Indecent: The Moray Druids #2 (Highland Historical) Read Free

him ?
    “Are you going to try and kill me?” she asked, motioning to the dagger in his other hand with her eyes.
    Niall had to blink again to stop from watching the way water slid along her proud, high cheekbones to collect in the corners of her sensuous mouth. “I am not your enemy,” he insisted, and proved it by lifting his dagger and slicing through the ropes at her wrists.
    With a weak sound, she collapsed, and Niall caught her before she fell to the mud, pulling her against him. The strength he’d seen in her eyes must not have existed in her legs.
    Stepping into her, Niall pressed his body fully against hers, hiding her breasts from the unrepentantly hungry eyes of his men, hating the thickness of his leather armor as it hid their softness from his touch.
    She hissed when his hands pressed against her back, and he drew them away instantly, not realizing the extent of her wounds until it was too late.
    Blood.
    Niall stared at it as though he’d never seen it before, watching the rainwater turn the crimson into a lighter pink in his palm. A familiar stirring radiated through him. Rage. Mayhem.
    Panic?
    Nie . He couldn’t have saved this wounded nun only to be forced to violently take her life. She was different. He wanted her. Not only that, he wanted to know her. To see her. To save her. Not just from the pain of her wounds, but from himself.
    “Run,” he growled the last word his sharpening teeth would be able to utter before the beast completely overtook him in a voice darkened with animal rage. He could feel it mount. Feel his veins pulse with fury, bloodlust, and strength.
    Niall pulled away from the woman as the vibrancy of the evening turned to predatory shadows of silver and grey. As usual all color disappeared, leaving only the shapes of his victims.
    All color, but for the very real flames igniting her eyes.
    “Everyone get back. Bar the door.” Ingmar’s voice was deadly serious, which underscored the danger of the situation. “Better start praying, ladies,” he warned. “Make peace with your God, because you are about to meet him.”

Chapter Two
     
    To Kenna de Moray, watching a Berserker with the golden visage of a Norse God turn into a demon with eyes the color of charred coals had to be one of the most defining moments of her short life.
    She’d known what he was, even when his clear, ice-blue gaze had heated from one of arrogant dispassion, to branding possession. It was as though she could feel the beast that lay dormant inside of him. Could sense the frenzy that was capable of bursting forth from the cold and capable leader.
    She just hadn’t known she would see that beast so soon.
    Berserkers killed. It was all they did. They had no mercy. No control. Once the bloodlust took them, they indiscriminately slaughtered whatever life they could reach.
    A flash of magick burned before her, bringing images of the near future. The stones of the courtyard painted with rivers of blood. The folds of habits, once lily-white, stained crimson. Rain washing gore and carnage into the gardens. The victorious roar of a Berserker beast, and then the tortured roar of a man…
    Kenna and the Berserker would be the only two left standing.
    What would happen then ?
    There was no time to think. No time to philosophically consider the good of the many versus the good of the few. She needed to live in order to keep the Doomsday Grimoire safe. In order to stay hidden, she couldn’t use her magick. Not on purpose. But, could she allow this Berserker to be unleashed upon this cloistered order of nuns? Women who thought the worst of her, who stood by while she was beaten and berated?
    Pain and weakness wrought by the lashes of hatred and the cold of the rain dissipated behind a surge of fear, and then of her fire. Nay . She couldn’t let this man, who was turning into a creature more fearsome and beautiful than she’d ever seen, lay waste to the convent that had become her home.
    These women weren’t evil. They