At the far end of the room was a stone fireplace, a flames flickering merrily in it and a quartet of wing-backed chairs stationed in an arc in front of it. To its right, musicians were settling into a corner booth and pulling out their instruments, readying themselves for the evening’s session. As she watched, one of them set a big glass tip jar on the table in front of them, a few colorful bills already stuffed inside.
It was adorable and exactly what she pictured when she thought of a traditional Scottish pub. She breathed a sigh of relief, the warmth and cheerful noise seeping into her bones and sweeping away the weirdness of the last few hours.
“What can I get you, love?” a friendly voice asked. The woman behind the bar gave her a bright smile. She looked to be mid-thirties, light brown hair clipped up in a haphazard twist on the back of her head. Friendly brown eyes sparkled with good humor.
“Hi,” Sophie said, returning the smile. “Actually, I was hoping you might be able to help me. My train was super-late, and now I can’t get a hold of the person who was supposed to arrange a ride for me. Do you all have a cab or car service I could hire?”
She tapped a purple-tipped finger against her chin. “Old Artie’s out on a run tonight, but young Artie might be available. I’ll send him a text. Where are you headed?”
“Wolfcraig Castle.”
Her words landed like a boulder in the middle of a still pond, the ripples spreading out through the packed pub. The noise level dipped, and she felt curious eyes land on her back before sliding off as people returned to their conversations.
The barkeep’s eyes widened. “Tonight?” she squeaked. “You want to travel up to the castle now? At night?”
“Yes, though I’m not actually staying at the castle. Just a cottage somewhere on the grounds.” Sophie cocked her head. “Is that bad?” A funny feeling crept up through her chest and lodged itself in her throat. Was that apprehension she saw in the woman’s face? Why? Was the castle haunted? Infested with vampires? Home to cranky old people who got violent when their sleep was disturbed?
She glanced around the crowded bar and tipped her chin towards the door at Sophie’s elbow. “Come through, would you? It’s hard to talk with all this noise and nosy Parkers.” She disappeared around the corner and opened the door, shifting so Sophie could muscle her bags through. She stuck out a hand. “Gail Powell, the proprietor of The Three-Legged Wolf.”
“Sophie Norwood.” She shook Gail’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“American,” Gail said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.” She gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Sorry for...” She waved a hand to encompass everything.
“No fault of your own,” Gail said, waving her apology off with a quick smile. “You should know, we don’t go up the hill at night, especially when there’s a full moon.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you know? A pack of wolf shifters lives up there, and they don’t take kindly to intruders.”
4
TORIN
Torin meant to leave, to return to the castle and his pack. If he were a smarter wolf, that’s exactly what he would have done. But tonight was the full moon and, for the moment, instinct overrode common sense. Despite his annoyance at her intrusion into his territory without invitation, he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. It rankled him because, with that second, deeper scenting of her, he had to acknowledge something his wolf had known since that very first moment. Sophie was his mate.
Dammit. A low growl slipped out of him. The last thing he wanted was a human mate. After Cath abandoned them, he’d told himself that if he were ever to get involved with someone for more than a satisfying shag, he needed her to be a fellow shifter, someone with the strength and power to lead the pack with him. A true partner in all ways. That was not something a human could do.
He was assuming a lot about this particular woman, but he’d earned his understanding of human nature honestly, and it would take someone truly extraordinary to change his mind.
After pacing around the block a few times, Torin gave in and followed the delectable scent of his mate back into the pub. She wasn’t in the main room, but the scent of her lingered. She was close, somewhere in the building.
He shouldered his way over to the darkest corner. As he approached, the three men relaxing in the booth scattered like deer before a predator.As they should, he thought, his wolf giving a satisfied huff as he settled into the shadows, his arms folded over his chest as he surveyed the room.
“Making friends everywhere you go, I see.” Jamie Sim, his beta, set dark pints on the table and slid into a seat.
Torin grunted. “Slàinte,” he said, tipping his glass to Jamie and taking a deep drink.
“Slàinte.” Wiping away the foam from his moustache, Jamie said. “You missed tonight’s hunt.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And? Weren’t you there?”
“I was,” he said with a dip of his head. A lock of pitch-black hair curled over his weather-tanned forehead. Built as if he ran ultra-marathons for fun, Jamie came to the Wolfcraig pack from a difficult situation in Portugal seven years ago and had steadily worked his way up the chain of command. He was vicious when necessary and loyal to his core. Some day he might choose to leave and start his own pack, but until that day came he’d pledged himself to Torin and Wolfcraig. “But your people were wondering where you were.”
“They can live without me for a night. I have important matters to attend to here.” He could feel the growl rising in his chest and swallowed it back down. It wasn’t his beta’s fault he was on edge. It was that damnable woman’s.Sophie. The feeling of soft fur brushed over his senses as his inner wolf paced, anxious that his mate wasn’t within sight. He took another sip of his drink, the smooth bite of the dark ale a balm to his agitation.
“They can.” Jamie bent his dark head close and lowered his voice. “But coming here, tonight of all nights, Torin? It’s dangerous. For us and for them. You know this. In fact, it’s your damned rule that we don’t mingle with the locals during the full moon.”
