My Immortal Protector by Jen Holling

Author:Jen Holling [Holling, Jen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Vampires
ISBN: 9781416525851
Google: vVVYFdDU71IC
Amazon: 1416525858
Barnesnoble: 1416525858
Goodreads: 1652863
Publisher: Pocket
Published: 2008-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

After getting directions from Drake, Stephen set out, heading north. Drake had been skeptical of Stephen’s quest, warning him that the blood witch would not help him. But Stephen had no intention of giving up until he tested the theory for himself. Though he had not seen Ceara for himself before she’d died, it sounded as if something horrible had ailed her, and no doubt the baobhan sith had wanted nothing to do with plagues even a witch could not cure. And besides, Drake was not known for his charm. No doubt he’d ordered charity at sword point and offended the blood witch. Stephen thought that with a bit of charm, he might have a better chance at convincing her.

He had nothing to lose. He’d already lost everything the day the bul et had lodged in his back. It had not been an accident. The man who’d shot him couldn’t have cared less if he’d lived or died—he’d just wanted Stephen out of the way. Stephen had been protecting his best friend, Philip Kilpatrick. He had failed at protecting his friend that day, but his strong constitution had kept him alive long enough to send help and Philip survived.

But part of Stephen had died that day. His back had been ruined, and there had been nothing anyone could do to change that. Not for lack of trying, however. Stephen’s uncle was a powerful earl who had used his power and position to bring every healer of renown to Stephen’s bedside. But none had been able to help him. Not with witchcraft or with science.

Stephen had given up trying long ago. This was his last hope, and he couldn’t think past it, couldn’t let himself contemplate another failure.

And so he kept on, focused on his goal and nothing else.

The terrain only grew more difficult the farther north he traveled and the weather grew colder. He wore a plaid as the Highlanders did, wrapped around him and pinned to his shoulder, with woolen trews beneath. It helped to appear local, and besides, the Highlander style of dress suited their environment. It kept him very warm.

Smal game was plentiful—badgers, squirrels, hare, deer. He managed to snare a hare with his latch, the smal crossbow that hung from his saddle. He thought of Deidra as he skinned and cooked it, wondering if she was able to eat the creatures she communed with. It seemed rather morbid when he considered it that way—cannibalistic almost—and he nearly lost his appetite. But he needed his strength and didn’t know when he might snare another, so he finished his meal, throwing the bones to Duke.

The next day he had to cross the mountains. He did not relish it, but at least he could go at his own pace and stop as needed. Attempting to go around the mountains would add days, maybe weeks, to his journey. He was muscling through the pain because it was necessary, but he knew there would come a point when he simply could not go on.

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