Munro craved to take the man’s head, but such a move would earn Kereny’s unending hatred. All of these hunters were untouchable, and they looked like they’d die for her.
After defeating the vassal spell and traveling back through time, Munro would be damned if he lost her now. “She’s the only one you can hurt with that toy, mortal.” Keeping her close, he rose to his feet. “So lower your bloody weapon.”
The male looked to Kereny, who said, “Do shoot him, Jake.”
Motherfucker. Munro shielded her with his body as he spun around and sprinted toward the woods. Shots rang out. Right before he cleared the tree line, three bullets caught him in the back. “Damn it!”
She thrashed against him. “Let me go, or I will flay you.”
Though she was a human, he took her threat seriously. Careful not to squeeze her too hard while he ran, he made sure she couldn’t reach that knife.
As the hunters gave chase, she yelled something in Romanian to them. To Munro, she snapped, “You undying fiend, where are you taking me?”
To the future. “A safe place.” He located his previous route, would backtrack his way through the woods.
When he’d first charged across the warlocks’ eerie time-travel gateway into this time, he’d told himself he would only check on Kereny, to see if she was happy and secure. Then he’d discovered that she lived next to a forest filled with Loreans. On top of that, she worked in the most lethal career a mortal could possibly choose.
No way could he leave her behind.
“A safe place? What does that mean?”
“It means I will no’ allow anyone or anything to hurt you.”
“And what about my people? They will follow, risking themselves for me. You’ll have their blood on your hands.”
Not true. None of this had ever happened. If they died chasing Munro, it would never stick. History could not be changed, so as soon as he returned through the gateway, this timeline would boomerang back to whatever it had been before he’d interfered.
Even Kereny would return to her previous timeline. But once she crossed into the future, a perfect facsimile of her—a mystical replica—would be created. Which meant the only thing that mattered was getting her to the gateway alive.
He told her, “Those hunters should know they have zero shot of catching me.” Their yells faded in the distance. Despite the lingering effects of her blade’s spell and his prolonged torture—not to mention a trio of new bullet wounds—Munro still possessed superhuman speed.
She clenched her fists. “If anything happens to my husband out here, I will hate you forever.”
Her last words in Quondam rang through his mind. I . . . hate . . . you . . . . “The groom should be strong enough to survive such a forest, or he should no’ enter it.”
She bristled in silence, her winged brows furrowed. No doubt scheming for her freedom.
As Munro ran in a strange land and foregone time, the world seemed to spin. The bullets in his back were an unwelcome irritation, and waves of pain pounded in his head.
Though he’d defeated the warlocks’ vassal spell, Munro’s psyche had paid the price, and his beast was hair-trigger ready to rise, still primed from a flood of rage. Plus, it probably sensed its own end; Munro raced against a countdown clock, could only remain in the past for so long.
The rain tapered off, clouds dispersing. The moon was half-full, but to Munro’s vision it blazed with light. Even after so much rain, he spied residues from other creatures. The Instinct warned —Be wary. Immortals in number.—
He needed to stay on guard, but Kereny kept drawing his gaze. The last time Munro had held her in his arms, she’d been a cold statue. Now . . . so alive.
Beams of moonlight struck her, lighting her copper-colored eyes, her plump red lips and even white teeth. Her olive-toned skin looked like it’d been born from silk. The damp bodice of her dress and her bra did little to conceal her luscious breasts and taut nipples.
Despite his battered condition, his tongue flicked in his mouth for those tips, and his shaft stirred.
She tensed in his arms. “Are you quite done ogling me?”
He had to clear his throat to say, “No’ by a league.”
“You need to watch where you’re going. Spring-trap portals lurk everywhere.”
“I scent them.” This forest, with its creatures and portals, reminded him of the Woods of Murk near his family’s ancestral home in the Highlands.
“Other monsters roam about,” she said. “I need my knife back.”
Other monsters? Still pissed that she’d nearly beheaded him, he had to bite back harsh words. Instead, he asked, “How’d you come by a bespelled blade?” And how had she learned to throw like that?
She gazed at his slowly regenerating chest wound. The flash of pride in her sultry eyes only made his shaft harder. “Circus secret.” With her accent, those words sounded like sayer-kiss sacrett.
His lids went heavy. Her voice was as sexy as every other thing about her!
“Where have you come from, wolf?” she asked. “When you interrupted my wedding, you were covered with blood.”
So much for a first impression. He’d crashed her nuptials with slashed pants and no shirt, fresh from several kills. “Why should I answer your questions? Mayhap I should say Lykae secret?”
“If you answer some of mine, I will answer some of yours, but not about my knife.”
Itching with curiosity about the female, he played along. “I wore warlock blood. I’ve just escaped from Quondam.”
“What were you doing in the warlocks’ realm?” she asked, sounding familiar with the place. As a hunter, this human would know much about the Lore.
Should he tell her that he was a time-traveler and try to explain the logistics? The splitting pain in his head said, Fuck nooo. “The Forgotten captured me and my men. Jels the Conniver, the archwarlock, wanted me to surrender to their vassal spell.”
“What is that?”
“It turns a Lykae into a mindless slave, one forced to obey every warlock order.”
“I’d rather die.”
I am abundantly aware. “I felt the same. No torture could break me. Until they brought a game changer into my cell.” He held her gaze. “I surrendered my will, but my bite dinna work. The fire dinna take hold. . . .” As he stared into her eyes, the night grew dreamlike. He’d just come from a place of madness and magic, and then she’d used magic on him anew.
What if this wasn’t real? Maybe he had indeed lost his sanity when he’d lost her the first time. He could still feel her cold, stiffening body in his arms. My female is dead.