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Her soft voice brought him back from the edge. He forced his rage down. Or she would die.

Shaking off her hold, he stepped forward. “You think I care about her, but you’re wrong. She was sent here for safety. I’m her protector—nothing more. She’s the sister-in-law of the second-in-command of the Council. Harm her, and they will destroy you.”

“Really?” His eyes flicked to where Lola stood at his side. So small. Lachlan glanced down at her. Her face was pale, and that hurt look was back in her eyes. He had a sudden urge to tell her he hadn’t meant it. That he did care. But it wasn’t true. Was it?

“So if I wanted an insurance policy to ensure the Council won’t destroy us, she would be perfect.” He grinned beneath the mask. “Come here, wee bonnie lassie. I won’t say this isn’t going to hurt, but it will hurt more if you fight it. Come here, Sassenach.”

She tugged on Lachlan’s coat. “I don’t want to be a werewolf. Now would be the time to do some super-cool vampire shit.”

There was no cool vampire shit that would get them both out of there alive. Maybe he should let them change her. At least she would live.

“Of course, there’s a risk she won’t survive. Not everyone does. But she looks strong enough, if a little scrawny. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed.”

The man was playing with him. For some reason this was personal. And that was something he was going to have to think about, because he hadn’t been in Scotland for nearly three hundred years, so how the hell had he managed to piss off the locals?

But it would have to wait. Because the news that Lola might not survive a werewolf bite, changed everything. Lachlan looked down at her, and she gave him a wobbly smile. He wanted to say something meaningful—she was too young to die—but had no clue what. “Stay behind me,” he said, and she gave a small nod.

They’d die together.

But he’d take out a few stinking werewolves before he went.

The wolves were inching closer. One leaped for him, and he moved fast, ripping out the animal’s throat so it crashed to the ground at his feet. Another came, and he whirled, kicking out so it flew through the air. He glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, Lola crouched against the boulder, eyes wide. Two came at him, and he put her from his mind, concentrated on staying alive, because if he went down, then she was finished. He lost track of time, whirling, kicking, slicing. He knew he’d been injured but didn’t feel the pain. His nostrils filled with the sweet metallic scent of blood, and the darkness rose.

There was a lull. No more coming. He stood still, breathing hard, blood dripping from his shoulder where teeth had savaged him. The man in black approached. He drew the sword from the sheath at his back, and it glinted in the dim light.

“Do you recognize the blade?” he asked.

Something flickered at the edges of Lachlan’s mind, but he shook his head.

“Maybe this will refresh your memory.” He swung the sword up, holding it poised, a small smile on his lips.

This was it. Lachlan’s muscles tensed, and he made to leap for the man.

A word screamed out behind him.

Lola.

Even as he turned, the air around him shimmered and pulsed.

In front of him the man went still.

Then the whole world stopped.

Chapter Six

What in the Goddess’ name had she done?

The word had come out of nowhere. Hadn’t it?

One second she’d been staring in horror as the huge sword had swung toward Lachlan. He was going to lose his head. He’d die for real. And she’d be turned into a werewolf.

Not happening!

A sense of powerlessness had risen inside her, quickly overtaken by rage. The next second she’d been screaming. A word. In a language she didn’t recognize or understand.

Then the world had stopped.

Really stopped.