Blood Thorn

by A. S. Green

  Callum covered her hand with his. “Steady.”

  Then the two men simultaneously rushed forward, drawing knives from unseen places. Ainsley muffled a shriek and jerked away, scrambling backward with her hands in front of her.

  She slammed into a wall—Trapped!—her heart in her throat, when the two brothers each dropped to one knee and drove their blades into the floor at her feet. The vibration reverberated through the soles of her shoes.

  They bowed their heads in solemn adoration. “Our queen.”

  16

  “Ainsley,” Callum said calmly, as the two men rose and sheathed their blades. Then he gestured at the more fearsome looking of the two. “This is Knox. Knox Boyd.”

  Knox surveyed her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. His dirty-blond hair was shaved on the sides, exposing a gray-scale Celtic tattoo. He wore the top section of his hair long and tied at his nape, with the length clubbed and hanging to his shoulder blades.

  “And Alastair Collins,” Callum said, gesturing to the other brother, who stood nearly seven feet tall—a giant with thick auburn hair and a bushy, partially braided beard that hung to his sternum. His gray eyes might have been beautiful had they not been so sunk in shadows.

  These two looked rougher than Finn and Callum, and even more so than Alex. Ainsley couldn’t imagine either of them in a suit, but it was more than that. They were tall with large frames, and while they’d likely been handsome at one time, their faces were now haggard and slightly gray. The overall sense she got was of an underlying desperation and that, she assumed, made them unpredictable if not downright dangerous.

  Thankfully, Finn and Callum stood like sentinels on either side of her. She didn’t know them well, but Alex trusted them and that was enough.

  “Where is…?” She searched the foyer for the man from the alleyway, the one with the heterochromic eyes.

  “Rory MacBain,” Callum answered, supplying the name. “He isn’t quite ready to join us. He’ll be in lockdown for another day or two.”

  “And everyone else?” she pressed.

  “This is it,” Callum said.

  “You mean…there are just six of you?”

  “There were once a dozen separate ba’vonn-shee clans all over the Scottish highlands,” said Knox, his voice deep and gravelly. “But this is all that’s left of us.”

  “So few?” she asked, doing nothing to hide the worry in her voice. When they’d compared themselves to wolves, she hadn’t realized their numbers were this dangerously low. And now they thought their survival depended on her? A stranger? Someone who, three days ago, had no idea they even existed?

  Something about her emotional response made both Knox and Alastair smile with approval, and she remembered what Alex had explained to her often enough. She was putting out a signal, and they were picking it up.

  “Come on,” Callum said. “I think some fresh air would be good for all of us. We can get better acquainted outside.” He and Finn directed Ainsley down a different corridor than the one that led to Alex’s office. The other brothers followed closely behind.

  They passed a large empty room with a parquet floor, then a cozier wainscoted room with green velvet curtains, a stone fireplace, and three slouchy couches—one of which had a green and blue tartan blanket draped over the arm.

  She sensed there was a kitchen at the back of the house, judging by the smell of onions and melted butter, and then they were outside.

  The house was built from blocks of a pale yellow stone. Looking up, it appeared to be three storied, with plenty of windows, and a multi-leveled roof with two turrets and spires.

  It looked every bit the manor house of a wealthy Scottish lord, just plunked down in the middle of…. Good lord. After that tilt, she had no idea where she was. “Am I in Scotland?”

  Alastair laughed, but Callum shut him down with a scowl before reorienting her. “No, Ainsley. South Minneapolis.”

  “Really?” She let out a breath. How could there be so much magic in the mundane world where she’d lived all her life?

  “Really,” he said.

  She crossed the slate patio to a small herb garden. She broke off some of the thyme, crushed the leaves in her fingers and held them to her nose, inhaling the fragrance. Then her mouth fell open.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, not holding back her delight. Beyond the patio was the most exquisitely designed garden she’d ever seen at a private residence. It was bordered by a hedge so high it blocked out any neighboring properties, and the view from the elevated patio revealed that the paths through the garden were actually an interwoven Celtic knot. “Your landscaper is a genius.”

  “We’ll tell McKee you think so,” Callum said. “He designed it.”

  “You’re kidding.” She took two steps down, struck by how very little she knew about him.

  “He’s always had an eye for beauty,” Finn added, and when Ainsley glanced up at him, he winked.

  “Can I look around?” She was eager to explore.

  Finn gestured for her to take the lead and she ran down the last few steps, then ahead, wishing she’d worn sturdier shoes. She stopped to examine a few familiar species of Minnesota wildflowers—uvularia grandiflora, rosa acicularis, and cypripedium reginae.

  “These are beautiful,” she said, crouching by a large patch of delicate lavender flowers, one of the few things blooming this early in the season.

  “Scots bluebells,” Finn said.

  Ainsley looked up at him with a smile. “Campanula rotundifolia.”

  “McKee told us you were a botanist,” Alastair said.

  “I will be some day.” That life felt very far away at the moment. She wondered how she’d ever be able to act like a normal person after all of this. But then… Alex did it. He went to work every day and no one was the wiser. That gave her hope.

  “McKee will be glad you like the garden,” Callum said. “He designed it for you.”

  “Me?” she asked, rising to her feet. “He just met me.”

  “Okay. Maybe not you specifically, but he designed it for a queen. It’s a place for you to recharge your energies.”

  “Recharge my energies,” she repeated. She’d always enjoyed working with growing things. Was that the reason why?

  They rounded a bend and reached the center of the garden. A wisteria tree grew at its most central point, and Ainsley could only imagine how romantic the place would look in a few short weeks when the tree was dripping with pink flowers.

  A warm tingling filled her chest at the image, and she stepped forward to stroke its bark. The warmth swept down her arms. There was a small aphid hole in the tree’s bark, just there, beside her hand. She pressed her thumb over the hole, waited a second, then pulled it away. The hole was gone, smooth bark covering the wound.

  She looked up and gently patted the trunk. “It’s doing well here. Pretty impressive since Minnesota isn’t an ideal climate for wisteria.”

  “You are just as impressive, my queen,” said a voice behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to find Alastair looking at her with wet eyes.

  The formality and obvious emotion behind his statement made Ainsley pause. The silence that fell over the rest of them gave her a rush of sympathy. She turned as a breeze blew through the garden. It ruffled the black ribbon pinned to Callum’s shirt pocket, and she thought she saw a hint of moisture in his eyes, too.

  “It can’t be taught,” Callum said, reminding her of the words he’d said to her at the pub. It’s simply a matter of nature. It’s who you are.

  Instinctively, she stepped closer, trying to remember exactly what she’d done for those withered plants. She placed her palm over Callum’s heart, and he sucked in a breath, his chest inflating before he let it out with a whoosh.

  She moved on to Alastair, then Finn. Knox drew closer and when Ainsley touched his chest, his arm moved so fast it was nothing more than a blur. She gasped at the desperate way he clutched her wrist, holding her palm firmly in place, and his balance wa
vered as he closed his eyes.

  Suddenly Alex’s voice filled the air. “Dinner is ready.”

  Knox released her wrist, and the four men snapped to attention, their heads turning toward the house.

  Alex filled the doorway, the air around him rippling with dominance and authority. “And get her the hell out of the rain.”

  Ainsley looked up. When had it started raining?

  “Aye, McKee,” Alastair said, stepping back.

  Finn and Callum gestured for Ainsley to take the lead, and they each fell in behind her in a single-file line.

  Alex’s eyes stayed on her as she approached, the feel of his gaze steady and somehow territorial.

  “Alex says jump and you all immediately jump?” Ainsley murmured, hopefully only loud enough for the brothers behind her to hear.

  “Of course not,” Finn said, keeping his voice equally low. “Sometimes we ask, ‘How high?’”

  17

  The rain picked up as Alex watched his brothers escort Ainsley back to the house. Every impulse in his body told him to go to her, to pick her up, and to carry her inside. But he resisted the urge. When he and his brothers had lived in the Scottish highlands, they were in a constant state of either getting wet, or drying off. And as sweet as Ainsley might be, she wasn’t made of sugar.

  For a second, he’d felt a flicker of jealousy when she pressed her hand against Knox’s chest. But he’d pushed that feeling aside. He’d brought her here to start the healing process, and Knox was not only deserving of her gifts, but in dire need of them. As were they all.

  As Ainsley drew closer, he detected the shiver that ran over her skin. He could see it so clearly, even from this distance. He instinctively took a step forward into the rain, then forced himself to hold his ground. Surely one of his brothers would show the same level of concern and get her to pick up the pace.

  But they didn’t. They walked steadily, following her lead, which was not quick enough for Alex. His hands flexed at his sides, wanting to warm her.

  He supposed it was possible, as chieftain, that he simply had an enhanced awareness of his queen’s needs. He hadn’t experienced that with Orla, but then she hadn’t been queen for long when she was murdered, and he’d never felt the blood connection like he did with Ainsley.

  By the time she reached the edge of the patio, the rain had graduated from a highland smirr to a legitimate downpour. She laughed an intoxicating laugh—one he hadn’t heard before—and held her hands over her head, creating an ineffective shelter from the rain.

  She was still ten feet away when she looked up at him with shining eyes. Alex reached out his hand in invitation, looking forward to the feel of hers, for no matter how brief a moment.

  That’s when Ainsley’s high-heeled shoe hit the slick slate. Her eyes widened. Her arms windmilled as her foot slid out in front of her.

  Finn and Callum were so much closer, and they didn’t lack for speed, but it was Alex who was across the wet patio and down on his knees, catching her before her head struck the stone.

  He felt the rush of air escape her lungs as he pulled her against his chest, then the relieved inhale when she realized she was safe.

  She smiled and cupped his cheek. “My hero.”

  Alex clenched his teeth. Clearly she thought this was funny. He looked up at his brothers with a growl of disappointment. They needed to do better. They all needed to do better.

  Finn looked appropriately abashed. Knox’s face, on the other hand, held a hard expression, and his judgment was directed at Alex. Callum had filled them all in on his intention not to bond their queen. Knox clearly took Alex’s caution for weakness. But then, that was Knox’s opinion of most of his choices.

  Alex stood quickly, easily lifting Ainsley and giving them all his back.

  He carried her into the house, making a detour into the living room to snag the Campbell tartan off one of the couches. “You’re freezing.”

  “I’m getting warmer.” Her breath skimmed across the underside of his jaw, and his gut clenched with need.

  “You should be more careful.” He strode into the dining room and set her in the queen’s chair at the far end of the table, closest to the roaring fire. He wrapped her in his plaid, tucking it around her, then stormed to the opposite end of the twenty-foot table and took his seat.

  When he looked up, she stole his breath clean away. The queen’s chair had been empty for far too long. To now see his queen—No. To see Ainsley—staring back at him, her cheeks flushed, her body wrapped in the Campbell tartan…

  A swell of emotion hit his chest. “My god, you’re gorgeous.”

  Ainsley’s eyes widened, and Alex realized he’d spoken out loud. He cleared his throat just as Finn entered the dining room, followed by Callum, then Knox and Alastair. Their delay must have meant they’d been talking outside. About his unorthodox intentions? About their own lack of care? He hoped the latter.

  Alex filled his goblet from the pitcher, then noted Ainsley’s mouth twist when she recognized the dark red liquid for what it was. He hated to see her disgust, but he reminded himself that this was all still so new for her. “You’ll get used to it with time.”

  “Sorry, McKee.” Finn shook the rain from his hair, then took the pitcher and filled his own glass. “Who knew the slate would be so slick?”

  “Control in all things,” Alex reminded them as they filled four of the overly spaced five seats. The table had room for nineteen more chairs, which now stood stacked in the corner of the room. “Our future lies in the details. You must not only manage yourselves, but every perceivable threat.”

  “Aye,” Finn and Callum said in the old language, but Knox’s eyes were narrowed on Ainsley, his paint-stained fingers clenched around the stem of his goblet.

  Alex assumed he was imagining life if it had been the Boyd queen to survive the longest and he was the one now sitting in the chieftain’s chair. In such a scenario, Ainsley would be wrapped in the Boyds’ red tartan, rather than the Campbell green and blue, and Knox would have already given her the Boyd engagement necklace, marked her with his scent, made the blood exchange, and bonded her to him forever.

  A growl nearly slipped from Alex’s throat. Fortunately it was cut off by Ainsley’s assurance that she was “totally fine.”

  Alex leaned forward. “The fact you weren’t hurt tonight isn’t the point.”

  Ainsley opened her eyes and arched one delicate brow. “Isn’t it? I might have avoided a bump on the head, but now you’re probably worried I’ve caught a cold and will get a runny nose.”

  Finn chuckled, and Alex shot him a hard glance.

  “Respect, McKee,” Finn said with a shrug. “But she’s funny.”

  “We can’t afford a sense of humor,” Alex said in reprimand. Then he turned his focus back to Ainsley. “Or sarcasm. And, yes, you might catch a cold. Or pneumonia. You could still get cancer. In a few years you’ll be past the dangers of human disease, but even then you could still get in a car accident, be struck by lightning, or be…” Alex’s voice drifted off. He didn’t want her to know the dangers too soon.

  The scent of Ainsley’s apprehension tickled the room, and Callum shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Then something added a thicker texture to the pheromones in the air, bringing with it a subtle earthy note.

  Knox let out an audible groan and Alex couldn’t blame him, the pheromones Ainsley kicked out were a banquet for their minds. But even as Alex kept his verbal reaction quiet, his under-the-table response was rock hard.

  “Care for a bite?” Alastair asked.

  Ainsley jerked and the pleasing scent of the air ran dry. She turned toward Alastair with a look of horror on her face.

  Only when she saw the platter of meat he was offering did her shoulders relax. “Oh. Yes, please.”

  Alastair laid a piece of roast pork on her plate, then kept adding more. Ainsley’s eyebrows shot up, realizing too late that he wasn’t going to stop until she told him to. “That’s plenty. Thank you
, Alastair.”

  His eyes glowed at her use of his name, and Alex’s gut clenched. He knew how that felt, so he wasn’t surprised when Finn jumped in, eager to engage her directly. “After dinner we’re watching movies. Will you stay?”

  “Oh.” Her eyes flicked to the pendulum clock on the wall. “I might have to assist one of my professors with a lab tonight.”

  Alex’s fingers tightened around the fork in his hand. He’d forgotten about that. “Perhaps someone else could be on-call for you?”

  The others turned toward Ainsley in anticipation. She looked around at all their faces, then her eyes settled on the one empty chair at the table—Rory’s seat.

  “My staying… It’ll help you…um…keep what happened Friday night from happening again?”

  “It’ll help a great deal,” Finn said. “Even in the last few minutes you’ve been a balm. Look at Alastair. He’s practically besotted.”

  Alastair’s head jerked. His expression was hidden behind his beard, but his sunken eyes spoke of intense embarrassment.

  Ainsley’s lips tightened, then a look of concentrated resolve crossed her face. “I haven’t heard from my professor yet. I can probably stay for a while.”

  Alex’s chest filled with a sense of relief and gratitude. Orla had been his queen by default. He imagined he would have chosen Ainsley from among thousands.

  18

  “This is…unexpected,” Ainsley said, as she ran her finger over the spines of several DVDs in the brothers’ impressive movie collection. There were thousands of choices taking up an entire wall in the second-floor media room, which also had a two-tiered floor, six black leather couches, and a gigantic movie screen flanked by a legit red velvet curtain. Ainsley guessed that the electronics system cost more than her car.

  “Unexpected how?” Callum asked.

  Ainsley glanced over at Alex, who was standing alone in the corner by the door. She wished he’d come join her, but he crossed his thick arms and showed no indication of moving.