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Dreagan as the human females who had mated Kings.
    â€œI agree,” Laith said.
    Ryder chuckled as he threw Laith a look. “I’ve seen you flirting with that redhead from the village when she comes into the pub.”
    Laith grinned. “I’m a pub owner. I flirt with everyone when I’m behind the bar.”
    â€œYou keep doing that, and you’ll find yourself mated quick enough.”
    â€œIt’s no’ for me. I’m perfectly content just as I am.”
    Ryder made a face. “Are you insane? Why say something like that and tempt the cosmos?”
    Laith watched him walk away, wondering if he had just drawn the interest of fate.

 
    CHAPTER
TWO
    After twenty years, Iona was back in Scotland. She drove the small rental through the winding roads of the Highlands ignoring the spectacular beauty around her that urged her to grab her camera and document it. But it was difficult.
    It wasn’t that she didn’t love the scenery. Even when she tried to forget her childhood in Scotland, she felt something missing in her soul. It wasn’t until she landed in Edinburgh that she realized that missing piece was the wild, mystical land.
    Iona’s hands were sweating as she gripped the steering wheel. The closer she got to her childhood home, the more her heart pounded. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or sadness that brought on such a reaction, and she didn’t want to delve too deep into the emotions to find out.
    Just last week while on assignment in Afghanistan, she’d nearly been killed. It was because of the U.S. Marines she was with that she managed to come away with only minor injuries, but it put things into perspective. It made her realize how very short life was, and regardless of how she felt about what her father did, she needed to talk to him, to see him.
    No sooner had she packed her belongings and booked a flight out of Afghanistan to Scotland than people began asking her about her family and where she was from. It was … odd.
    Almost as if fate stepped in and gave her another nudge to return home.
    As if she needed it. The near-death experience was enough.
    But she was too late. During a layover, she was notified by the company she worked for about her father’s death.
    Iona hadn’t shed any tears. Instead, anger welled up within her. She was furious that her father had died before she got to see him. Yes, it was silly and irrational, but it didn’t change her feelings.
    No sooner had she found out about her father’s death than she got a phone call from her father’s attorney wanting to know when she would be in town for the reading of the will.
    Iona focused on the winding road as she passed through a cluster of rain clouds. The windshield wipers were loud and squeaky as they diligently worked to keep the windshield clear of rain.
    Everything grated on her nerves. She felt raw, exposed. And she hated it.
    She was used to being completely independent, moving from place to place with just her backpack. Iona had learned very quickly in her early years that the only one she really could depend on was herself. There was no use putting her faith or trust in anyone else, because they always disappointed her.
    It began with her mother and father, and it continued on through school and university. She liked being alone, and despite what some people thought, being alone didn’t mean she was lonely.
    Which is why she loved her job. Photography was her life. For as far back as she could remember, it’s all she had ever wanted to do. She was lucky enough to work for the Commune—a group of wealthy business owners from around the globe who hired experts in various fields for any number of things.
    For Iona, her assignments could be nothing more than photographing a horticultural exhibit in Paris or, like her last mission, deep in the middle of battle to get a firsthand view of the war being waged.
    She bounced along the roads,