Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81374 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Light breaks through clouds, and with it, I feel a glimmer of hope.
Don’t give up. Don’t you ever give up.
It’s like I can hear him, that deep, commanding voice of his chasing away my fears and giving me hope.
“I won’t,” I whisper. “I bloody won’t.”
“Fiona!”
I wonder at first if I’ve conjured it up, I’m that in my head. Is it… can it possibly be?
I look to my left. Nothing. And to my right, nothing as well. I squint my eyes and peer ahead of me, but there’s nothing.
How could I have done this? After what he’s done, after what I have, to argue with him right before this happened?
What if I never see him again?
Oh, God, what if he’s gone?
I can’t believe I let my head get in the way of my heart. I need him, and he needs me. We’ve been created for each other, he and I. If he’s gone…
I can’t bear the thought.
He claimed me.
He claimed me.
And as a claimed woman of the Clan, I’m his.
I’m rubbing at the tears on my face, when someone approaches me, trying to help, but I push them away. I don’t want help right now.
I want Lachlan.
He was the first person I went to when I needed help.
The one I’ve confided in.
And he’s the man I’m meant to be with.
I have to find him. I won’t run from him. I won’t turn from him again.
“Lachlan!” I scream, my voice cracking with the intensity of my need to find him.
And then I see him.
Clothes torn and tattered, his face bloody and streaked with soot, he marches through the rubble and carnage, a man with a purpose. He wears a harness strapped to his chest, gleaming metal for anyone in the open to see, but he doesn’t care. He’s oblivious to anything but his search.
“Fiona!”
“Lachlan,” I whisper, unable to summon the voice to call him again. Is he a ghost? Or is that him, the man that I love, the man I would give my everything for, come to find me?
I open my voice to yell to him, but I can’t. My words are frozen, my mouth refusing to work.
But I can run. And I do.
I ignore the broken glass, the rubble, shattered wood, and hissing warning sounds of things about to explode. I ignore the pounding of my heart. I have one purpose, and one purpose only: to get to him.
I trip and fall, tear my jeans, bracing myself on concrete. The skin’s torn off my hands and the pain is excruciating, but I barely register it because I’m on my feet again, running. He doesn’t see me yet, and his voice is growing more desperate. I want to yell to him, to ease his worry, but I can’t speak. I can only run.
“Lachlan,” I whisper. “Wait for me.” I’m a sobbing, hysterical mess when finally his eyes come to mine, and he freezes. It’s only a split second before he begins to run to me.
I clash into him, but he bends, catches me, and gathers me to him.
We don’t speak. His strong, powerful arms wrap around me and he holds me so tightly I can’t breathe. I bury my head in the crook of his neck, and I break into desperate tears.
“Oh, God,” I sob, my shoulders wracking as I lose my mind. “I thought I lost you.” My voice breaks, and I sob harder. I breathe him in, squeeze his hard, strong body, lay my head against his neck to feel his skin against mine. His shirt’s soaked with my tears, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t speak. He holds me, our hearts beating as one, and walks with long, purposeful strides to safety.
I don’t want him to release me. I can’t let him go, I won’t. The tears have subsided but my desperate need to hold him hasn’t.
And somehow, he knows, or maybe he feels the same, for he sits heavily on the sidewalk and arranges me in his lap. Slowly, soothingly, my gentle giant of a man rocks me as if we’re the only two people in the world. He’s muttering things in guttural Gaelic, broken words and phrases I can hardly understand, but a few words are clear.
Mo grá.
Tá tú sábháilte.
My love. You are safe.
He holds me on the curb until I shiver with cold. He holds me tighter, closer.
“Are you hurt?” he finally asks.
I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I tell him, and I suppose I’d tell him that even if I’d broken limbs, because I’m with him now. I found him.
I’m fine.
He kisses my temple so fiercely I’m branded, his strong fingers grasping my chin. He draws in a deep breath, then lets it out, holds me to his chest and rocks me once more.
“You’re not fucking fine. You’re bleeding everywhere.” Then he throws his arms around me. “But you’re okay. You survived. Let’s get you home.”