Page 65 of Malcolm

She wanted to have a long talk with God about his timing and the form of irony he enjoyed, but then again, there was the goddess inside of her. Maybe she could ask the woman herself. Grabbing a cup of water to her right, she quickly drank it. Gasping, she finally was able to breathe.

She couldn’t keep reacting so much to the man, a mere mention of his name caused her to nearly choke. Settling the piece of apple down, she glanced over to where Morgan was pointing, only to meet gleaming green eyes. She quickly looked away.

She should have known he wouldn’t just take her words sitting down. Though he’d not chased her or stopped her from moving out, it was clear to her that Malcolm thought that their conversation was far from over. She curled her free hand against the table and couldn’t stop the cowardly wish that the location book would return already. The sooner she found it, the faster she could leave.

She stood up. “Bathroom.”

She quickly left. She needed to put space between herself and him as much as possible; that was the only way she would survive this entire debacle. She would accompany him to the Ceilidh, and then once she was assured he no longer needed her help, she’d leave.

The enemy was still out there, probably believing that there was nothing anyone could do to them. She had the power andthe knowledge, and once it was done, no one needed to know it had been her. At least that way, no one would mourn her loss.

She quickly left the main hall, ignoring the sting of eyes on her back.

Malcolm

She was doing a good job of avoiding him; even when his sister and her friend schemed to put them together in the transport circle, she’d barely spoken to him. Some part of him wanted to push, but he’d promised to give her time.

Plus, with the heavy issues that needed to be discussed at length with his uncle and the other Aldermen, it was better to leave that talk for later.

She believed that there was no way they could be together; he didn’t. And once he solved the mystery of the missing youth. He’d chase her down and solve the issues between them.

“Is this the Ceilidh,” she asked as they stepped from the transport circle. Surprised by her question, he looked at her.

She wasn’t looking at him but at the group of people gathering in the center of the campgrounds they’d arrived at. She was so busy taking in the view that she’d completely forgotten to ignore him. A small smile came to his lips at this thought.

She looked up at him only to catch his smile. She frowned. “What?”’

“Are you not going to ignore me anymore?” he asked, humor coating his voice.

“Who else was I going to ask?” she said, her tone clipped. “Everyone else already went ahead.”

“Man, you know how to hurt a man's ego, love.”

“I sure do, McLaren,” she retorted, copying his country twang as she walked ahead. “I’m impressed at the use of barrier magic here; I thought your pack used anti-magic stones here?”

He nodded, catching up to her side. “We do, but the runic Magic we use works despite the stones. They are used more against those who would seek to harm us. For example, many warlocks would come and steal stones and use their Magic to manipulate our people to fight among one another.”

“Ah, that sucks,” she said as they drew closer to a man who had lifted a large barrel and was walking towards what looked like a tower of them. “What’s that?”’

“Once the business is finished, the celebration of the moon goddess who blessed us with human flesh will begin,” he explained. Reaching out gently, he grabbed her arm to pull her out of the way of a few females who were bringing trays of food. “Once the Alphas and the Alderman gather and finish the welcome ceremony, they will have time to eat and be merry if there isn't a fight or disturbance.”

“And what if there is a fight?” she asked, looking away from a large pile of wood being built closer to the lake at the end of the village. “Will people still celebrate afterward?”

He nodded. “After such a fight, the winner welcomes the loser to drink with him. Once the goddess has decided on the winner, all sins are repaid, and things must be moved forward if not. It will likely lead to war, so they will celebrate the night as the last they may live.”

She frowned. “So, either way, you’ll drink and be merry, war or no war.”

“Yep,” he said as he steered towards where she saw his sister and a few of his men. “It’s our way. We are not afraid of death, nor are we afraid of living. A wolf lives for his pack and mate; everything else is merely a welcomed fight for survival.”

She nodded, and as they drew closer, her nose twitched at the smell of food. She regretted not eating breakfast that morning, as she was now suffering the consequences of an empty stomach.

As if reading her mind, Morgan held out what looked like a sugar-covered donut: “Here, try it. The Harrison Pack has the best cooks. I have been craving their doughnuts for an entire year.”

Taking it, Eliza eyed it before she took a bite.

Malcolm appreciated the sound of pleasure she released when she ate it. He’d noticed her habit of humming after eating something delicious since he’d found her. She’d eaten the soup he’d prepared with the same vigor, releasing a deep-throated hum.

“This is good,” she said, turning to him and lifting it as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. “Try some.”

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