Red and the Wolf: An Adult Fairytale Romance (Once Upon a Spell Book 2) by Vivienne Savage

Author:Vivienne Savage [Savage, Vivienne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Payne & Taylor Publishing
Published: 2017-03-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter

For lack of a way to contact the queen to inform her of their failure, Conall suggested resuming their original journey east of Calbronnoch to the Floraivel Mountains. There he hoped to find the griffins of Clan Leomlaire.

But if they wanted to meet the elusive thunderbirds, they had to survive the remainder of their sojourn into the mountains. The wind picked up, and while Conall had a shifter’s tolerance to the elements, it didn’t take long for Red to tremble inside of her cloak. She wrapped the scarlet garment around her and endured without complaint despite the abrupt onset of snow flurries tumbling from the bleak and cloudy sky.

“You’re upset with me,” Sorcha said as dusk fell, interrupting hours of silence between them.

“What? No.”

“If I’d been faster—”

“Don’t you blame yourself, Red.”

“I let it destroy the weapon.”

“I was no quicker than you were. So if the fault lies in anyone, it’s me. But I won’t blame myself, and neither should you. Maeval is a crafty bitch, and she has eyes throughout the forest to report our whereabouts and actions, lass.”

Sorcha nodded.

“We’ll have to find another way to destroy her,” he said. “I’m sorry if I seemed upset with you in particular. I’m not. Just my thoughts are heavy with many things.”

A familiar scent flit across his senses, the stale smell of rotting flesh, defiled spirit, and evil. And something else. Someone familiar he’d smelled only once.

“The skinwalker is here!” Conall cried as he drew his sword. “Be on your guard, Red.”

She loaded a bolt into her wristbow and followed on his heels with her sword in hand. Since their previous argument and the creature’s escape, Conall had surrendered any hope of keeping Red out of the fight. A warrior’s heart beat in her chest; his huntress was as much of a fighter as him.

And he’d wronged her. Wronged her deeply with his lie.

It wouldn’t happen again.

The warmth of her whisper ghosted his shoulder. “Is it up ahead?”

“Aye. Its foul stench isn’t far,” he warned. “Keep near to my back and be prepared to move. We can’t allow it to get away a second time.”

Up ahead at the edge of the clearing, he saw the marbled pelt of their quarry stretched beneath a grouping of trees. Conall’s blood rushed a furious tempo, pounding in his ears, heart racing as he charged across the ground.

Upon his approach, he encountered a wholly different sight, as if a trick of the waning light had played his senses instead. There was no furry monster, only a man in an olive cloak shivering against the snow-dusted grass.

“Ferghus?” Sorcha stared at the huddled figure beneath the branches of the tree.

A pale face raised, drenched with sweat, and the gray eyes of the arrogant hunter Ferghus gazed at them both. Terror and sickness clung to him like a foul miasma, a nauseating combination of odors Conall could barely stomach.

“It’s my friend!” Sorcha cried. After sheathing her sword, she darted forward and fell to her knees beside the human. She touched his face and jerked her fingers back in surprise.

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