Page 63 of Blood & Claw

She held her breath, eyes fixed on the wood as if she could feel each drag of talon through it.

They were looking for a way in.

Trembling, Ailsa struggled from the furs. Then, pulling one around her shoulders, she moved close to the fire and put on some more peat. The flames licked higher, and the shrieking drew back.

Exhaling sharply, she sat down on the hard-packed earthen floor, letting the fire’s warmth suffuse her. However, it couldn’t melt the icy lump that had settled deep in her chest.

Urges were one thing, but vivid dreams that were so realistic she could almost taste his blood, even now, were something else.

What sort of woman dreamed of cutting open a sleeping man’s throat?

Worse still—what sort of woman enjoyed it?

Her eyes started to burn, and she blinked furiously, trying to hold back the tears.

She wasn’t a weeper. Nor was she easily frightened.

Not until tonight. Suddenly, it was all too much.

The tears slipped free, running down her face in scalding rivulets.

Jaw clenched, she clutched, white-knuckled, at the fur.

Where are you, Kayla?

How she needed her. She had to talk to her. Kayla would have answers; she always did. She was practical too and clever. She’d been a druid once, had studied Albia’s lore and history. She’d be able to help. She’d make everything right—as she always had.

A sob welled up, and Ailsa stuffed her fist into her mouth to stop it. Biting down on her knuckles, she squeezed her eyes shut, even as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

What was happening to her?

What would she become?

The fire cracked and spat.

Across the room, Dale slept on.

16: DANGER IN THE DARK

CROUCHED IN THE saddle, Kayla peered up at where the last smear of dusk bled from the sky. The Sweeper gusting in from the north carried a bite and a dank, musty scent.

Her breathing caught.

Gateway was upon them.

They shouldn’t be outdoors, not when the world was waking up. They should have stopped in Rhu earlier in the afternoon, but they hadn’t. The next village, Dunfyne, was too far away to reach by sunset—and yet they’d pushed on, heedless.

Kayla’s horse thundered up the slope, flanked by those of her captors. They’d traveled all day like that; in a protective circle. She’d given them nothing but trouble since departing Farnoch, and after another escape attempt at dawn, they were taking no chances. Her wrists were bound before her, the rope sawing at skin already raw.

Suddenly, she couldn’t seem to draw enough air into her lungs.

There’s no way out of this.

She was drowning now, in deep trouble. Being outdoors on the night of Gateway was the final straw. If—

No! Kayla gave herself a hard mental slap. Don’t you dare give up. She had to keep fighting. She had to believe she could save herself.

“Fools,” she shouted, even as the wind whipped away her voice. “None of us will last the night out here.”