Warrior Reborn Read online

  MELISSA MAYHUE

  “An author with a magical touch for romance.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Janet Chapman

  WARRIOR’S REDEMPTION

  Winner of an RT Seal of Excellence Award

  “Melissa Mayhue brings the Scottish locale to life with a colorful vividness. . . . An emotional romantic adventure with unforgettable characters and a magically imaginative premise.”

  —Single Titles

  “Fan favorite Mayhue’s time-travel series certainly gives readers everything they want in a medieval and a time travel. Characters of vastly different backgrounds—Nordic and Texan—emotional turmoil, magic, and an ever-expanding love coupled with an unusual plot make this an extraordinary read.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  “A wonderful job . . . fun, filled with action and danger.”

  —The Reading Café

  “Marvelous, magical mayhem.”

  —Genre Go Round Reviews

  “With strong characters, witty dialogue, and an easy to follow plot, what’s not to enjoy? A must read.”

  —My Book Addiction Reviews

  “You can’t go wrong when you pick up one of Ms. Mayhue’s books.”

  —Night Owl Romance

  HIGHLANDER’S CURSE

  “An enthralling and captivating romance. . . . A page-turner if there ever was one!”

  —RT Book Reviews (41/2 stars)

  “Time after time, Mayhue brings her readers tantalizingly close to emotional satisfaction.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  HEALING THE HIGHLANDER

  “Deeply moving characters, fraught with emotional turmoil, the subtle entwining of Faerie magic and a highly charged, ever-expanding romance. . . .”

  —RT Book Reviews (41/2 stars)

  A HIGHLANDER’S HOMECOMING

  Finalist for the 2011 RITA Award for

  Paranormal Romance

  “Enthralling. . . . The combination of plot, deeply emotional characters and ever-growing love is breathtaking.”

  —RT Book Reviews (41/2 stars)

  A HIGHLANDER’S DESTINY

  “The characters are well written, the action is nonstop, and there’s plenty of sizzling passion.”

  —RT Book Reviews (4 stars)

  “This is one of those series that I tell everyone to read.”

  —Night Owl Reviews

  A HIGHLANDER OF HER OWN

  “Wonderful. . . . Melissa Mayhue captures the complications and delights of both the modern woman and the fascination with the medieval world.”

  —Denver Post

  SOUL OF A HIGHLANDER

  “Absolutely riveting from start to finish.”

  —A Romance Review

  “Mayhue’s world is magical and great fun.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  HIGHLAND GUARDIAN

  “Mayhue not only develops compelling protagonists, but her secondary characters are also rich and intriguing.”

  —RT Book Reviews (4 stars)

  “A delightful world of the faerie. . . . Snappy dialogue and passionate temptations . . . are sure to put a smile on your face.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  THIRTY NIGHTS WITH A HIGHLAND HUSBAND

  “Infused with humor, engaging characters, and a twist or two.”

  —RT Book Reviews (4 stars)

  “Melissa Mayhue rocks the Scottish Highlands.”

  —A Romance Review

  Thank you for purchasing this Pocket Books eBook.

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  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  About Melissa Mayhue

  This book is dedicated with love to Marty and Courtney.

  May all your days be blessed with the Magic of True Love.

  And may this be only the beginning of your Happy Ever After!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I send my sincere thanks to a number of people for their help in seeing this book completed.

  To Elaine Levine for the constant challenges and soul-replenishing lunch meetings.

  To Megan Mayhue for her willingness to read bits and pieces along the way.

  To all my readers for their constant encouragement and enthusiasm.

  And to my new editor, Micki Nuding, for helping me to look at my writing from a different perspective. Thanks for your patience and all your hard work!

  Prologue

  PACIFIC NORTHWEST

  PRESENT DAY

  NOTHING WAS AS it should be here.

  Not this place and certainly not him. Surrounded by all this natural beauty, no one should feel such an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

  Chase Noble loosened the shoulder straps of his pack and dropped it to the ground, then settled onto the bench overlooking Fairy Falls. He pulled a long swig from his CamelBak and stared into the cascading water, losing himself to dreams and memories. With nothing but the sounds of water and wind for company, he gave free rein to the dark, lonely place in his heart that drove him to keep searching. Searching for a home and for that special someone to share his life.

  If it weren’t for his unwavering faith in his father’s promise, he could easily believe he’d never find the spot he could call home. The one spot where he truly belonged. The spot where his fate, and his SoulMate, awaited him.

  Foolishly, he had allowed himself to have such high hopes this time. Even the name of the place had held promise. Every word his buddy Parker had spoken in describing it had convinced him it would be the place he’d sought his whole life. Maybe it had been because Parker had spoken so lovingly of the place he remembered from his childhood. Maybe it had been the shimmer of heat waves wafting up from the ground, lending a surreal haze to the moment. Or maybe it had been no more than the small dark patch of mud in the Kandahari dust—all that had remained after they hoisted Parker’s lifeless body from the ground for their return trip to the outpost.

  He’d known at that moment that he had to come here, just as surely as he’d known he wouldn’t sign on for another tour of duty.

  Though he had no doubt he was intended for the life of a warrior, he hadn’t belonged in that faraway land any more than he belonged here.

  Chase squinted
up toward the sun dappling down through the canopy of trees.

  “You could make this easier, you know, Da. You could at least point me in the right direction. One small hint is not so much to ask after all these years.”

  His father rarely answered, and then only in whispered riddles that wafted to him on the breeze.

  Having a full-blood Fae for a father wasn’t easy.

  Patience.

  The word settled around him as the leaves rustled overhead.

  “I’ve been patient, Da. It’s not like I’ve had any other choice. But now I feel as though . . .”

  He let the thought linger on his tongue, not at all sure he could find the words to explain even to himself. Lately it felt as though he was running out of time, as if all his options were used up and he stood at the edge of a vast precipice.

  The vision was so strong, he could actually see himself taking that first step, soaring off into a blue sky of possibilities.

  “Yeah, right,” he muttered, leaning over to lift his pack onto the bench beside him.

  If his older sister were here, Destiny would be sternly warning him to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground and his eyes focused on the future. It was a lecture his bossy sister had given often, before he’d taken off to find his way in the world.

  The thought of her made him smile.

  She was correct. No more flights of fancy. He needed to set some priorities and stick to them. First on the list, find a place to crash and get a job. His savings wouldn’t last forever. Maybe then he could try to locate Destiny and Leah. It had been much too long since he’d seen his sisters.

  Soon.

  The wind ruffled through his hair, feeling like his father’s fingers as he stood and hoisted his pack onto his back.

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked, looking up toward the dark clouds billowing overhead. “How soon?”

  Four fat raindrops plopped on his face, one after another, as if to tell him the conversation with his father was over.

  He turned and headed back down the trail. No point in rushing. The skies had already opened up, pelting down on him through the breaks in the foliage. As his mom used to say, he wasn’t made of sugar; he wouldn’t melt.

  In spite of today’s failure, he felt better than he had in months. He had a plan and knew what he would do next. And best of all, though he still didn’t know where he belonged, half an hour on that mountain had restored his hope. Hope that he would find his spot in the world.

  Soon.

  One

  NORTHERN HIGHLANDS, SCOTLAND

  1294

  JUST BECAUSE SHE could never tell a lie certainly didn’t mean Christiana MacDowylt could never deceive. She’d become well practiced in the art of truthful deception. She’d been forced into it. The truth, the whole truth, could get her killed in moments like this.

  She kept her eyes fixed on the retreating forms of her brothers and the women they protected as they disappeared into the forest, leaving her behind.

  I dinna want to leave without you. Her brother’s parting words echoed in her ears.

  It wasn’t as if she wanted to remain behind. But staying was the only choice she had if they were all to survive. The gift she had inherited from her ancestor, Odin, the dream visions that displayed the future, had shown it to her.

  As always, the future had presented itself as multiple paths, the inherent choices of the participants reflected in each. Two had been brighter than the others. On one pathway she accompanied her brothers in their bid for her freedom. That pathway led to a bloody battle, far worse than the one that had ended here within the past hour. The one she foresaw ended in the deaths of all.

  On the second pathway, she remained behind.

  There was no real choice. Her freedom was a small price to pay for the lives of those she loved.

  Besides, a radiant light beckoned her down this pathway. A radiant light she’d been allowed to glimpse before. A radiant light that promised the freedom she sought, and more. A hazy, half-obscured face. His face.

  If only she knew who he was or when he would come. But the Norns hadn’t shared that knowledge with her.

  Still, her brothers were on their way, headed toward the shelter of Castle MacGahan. Patrick, Malcolm and his new wife, and the Elf upon whom so much now depended.

  When no trace of her brothers’ party lingered, neither a hint of them through the trees nor a glimmer of sound from their escape, Christiana released the breath she had been holding for the last several seconds. Their safety was assured.

  For now, at least.

  With only moments to ready herself before the warriors arrived, she scanned the grove of trees, erecting a series of mental barriers to shield herself from the remains of the massacre where she stood. A deep breath to prepare herself sent the coppery tang of blood stinging up her nostrils.

  Her half brother, her captor, Torquil of Katanes, mighty laird of the MacDowylt and descendant of Odin, lay at her feet, lifeless.

  Lifeless, but not dead.

  A being as powerful as he could hardly be felled by so minor an item as the fork that protruded from his neck. Had the unlikely weapon been made from anything other than the wood of the rowan, he would never have been felled by it.

  Even though he was trapped in the middle world between life and death, the evil emanating from his soul permeated the clearing, lashing out with frenzied tendrils to find release. She felt it slither around her ankles as it bathed in the carnage littering the clearing, snaking through the hacked and decapitated bodies of the men who had accompanied Torquil. Swarming along with the flies around the body of her youngest brother, Dermid. Sweet, cherubic, maddened Dermid, who had betrayed them all.

  No! She could not allow what had happened in this grove to distract her from what was to come. When Torquil’s warriors reached them and revived her tormentor, she would need to be at her most vigilant.

  Indeed, it was these moments for which she had been forced to perfect the art of truthful deception.

  Returning to the spot where she had lain when the battle had begun, she dropped to her knees. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she wept for those who suffered, for those who’d lost their lives so needlessly. For the younger brother she had lost, though in truth, he had been lost to her long before the battle here. And she wept for the horror of the life she would return to.

  Lying back, she rested her head against a tree and closed her eyes. Her only possible defense in Torquil’s view would be her having been lost in the grip of the Visions during the battle. Her escape from Tordenet Castle would certainly compound his anger, but she would walk that fine line when the time came to explain.

  For now, she must retreat to the only place of shelter afforded her. Pushing all that had happened from her mind, she silently called upon Skuld to show her what was to come.

  As the darkness of another Vision descended, she heard the pounding of hooves nearby, the shouts of men. But they were too late to catch her. Already her mind had escaped to the crossroads that represented the future. Already her soul floated in the eyes of the warrior who would be her savior.

  THE HEAVY, MURKY dark strangled him, suffocating him as it coalesced around his naked body. Its thick, sticky tendrils tightened their thorny hold, piercing his tender skin, wrapping around him as if he were some otherworld mummy.

  Torquil MacDowylt fought against their overpowering strength, marshaling his will to tear them from his body. His struggles only seemed to intensify their movement. For each piece of the squirming, stinking menace he ripped away, two more replaced it, thicker, tighter, more deadly than before.

  Though his strength faded, he would not give up. He could not give up. He fought for his life.

  Desperation crowded his mind as the tendrils closed over his face. He screamed, instantly regretting the explosion of air rushing from his chest even as the long, dark fingerlings tightened around him, immobilizing him, preventing his next inhale.

  A sudden explosion of sound battered
his ears and the tendrils burst apart, tiny pieces of them merging and re-forming above him as his body was flung away from them as if by some invisible giant hand.

  His body flew through the dark at impossible speeds, beyond his ability to control. Beyond his ability to understand.

  A second explosion slammed his body to a stop, this one a burst of light brighter than any fire he’d ever seen.

  “My lord Torquil?”

  A voice filled with hesitancy. A voice he recognized. The captain of his personal guard, Ulfr.

  “I . . .” His voice cracked as he tried to answer, his throat on fire with pain.

  “Our lord, Torquil of Katanes, lives!” Ulfr’s triumphant shout reverberated in Torquil’s ears. “Lie still, my lord. Fetch his things to me, William!”

  Torquil struggled to get his bearings. The last thing he remembered was Malcolm’s face. So close to his own . . . and yet, not his.

  He remembered now. He’d managed to call the wolf to form. He’d been the beast! His half brother’s puny neck had been so close to his muzzle, he could see it snapping within his jaws. Malcolm’s strength had begun to weaken. He could all but taste the pleasure of his detested brother’s death.

  But then . . .

  His eyes flickered open and he pushed up to one elbow, his other hand covering a spot on his neck.

  His brother’s wife had attacked him. Though he couldn’t imagine how she’d managed it, the bitch had done something that had ripped the Magic from his body and plummeted him to the mercies of the between worlds.

  “Where is she?” he managed at last, his voice raspy. Where were they all?

  “She sleeps, Master. We’ve been unable to awaken her.”

  “Sleeps?” With Ulfr’s arm to assist him, Torquil made his way to his feet.

  The last dregs of whatever had possessed him scattered from his mind as he straightened, shivering.

  By Odin, he was cold! Little wonder since he was completely naked. Where was Dermid? His brother had carried his clothing after he’d made his physical transformation into the wolf.