Highland Hunger Read Free Page A

lovesick fool crossed her face, but the shadows quickly returned to her eyes. Raibeart had the oddest urge to tell her that he did not really need the meal he was making, that what he needed to survive flowed through that vein he could see pulsing faintly at the side of her long, graceful neck. He never felt such an urge. Every MacNachton learned the value of holding fast to such stark truths in the cradle. Something about Una Dunn made him reluctant to hide behind the lies that came so easily to him and all the others in his clan, the lies that meant survival.
    “So, lass, why were those men trying to capture ye?” he asked as he searched through his pack for a few more things to add to his stew. The food might not provide him with what he needed to survive, but he had always had a liking for the taste of a hearty stew, for a lot of the foods Outsiders ate, in fact. “Nay because ye committed some crime. I cannae believe that.”
    “Nay, I committed no crime.” She took a deep breath and considered what she could say that would help her decide if he was the ally she so desperately needed. “I am but different and their laird collects people who are different.”
    He tensed as he tossed a few wild mushrooms into the pot, sensing a tension behind each of her words, as if she sought something from him even as she told him what he wanted to know. Raibeart thought back over the first few moments after they had entered the cave, the very dark cave, and a deep darkness he had sought to alleviate for her by making a fire. She had shown no hesitation in moving around in that thick dark, had not even revealed a hint of the fear most Outsiders had of such darkness. Then he recalled the feral noises she had made when she had been cornered by the men trying to chase her down, her grace and speed while running through the woods in the near dark of approaching dawn, and even the way she had curled her hands until her fingers were curved like the claws of an animal. He had dismissed the fleeting thought that she had MacNachton blood because she was so fair, but he now wondered if he had been wrong to do so.
    “How are you different?” he asked in what he prayed was a gentle yet coaxing voice, a voice that would prompt her to be completely honest.
    “Weel, I can see verra weel in the dark.” When he just nodded, his expression one of calm and interest, she gathered her courage and continued. “I am verra strong and fast for a lass, stronger and faster than many a mon even. I also heal very quickly if I am wounded, and I rarely get sick, even when all around me are felled by some fever.”
    “And?” he pressed when she fell silent and just stared at him, her brilliant blue eyes glowing in the fire’s light, her unease so strong he could almost smell it on her skin.
    “Is that nay enough? Why do ye think there is more?”
    “I sense it. I could almost hear the and in your voice even though ye then ceased to speak. So, what else makes ye different ?”
    “I have verra sharp teeth.”
    Raibeart studied her for a full moment, adding up all that made her different, and then asked, “Sharp like these?” He smiled wide enough to reveal his fangs, which, although not lengthened by the scent of blood, were still very noticeable, and readied himself to catch her if she grew too afraid and tried to flee.
    Una bit back a gasp. He did have fangs. She had not imagined seeing them. They were not as long as some beasts’, but much more sharp and deadly than any man’s. When he closed his mouth, she looked into his eyes and saw no fear of her. He looked intensely curious and as if he ached to ask many more questions of her but hesitated, just as she did. There was only one thing left to reveal, one thing that could easily turn him against her or prove, beyond any further doubt, that she had stumbled upon someone burdened with the same curse she had been born with.
    “Do ye like your meat barely seared?” she asked, unable to keep all of