Netherby Halls (29 page)

Everything in the forest seemed to go still.

Nothing seemed to move. Even the crickets had ceased
their chatter.

Warily he started forward again.

His mother’s face flashed in his mind.

If only she would stop her nagging at him. Lately it
was always the subject at the dinner table.

She was a dear heart, but he wasn’t in love, and he
wasn’t ready to tie himself down to one woman.

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 liked being single … he liked
women …

He had told her to leave him be.

He was the only son, she enjoyed reminding him. She
wanted to keep Valdane in a direct line. 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?

These thoughts were once again interrupted, and Quinn
MacValdane knew the creature was not only at his back, it had had
gained ground.

The first
thing that assailed him was the
odor. Musky, and because his sense of smell was as good as his
hearing, the scent of fresh sweet blood filtered through to him. It
was dripping saliva mixed with blood.

The second
thing that assailed him was the
sound of the beast, the low, unthinking 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: more, so much
more than a rabid beast—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. This was so much more.

Quinn MacValdane did the only thing he could do: he
enacted 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 he had been right—this was more, so much more than a werewolf.
This creature wielded Dark Magic and had 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 … 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 darker 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-edged 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. Graduation was over.
She had her BA in her hand, but she had one more night at the
fashion school where she had been taking additional classes as she
pursued her dream of designing clothes for the fashion
industry.

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 had thought she had one last
class at the Fashion Institute, but it had been cancelled.

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 couldn’t put a finger on it. 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? Did it matter? It did, but why—why
should it matter? She was living in an age when a woman could be
intimate with a man just for pleasure … just for a night. 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 first. She sighed 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.

Another 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 black silky 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—nor 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, so she stopped and
turned, glanced archly at her, and sighed. 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, she was in
her stocking feet, five feet five inches and 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 sighed. “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.