Darkest Highlander (16 page)

And he would leave her.

He had no choice. It was evident the longer she stayed near him, the more likely she was to die. He wouldn’t live through that. The past few days had sent him teetering on the edge of oblivion with his god.

If Sonya died … there would be nothing holding him back from giving in.

With his plan formed, he used his power and located Sonya in the dungeons. He hurried to her, afraid he would be too late and hopeful the wyrran were still with her so he could kill them.

He heard a faint sound of distress when he reached the dungeons. Sonya was alive, but scared and hurt. He could feel her magic, feel the pull of it.

He didn’t deny what he was, or the need to feed his god. What was coming was Deirdre’s and the wyrran’s fault. And they would pay dearly for every scratch on Sonya’s beautiful body.

Broc walked into the dungeon ready for battle. He growled as he found seven wyrran circling Sonya. She lay on her side, her arms over her head for protection.

Fury began to burn in his chest. The wyrran hadn’t noticed him as they continued to taunt Sonya, their shrieks bouncing off the walls. Rage exploded in Broc when a wyrran reached down and scratched her with its claws.

Broc roared as the frenzy overtook him. The need to protect Sonya, to kill those who would dare to harm her. He couldn’t stop it.

And he didn’t want to.

One by one he killed the wyrran. He didn’t feel their claws, never heard their screams. He was intent on their blood and death.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Until he stood alone.

Broc’s chest heaved, his breathing harsh to his ears. Gradually the frenzy died. His god was appeased. Death had been dealt.

The dungeon was alarmingly silent. He slowly turned to find Sonya lying still as stone. Panic began to snake up his spine that he had accidentally killed her. The thought paralyzed him for one heartbeat, two.

His gaze raked her from head to foot, hoping she was all right, praying he hadn’t hurt her. He tried to make himself go to her so he could see for himself, but fear of what he might have done while he was crazed held him rooted.

“Broc?”

The sweetest sound he had ever heard was her voice at that moment. He dropped to his knees and gathered her in his arms. “Are you hurt?”

“My head aches. How…”

“Later. Now, we need to get out of the mountain. Can you walk?”

Her chin lifted. “Of course.”

Broc hid a smile as he helped her to her feet. Warmth spread through him at having her near again. It seemed right, as if it had always been destined that they would be together.

He didn’t believe in destiny, but the thought felt too good to dismiss, especially after thinking he might have killed her.

“This way,” he said, and took her hand as he led her from the dungeon.

Her grip was tight, her body steady. That in itself gave Broc more relief than checking her himself for injuries.

The stairs out of the dungeon were steep and slick from the dampness of the mountain. Broc couldn’t fly to the top, since the narrow stairway switchbacked to the top, leaving him no room to spread his wings.

They reached the top without incident, but almost immediately were beset by wyrran. Broc kept Sonya at his back and used his wings to protect her.

Her hands, small and warm, upon his wings as he fought made him shiver with need, with a hunger that demanded he take more. Demanded that he ignore the curse and make Sonya his. But now wasn’t the time for his mind to think such thoughts. Too much danger was near.

With the wyrran quickly dispatched, they were running again. Broc kept his pace slow so Sonya could keep up. There were supposed to be only two exits in the entire mountain. But Broc had made a third only he knew about.

And it would be the one that saved their lives.

“This way,” he said as he veered down another hallway.

Sonya never questioned him. She kept hold of his hand and didn’t stop. The fact she trusted him so completely made him feel like the man he had been before his god was unbound. A man Broc had never thought to be again.

They snaked their way through the hallways and up stairs. Only twice did they have to stop and kill more wyrran. Each time Broc used his wings to safeguard Sonya.

“Here.” He slid to a halt and directed her into a small chamber.

Broc followed her into the storage room and shoved aside sacks of grain, baskets of wheat, and barrels of ale until he found what he was looking for.

Sonya leaned forward. “Is that an exit?”

“One I spent years digging. It’ll get us out, but we have to hurry.”

She didn’t hesitate to climb through the opening. Broc tamped down his god and quickly followed Sonya. They would have to crawl, which would slow them.

“I see light,” Sonya whispered.

Broc smiled. “You’re almost there. When you get to the opening, be careful. It’s a wee bit of a drop.”

He watched, ready to spring forward and grab Sonya as she reached the end and used the tunnel wall to gain her footing. He heard her indrawn breath and knew she was looking down.

Broc climbed out beside her and took her hand. The view before him was awe-inspiring. The clouds cast shadows on the mountains in various shapes as they soared across the sky. But a look down showed they had a narrow ledge half the width of his foot on which to stand.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Her smile was wide as she met his gaze. “I do love to fly.”

Broc turned and grabbed her as he fell sideways. He called forth his god and flapped his wings to take them high into the clouds.

Somehow they had gotten free of Deirdre. It had been almost too easy, point in fact. Broc had no doubt she would redouble her efforts to find them, especially when she knew where he was headed.

Glencoe.

SEVENTEEN

The wind howled around Sonya as Broc took her in his arms and fell from the mountain. Not once did she doubt she was safe. Never would she doubt it again as long as Broc was near.

She watched as his sun-kissed skin turned the deepest, darkest blue beneath her fingertips. One moment they were falling, and the next, his wings were unfurled and lifting them higher.

Sonya stared, transfixed at Broc’s wings. She’d always found them fascinating. They were smooth as leather, and just as tough and thick. And they were massive, rising well above his head and falling past his knees.

The steady beat of the wings as they flew was reassuring. Soothing. Sonya didn’t see any of the beauty that surrounded her. She was focused on Broc, on the man who could seemingly do anything.

He had been captured by Deirdre a second time, yet somehow he had gotten free. She couldn’t wait to hear how.

Sonya laid her head on his shoulder. Her head ached fiercely from Dunmore’s vicious shove. But she would do it all again as long as Broc was released.

She closed her eyes and let her mind drift. The wind whistled by her ears, the only sound other than the pounding of Broc’s wings and his heart.

His arms held her securely against him, their bodies molded as one from hip to shoulder. For a brief moment, Sonya could allow herself to think she and Broc were something more.

For a brief moment, she allowed herself to think nothing evil would ever touch them again.

*   *   *

Broc circled the Glencoe area several times looking for wyrran as well as a safe place to land. He let his eyes feast upon the Aonach Eagach on the northern side, a pinnacled ridge which linked three peaks and spanned at least three leagues.

The mountains on the southern side were strikingly beautiful. But the grandest and highest peak of Glencoe was the Bidean nam Bian, hidden behind the three truncated crests called The Three Sisters of Glencoe.

Water tumbled from those high mountains to fall in an array of spectacular waterfalls. Broc found the perfect spot near a stream with several small cascades.

The rocky, rolling landscape would provide the cover they needed. Broc dove from the cover of the clouds to swoop low over the land.

A startled buck raced away from him as he flew by. He reached the stream and hovered over the spot a moment before allowing his feet to touch the ground. An instant later, his indigo skin and wings had disappeared.

“Where are we?” Sonya asked as she blinked and looked around.

Broc gently pushed her down to sit on a flat rock. He took the satchel from her and reached inside for the water skin. “Near Glencoe.”

“Glencoe,” she repeated. “I thought we were returning to MacLeod Castle.”

“We probably should have, but as I flew from Cairn Toul, I knew we had to come here first.” Broc filled the water skin before handing it to her. “Drink. Then we’ll talk.”

He squatted across from her and waited as she drank her fill. She never stopped gazing around them. He wanted to see to the wound on her head as well as her previous injury on her hand. He couldn’t imagine either were doing well at this point.

She lowered the water skin. “Now, tell me why Glencoe?”

Broc shook his head slowly. “Nay. First, you will tell me what you were doing in Cairn Toul as well as how you became injured.”

“When you left the inn, I saw you. I saw you land in the woods, and I knew that at any moment there would be wyrran barging into the inn. None came.”

“You should have stayed put.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “It took some doing, but I was able to convince Jean to let me leave the inn.”

“Tell me you didna go into the forest.” The thought of her near so many wyrran left him fuming. He had warned her to stay away.

She shrugged. “I had to know what was going on. Before I ever heard Dunmore, I knew they weren’t there for me. It had been too easy for you to lure them away if they had been after me. They had come for you.”

“So you saw them take me?”

“I did,” she answered with a quick nod. “And I followed.”

Broc ran a hand down his face. Sonya was going to be the death of him. Didn’t she understand the danger? Didn’t she realize how much it meant to him that she stay alive?

“I had to, Broc. I wasn’t going to let her hurt you again.”

He looked into her amber eyes and felt something shift inside his chest. He saw the depth of fear and worry she had for him. All the anger dissipated, replaced with … awe.

She had risked her life for him. It was almost too much to believe.

“What happened?” he finally managed to get past his lips.

“I found the door into Cairn Toul but couldn’t get in. Then, it opened and there was a wyrran in front of me. I used the dagger to cut off its head, but the blade got stuck in the bone and I couldn’t free it.”

Broc inwardly groaned. “You went into that mountain without a weapon?”

She lifted a slim shoulder in a shrug. “I wasn’t inside long when I stumbled upon Dunmore. He was mortally wounded and dying.”

“He wasna wounded when I saw him. But he willna be able to harm anyone ever again.” Broc frowned as he began to put things together. “It was Dunmore who hurt you, wa it no’?”

“We had made a pact. I would heal him if he took me to you.”

Broc could only stare at her. “I thought you said you couldna heal anymore.”

“I knew I couldn’t, but I was willing to try.”

For you
went left unsaid. But Broc knew that’s what she had meant. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. And it left him rejoicing. Still angry she had put herself in danger, but overjoyed nonetheless.

“I tried to convince him to bring me to you first,” Sonya continued, unaware of his inner turmoil. “Dunmore refused. I had no choice but to try.”

“You obviously healed him.”

“Not wholly. I found a small thread of magic somehow. I stopped the bleeding and managed to mend the wound together, but he was still in a great amount of pain.”

Broc blew out a breath. The longer the tale went on, the more irritated he became. She had done it for him, though. No one had ever done such a thing for him, and that was the only thing which kept him from telling her how he never wanted her to put herself in that kind of danger again.

“So, what happened?” he asked. He had to know the rest.

“I was able to feel a small portion of my magic. It repaired my hands before it began to heal Dunmore.”

“Good,” Broc said quickly.

Sonya smiled. “He wasn’t pleased. Once I had convinced him I had healed him all I could, we went in search of you. I kept him in front of me at all times so I could see him. But then I heard you.”

“Ah,” Broc said. It must have been when he’d bellowed.

“I knew which direction to go in then. I forgot about Dunmore, which I shouldn’t have done. I realized my error right as I began to pass him. He shoved me into the wall and my head hit a stone. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke with wyrran around me.”

Broc shifted so that he sat on a large, flat rock and braced his elbows on his knees. “So you can heal yourself now?”

She reached up and touched her head. “I think so. It’s odd. I can feel my magic again, but it isn’t as great as before. It takes a lot for me to be able to use it. I thought I had used what little I had left on Dunmore, but when I awoke in the dungeons, I could feel my magic.”

“I’m no’ going to question how you can feel it again, I’m just glad you can.”

She grinned. “I thought I was half a woman after my magic left me. Odd how when I thought I could possibly be going to my death to free you, I realized I was still the same person. Magic or not.”

“Magic doesna make you special, Sonya. You are special because you are you.” He held her gaze before he cleared his throat. “And your head? How does it feel?”

“It still aches, but not as much as before. It’s also stopped bleeding.”

Broc was pleased. He had never ceased feeling Sonya’s magic, and now she could once again feel it giving her the confidence he had come to associate with her. “Come, wash the blood from your face.”

She rose and walked to the edge of the stream. There was a short waterfall just to the right of them, the water running over and around the countless and varied rocks that lined the stream. The water flowed down the mountain, creating the many waterfalls.