She heaved a sigh. He wasn’t wrong. She’d just allowed herself to forget about it for a little while. “Fine. I’ll take Bryn. Is that okay?”
His mouth crashed down on hers, and she melted into his arms, heat kindling in her belly. Cheers and wolf-whistles from nearby pack members accompanied their kiss, and they reluctantly broke apart. Laughing, she buried her flaming face in Torin’s chest.
“That’s what you get for subjecting us to that stomach-churning display of PDA,” Bryn shouted over the music.
“And for that, you get to come with me,” Sophie said, scooting away from Torin before he could stop her. She grabbed Bryn’s arm and dragged her out of the tent.
“Off to the porta-loos, we’re off to the bog,” Bryn warbled, her off-key singing making Sophie wince and giggle as they made their way down a gentle incline to the line of bright yellow boxes placed far enough away from the beer tent and the food vendors that sensitive shifter noses wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the chemicals and other scents. Solar-powered lanterns hung from shepherd’s hooks, casting enough light for non-shifters to see but not enough to pierce the darkness beyond. Overhead, a crescent moon hung low in a clear sky painted with stars.
“Remind me never to do karaoke with you,” Sophie laughed as she found an empty stall and stepped inside.
“What? You don’t like my singing?” Bryn’s ‘singing’ voice lifted until it sounded like she was baying at the moon. “How dare! Why are you so mean?”
Shaking her head at the girl’s antics, Sophie held her breath and took care of business as quickly as humanly possible. “No offense, but I’d rather not have my ears bleed…” she said as she stepped out of the dark, smelly box, the door slamming behind her. “Bryn?”
She wasn’t where she’d left her.
“Did you see where Bryn went?” she asked a blond-haired shifter waiting for a free loo.
“Saw her go off that way a minute ago,” he said, pointing into the dark, towards the shore of Loch Craig.
With a nod of thanks, she headed in that direction. “Bryn?” she called, her heart pounding. The glow of the beer tent and the sounds of lively music faded as she moved deeper into the darkness. Goosebumps broke out over her entire body. Thoughshe wasn’t that far away and she was sure help would come if she called for it, she suddenly felt vulnerable and alone. “Bryn, if this is you playing some kind of stupid joke on me, I have to tell you that I really, truly hate pranks. And the dark. I’m also not a fan of scary movies.”
When a tall, lanky figure in a charcoal gray sweatshirt and black pants materialized in front of her, she jumped back with a squeak. The deep hood was pulled low, shadows hiding his face, and he had his arm wrapped tightly around Bryn’s neck.
She froze. Her stalker. Had to be. “Who are you?” she called, her voice thready.
Why wasn’t Bryn ripping this guy to pieces? He might be bigger than her, but he was human and no match for a shifter, even a teenage one. But her eyes were wide and unfocused, and she couldn’t keep her footing, her hands batting fruitlessly at her captor’s grip.
Sophie took a step towards them. “What did you do to her? Let her go.”
“I don’t think so, Sophie.” The man raised a hand and pushed back his hood, revealing a pasty face she instantly recognized. John, her red-flag-waving ex-boyfriend. He’d lost some weight since she last saw him, his cheeks hollowed, dark bags under brown eyes she’d once thought were soft and kind. His light brown hair was cut short, the tight buzz doing him no favors.
“John?” She knew it. She’d told the cops back home her suspicions about him, and they’d blown her off. As vindicated as she felt about being right, she needed to focus. He’d done something to Bryn, drugged her with something to make her glassy-eyed and unresponsive. She needed to be smart about this and figure out how to get the teenager away from him and out of danger before he did something stupid. Well, stupider than he already had. “What are you doing here, John?”
“I saw you got my letters and gifts, Soph,” he said, flicking out a long blade and holding it to Bryn’s throat. Moonlight glinted off the sharp steel. “Did you like them?”
“Um, sure,” she said, her eyes flickering to Bryn. “It would have been nice if you’d signed those letters. I didn’t know who was sending me creepy notes and dead flowers. It scared me.” She did her best to tamp down her emotions as she spoke to him, but it was challenging. She’d broken up with the guy for good reason, and then he turned around and started stalking her. It brought up a whole lot of angry feelings.
“But if I signed the letters then you would have sicced the police on me, and my fun would’ve been over,” he said, hauling the slumping shifter higher. “Did you think I was going to let you go so easily, Sophie? I love you.”
“Let the girl go, John. She has nothing to do with this,” she said. She licked her lips. “I’ll go with you if you let her go.” Once he let go of Bryn, she’d have more options like kicking him in the balls or calling for help but right now, that sharp knife was far too close to Bryn’s carotid artery for her liking. Even shifters were vulnerable to bleeding out if stabbed in the right spot, and she would do everything she could to keep the girl from harm.
“You will?” His grip loosened around Bryn’s neck. She struggled weakly, her fingers scrabbling against the loose fabric of his sweatshirt.
“Of course. After all, you came all this way to see me.” She swallowed down the bile that crawled up into her throat. What she wanted to do was snatch that weapon out of his hand and cut off that tiny sausage of his, the bastard.
“I did. But Scotland, Soph? Why? There’s nothing here but backwards men prancing around in skirts.” He threw Bryn to the ground and reached out a hand to her. “Come back home with me. Let’s start over, fresh.”
“I have always hated that nickname, John.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bryn trying to crawl away, her movements slow and shaky. She needed to keep the jackass’s attention off the girl to give her a chance to escape. Planting her hands on her hips, she allowed anger to seep into her voice and said, “And how did you find out I was coming to Scotland? Because I know my friends didn’t tell you.”
A creepy-assed smile crossed his lips. “I saw you leaving for the airport, so I broke into your house, found your computer, and checked your email. You should change your password more often.”
She shuddered. How many times had he been in her house, touching her things or checking her email, and she’d never realized? If she wasn’t already utterly creeped out, she would be now.
“Come on, Soph. Let’s go home.” He flapped his hand at her, demanding that she come to him.
“She is home,” Torin growled, emerging from the darkness like a knight in kilted armor and moving in front of her. “And I suggest you drop that knife. It’s not the threat you think it is.”
