Anita Clenney - Heart Of A Highland Warrior

“I lived with my mother. I never knew my…father.” Her mother hadn’t either. “My mother was a powerful woman at one time. Very strong.” Strong enough to make tough decisions. “And kind. But something terrible happened, and it destroyed her.” For years she’d believed her mother had died at the hands of a demon when she’d really killed herself. The clan hadn’t told Anna. That made her angry, but she understood in a way. She had just started her duty. Knowing the truth would have destroyed her. She would never have known if Angus hadn’t found her mother’s death certificate. “I miss her.” There were times when she’d felt her mother’s love. When they’d almost felt normal.

“I’m sorry it was bad. Didn’t your mother tell you anything about your father?”

“No. She never spoke of him.” And Anna learned not to ask.

“Do you live nearby?” he asked.

“No. I have a flat in London, and I spend a lot of time in Scotland.”

“Scotland?” He sounded the word as if testing it.

She suspected he knew Scotland well. “I travel a lot for work.”

“What do you do?” he asked, and she thought she heard a note of suspicion in his voice.

“Um, it’s hard to explain.” As much as she wanted to open up to him, she couldn’t say much until she was sure he was a warrior.

“Why do you have to work?”

Odd question. “Everyone has to work if they want to eat.” Her job just wasn’t typical. Not many humans got their orders from an angel. “My friends help me.” She thought of the others—Ronan, Sorcha and Duncan, Faelan, and now Bree, Shay, Cody…Angus. They were her family now. And she’d abandoned them to stew in her grief over Angus. Angus would be pissed if he knew. Maybe he did know. Maybe he was watching her now. Watching them. Maybe she was loopy with drugs. She definitely wasn’t herself. She almost felt drunk. She snuggled closer to the warmth at her back, wishing the prisoner would hold her even tighter. God, what did they give me? she thought, as the weight of her lids pulled her under.

A GROAN WOKE Anna. A strong arm, bruised and laced with cuts, was wrapped around her waist. Her instinct was to fight, but she felt a warm breath caress her ear and the body at her back, and she remembered where she was and who held her.

“No,” he whispered. “They’ll forget.” His arm tensed, and his breath came faster, harsher. “No!”

Anna strained against his arm, and he tightened his grip, making it hard to breathe. She broke his hold and rolled over, putting her hand on his face to calm him. His arm came out, catching her in a blow that knocked her against the wall.

Winded, Anna crawled back to him. “Wake up.” He continued tossing, throwing the blanket aside. He smacked his head on the floor, and she wondered if some of his injuries had come from fighting his dreams. Ducking to avoid another blow, she dove between his fists and grabbed him. If he didn’t stop, he would reopen all the wounds on his back. He grunted and tried to swing again, but she kept her arms tight around him, avoiding the injured areas. It wouldn’t help for long. He was as strong as a bull. “Wake up!”

His eyes opened, but they were vacant. There was a damp trail at one corner. She released his arms and leaned back. “Are you OK?”

He didn’t speak. He covered his face, and Anna could hear his labored breathing. He lowered his hands, and the look in his eyes was so lost, she couldn’t help but touch his face. He pressed his cheek against her palm.

When his hand touched her side and moved over her back, winding in her hair, she didn’t resist. Not when he gently pulled her face to his or softly touched her cheek. His breath was warm as his mouth met hers. She felt the rough edge of a healed cut at the top of his lip. He tilted her head and kissed her. Neither hard nor soft. Just desperate. Like a man lost at sea, clinging to the only spot of dry land. Sensations curled in her belly, spreading outward until she was wrapped in the taste and feel of him. His warm tongue, his beard tickling her chin, his hands tangled in her hair and bare legs against hers. He rolled, putting her underneath him, cradling her head.

She was afraid of hurting him, but she needed to touch him. Gently, she held onto his shoulders, feeling the power and strength in the muscle and bone. He had no restraints. He was touching every part of her that he could reach. Part of her brain was sending off alarm bells, but her desire was too strong. She wanted his skin against hers. Him inside her. She moved her hips against his and he settled deeper between her thighs. His kilt had lifted, and all that separated them was the thin cloth of her panties.

A moment of clarity dulled her passion. What was she doing? The drug must be lowering her inhibitions. She didn’t react this way. She knew the dangers involved with sex. She put her hands on his chest. “Stop.”

He leaned back and looked at her. His eyes were glazed and he was breathing hard. “Stop?”

“This is too fast. I’m sorry.”

“Forgive me.” He started to roll off her.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” The guard stood outside the cell with his gun pointed at them. “Don’t stop now. It’s just getting good.”

“Bastard,” the prisoner muttered, shifting his weight off Anna. “What do you want?”

The guard looked at Anna. “I’d like some of that.”

“Over my dead body,” Anna said. Or his.

“I’ve never tried it that way, but I’ve heard there’s some appeal,” the guard said.

A low growl came from the prisoner’s throat. Anna knew the guard was as good as dead. The only question was when, and who would get to him first, the prisoner or her.

“Don’t touch her.” The prisoner’s voice was hard.

The guard sneered. “Or what? What will you do?”

“I’ll drive my dirk straight through your bloody heart.”

“But you don’t have a dirk, do you?”

“Then I’ll do it with my bare hands. I’ll tear your chest open with my fingers and rip out your heart.”

Hatred seethed from his eyes. “You’re not so special. I don’t know why he bothers with you. This experiment will fail, just like the other one. And you,” he said, glaring at Anna. “I’d kill you now if you weren’t worth more to me alive. If you don’t want me, then you can do him. I’d just as soon watch anyway.”

Anna’s throat dried. “No,” she croaked.

“Your choice. Him or me.”

“No.” The prisoner’s body was tight with anger. “I’ll tell the master what you’ve done.”

There was a flash of fear in the guard’s eyes, but he just laughed. “What’ll he care? That’s what you’re here for anyway. Feeding and breeding. That’s why I like working here. I get to watch the breeding.”

Breeding? Anna met the prisoner’s shocked gaze. They were going to breed him.

“Get on with it,” the guard said. “This is better than what you’ll be bred to later.”

“No,” the prisoner said again.

The guard aimed the gun at Anna. “Do it or I’ll kill her. Then I’ll kill you. I’ll tell the master the hybrid killed you both. He’s killed plenty of others. The master will believe it. Now pick up where you left off. Show her what women are good for.”

The prisoner looked at Anna, his face hard. “We’re in a mess here.”

Anna nodded.

“If I could just get to him without that bloody pistol,” he whispered, but they both knew it was impossible. “We can pretend. With what we’re wearing, we might fool him. I don’t know what else to do.”

They had no choice. “What if you act like you’re having…trouble. If you go slow, maybe he’ll get frustrated and come in here himself. We can grab the gun and kill him.” Her stomach heaved at the thought, but if it got him within it would be worth it. If they didn’t kill him now, he wouldn’t stop at one show, and he might want the next turn.

“All right.”

“Stop your whispering and get on with it,” the guard ordered.

The prisoner squared his shoulders and turned to the guard. “I’ve been wanting to do this anyway.” He whispered to her, “I’m going to kiss you. Pretend to struggle.” He took a breath and lowered his head. His lips were stiff against hers.

She pushed at his chest, and it wasn’t just an act. She was working hard to stave off a full-blown panic. Pretend you’re sparring with him.

“That’s it,” the guard said. “Take her clothes off.”

The prisoner lifted his head, putting an inch between their mouths. “No,” he called out. “I like it better this way.”

“How are you going to do it with her panties on?” the guard asked.

“Panties?” The prisoner stilled. His fingers brushed the side of her hip where the elastic of her panties was. “These?”

He didn’t know what panties were? Her crazy theory might not be so crazy after all. “Yes.”

He tensed as he slid his hand underneath her gown. “I’m sorry.”

“Do it.” Anna felt the last of her strength draining. If they didn’t get this over quickly, she was going to panic and start struggling for real. That could get them both killed. “Hurry,” she whispered. “Let’s get this over.” She managed to pretend she was struggling while helping him get the panties off.

“Bollocks.” He looked shaken. He moved his arm behind her neck, the other supporting his weight. He let his leg slide between hers and pressed his lips to hers. Anna wiggled back and forth as if struggling.

“Lift your kilt,” the guard ordered.

“I’m going to kill him,” the prisoner whispered as he lifted the front of his kilt.

Anna looked up at him as he lowered himself between her legs, and she knew from the deadly look in his eyes, this man was a warrior. A very old warrior if she was right.