By the Light of the Scottish Moon - Unrated (My Kilted Wolf, #1) (2 page)

Freya’s heart beat faster as she followed it, certain she was about to stumble onto a priceless treasure few others had seen. She actually held her breath as she crested a large hill, pleased beyond words when she reached the top and saw the lonely castle beside a lake.

This is the stuff fairytales are made of!

Parking the car a respectful distance away as not to disturb the ancient site, she grabbed her picnic basket and made her way towards the castle. There was something bewitching about the medieval fortress, something otherworldly—even dangerous.

As she stepped over the stones that had once made up the castle walls, she wondered who had owned it and how many people had lived within its once protective barricades.

She swore she could feel the presence of those who were long since dead still lingering in this place. The feeling wasn’t one of fear or dread but of belonging, and it filled her with a sense of peace as she explored the ruins. One unforeseen benefit of dying was that she no longer had to concern herself with her safety. She had spent her entire life being cautious and practical, but now she had the freedom to be completely reckless.

Freya set down the picnic basket, and eagerly climbed the crumbling stairs of a turret without a second thought. The stone staircase was covered in debris, pieces of it dislodging as she gingerly made her way up. They echoed ominously as they bounced down the stairs to the ground below.

She actually slipped once, almost taking the same tumble as the stones. However, she was determined to make it to the top and did not let her fear of falling stop her. She was too entranced. The coldness of the stone and the darkness of the castle added to the otherworldly atmosphere. She felt as if the spirits were guiding her upwards, encouraging her lack of caution.

Small openings within the wall gave her glimpses of the spectacular view waiting for her at the top. When she finally neared it, a sharp pain in her belly doubled her over. She grasped the wall trying to soften her fall as she tumbled down several stairs.

Freya held back the tears as she got back on her feet. Common sense insisted she head back down, but she resented that her cancer was trying to steal this moment from her.

“Fuck you!” she growled at her body, forging forward with renewed resolve as she crawled on hands and knees the last few steps. When she made it to the top, she huddled in a fetal position as she waited for the pain to ease. When it finally passed, she pushed herself up and let out a satisfied sigh.

The height of the turret gave her an unobstructed view of the entire area. She could appreciate why the castle had been built here. No one would be able to attack it without ample warning. It was a worthy stronghold.

She was curious how many battles had been fought here and how many kings had died defending it. So much history, so many lives had been lost… Freya closed her eyes and could almost hear the screams and the sound of swords clanging violently below.

Exhaustion forced her to lie down on the cold stone. Although she fought it, Freya soon found herself drifting off. Swirls of strange and unfamiliar images flooded her mind. She resisted them initially, but then gave in and let them carry her away.

She imagined herself a part of the castle staff—a young man, a soldier of the lord of the castle.

I stand with pride at my watch. It is my duty to protect, and I am fully prepared to die to guarantee my Lord’s safety. However, it is not just for him I am fighting. I also protect a young woman, the girl I plan to marry. I would die a million deaths for her.

I spot an invading army on the horizon and warn the castle inhabitants. They rush about below me, preparing to defend it, but everyone is in a jovial mood. The opposing army is comprised of only a handful of men compared to the multitudes housed within the walls of our castle.

“We will go out and meet them,” my officer commands.

With pleasure I ride out with the others, laughing inwardly at the invading force standing before me. The men aren’t even on horses and don’t stand a chance against us.

As we ride up, a tall man of impressive stature advises our army, “Surrender now or I promise everyone will die. Not one of yer kind will remain.”

“Who dares to threaten Lord Graham?” my commanding officer demands.

“Who we are does not concern ye.”

Our commander is obviously angered by their lack of respect and barks, “Leave now before I lose patience with ye and yer lot.”

“This is yer last warning,” the other man states coldly. “Either surrender now or die.”

I notice an unnatural glow coming from the eyes of the opposing army. It sends shivers down my spine. There is something unnatural about these men, something terrifying.

For the first time fear sets in our troop where before there had been only arrogance.

My commander pulls out his sword in answer. “The only blood that will be spilled this day shall be yers.”

The small band of men grin at each other and then begin ripping off their clothes. I realize now they must be crazy and pull out my sword, ready to put them out of their misery.

It will be a slaughter…

The Chosen

A
lone wolf’s howl startled Freya out of her dream. She opened her eyes and was unnerved to see that it was dark. Had she really been dreaming that long?

She stood up unsteadily and looked towards the direction of the cry. Far off in the distance she spotted a large bonfire. Curious who would be out so late, she carefully made her way back down the stairs with the help of the pale light of the moon. As Freya approached the huge fire, she admired the unusual tree towering over it. The tree’s naked, skeleton white branches seemed to reach up towards the night sky in silent worship.

At the crest of the small hill, she stopped dead in her tracks. There were men surrounding the raging bonfire, all of them naked except for a few who wore a long strip of leather on their left wrists.

For modesty’s sake, she knew she should turn away and make her way back to the car, but those men…

Their toned bodies and fine asses tempted her to remain and stare. Seriously, they were too hot not to stay and admire. Knowing this would be her last chance to see such fine specimens of manhood, Freya decided to lay low and appreciate their muscular frames just a little longer.

It appeared the group was performing a traditional dance of some kind, based on the way they marched around the fire as a unit, stopping every quarter turn to raise their hands and howl at the moon in deep, low tones.

Freya noticed that the men seemed to be of similar height, build and physique—all except one. He was a head shorter than the rest. However, it wasn’t that which made him stand out. What made him stand out the most was the awkward way he moved.

She focused on him, noting the extensive scars covering his back which shimmered eerily in the firelight. She couldn’t help wondering what the story was behind those scars.

Freya was startled to see a naked woman escorted out of the dark by one of the men. She joined them in their unique dance, twirling in and out of the circle, touching each man as they passed. The girl moved with the grace of a ballerina and the sexual allure of an erotic dancer.

Freya held her breath when one of the men grabbed the female and dragged her forcefully to the white tree. The other men continued to dance as if nothing had happened, although the tempo of their chant and the movement increased in intensity.

With cold precision, the girl’s captor took the leather from his wrist and gagged her with it. Another male exited the dance, and used his strip to bind her ankles together. A third joined them, binding her wrists tight and pulling her up on her toes as he secured her arms to a branch above her head.

Then they left the woman hanging there, returning to the circle to rejoin their primal dance. Freya had no idea what they planned to do, but she was riveted to her spot.

That’s when there was a slight shift in the night breeze. The entire group suddenly stopped, looking in Freya’s direction. She wasn’t about to get caught spying on the sexy group of naked Scotsmen, so she backed down the hill slowly.

Unfortunately, her shoe brushed against a small stone. She held her breath as it rolled down the grassy hill, bouncing against a large boulder at the bottom. It was the slightest of sounds, but it was as if she’d banged two cymbals together. The group started towards her as one unit—all twenty naked, magnificent-looking men headed her way.

A sense of real danger washed over Freya as she scrambled to her feet and raced towards her car. In a matter of seconds, the group was on her, circling Freya as if she were prey.

“Who are ye?” the burliest of the males demanded.

“No one…” she stammered, trying not to stare at his exposed manly parts. Freya bit down her fear, deciding to make light of the situation in the hope she could win them over with her playful teasing. “I’m just a lost American girl who happened upon your…ahem, private party.”

A dark-haired male declared, “Kade, the lass must die.” The others grunted their agreement.

Freya looked around in a panic and bolted towards a gap between two of the men, but she was no match against their brawn. She found herself lifted off the ground by burly hands as if she weighed nothing.

“Take her to the fire,” Kade snarled.

Freya kicked and screamed in terror as they headed back to the roaring flames. Out of desperation, she cried out to the other woman but she glared at Freya, obviously as offended by the intrusion as the men.

“Let me go! I’ve done nothing wrong,” Freya screamed, trying to stab the eye of the man who held her.

He swatted her hand away and growled ominously, “Don’t try that again.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” she begged. “I didn’t see anything, promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Ye tainted the ceremony. Now ye must die. It is the law,” Kade insisted.

“But I know nothing of your laws. I’m innocent!”

“Shut her up, Tavin,” Kade ordered.

A powerful hand covered her mouth, effectively muting her protests.

They dragged her next to the fire, and discussed her fate. Kade, the apparent leader of the group, spoke first. “We could throw her in the fire and be done with it.”

Freya stared at the flames in horror, struggling against the strong grip they had on her.

“I cannae stomach the smell when they burn,” Tavin complained.

What!? They’ve burned humans before?

“Then I say we cut her throat. Silent, quick, done,” Kade suggested.

“Nae,” an older male growled. “Her offense demands more than that.”

Kade huffed. “True enough. What do ye suggest, Skene?”

“Let’s rip her heart out and share it while she watches.”

Kade shook his head, snorting in disgust. “She’s a foreigner, we cannae give her that honor.”

Honor?
Freya shuddered, there was
no
honor in having your heart ripped from your body and eaten in front of you. Freya looked up at the moon, praying for mercy.

Tavin shrugged. “Fine. Then let’s just rip open her chest and throw her heart into the fire.”

“Aye,” the rest agreed in unison.

“Put her down, but keep her mouth covered,” Kade ordered.

Freya fought with all of her strength, but could not break free when two of the males held her arms still, while another ripped her shirt open to expose her chest. Her screams of terror were muzzled as Kade approached.

“This will hurt and, aye, ye will die. However, I cannae think of a nobler way fer a human to leave this Earth than by the light of the full Moon in the hands of the Chosen.” He loomed over her, his eyes glinting with an unnatural glow.

Freya shook her head violently and broke free long enough to shriek, “I don’t want to die!”

The shortest of the males called out loudly, “I will vouch fur her.”

Kade stopped, and glared at him. “Ye cannae!”

He repeated coolly, “I
vouch
fer her.”