchange for power but her body.

She became an entity, able to take on the form of beasts, only beasts.

And for a time she hid herself away and made her plans.

She had believed her new black magic, so much stronger than what she had practiced before, would allow her to destroy Sowan. But even now, with all that she was, she was still no match for Sowan MacAllister, shaman of the Algonian tribe—and Ravena MacAllister's grandmother.

Sowan had to suffer, and Trella knew only one way to ensure that: through Ravena.

Sowan, who had stolen him right out from under her. Trella had chosen him. He was a beautiful Druid priest, and she had delved into black magic to find a way to make him immortal. She had loved him beyond words and imagination.

She thought of him now, so tall and full of life. How they had laughed together...

_She had seen him first_. She had gone out with him first, danced with him first, and bedded him first. _He should have been hers_.

She and Sowan had been political rivals in their tribe. Time and time again, Sowan's abilities had overshadowed her own. No one, except she, could deny that Sowan was the more powerful shapeshifter, more gifted, more trusted... _always more_.

In the end, when the old shaman stepped down, they chose Sowan to lead them into the new era.

Trella had accepted that—at least she had tried to accept it. Then one day after she had been playing nursemaid to a friend's children, Sowan arrived and the children rushed to her to hug and caress her. Something broke inside Trella. Jealousy had overwhelmed her, and she couldn't bear it any longer.

Soon afterwards she left her tribe and took to traveling the world.

She had left a message for her family, for her tribe, telling them she did not wish to return.

She was enjoying a morning walk in Inverness when she _saw him_ and could not look away. He was so big, sexual in a raw and commanding manner, so incredibly desirable, and when he looked her way she felt his Druid magic.

She made up her mind, in that moment, that they were meant. He must be her true mate for all time. She must have him.

She had no idea that her father and mother had asked Sowan to go after her and bring her back into the fold.

But they had.

Sowan found her in Inverness and tried to persuade her to return.

Trella had been nearly convinced and thought she would marry her Druid priest and bring him back with her. She made plans in her mind.

When he came to take her out to breakfast, he invited Sowan to join them, and her heart began to panic. She watched him and saw that he could not stop looking at Sowan. Their eyes seemed to lock, and Trella knew... she knew she had lost him.

In the end, _he chose Sowan over her_.

Over the next few months, hatred exploded inside her and ate up everything that had ever been good or reasonable in her heart. _Hatred festered_.

_Hatred drove her_.

They married. She had taken to the road once again, but the news arrived that her Druid had married Sowan in a tribal wedding.

She wanted to kill her rival, to maim and hurt her, and she made her plans to do just that. She even made more than one attempt, but Sowan was too powerful and easily vanquished anything Trella sent her way.

_A son!_ In the years that followed, Sowan and Aaron MacAllister had a son. _He should have been her son._

The years passed, and she could bear it no longer. She visited them at MacAllister, and in a fit of rage... _Before she knew what she was doing, she'd killed the man she adored_.

He had magic, he was a Druid priest, but he was not an immortal, and Sowan couldn't save him. Trella had swept her dark sorcery through him quickly, harshly, irretrievably.

Sowan had not expected an attack on her husband—only herself.

Sowan had suspected that Trella had come to make mischief, but she had never thought Trella would hurt _him_.

_Better dead_ , Trella told Sowan afterwards. She would rather he be dead than belong to Sowan.

Sowan's grieving and wailing at his side thrilled her, and then the boy came running into the room. Trella looked at Aaron's son, her beloved's son, and for a moment she wanted to kill him as well, but something stopped her. He was so much like his father. Perhaps she would let him live so she might look upon him from time to time and think of him as hers. Perhaps...?

Sowan held him in her arms and sliced the air with her magic, horribly injuring Trella, and Trella, in a mist of dark smoke, made her escape using the portal she had found the year before.

She bided her time.

When Ravena was born, evil flooded Trella's essence as she thought of killing Sowan's granddaughter. She had not been able to destroy Sowan, whose white magic was unbeatable, but the granddaughter rejected what she really was—and Trella knew that would work in her favor.

Ravena looked so much like Sowan, with her silver eyes that glowed behind the gold of her wolf's.

Ravena, however, had surprised her. She didn't know she had her grandmother's power, but it was there, lurking within her. She had used it when cornered, and soon, it would grow inside her. Trella would have to kill her before that happened.

She would have to recoup before Ravena realized what she was made of. She would have to come in fast and hard, and then... _And then, Sowan, then... what will you do when your precious granddaughter has had her head sliced off?_

The notion made her laugh... and the laugh traveled in the air around her and came back to make her sneer.

* * *

Lassiter was unconscious as Arlie cared and ministered to him. She ran to the nearby waterfall and returned with a piece of her dark blue shirt torn and wet. She applied it to his face, trying to rouse him.

"This wasn't what I was expecting... this didn't happen when we used it all those centuries ago."

Quinn wasn't really listening to her. "Ravena, m'own sweet lass... Ravena..." he called as he ran healing hands over her.

Rave opened her eyes, and they smiled at him. He released a ragged breath of relief and fed her another morsel of meat. "Are ye feeling any stronger?"

His Scottish accent, deep and thick with his worry, was like a balm to her fragile nerves. She did feel better. Her wolf was healing but at an extraordinarily slow rate.

"It's the poison... there's poison in yer system... whatever did this to ye... left behind a present. That's what yer body is fighting," Quinn told her.

They couldn't stay on top of this cliff, Rave thought. She had to heal so they could leave. They had to get to the mirror they had found and take it to the Mirror Garden.

_Quinn, the Faery Dust..._ Rave whispered in his mind.

"What's wrong with me? Of course... of course!" He turned to Arlie, who looked at him questioningly.

"The Faery Dust—"

He didn't have to finish the sentence, but as she handed him the container she asked, "Are you sure you should? I don't know what it's done to Lassiter... he's unconscious, and I haven't been able to get through—"

_It isn't your fault, Arlie. You were anxious... and used a load too much. His body and mind are in shock from the blast. He'll be okay_ , Rave whispered in her mind.

Quinn stroked Rave's matted fur. "Doona worry, love, I doona know where Arlie got this, but thank the powers that be, for it will work." He took a small pinch of the Faery Dust and gently rubbed it into her wound.

She whimpered, and he groaned. "Am I hurting ye? Did I rub too hard?"

Not you... the dust... it's like electricity shooting through me. Are you sure you aren't using too much?

Quinn gave her an encouraging smile. "Do ye trust me, lass?"

_Always and forever_.

"Then think on it—I am a wizard, and this isn't my first encounter with Faery Dust. I learned about it from m'father when I was just a tot. I've seen Faery Dust work its magic in many ways."

He took another, larger pinch of the gold glitter from the bottle and let it drift over the open wound at her belly and then sprinkled another pinch at the raw wounds on her rump. "I didn't use enough with the first application, love, but this should do."

Ravena gasped as she was flooded with sensation.

"Och, no... are ye hurting, m'love? Och, no." His hand went to her muzzle, and he bent to kiss her nose. "Love... m'own precious treasure... did I hurt ye?"

She heard the distress in his voice, saw it in his eyes. He was going through hell, and she fought through the vortex she found herself swirling helplessly in to reassure him.

_No... not hurt... something else. It's streaming through me... changing me... using what I am, but changing..._ Ravena closed her eyes as a flash of sights and sounds entered her mind and took over her conscious thoughts. She saw a tall, dark blonde Fae, not just a Fae but _a Royal Fae_ , and for some reason she knew and trusted him. He was Prince Breslyn. It was as though she had always known him. He smiled at her as he bent to stroke her face and whisper.

This couldn't be real. What she was experiencing had to be a hallucination. And then she knew, just knew, that this was a projection of himself. He had put a projection of himself into the dust to reassure whoever used it that all would be well.

_Lights_ _!_ So many... no, they were stars... and she was traveling through space and time, and there... she was in Danu! She was in the Faery Realm of Danu before they'd destroyed it with war.

A blast of darkness, and then she was once again looking at Quinn and saw a tear rolling down his cheek. Her heart pumped hot blood through her system, and she felt a bolt of power rush through her veins to her muscles.

Her brain seemed to expand and add on a new compartment. No, it wasn't new. It had been there all along, never before used. Fae used a great deal more of their brains than humans did—and the Fae Dust had opened another door for her...

Something Fae had entered her blood and made a home even though she wasn't Fae, and she was becoming brighter, stronger, more... She felt her fur fluff out, she felt her muscles pump up, she felt whole.

She heard a voice reciting in ancient Gaelic in that newly opened compartment in her mind, and it told her what to do, how to do it. Suddenly her eyes flashed, and she knew she had expanded in a way that made her stronger. She felt her body pulse with magic.

The wounds had healed as though they had never been. The blood was gone from her fur as though the old fur had been discarded in the blink of a moment and replaced.

Her torn and vital organs were stronger than they had ever been. The blood was no longer flowing out of her but rushing through her, and that too carried _new and vibrant white magic_.

She shifted into human and dove into Quinn's arms, knocking him over where he knelt beside her. He held her as they rolled on the grass. He held her as she planted kiss after kiss on his face and whispered words of love. He held her as he made unintelligible sounds and then whispered, "Lass, lass... my very own darlin' love, I am never letting ye out of m'sight again..."

She laughed and said with a triumphant edge in her voice, "Quinn! I know what to do now. I know how to use the mirror the prince left behind. The Faery Dust—it came with instructions!" She held his face and smiled so hard she thought her face would break. Joy just burst inside her and took hold of him.

"Easy now... ye have just had a difficult... recovery," he cautioned.

She laughed and then while in his arms turned to see Lassiter still unconscious. She got to her feet, and Quinn was quick to follow as she went to Arlie and touched her shoulder.

"Thank you... and don't worry—he'll be okay. Believe me, he will be better than ever."

"Why should we care? He can rot in hell." Quinn almost spat the words.

"Quinn, don't be so ungenerous. Can't you see he has been in hell all these years through no fault of his own? Andrew made him a pawn in his ugly game. He was put here to torture you by destroying your friends here, but killing was something he couldn't bring himself to do. You both suffered, but his suffering was physical. Andrew did that."

Arlie put out her hand and touched Rave's face. "Thank you."

"What of the child he recently tore apart?" Quinn frowned and shook his head.

"It wasn't him, Quinn," Arlie said. "Someone else is at work here, and I fear it is one of my own. Someone has gone over to the dark side and is blaming the torturous killings on Lassiter."

"Who?" Quinn pursued doubtfully.

"I am not certain. I have an idea, though... and am investigating."

"Doona put yerself in danger, Arlie. Yer clan needs ye," Quinn said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. "Let us help."

She smiled, and then Lassiter's groan made them all turn back to him.

He eyed them as he struggled to get to his feet. His wings opened slightly and then flapped in the breeze as they opened, and he pushed away. "What... the hell...?"

~ Sixteen ~

ANDREW CLOSED THE double doors to his study and locked them. A fleeting memory of the late afternoon he had spent with the pretty barmaid made him smile. He'd left her with cash—more cash than she'd asked for—and the key to the hotel room, which he had secured for the night.

The drive home had been pleasant. He was certain everything would go as planned. By tomorrow night, Arthur would be dead.

He quietly made his way to a collection of shelves on the far wall. His servants would all be asleep, but even if they weren't it didn't matter. None ever dared bother him when he closed and locked his study doors.

He turned on a dim table lamp and made his way to the far corner of the room, where he moved two books off their shelf and easily undid a latch. Wood scraped softly against stone as he opened the bookshelf door into the secret chamber. It was in total darkness except for the little bit of light from the study. His wolf eyes adjusted to the dark as he reached for the matches on the sideboard table and lit the kerosene lamp hanging on the wall.

A round, dark oak table stood in the center of the small, square room. In the middle of that table was something round and covered with purple velvet cloth. He lifted the cloth and set it aside, pyramided his fingers, and stared at the dark Fae Orb silently awaiting his request.

The Orb had been a gift from Queen Aaibhe to the Lyken Kingdom when they had signed the Treaty of non-interference regarding the Human Realm. It had been a formality, really, for the Fae could have wiped out the entire Lyken race with but one battle. They had never been a match for the Seelie Fae.

His grandfather had stolen and smuggled the Orb out of Lyken when he was banished. It became his when Andrew killed his father.

It was an annoying matter that the Orb was ever reluctant to obey his commands. He remembered his father had complained about this problem.

He was never sure what the Orb would allow him or when it would cut him off. Fae Relics took on a life of their own after time, evolving and 'becoming'. From what he had learned, only a Royal Seelie Fae could completely control a Fae Relic.

He concentrated as he chanted the spell that asked the Orb to show him what he needed to see, and then he said, "Randon."

The Orb remained dark.

"I have recited the blessing. You must allow me what I ask. Show me Randon of Delmire."

" _I_ was not meant for _you_. I belong to the Lyken King," the Orb answered.

"We have had this discussion before. You are mine now, in my possession, and shall always be mine to command. I am Lyken. _O_ _bey me_."

"I was given by the Queen of the Seelie Fae to the Lyken King. You are Lyken, and I may grant you a wish when it pleases me. It does not presently please me to do so. I do not like you. Dark Magic surrounds you and all you do," the Orb responded in a voice full with displeasure. "You may not work your Dark Magic in my sphere. I do not approve. I was a gift from my queen to the Lyken King. I am of the _People of the Light_ , and they, my Seelie Fae, only live with Light Magic, as do I."

"And still you will obey me in this if you wish to gain your freedom and return to your queen!" Andrew had no intention of returning the Orb, but this promise might yet serve to persuade the Orb to do as he asked.

Silence filled the chamber.

"Is it a deal?" Andrew prodded.

Without answering, the Orb cleared its sphere and displayed the Demon Forest of Delmire. "Is this what you wish to see?"

"Yes, yes—Randon!" Andrew called harshly.

"I will not permit Dark Magic," the Orb cautioned.

Andrew ignored this as he shouted once more, " _Randon_ , it is the hour!"

The face of a blue demon appeared distorted as it stared upwards and said, "MacPoole, _you are late_."

"Never mind. What news have you for me?"

Randon looked worried as he responded irritably, "You must not be so late in the future—I can't stand out here so long. It looks odd, and someone might notice."

"There is nothing odd about a fellow walking in the woods," Andrew scoffed impatiently.

"Perhaps not, but I am certain that Arlie is suspicious of me. She has looked at me... strangely."

"If that is so, I can only conclude that you have been sloppy and are undeserving of the power I have promised you."

"I swear I was not... but something went wrong—something unexpected."

"What?"

"I was attempting to steal the book as you requested and bring it to you. I had just started breaking into the House of Treasures when she came out of nowhere... chasing a ball..."

Andrew's eyes narrowed. He was many things, he was dark inside his soul, and yet some vestige of who he could have been flashed through his mind, and he closed his eyes. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, but destroying a child... or a woman... was something he would always avoid when he could. When he reopened them he snapped, "Fool! What are you saying?"

"The child saw me—she saw me breaking into the building. She started to scream." He shook his head. "I couldn't allow her to leave. I had no choice. She would have given me away—"

"You killed a child," Andrew said out loud as looked with contempt at the blue demon in the sphere. "You are not worthy of the power you seek."

Randon was the only demon he had managed to seduce to his wishes. He had secretly watched male Blue Demons through the Orb. Randon was the only one whose essence was pliable. It was easy to tempt him to the dark side. Randon wanted so many things—so many things he saw others obtain. He had been passed over year after year when he tried to join the Council. He was bitter and grasping and so easily persuaded.

"It is no wonder you are not popular amongst your own kind. You are without any doubt the lowest beast of all. You could have used a spell to make her forget. You have that ability."

"I didn't think—I just reacted."

"Very well. Now you have to get rid of this... Arlie."

"I... I can't risk it now. She is a tribal leader and very powerful."

"Find a way to dispose of her."

"I don't know, but I suppose I shall have to. I am nearly certain she suspects me." He shook his head. "My tribe would burn me alive... if they find out it was I who killed the child."

"Then I suggest you get rid of her at once. Don't wait.

"Very well... I shall have to manage. I don't have a choice any longer."

"Whatever you have to do—do, but I will have that book."

"Someone is coming... I hear them..." Randon scurried off.

The Orb went dark, and Andrew wasn't able to recall it. He made a fist and angrily slammed it into his palm before he stomped out of the secret chamber and re-latched the shelved and hidden door.

He had to think.

Soon, by the next night, Arthur would be dead. Valdane, the Mirror, and Ravena MacAllister would be his, and the book would help him find his way to Lyken.

Just one more day, and Arthur would be dead... He would not be suspected, as his hired guns would make it look like a robbery.

Andrew's eyes narrowed with pleasure as he thought of the bright future he had planned for himself.

* * *

Rave watched Quinn as he eyed Lassiter. She could tell by the way he held his sword that he didn't trust the demon. She frowned and put a hand on his sword hand. "No, Quinn—he isn't what you think."

He looked down and into her eyes. She smiled up at him. Her feelings were heightened. Her body still tingled from the reaction to the Fae Dust.

He whispered, "Rave, I wish ye could see yerself right now... under the stars... yer hair is silky and bright around yer face... so alive... yer skin... so creamy and soft to the touch." He groaned. "When I thought I was losing ye, it was as though someone had reached in and grabbed m'heart with claws. I—"

She put a finger to his lips. "Shhh... I was healing. My wolf was healing, but it was difficult and taking a long time because of the entity's poison." She smiled and reached for the crystal pendant at her neck. "Oh... oh, no! Where is it? The crystal Mary gave me... it helped me back there in the woods, but, Quinn, _it's gone!_ " She gasped and waved her hand.

He patted her back as he held her tightly in his arms. "Never mind, love—we'll find it in the morning. I'll sleep with it on m'mind, and maybe its location will come to me in a vision."

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. "Quinn, there's so much I have to tell you—"

Arlie interrupted at that moment. "Quinn, take her and go home. Leave me to see to Lassiter."

"I'll not be leaving ye with that devil." Quinn almost spat as he dropped his hold on Rave and started forward, his hand once again on the hilt of his sword.

Rave grabbed his bicep with both hands. "Quinn, stop—you don't understand."

"Och, no, 'tis ye and Arlie who doona understand. He is a cold-blooded, vicious killer—"

"No, I already told you," Arlie said. "You are so thick-headed!"

"Aye, but ye have no proof. Till ye do, I see no reason to change opinion."

" _Go home, Quinn—just go home!_ " Arlie shouted. "I thought you would trust me and my judgment. I am a tribal leader—do you think me a fool?"

"Quinn, he is a victim of MacPoole, just as you are... but even so, look at him. Can't you see what the Fae Dust has done?" Rave added as she pressed against Quinn and smiled encouragingly up at him. She wanted him to see what she saw, because what she saw was a small miracle.

A glow emanated from Lassiter, as though his soul had come alive and wrapped itself around him, banishing all that he had been over the last seventy-five years. He stood transformed, with his silver-tipped white wings slightly open and his head in his hands. He glanced their way, and he looked puzzled and disoriented. To Rave it was obvious that the Fae Dust had done more than heal him. It had made him stronger, it had made him whole, and it had vanquished the Dark spell that had kept him a prisoner of anguish over the years. The fresh breath of freedom was on his face and glittered in his eyes.

"He is rather outstanding, don't you think, Quinn? Just look at him... standing there all white-winged with his hair now more white than blonde... He has come through quite a trial."

"Doona look at him—doona think he has changed just like that. 'Tis a trick! Mayhap he means to lure us in with a pleasant exterior and cause mischief when we least expect it," Quinn returned suspiciously.

Rave laughed. "No, Quinn, I can feel the change in him, even as I feel the change in myself. My wolf was able to heal, in spite of the poison, at an amazing rate because of the Fae Dust, but it also did something—something new is in my brain, something that has never existed there before. I am not sure what it is, but everything is... so... wide screen," she said as she searched for a way to describe how she felt.

Quinn eyed her with a puzzled frown. "Wide screen?"

"You know about TV and... movies, yes?"

"I have seen some of it with Arthur."

"There is small screen, and then there is big, beautiful wide-screen."

"Och, no, I doona like it," he said, shaking his head and pulling her into him.

"No, it's okay. It's as though another door has opened in my brain, and... I can feel and see a way out of this mess that I didn't see before."

"Well, I'm wary, lass—and with good reason. I doona trust any magic other than m'own," Quinn returned irritably.

Rave laughed. "Well, then trust your own eyes. You have only to look at Lassiter to know everything has changed." She shrugged. "Besides, it's obvious all he can see, all he wants is Arlie—and I think she kinda likes him as well."

"Damnation—fire and brimstone! When did all that coom aboot?" Quinn exploded. "I doona understand." He held Rave's hand and put it to his heart. "Ye canna wipe away years of conflict like it never happened."

"He didn't kill the child. He hasn't been doing any of the awful killings in Delmire," Arlie snapped suddenly in Quinn's direction.

"And how do ye know he didn't all that?" Quinn snapped right back at her.

"He told me so, and he has no reason to lie—he has always told me the truth. He hasn't killed anyone in years and years, only animals and then only to ease his pain. That was his curse—kill something with a beating heart, and it eases the pain from the curse. Refrain, and he is tortured throughout the night."

Arlie's hands were on her hips, but Lassiter drew her backwards and enfolded her within his arms. His wings went around her protectively. "Hush, Arlie... softly... now."

"Why do ye believe him?"

"Because I know him, and I told you, I have been investigating someone within my clan. Just recently I found something—something he kept as a... token of his deed. I know who the scoundrel is, but I need more proof for the Tribal Council." She shook her head. "He will be burned alive... so I need to be certain."

"Who—who is this?" Quinn stepped forward, clenching his teeth.

"I cannot say until I can prove my claim. It wouldn't be right," Arlie returned.

"Be careful, Arlie—you can't let him know you are onto him," Rave cautioned.

"I know. At least for now, I can't."

"Ye be planning something—what is it?" Quinn pursued.

"When the time is right, I will tell you, but for now, Lassiter needs rest, just as Ravena does. Best be getting her to the Fae Palace."

"I doona like leaving ye with him," Quinn said doubtfully.

"Lassiter in his worst moments would never hurt me, and that time, Quinn, is over," Arlie said as she touched Lassiter's chest and looked up at him. He seemed still semi-conscious, as though he were trying to make sense of what he was experiencing while his body was in transition.

Rave looked up at the night sky, full with stars. "It is so beautiful... Quinn, take me home."

"Aye." He smiled and kissed her fingers. "Do ye think of the Fae Palace as home, my love?"

"I think anywhere with you is home," she said softly.

He pulled her in for a kiss, heedless of Arlie and Lassiter, heedless of all else as his lips parted hers and his tongue joyously joined with hers.

* * *

They made it as far as down the cliff and into the valley just beneath the shadows of the Fae Palace.

Quinn took her a few feet off the walking path to a lovely blue watering hole. Rave grinned wickedly at him as she dropped her clothing.

"The Fae used this water. It is spelled with minerals. It will help ye," he said hoarsely as he pulled her close.

"Well, then," she said and broke away to run to the edge of the sparkling blue water. She laughed as she jumped in.

He followed her, a warm smile taking his lips as he reached for her and held her naked body against his own. "I canna lose ye, lass... please... doona ever put yerself in harm's way again."

"Would you let me watch Arthur be killed?"

"No... nooo..."

Her palms went up and met his palms, and the shock of sensation that bolted through them both was evident as their bodies stiffened with excitement. Suddenly he had her wrapped tightly in his arms and his mouth pressed against hers.

She pulled away from his kisses and said softly, "So then." She moved in his embrace and kissed his nose, lightly brushed his sensuous lips with her own, moved to kiss his neck, his chest, his bicep... and then pushed him backwards onto the grassy slope at the edge of the pond. There she took hold of his cock and stroked.

As she moved her hands over his shaft she looked into his eyes. "Like that, my love, my Quinn... like that?"

He groaned and said, "Aye... but now, I need ye to climb on, lass... _climb on..._ "

And she did.

~ Seventeen ~

WHY SHE HADN'T seen it at once was beyond her, but she saw it now. All she had to do was put the Mirror of Ral facing the Quicksilver Mirror.

They set it in place, and Quinn shook his head. "I doona know about this."

"Hush. Look into the Ral Mirror. What do you see?"

"Arthur looking back... in the library."

"Hi, Arthur—do you see us?"

"Aye, aye. Coom then—what are ye waiting fer?"

"Chant the words, Quinn."

He took her hand. "I'll no leave ye when I go through."

"I will follow. I don't think we can both fit at the same time."

"We'll have to, for I won't let yer hand go. Ye have to coom with me, or I doona go," he said firmly.

She could see he wouldn't budge from this and smiled, and repeated, "Chant the words then."

He did, and as he did the mirror went blank before it opened wide. His grin was so big it seemed to brighten everything around him. He stepped inside, holding onto Rave's hand. She followed right at his side, marveling to herself that they both fit through the portal at the same time.

It wasn't sticky like the Garden Mirror, which no doubt had been affected by the Dark Magic spell Andrew had set on it.

The next thing they knew they were in Valdane, and Quinn was hugging Arthur in his arms.

A festive late morning ensued, and then Rave sighed and said she had to get home and change. Her clothes were horrible, and she hated wearing dirty undergarments.

Arthur rushed off and returned with a handful of clothing, clothing he had prepared for this moment. He had a creamy fisherman's sweater, black boxers over which he winked at Quinn, and jeans—jeans that proved to be a tight fit, since Arthur had needed to guess at the size, and that made Rave tease Quinn quite thoroughly. A brown leather jacket and boots completed the outfit.

Rave looked her Quinn over approvingly. "You'll do, big man, you'll do."

"I'll drive ye over. No sense walking," Arthur offered.

"No, Arthur. I need to find my crystal—I lost it when I was hurt."

"I doona like it."

"I won't be frightened off our land," Rave said grimly.

"I'll look for it, lass. Ye stay here with Arthur."

"No, as I said, I won't be—"

"Right then, coom along, love. We'll be ready for it, won't we?" Quinn said, touching her nose.

* * *

Trella breathed in magic and gathered herself as she combed the woods lining Valdane. She had been lying in wait and dreaming of Aaron.

She could still remember his face when he had bent to kiss her.

She could still remember how she loved him.

All at once, she felt something disturbing the atmosphere. White magic was approaching.

Ravena.

Ravena, who should have been dead, was near, was walking towards the woods as though Trella had not injured her at all.

Trella rose into a dark cloud and gathered her black sorcery, filling the beast with the poison she had concocted for this day.

Ravena was laughing. She was with someone. A man... she was with a man... who...

And then Trella felt his power. _A wizard?_

She sneered. What was a wizard against her? Naught. She would slay him as she had her beloved Druid priest—her Aaron.

Something about Ravena was... different... The air was filled with something... she could not name.

She waited.

They seemed unconcerned, unprepared, and her lip curled. They were fools. Did they think she would not be waiting for her?

Did the wizard not know she was in the woods?

They talked as though they hadn't a care. Ha! Today would be their last.

Today, she would kill Sowan's granddaughter. She would put an end to all that Sowan was with that kill, for she knew how precious was the child to Sowan.

She gathered the mist into her dark cloud and began reforming her beast, getting it ready for the strike.

She had the advantage. She was not expected.

She could see the girl was near—so near. Sowan's girl would soon be dead, and the thought filled her with joy.

Ravena stopped at the edge and touched the man's arm.

Trella hissed into the air...

* * *

Heart pounding in her chest, her lips drawn over her gritted teeth, Rave whispered, "It's here."

"I know. Stay close to me, m'love—doona move an inch away. Its mana is dark, and I have never coom across anything quite like it."

"I think I know who it is—at least who it used to be."

"Do ye? Good... then mayhap ye know what to say to trigger it into fury."

"And we want this dark mana furious—why?" She pulled a face at him.

"Because whenever the worst of black magic explodes, it loses some of its focus—and then we will strike," he said quietly, his eyes scanning the deep woods.

"You are not only hot, fella, you are so smart," she said, and in spite of the seriousness of the moment, she rubbed her cheek against the fullness of his arm in his sleeve.

He gave her a short smile before he returned to scanning the woods.

Suddenly, Rave's new mental compartment opened, and information came pouring out. Words in ancient Gaelic, a language she had never really mastered, translated themselves in her head, and she smiled. "Quinn, I know what to do," she said, her eyes alive with excitement. " _I know what to do._ "

She raised her arm and held out her hand; like a small rocket, Mary's pendant, complete with broken chain, shot off the ground and dropped onto her palm.

She smiled and said as she stuck it into the right pocket of her jeans, "From my dad's new bride. She's a white witch." She giggled. "It seems I am surrounded by magic—except for my mom. Oh, no!" She gasped on this last.

"What, what, love?" Quinn nearly jumped out of his skin at her tone.

"My mom! I haven't called her in a couple of days. She's a worrier—she'll worry."

He kissed the top of her head. "Aye then... ye'll call her as soon as we get to MacAllister Castle."

Then all at once the wind picked up and slammed into them, ending their comfortable conversation. They were nearly lifted off their feet by the force of the gale. Trees bent, dust and pine straw blew about them, and then all at once it was over—but something else, something sinister, froze them in place.

Quinn said suddenly, "Behind me!" He shoved her to his back and then held his wand in one hand and touched the hilt of the sword into his belt with the other.

It came like a small tornado whirling at them, but just as it was on them, just as it seemed like it was going to engulf them, Rave took out the pendant and let it shine into the dark, swirling mass. " _Ne Brionn... ne briollaq_ ," she chanted. No illusion, she'd said in Gaelic.

A hundred black bats broke from the swirling wind and flew about chaotically, and Trella bellowed with fury. " _You cannot win!_ "

" _Watch us_ ," Rave shouted, and she and Quinn began reciting the old Gaelic words they had put to memory before they left Valdane. The chant filled the air with a bright white force that began weaving itself in and out as it created a web of magic.

Like a spider's web, Rave thought as she watched the magic threads stitch into a blanket and engulf the black swirl within its hold.

Trella's swirling black mass was trapped in place by the webbing, and she screamed with rage unleashed. She was beyond thought and reason.

Trella lifted off the ground and tried to escape as she turned upside down and dove towards the bottom of the netting that had not closed yet, but the white magic was ahead of her. It scooped her up, and she was a captive. She bellowed for her beast.

And the beast took form. It tore at the webbing and raged and shouted curses, but it could not break free.

Rave held her pendant high as Quinn pointed his wand, and they repeated the spell, changing but one word, " _B_ asaich."

They repeated this over and over in Gaelic—die... die hard.

Contained within the web, a web created with Fae magic, Trella could not escape. With one last scream, her raging voice faded, as did the beast and the smoke—and then she was gone.

Rave and Quinn looked at one another. "That was too easy," Rave murmured.

"Aye, I doona believe she is gone, only recouping, but, lass, it will be a long while before she regains her strength and returns—if indeed she can."

"So you heard her too—a female?" Rave asked.

"Aye, a female. Now tell me why she attacked ye."

It had all come flooding back to her when she was healing. This was her grandmother's enemy, Trella, who had killed her grandfather and had apparently given over her body and soul to black magic. She would never really be dead while a spark of magic was left in her sphere. She was, just like Quinn said, recouping. But the next time she appeared, Rave would be ready, because now she also knew how to eliminate every speck of Dark Magic the entity owned. Then, Trella would be done. It was tricky, but Rave wasn't concerned.

What she was concerned about was calling her mother. What she would have to deal with if her mother didn't hear from her soon was something that terrified her more than black magic!

~ Eighteen ~

QUINN HELD HER beneath the shower's warm, soothing rain and bent his head to lick the water off her nipples. "Och, love... I canna get enough... I doona want to do anything but this over and over..."

She laughed, as this had been his answer to 'Aren't you hungry? Shouldn't we go and raid the kitchen?' No one was staying in the house, as the housekeeper and staff members were off for the weekend, but she knew the pantry was fully stocked—and she was starving. "Quinn... your stamina is..." As his lips traveled over her belly, she let the sentence drift off with a pleasurable groan.

"How many do ye want, love?"

She stumbled over this. "How many...?"

" _Bairns_... how many, love?"

She smacked his shoulder and pushed at him. "No... ho there, steady..."

He laughed. "Imagine them running about Valdane... breathing life into m'ancient home."

She smiled and shook her head. "First, we have to travel, you and I—there is so much to see and do. And I went to school to learn how to design clothes. Maybe I'll open my own shop, use my skills selling affordable gowns," she mused. "I do want to design... I love fashion."

" _Fashion?_ Och, then... so ye shall do that and anything else ye want to do. _Travel..._ a must, and when we have the bairns, it willna stop us. We'll bring the brood with us... aye, and when ye are sitting and drawing yer, er, fashions, I'll keep them from disturbing their mother."

"Let me go—you're scaring me." She laughed.

He held her tightly and then lifted her up cradle like. With them both dripping wet, he carried her out of her large shower stall, across the tiled bathroom floor, and back into her bedroom, where he plopped her unceremoniously onto her bed.

"Hey," she objected, but she couldn't stop from staring at him. He was magnificent with his buff, hard chest; his large, muscular arms; and his oh so large cock pointed at her wet body.

"Well, now... I know what ye want—fashion and travel. Time was I show ye what I want." He dropped kisses—on her breasts, on her midriff, and then between her thighs—between each word.

"Show me... yes... do show me."

* * *

Arthur smiled as he thought of Rave and Quinn. They had called early in the evening to say they would see him in the morning. That had given him as much pleasure as had seeing Quinn walk through the portal.

He released a happy sound and sipped the last of his evening brandy. He was, he thought, the happiest man on earth. His kin not only was free but had found his mate. Arthur counted the many things he still had to do. He had already, in spite of the fact that he was not very good with hacking computers, added Quinn's birth certificate, school records, and a life's trail to various computer systems in multiple organizations. His wand and not his computer skills had done that for him.

He chuckled to himself and sighed with contentment. He thought about the future as his hands folded over his middle, and his eyes closed. He was tired, so tired.

A fire in the hearth spat and sizzled, and he listened to the sound as he drifted off into a very fine nap.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep when he heard a muffled voice. His eyes blinked open, and he knew.

Murderers were in his home. This was not how it was supposed to end. There were still things he needed to accomplish—and he just couldn't let Andrew win in this manner.

The fire gave off only a little light. He heard the quiet footsteps and hoped none of his servants would wake, confront the intruders, and be killed as collateral damage. He had to be smart about this.

They didn't know he was in the library, he thought gleefully as he heard them take the wide central stairs. They were headed for his bedroom.

He moved quickly to the gun cabinet and took out his shotgun with a grin. The best thing he could do was get outside and surprise them as they came out. The notion made him grin again.

He put his wool scarf tightly around his neck and chest, slipped on one of his blazers, and stepped outside to hide behind a tall evergreen very near the front door.

At the thought of outsmarting the blackguards he almost chuckled out loud, but he controlled himself.

* * *

The evening descended upon them before they knew it.

The call with her mother went well only because Rave kept her in the dark. She could never confide all of this to her mother, who would never believe it. It didn't matter anyway—her mother had heard about her ex's Mary and was curious, and that took up most of their conversation. Rave had decided to tell her about Quinn a bit later.

Rave had also picked up the phone to Arthur that all was well and that they would be back first thing in the morning.

He had laughed and responded that he expected them bright and early. She had smiled contentedly and then snuggled into Quinn's arms.

They talked all through dinner and then afterwards in bed.

Each time he made love to her, it was better than the last. He took her in positions she hadn't thought possible to achieve. He held her afterwards and caressed her as though she were the most precious being in the world. Rave found that she trusted him. She hadn't thought she would ever trust anyone other than her family ever again, but she gave herself to Quinn MacValdane totally. He was a certainty. He was a pillar to hold onto in a world that was ever unsteady.

She was just comfortably dozing off when a swish of drafty cold air hit her.

Quinn had sat up and tossed the covers off.

Suddenly he was out of bed and throwing his clothes on. She roused herself and frowned as she stared through the darkness. "What—what is wrong?"

"Arthur—I saw it in a vision. No time to lose!"

She didn't waste any with questions but jumped up and into her clothes, pulled on her boots, and followed him downstairs. She grabbed her father's car keys and said, "Come on—I'll drive. It will be so much quicker than racing through the woods."

He followed her, saying only, "It's revenge he wants... we have to race against time." Within eight minutes, they had parked at the head of the driveway and were racing quietly across the lawn and up to the front steps to listen at the door.

* * *

"SHHHH," came from the bushes.

Quinn and Rave stopped dead and peered through the darkness at Arthur huddled behind an evergreen, his shotgun tightly held in his arms. They hurried over and joined him behind the large green bush. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Rave thought she might have giggled at the picture he presented.

"How many?" Quinn asked grimly.

"Not sure—sounded like two," Arthur answered. "Thought I would give them a surprise."

Rave hugged him around his neck. "You could have been killed. Arthur, you didn't mean to take them on yourself?"

"Of course—have to send Andrew a message," he answered, puffing up.

"Doesn't matter. Hush now—I hear them," Quinn said, shifting into wolf. Rave smiled and did the same.

The front door opened, and they heard one man say, "Where the hell is he? He was supposed to be home. MacPoole said he was home. What are we goona tell 'im?"

At the low-throttled growl, both men turned to see a huge black wolf with golden eyes staring at them, and both of them screamed as one.

One scoundrel actually took aim, though his hand was shaking. It was too late, for the wolf was already in the air and then had him by the throat. His gun clattered on the stone steps.

Quinn's wolf finished him off, tearing out his throat, ridding the world of one more villain.

While this was going down, the other villain began crying, and Rave lunged at him before he could aim his gun. She had the blubbering idiot on the ground and hovered over him while he screamed to the high heavens.

Arthur stood over him, his gun pointed, and said, "Tell Andrew if he wants a job done, he needs to do it himself—and we'll be waiting for him. _Tell him,_ and while ye be at it, tell him Quinn is back and not the sort to wait _too long_."

Rave's wolf got off the man, and he jumped up like a rocket with his arms flailing about. Crying and screaming into the night, he ran across the lawn, his gun clattering to the ground, forgotten.

Rave shifted into human, as did Quinn, and they watched the departing and hysterical bumbler for a moment. The shift was just in time, as the front door opened to display two elderly and armed Valdane servants.

Arthur nodded to them. "Thank ye, men. We have it under control."

"Whot happened?" asked Lewis.

"Thieves... blew a hole in his throat. The other escaped. I'll tend to it—no need to worry yerselves about it."

They nodded and went inside. If the thought occurred to them to call the authorities, they quickly banished it. They trusted his lordship to handle it in a manner where they could continue in their comfortable existence.

When they were gone, Quinn said quietly, "I mean to settle this tonight."

"Och, no, Quinn—there'll be time enough in the morning. We have to see to that one." He nodded at the dead would-be killer sprawled on his grass.

Quinn waved his wand, and the man's remains disappeared. "Done, but, Arthur, I willna have you in further danger—"

"Please, Quinn, coom inside. I'll be best protected when we have everything about the inheritance—all the paperwork, the loose ends—nice and tidy, and then ye can pick the place and the time to handle Andrew."

"Quinn, Arthur's right. You won't have the element of surprise anyway. After his paid assassins botched the job he'll be expecting you. Please... we can deal with Andrew in the morning." Rave added her pleas to Arthur's.

He smiled and stroked her face. "Right then. Coom on—I think we all need a drink."

* * *

Quinn downed his coffee but wouldn't stay at the table longer to eat anything. He had purpose about him as he loaded his gun with silver bullets and turned to Rave. "Stay here with Arthur."

"Yeah, like I'm going to let you go in alone," Rave scoffed. "Besides, you need me to drive the new contraptions as you called them."

At that moment, an open note appeared in mid-air and drifted towards Quinn, who grabbed it.

_Magic_ , Rave thought.

"It's from Andrew," Quinn said.

"What does it say?" Arthur and Rave said in one breath.

Dear enemies:

I have determined that what I need is not at MacValdane. I am off to pursue other leads and for the time being have no interest in the MacValdanes. My plan has always been to leave this inferior Human Realm and go to Lyken. So, for now, I'm off, but if I don't find what I am looking for, I just might return.

One never knows.

Andrew

"I don't believe it," Rave said. "After all that..."

"He wants to rule in Lyken," Arthur mused out loud. "Well, with any good luck, that's where he'll be going, and the Lykens can deal with him."

Quinn bent to Rave. "So now we can get to the business of us, m'beautiful wolf."

"Oh, Quinn..."

"I love ye more than life—do ye know that?"

"Aye, Quinn MacValdane, I know it, and it feels that good, it does." She mimicked his accent, and he chucked her under the chin and then pulled her in for a kiss.

"Ahem," said Arthur.

They broke away and laughed.

Life for Rave was just beginning...

~ Epilogue ~

A YACHT OF exquisite proportions and design sailed leisurely in the Mediterranean Sea. A small crew saw to its maintenance, a captain took turns at the helm with his first mate, and a chef of superior skill worked the galley.

Sprawled out on a lounge chair, enjoying the sea air, the warm sun, and the nearly naked brunette at his side was Andrew MacPoole.

He appeared, to anyone interested, to be a wealthy hunk of a man on an extended holiday. It was what he wanted them to think.

He had been told by his specialized sources about an ancient artifact found in Greece, an artifact reportedly thought to be a Fae Relic. At the moment it was in the hands of a wealthy collector.

He had made contact with this collector, for he was determined to have this Relic; if it was what he thought it was, it owned special portal qualities.

He was on his way to procure that Relic.

The collector had refused to sell it but had agreed to allow him to view and handle it. He smiled to himself because, one way or another, this Relic, if genuine, would be his when he was done. He was sure this would be his ticket to Lyken.

His eyes were dark, getting darker all the time. A fleeting thought of Ravena made him grit his teeth. He had been mistaken. _She wasn't the_ _one._ He saw that now. She wasn't what he needed. His mate was on Lyken, and when he got there, he would take her for his own. Then he would return and exact his revenge.

_He was sure about his future, so very sure_.

* * *

Rave had cornered Mary soon after she returned with her father and said softly, "You knew, when you gave me the pendent, that I would need it, didn't you?"

"Yes, I felt you were in danger from... something dark, and there is no Dark Magic stronger than Light. One just has to believe." Mary smiled sweetly at her.

That was all that needed to be said, and Rave hugged Mary with great feeling.

Rave and Quinn's wedding took three months to plan and bring about.

Rave's mother and stepfather were both thrilled with her choice and seemed to adore Quinn. Rave's dad and Mary were given some of the truth—leaving out the hairy details of her near-death experience—and were also very happy with Quinn.

Rave's dad walked her down the aisle, and when she saw Quinn waiting for her, she felt as though they would be able to handle anything. A flitting buzz skimmed through her mind. There would still be danger ahead... but for now she wasn't going to think of that.

Bliss, she decided, is a moment when your heart stops beating so you can take in what you are about to receive. Quinn stood, a giant of a man whose eyes glittered with love, and her heart took up its steady beat when she breathed his name as her father handed her to him.

And so they were married and left their reception party after a few hours of revelry and wild dancing and singing. They flew to St. Lucia to a cottage overlooking the sea and once again exchanged their vows in private.

Andrew was set aside but not forgotten. One afternoon Rave saw Quinn frowning and asked him, "What is it, Quinn?"

"Andrew... I saw him—he has the Orb of Talon, and he has killed the man he stole it from."

"What does it do?"

"It is a portal... and, Rave, m'darlin', I saw him—he stepped within."

"So what does it mean?"

"I believe it means he has entered Lyken, and, bloody hell—it won't stop there."

Rave hugged him hard. "If he returns, Quinn, we'll be ready for him."

"Aye, we will, so we will." He kissed her long and sweetly and didn't tell her he had also seen that _Andrew had gone mad._ There was no telling what he would do next.

~ So not the end ~

### What happens next? Here's a preview of

Hungry Moon: Destiny

~ One ~

KELSEY WILDER CLOSED her eyes as she recalled the very moment her life had changed.

She had been so determined, and now, one year later, she knew she had done the right thing. Orlo was a good man, or at least not a terrible one. But even though he had been compelling, good-looking, and liked by both her parents, her mind had been made up. She had already told her parents that Orlo wasn't the one. She had not imprinted on him and was sure she never would.

It was still so vivid, that memory.

They had stood by the edge of Lake George, near her family's lakefront home, and he had actually dared to try and take her into his arms.

She had pushed back against him, and when he didn't release her, she had pushed harder, angrily. She couldn't remember why she had been so angry with him, but she remembered being in a fury. He was strong, and his grip dug into her flesh. He wasn't giving up, and he shook her shoulders. His canines protruded as his lips curled, and he hissed, " _You will_ be mine. Your father has agreed."

She could see him, could see herself, see his expression, as though she were playing back a video. She had snarled at him and said, "First of all, you may have a few years on me, Orlo, but I am _one hundred years old_ , and _I_ decide who I want to be with, not my father. And he didn't agree that I would 'be yours'—he told you very clearly that, while he doesn't object to you as a mate for me, he's leaving the final decision to me."

"Of course he didn't object—he encouraged me to try," Orlo snapped.

"Orlo, I am my own person. I have learned to think for myself. I am the product of the alphas. How could I not make my own decisions?"

"You don't see the entire picture, Kelsey. You should have a mate. It is time. _I_ should be that mate," he said and shook her again.

She broke free from him and gave him a shove. " _Stop_. I am not being cruel by telling you the truth. I know you aren't in love with me. You have an eye for every pretty woman in town—and in the pack. _I don't_ choose you. I know your heart isn't in it, and neither is mine."

He grabbed her arms again. This time Kelsey had had enough. She pushed him away, though not with the brute force she owned but with her mind, with the Dark power that was hers, ever lurking and challenging her to utilize it.

He reeled backward and held his head. "What are you doing? Turn it off. Kelsey, _it's me_ —turn it off!"

"Oops. Did that hurt?" she asked, her nose wrinkling. She had been so angry, too angry to care about her own strict rules. Some part of her felt ashamed, but another part told her he had no right to put his hands on her against her will.

She did, however, tune down her power before telling him roundly, "Next time, you might want to think twice about laying hands on me, Orlo."

"Why do you fight this?" he asked as he straightened to his full height of six feet. "You and I would be good together. Why can't you see that?"

"We wouldn't be good together. Look at us now. You think you're an alpha, but you aren't. I will never see you as an alpha, only as a bully. You are a beta who thinks too much of himself. You may be strong, but I won't put up with your need to control everything and everyone around you. You only care about what _you want_ and don't give a rap about what _I_ want. Can't you see you and I are not meant? We won't imprint— _it isn't happening_."

"Only because you won't give in," he said on a dark frown. "Kelsey, spend some more time with me. Let me show you what I can do for you in bed."

She eyed him for a moment. He was big, muscular, and attractive as well, but she got nothing off him. _Nothing._

"We have spent a lifetime together, Orlo. Don't you remember how we grew up? You never really liked me, and I... well, I just tolerated you because of our parents. Why you have it in your head that we would now suit is more that I can figure. No. Wait. I _can_ figure. You actually _know that we wouldn't suit_." She shook her head. "The only reason you want me is because I'm the offspring of the alpha pair, and mating with me would put you in a position of great power with the pack." She glared at him, for the truth was there in the open.

He growled, reached out, and grabbed a handful of her flame-lit auburn hair. "You are so stubborn, Kels... so damn stubborn."

"No. I just see the truth a little bit better than others do." She disentangled her hair from his hands and eyed him warningly. "Besides, I'm leaving tomorrow—going to the big city. It's what I want. After a time, you'll pick someone who's right for you. _I'm not_ and never will be."

* * *

She opened her eyes, and once again she was in New York City, one year after that incident. Her life had changed, perhaps not totally for the better, but at least for the most part she was happy.

Why was she thinking about Orlo now? Probably because of her mother's call the day before. Her mom, or at least the woman she had always thought of as her mom, had told her that Orlo had mated with a Beta shifter in their pack and seemed content.

That was a good thing.

She, on the other hand, wondered if she would ever find her true mate. If she did, she didn't expect it to be one of the males of the Wilder pack. She had always felt just a bit out of place in her pack. There was a reason for that, and she was sure it had to do with the fact that she was adopted. She waved it off and told herself that with the exception of last week, her life was good. She had no complaints.

Everything had fallen into place just as she had planned. No entanglements, romantic or otherwise, and that was just what she wanted for the time being.

Crosby's face was getting harder and harder to visualize. He was the real reason she had left the pack. Crosby was human. He was not immortal, not a shifter, not aware of magic, and still she had been infatuated with him. But then she admitted to herself that it would never work, not only because he was a mortal but because he was, as she finally came to realize _, a jerk._

She was all done with Orlo and Crosby. She had moved on.

She stepped out of the elevator and marched across the marble floor of the office building's lobby to the wide sidewalk outside.

New York had turned out to be everything she had hoped it would be. Almost immediately after she had found a lovely loft apartment, she secured a position with a prominent real estate office. She had acquired her license some years before and had maintained it each year after that. She found she had a knack for it and had sold brownstones, large open lofts, and several high-end condos. And even though New York City had felt the economic crunch, she had made a fair living at her job and was content.

Today, she had to rush to make it across town, as she had received a call about a huge loft she had been unable to move for months. She stepped out onto the wide street of Fifth Avenue. Her flame-tinted dark auburn hair blew across her face as she looked out at the busy city. She felt the city's pulse and smelled its very special New York aroma as both senses came alive.

The city had its own vibe, like a grand ol' dude, in charge, all knowing, all seeing, and dangerous. She loved the bustle, the honking of horns, the cabbies leaning out their windows yelling at everyone to get out of their way.

The incredible bustle of sound and bodies all shared another thing in common: the undercurrent of need, the need for money. There was money in the city, money to be made, money to be spent. _Money._ People rushed around after the green, and for the most part there wasn't anything wrong with that—as long as they didn't lose sight of what was really important. What was important to Kelsey was that she was finally free of the pack and living on her own. It was what she wanted. She wanted to blend in and live a somewhat normal life.

Without warning, she felt claustrophobic. _No_ , that wasn't it. It wasn't the 'call of the wild'.

Ever since last week, she had felt it in the atmosphere. It was something dark and dangerous, something wicked and bloody. She could smell it!

She could smell the blood dripping from his canines. He was a vicious killer, and he was out there on the loose.

She could leave it to the police, but if she did, she knew they would never catch or stop him. He had a thirst for blood, for mutilation, and he was loose in New York City.

She had picked up on his scent and knew at once that he wasn't a shapeshifter but a rabid werewolf. Of that she was fairly certain.

How could he be anything else? Last week, she had come across his victim. She had hoped it was the only one, but a werewolf that killed so carelessly would do it again. The police had arrived on the scene and taken a statement from her. She had known immediately from the way they treated the horrible killing that they would never find him. How could they? They didn't know what they were looking for.

Ever since she found the body of that poor girl, her dreams had been filled with the image of a werewolf... stalking his next victim. He was lost in his mind—a killer with sharp canines and totally out of control. Yet, did he know what he was doing? She had this awful feeling that everything he had done to that poor woman had a purpose. But what?

In her nightmare she could see him standing on two legs even though he was in wolf form. His fangs dripped with blood and saliva; his eyes were wild with need and a lust for violence.

She shut it out. This was crazy. She had to get it out of her head. At least for now, she had to meet a client.

Get it together, Kelsey.

~

Buy _Hungry Moon: Destiny_ at Smashwords at <https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/410242>

About Claudy Conn

Claudy Conn, a native New Yorker, now lives with her husband, Bob; their wolf, Cherokee; and Cherokee's son, Rocky Man, who weighs in presently at 190 pounds.

She loves horses and riding and raised her ten-year-old gelding Southern Pride from the moment he was born. She also loves gardening, swimming, skiing, hiking, and travel—and of course, reading, writing, but no, she says, no arithmetic!

To get her monthly news, reviews and excerpts for all her new paranormal and regency romances, visit her at her website: http://www.claudyconn.com

To see pictures of Cherokee—and her shepherd-wolf son!—have a look at her Facebook page:

 http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Claudy-Conn-Paranormal-Romance-Author/135826686471445

And sign up for her newsletter at <http://claudyconn.com/contact-the-author.html>

Read more about Claudy Conn's books

### available at smashwords.com

### Hungry Moon Series

Hungry Moon: Quicksilver

Ravena is running from who and what she is, but the more she runs away, the further she falls.

Hungry Moon: Destiny

Luke says Kelsey isn't his type, and Kelsey is sure Luke is a heart-breaker, but the hybrid and the wolf shifter must find a way to work together to fight a threat of unthinkable proportions.

Hungry Moon: Jodi

Jodi is a witch with formidable powers fighting a battle against an insidious dark force. She meets Shane MacGrath and needs him in so many ways, but she doesn't know if she can trust him. Can she trust him, and will she survive this battle?

### Legend Series

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?

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 Realm.

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.

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...

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 chaos 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.

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...

### Through Time Series

Through Time—Pursuit

Revenge is the driver. Will love be the equalizer in _Through Time—Pursuit_? Milesian immortal Chance LeBlanc and Fae Princess Royce are about to find out in this contemporary fantasy romance that picks up where _Catch & Hold—Legend_ left off.

Through Time—Whiplash

Prince Trevor has one goal: bring the Dark Princes to justice—preferably at the end of his Death Sword—before they can march out of the Dark Realm with an army of monsters at their backs. But complication arise when Trevor is thrown two centuries into the past along with Jazmine Decker, a Fios (a human unaffected by Fae concealment spells) who has more power than either realizes.

Through Time—Slamming

In book 3 of the Through Time series, Jazmine and Trevor's relationship develops while danger to both human and Fae worlds grows. As the Dark Princes use all the powers at their disposal to create an unstoppable army to destroy the human realm, Queen Aaibhe faces treachery from a traitor in the Council, Frankie discovers who her Fae father is, and Prince Breslyn is hit with news that will change his life forever.

Through Time—Frankie

Frankie is all grown up and ready to spread her wings, and she knows the man she wants by her side. But first she needs to convince her Dark Prince—and her family—that he is the one for her. And it will take all of them working together to deal with the Dark Prince's brothers, who are once again plotting to take over the world.

Through Time—Compulsion

_Through Time—Compulsion_ finds a new demon on the loose, and this one thinks he's a god. He isn't, but he is powerful enough to use time itself to get what he wants—and what he wants is Frankie by his side as he takes over first the Human and then the Fae Realms.

### Awakening Series

Harley—Awakening (Novella)

Harley vows to avenge the destruction of her family, her clan, her life—and the vampire–white witch hybrid doesn't want revenge served up cold. She wants to serve it up herself, she wants to serve it up now, and she wants to serve it up HOT.

Awakening—Bray

A war between the vampires and the werewolves is on the horizon. Its outcome will affect all the world as it plays out in the wilds of the Rockies in Canada. Wendy has been in love with Bray all her life. Now that she is a woman, will he look her way? She is mortal; he is an immortal Royal Fae. Can he love her?

### Shadow Series

ShadowLove—Stalkers

Shawna Rawley has no choice but to run when Pentim Rawley, one of the most evil vampires who have 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.

### Witches, Warlocks, and Dark Magic

Dark Love

One goal consumes Chazma Donnelly: find the dark sorcerer who murdered her parents. The trail takes her Ireland and Jethro McBain, but will it take her soul?

Netherby Halls

Matters at Netherby are not what they seem, and neither is the handsome marquis. Unsure whom to trust, Sassy has to find her way through a maze of evil and magic.

Lady X

Exerilla has to run from her Dark Warlock father. Her mother sends her into the past to escape him and the marriage he plans for her. What is a modern American miss to do in nineteenth-century England?

Journey

What would you do if the man of your dreams walked into your life and you knew, absolutely knew, that one day he would leave because he was from another realm with secrets you couldn't discern? Would you seize the moment? Riley Doogan decided to seize the moment, and it cost her all the normalcy she had ever hoped to have in her life—a life that was now fraught with terror.

Journey—The Reckoning

Secrets from their past threaten the future Riley and Finn hope for. Dark Magic will explode as they fight to stay in the light. How can their relationship survive the onslaught of what is to come?

### Risqué Regencies

Myriah Fire

Myriah meets Kit under the worst circumstances and their meeting was an explosion of wills, and actions, and it was what finally set 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 and 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?

After the Storm

Jenny insisted she would never fall in love again, but she found herself drawn to the handsome Earl of Danfield. She also knew about his wild reputation, but it didn't matter. His proposal would give her what she wanted. Peace.

Runaway Heart

Chelsea takes London by storm, but the only man she wants thinks she is no more than a child.

Lady Bess

Lady Bess has fallen hard for the Earl of Dunkirk, but she has also fallen into a bevy of secrets. Evil hovers. Although Bess doesn't look for it, she finds it—and Bess is not your average, simpering female. She takes on danger and mayhem like she does everything else: full throttle. Adventure ensues as we travel with Bess through romance and the battle of her life.

Lady Star

Sir Edward meets his match when he meets Star, but is there too much keeping them apart?

Serena

Lord Daniel Pendleton has met his match in Serena. A game of twists and misunderstandings ensues, and a lively romance begins.

Mandy

Mandy's brother, Ned, is in trouble, accused of murdering the woman who had been clearly trying to seduce him. Their guardian, the Duke of Margate, is summoned to help. Mandy had always assumed he was an old man, but the duke is far from old. But first things first—they have to prove Ned innocent.

Disorderly Lady

A chance encounter with the Earl of Magdalen, a confirmed bachelor whose female acquaintances run to women of dubious reputation, results in Arabella Cullingham appearing to be a light-skirts. Bella, for her own reasons, decides to play along, never thinking that the game might cost her the man she truly loves.

Madcap Miss

Miss Felicia Easton, holed up happily at Easton Manor, is quite content with her unchaperoned state, thank you very much. The last thing she needs is to be summarily fetched to see her ogre of a guardian, the elderly Duke of Somerset. And so she flees with her childhood friend, Scott—only to run into a highwayman! Thank heavens Glen Aston happens along when he does.

Courting Kit

High spirited and with opinions of her own, how will Kitty fit in with the _haute ton_ of London? Will the earl find her a husband and comply with his uncle's will? Or will the Earl and Kitty create a new cotillion all their own?

### Multi-book Bundles

The Complete Legend Series

Containing all eight books in the series, _The Complete Legend Series_ will take you to a place where anything is possible, where strong and beautiful men and women—both human and Fae—must use all the skills and magic they possess to save their shared worlds, and where the path to love winds through intrigue and danger.

Through Time Series Box Set

Picking up where the Legend series leaves off, the Through Time Series pits humans and Seelie Fae against the machinations of the Dark Princes. Fueled by a desire for revenge and a thirst for power, the Dark Princes have discovered how to use time itself to achieve their goals, and no realm—human, Milesian, or Fae—is safe. Contains all five books in the series.

Claudy Conn's Bestselling Regencies

Claudy Conn's Bestselling Regencies take you into a time of romance and passion, humor and intrigue: the time of the Regency, when England's King George went mad and his beautiful son became Regent. Contains the full text of _Wildfire Kiss_ , _Taffeta and Hotspur_ , and _Oh, Cherry Ripe_.

