by Young, S.
Contents
Also by S. Young
Acknowledgments
Pronunciations
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
About the Author
By S. Young
Copyright © 2019 Samantha Young
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
This work is registered with and protected by Copyright House.
Edited by Jennifer Sommersby Young
Cover Design By Hang Le
Book Formatting by Indie Formatting Services
Also by Samantha Young
Adult Contemporary
Play On
As Dust Dances
Hold On: A Play On Novella
Into The Deep
Out Of The Shallows
Hero
Villain: A Hero Novella
One Day: A Valentine Novella
Fight Or Flight
On Dublin Street Series:
On Dublin Street
Down London Road
Before Jamaica Lane
Fall From India Place
Echoes Of Scotland Street
Moonlight On Nightingale Way
Until Fountain Bridge (A Novella)
Castle Hill (A Novella)
Valentine (A Novella)
One King’s Way (A Novella)
Hart’s Boardwalk Series:
The One Real Thing
Every Little Thing
Things We Never Said
Young Adult Contemporary
The Impossible Vastness Of Us
The Fragile Ordinary
Young Adult Urban Fantasy
The Tale of Lunarmorte Trilogy:
Moon Spell
River Cast
Blood Solstice
Warriors of Ankh Trilogy:
Blood Will Tell
Blood Past
Shades Of Blood
Fire Spirits Series:
Smokeless Fire
Scorched Skies
Borrowed Ember
Darkness, Kindled
Other Titles
Slumber (The Fade #1)
Drip Drop Teardrop (A Novella)
It has been an absolute joy to delve into the world of adult paranormal romance. For months, Thea and Conall have lived inside my head, running across Europe, kicking ass and falling in love. There were days, however, I needed guidance, especially with the translations. As Scottish as I am, Scottish Gaelic is not my forte so thank you so much to Laura Chapperton and Lisa Moyes for helping me with Pack MacLennan’s clan motto and pronunciation. It is so appreciated! My Scottish wolves sound pretty badass before they shift thanks to you guys.
There are many reasons to thank my Facebook Group Sam’s Clan McBookish, number one being their never-ending support and encouragement. I’m grateful to have members from all over the world in my group, and I have to thank a few of those ladies by name for helping me with translations for this book. For the Hungarian translations, a huge thank you to Zsanett Varga, Kati Kipilla, Biró Andrea, and Durkóné Simándi Rita. You are wonderful! And for the Polish translations Katarzyna Poliksza, Justyna Krzema, Magdalena Szabelska, Marta Walentynowicz, Sandra Witowska, Anna Zadrożna and Kasia Smyk. Thank you for not only translating full sentences, but for helping me with that confusing “what is the plural of zloty for English language speakers?” question, ha!
How lucky am I to have such amazing readers to turn to with research questions? You’re all phenomenal!
For the most part writing is a solitary endeavor, but publishing is not. a massive thank you to my editor Jennifer Sommersby Young for taking a process than can sometimes be excruciating for a writer and making it pretty painless. I love working with you!
And thank you to my bestie and PA extraordinaire, Ashleen Walker, for handling all the little things and supporting me through everything. Congrats on a very special year, my friend.
The life of a writer doesn’t stop with the book. Our job expands beyond the written word to marketing, advertising, graphic design, social media management and more. Help from those in the know goes a long way. Thank you to every single blogger, instagrammer and book lover who has helped spread the word about my books. You all are appreciated so much! On that note, a massive thank you to Nina Grinstead at Social Butterfly PR, for agreeing to jump into this new venture with me. You’re fantastic!
To my family and friends, for always encouraging me to follow my gut.
Moreover, to Hang Le, thank you, thank you for creating yet another stunning cover and for bringing Thea and Conall to life in image. You’re so talented!
To my formatter Jeff Senter at Indie Formatting Services, thank you again for making my stories look great in digital and print.
As always, thank you to my agent Lauren Abramo for making it possible for readers all over the world to find my words, and for always having my back. I’m so grateful for you.
And finally, the biggest thank you of all, to you my reader. Thank you for coming on this new adventure with me. I couldn’t do it without you.
SCOTTISH SLANG
‘nae’ on the end of a word is the equivalent of ‘’nt’, the contraction of ‘not’.
Didnae – Didn’t
Dinnae – Don’t
SCOTTISH GAELIC
Ceannsaichidh an Fhìrinn – Cyown-seech-ee in yeer-in
Mhairi – Var-ee
IRISH GAELIC (CONNACHT DIALECT)
Aine – Awn-ya
Samhradh – Sow-ruh
Solas – Sol-as
Geimhreadh – Geev-ru
Réalta – Rail-tuh
Earrach – Err-ack
Fómhar – Foe-var
Éireann – Air-un
The city held no danger for Thea as she strolled down the nearly deserted street on the outskirts of the eighth district. In the dark, the seedy neighborhood in an otherwise beautiful Budapest, could almost pass for a nicer area of the metropolis. Graffiti tags covered the walls, marring its beauty. The only reason she’d chosen the street, almost an hour’s walk from the Danube and the stunning historical buildings in the clean tourist districts, was because she could afford the flea-ridden room her creepy landlady had the audacity to call an apartment.
During daylight the tree-lined street was almost pretty, if you ignored the ste
nch of dog waste and the sight of homeless people pressed up against the graffitied buildings and sprawled on the sidewalk. In the dark, the tall, slender oaks seemed to bow over Thea, a shadowy protection as she walked to the twenty-four-hour convenience store. She’d always felt a strange affinity with nature, her soul yearning for a quiet place in the woods somewhere. Would they find her in some far-off forest?
But let’s be real, she thought, I’d die within the month.
Her survival skills were strictly urban, and she couldn’t afford to stop anywhere for too long. She’d been in Hungary for almost three months, liked it more than most places she’d been, but already she felt that itch to run. However, waitressing did not pay a lot and half the tourists who came through the café she worked at in the Palace District didn’t seem to realize you could tip above 8 percent. She would get a job working for the last café in Budapest to add a mandatory service charge.
Grumbling to herself, Thea strode a little faster past the young homeless guy who looked prepared to grab her around the ankle to stop her. She hardened her heart against the visual of him, scrawny, filthy, and cold in the chilly April night. She was saving every penny she had for train fare. Thea had to run at a moment’s notice and right now her savings wouldn’t get her very far.
The young man yelled something down the street to her and although Thea only understood a little Hungarian, she’d heard her boss use a certain word enough to know the homeless guy had just told her to do something pretty nasty to herself. Thea curled her lip in a mixture of guilt and irritation.
Shrugging it off, she pushed open the door to the late-night convenience store and ignored the look of rebuke the owner gave her. He was an older Hungarian man. Thea put him in his late sixties and again she couldn’t understand the actual words, but every time she came into his shop in the middle of the night, he forced her to endure a lecture she technically didn’t understand.
But she understood him all right.
He did not like a young woman wandering the streets alone at night.
Thea appreciated his concern. However, he had nothing to worry about. Still, she liked the old guy. Few strangers gave a shit what other strangers got up to, especially beyond spending money in their establishment. She gave him a nod, trying to hide her small smile at the fatherly glower he sent her way, and wandered deeper into the store. Thea liked the occasional glass of wine on nights she couldn’t sleep, and the shop sold a red she could kind of just about afford. Plus, there were these European potato chips that were addictive. She couldn’t get enough of them. Paprika flavor.
Thea’s belly rumbled.
Just as she was reaching for the large family-size pack, the hairs all over her body stood on end and her heart raced.
Her head whipped to the left up the aisle and the bell above the shop door tinkled as someone else walked in. Pulse thrumming hard, Thea pulled her hand back from the chips. All her life, she’d experienced a feeling akin to walking through an electrically charged space when something not good was about to happen.
Had they found her?
Looking up in the far-right corner of the shop where the owner had an old TV mounted to the wall, Thea watched the live footage of the front of the store. There was a man standing at the main counter talking to the owner.
Thea heard the old guy’s voice rise just as the new arrival pulled a handgun out of his pocket.
Oh shit.
She knew what she should do, and that was everything it took to not draw attention to herself. Thea was good at being quiet. She could creep up the aisle and make a quick dash for the door and be out of there before the guy with the gun could even blink.
Do it, Thea, the survivor in her urged.
Masking her steps with the otherworldly ability she’d had for as long as she could remember, Thea was almost at the end of the aisle. Ready to make a run for it. Get out of there. Save her own skin.
Not get involved.
Yet, Thea knew that the electrical charge she’d felt earlier didn’t happen just because a guy came into a store to rob it. That feeling was like a sixth sense. Something bad was going to happen here.
It wasn’t her business.
It wasn’t!
But the shopkeeper’s concerned expressions of admonishment filled Thea’s head.
Oh shit.
She couldn’t leave him here to get hurt.
Taking a deep breath, Thea listened as the argument between the shop owner and robber grew more heated. It sounded like her stubborn shopkeeper didn’t want to hand over his money. Really? Is it worth your life?
With a heavy exhalation, her stomach churning, Thea stepped out from behind the aisle and the shopkeeper’s eyes widened in concerned horror. The gunman had his back to her.
“I think maybe we should all—”
A crack ripped through the air, followed by a sharp sting of pain in her shoulder. She didn’t even get to finish her sentence because the gunman had whirled around in fright and shot her!
Thea glowered down at her shoulder and then up at the gunman whose eyes had widened. His hand trembled.
“Was that necessary?” Thea took an angry step toward him.
He fired again; the bullet ripped through her just inches from the last. She flinched at the burn.
Okay, now she was pissed.
The air crackled around her as she touched the bloody holes in the only jacket she owned. Feeling a little murderous, it must have shown on her face as she looked up because the gunman wasn’t the only one freaking out.
The shopkeeper was no longer looking at her like a concerned father. His face was pale with terror. He yelled something and if Thea had to guess, it was probably along the lines of “What are you?” or “Demon!” or “Monster!”
And then he scrambled out from behind the counter, slipping on the tiled floor, before throwing open the shop door to tear out of there, crying out at the top of his lungs.
Disappointment flooded Thea. “Nice,” she mumbled. She stepped into help, got shot twice, and that’s how he thanked her. When would she learn?
She cut a look at the gunman. His tawny skin was pale, his hand shaking hard as he backed into the counter, muttering what sounded like a plea under his breath.
Thea knew how she appeared. When someone pissed her off, her eyes transformed from brown to a gold so bright, no one could ever mistake her as human. Plus, she’d been shot, and she’d barely flinched. They knew she wasn’t just a woman. She was something else entirely.
And it looked like this guy would shoot her again for it.
Just because the bullets couldn’t kill her didn’t mean they didn’t pinch like a bitch. Thea didn’t much like the idea of another one. Plus, she could feel that while the first shot was through and through, the second wasn’t. There was a bullet inside her shoulder; she’d have to dig it out, and that would only slow her down. She didn’t fancy digging out two.
Just as the robber’s finger trembled on the trigger, Thea bridged the distance between them in less time than it took a human to blink. She grabbed the wrist of his gun hand and twisted it with such force, his high-pitched scream of agony followed the sound of it breaking. The gun clattered to the floor and Thea kicked it out of range.
Tears streamed down the robber’s face and he begged in a language that wasn’t Hungarian as he cradled his wrist and tried to get up. He scrambled to his feet and backed away from her as if she were the devil.
Shaking her head, Thea watched the guy run out of the store. Dread immediately weighed in her gut.
That little stunt was like sending up a flare to any supernatural after her. Or worse … him. Now she had to get out of Hungary, and she hadn’t saved enough money to get a train out of the country. She automatically zoomed in on the cash register. Guilt niggled her at the mere thought.
But he did run out of here, leaving you to possibly die.
That was true.
Thea rounded the counter. People always disappointed in the end. Why s
hould she be any better? Before committing the crime, Thea opened the cupboard behind the counter and found the old-fashioned VHS security. She pulled the tape, wincing at the flare of pain that spiked up her neck from her wound. She could feel hot blood sliding down her chest and back, soaking into her shirt and jacket. She needed to move fast.
The register was locked so Thea tore it open with a brute strength that belied her five foot eight, for-the-most-part-slender build. Remorse pressed down on her shoulders as she took what she needed plus a little extra from the register. However, she reminded herself she had to do what she needed to do to survive. And she’d just saved this guy’s life. It wasn’t unreasonable to ask for monetary compensation for the two goddamn bullet wounds in her shoulder.
Sirens wailed in the distance, shooting a jolt of renewed adrenaline through her. Walking calmly out of the shop, Thea strolled down the street, toward her apartment, with her head held high.
Then she felt blood trickle off the fingertips of her right hand and cursed. She’d leave a trail that led right to her apartment. Curling her hand into a fist and lifting the arm to rest against her chest, Thea winced against the pain. Then she saw the young homeless man from earlier staring intently at her.
He’d probably seen the gunman and the shopkeeper run out of the shop.
But she’d counted on that.