Wicked Highlander Read Free Page B

Celtic warriors to battle Rome and her great army.
    The Druids hadn’t realized what they had done when they released the gods, not that they’d had a choice. Rome had been destroying Britain bit by bit. The Celts did what they had to do to make sure the land stayed theirs.
    Yet, when the Romans had been defeated, the Druids hadn’t been able to coax the gods to leave the men.The Celts had become Warriors, men with immortality and powers beyond their imagining. As powerful as the Druids were with their magic, they were no match for the Warriors.
    The Druids, split into sects of good and evil, joined forces to bind the gods inside the men as a last resort. It worked, but none of them could have realized the gods would travel from generation to generation through the blood in the hopes of being loosened once more.
    And then it had happened. Starting with Quinn and his brothers.
    Quinn squeezed his eyes closed as he thought of that fateful day and the death and blood that had coated the land he loved. His life had been irrevocably altered in a split second, and there was nothing he could do to change it other than fight the god inside him. And hold onto the last shred of hope he possessed.
    In order to keep his god from taking control, Quinn did what he knew his brothers would have done—save the woman.
    He flexed his fingers, his long deadly claws clicking together, and winced at the wounds on his side and back. They would heal, but not fast enough, not if the other Warriors attacked again. And they would. They wanted the woman.
    But so did he.
    He walked into his cave where he had tossed her and stopped in front of her. He had sensed her magic as soon as she landed in the Pit. Just what was Deirdre doing tossing a Druid down here with Warriors? And more importantly, why wasn’t the Druid moving?
    Had he thrown her so hard that he knocked her unconscious? Or worse? Had he killed her? Quinn hadtried to pull back his strength, but he forgot sometimes just how strong his god made him.
    Quinn knelt beside the female and put his finger beneath her nose. Her breath washed warm and steady over his black skin, and he let out a sigh of relief.
    â€œIs she hurt?”
    Quinn looked over his shoulder to find Arran watching him. The white Warrior had recognized Quinn’s name and had aligned with him just days after Quinn was thrown in the Pit.
    â€œShe breathes, but I fear I might have thrown her too hard,” Quinn answered.
    Arran walked toward him slowly, his gaze seeking the shadows where other Warriors waited and watched. In the Pit, none of the Warriors could afford to change out of their god form and risk being killed.
    Quinn glanced at the woman. She had screamed when the stones had moved underneath her, but she hadn’t made a sound since. Not even when one of Deirdre’s Warriors kicked her, and he knew that had to have hurt by her wince.
    â€œShe fell hard,” Arran said. “Many break bones on that plunge.”
    Quinn nodded. He would know since he had broken his arm and some ribs on his fall. If she had broken something he needed to discover where so he could see to it, but he prayed she hadn’t. She was mortal and couldn’t heal as they did.
    â€œShall I check?” Arran asked.
    Quinn wanted to refuse Arran’s aid since he didn’t want anyone touching the female. He had claimed her when he saved her. She was his to watch over. Quinn shook his head and realized he was acting as Lucanhad done when his brother had brought Cara into their castle. It was ridiculous for Quinn to want the Druid only for himself. Even knowing that didn’t lesson his hunger for her, though.
    A hunger that had begun the moment he saw her bravery, her beauty.
    â€œYou can help,” he relented.
    Together the men inspected her, and to Quinn’s relief found nothing broken. There was a sizable knot on the back of her head, and he feared her ribs would bother her for some time. If