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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!
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 …
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 knew 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 enact his shield, protect himself from getting bitten, and finish the beast once and for all. The shield would protect him from the dangers of a rabid bite.
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.
