What seemed like an eternity later, he pulled off the paved road and onto a little-used path, slowing considerably. As they traveled the ill-maintained track, she grabbed the door handle to keep from bouncing out of her seat.

"Where are we going?" She gritted her teeth as they jolted over a large rocky patch, slamming her sore shoulder against the door.

"Someplace private."

Ahh, she'd wrenched two words from him. She was getting somewhere. She stifled a groan as they continued b.u.mping along the road, her discomfort increasing as they climbed ever higher. Finally, they reached a small clearing and he came to a stop. Before he could put the car in park, she moaned in relief and flung the door open.

Scrambling out, she didn't bother to shut the door behind her before darting into the woods. She clambered over fallen trees and underbrush for a few yards in the stygian darkness before finding a small clear spot that would suit her purposes. After she took care of her most immediate need, she rose, grimacing as she tugged her clothing, still damp from her tumble with Mortianna's beasts, back into place. Nothing was worse than wet cotton against chilled skin.

She shivered as she began her trek back, careful to take better note of her surroundings. For the past hour, she hadn't seen a single light heralding civilization. How far out in the countryside were they? Night creatures rustled in the undergrowth, but she ignored them. She didn't fear anything living, only the dead.

She glanced through the treetops to the patches of night sky visible through bare tree limbs. Clouds danced overhead, playing hide and seek with the stars. Even the sky was unfamiliar. A wave of homesickness washed over her. She shoved the intrusive sentiment away. She no longer had a home, or a family; what was there to miss?

Tentatively, she stretched to relieve the aches in her abused body. Now that her immediate concern was taken care of, she needed to find out where she was and how to get to the nearest town, village or house.

Heck, even a cell phone would do.

She strode out of the darkness toward the Rover and the man who waited for her. In the cool, blue glow of the waxing moon, he stood at the edge of the clearing near a drop-off, hands on his hips as he surveyed the darkness in the valley below. For the first time, she got a good look at her reluctant companion.

He was tall, well over her own five feet eight inches, topping out around six feet. Moonlight burnished his short, golden hair to silver and etched his features in shadow. Dressed entirely in black, he blended with his surroundings.

As she moved closer, her foot snapped a dry twig, causing him to turn to face her. Her breath caught in her throat as his pale blue eyes sc.r.a.ped over her, then dismissed her before he walked to the Rover. He moved with an athletic fluidity, the by-product of excellent muscle tone. His shoulders were broad and tapered into the lean lines of his waist and narrow hips. He was at ease with his body, unconscious of its beauty and power. He opened the tailgate.

She stopped a few feet away and crossed her arms over her chest. "So what's the plan?"

"I'll take you back to where you came from." His voice was low, cultured with a definite accent.

Fascinating. Now that her head wasn't ringing quite so much, she could discern Mortianna's son was an American.

She shook her head. "No thanks. I don't want to return to Sinjin's."

"Regardless of what you want, I'm returning you to where you came from." He pulled out a black leather duffel bag and dropped it on the ground at his feet. "What you do once you're there is up to you."

She placed her hands on her hips. "I said, no thanks. I can take care of myself."

"I can see how well you do that," he muttered. He busied himself unfurling a blanket and spreading it out in the back of the truck.

Stung, she straightened. "There were six of the little b.u.g.g.e.rs." "And you didn't win, so you can't take care of yourself." He paused, a dark nylon sleeping bag in his arms. "Get in."

She scowled and stepped back. "Why?"

"I need to rest."

She glanced inside the dim compartment and saw he'd put the back seat down to make a larger s.p.a.ce.

Even so, there was no way she was willing to get in there with him. She shook her head. "I can drive-"

"No, thanks. I need to rest in a stationary car, not bouncing around while you drive."

A shaft of fear ignited in her chest. "No."

"I don't think you understand. You either get in by yourself or I'll stuff you in. It's your choice."

Images of those strong hands in the air, holding Mortianna's beasts at bay came to mind. Did he have the power to physically move her? She glanced at his face and saw that he did, indeed, look weary and in no mood for a fight. The watery moonlight etched lines around his eyes and mouth. She sighed, reluctant to admit she was also exhausted. It wasn't every day a girl was kidnapped by demons and escaped an angry witch.

Giving him a wide berth, she climbed into the back of the truck, scrambling into the far corner to avoid touching him. He tossed the sleeping bag in her direction before picking up the duffel. Setting it at the rear on her side, he climbed in and pulled the hatch shut, enclosing them in a small, dark area.

A wave of claustrophobia hit her and she squelched the urge to fling herself at the door as he lay down on his side of the blanket, his back to her.

"You should change out of those damp clothes. I don't want you getting sick on me. There are some dry things in the bag." His words were slurred, and, within moments, his breathing deepened.

Is he asleep already?

Maeve watched, making sure he wasn't going to move before she reached for the bag. With frozen fingers, she grabbed the handle and pulled it toward her. Opening it, she pawed around inside and found a small penlight. Flicking it on, she located a clean pair of sweatpants and a thick, ivory woolen sweater.

She glanced uneasily at the man's back, the dry clothes clutched in her hands.

Will he turn around?

She scowled at the thought. To h.e.l.l with him. If he wanted to watch, let him. She dropped the clothes in her lap and stuck the penlight in the fold of her knee. She wiggled out of her shirt, wincing as her shoulder pulled painfully.

What the devil was wrong with her? Inspecting her shirt, she was dismayed to find a large rent on the top of the shoulder, reaching down the back for several inches. The cloth was damp with blood.

Looking regretfully at the plush sweater, she wiped her damp fingers on her pants before pitching the sweater over the back of the driver's seat. There was no way she could put it on if she was going to bleed all over it. The pants were another story. She wrestled her boots off and placed her last remaining knife within easy reach. Flicking the penlight off, she dropped it back into the bag and tossed it into the front seat. She wiggled out of her damp pants, stifling a groan of delight as she pulled on the dry sweats. The cotton was thick, wonderfully warm. She spread her clothing over the back of the pa.s.senger seat to air dry and slid beneath the sleeping bag.

The man didn't stir as she settled, her back to him. She curled one arm to support her head, shivers wracking her body as she willed herself to relax. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her other arm around her waist in an attempt to keep warm. Exhaustion crept in and her last thought was she hoped she didn't bleed on his sleeping bag.

The sunlight woke him.

Quinn blinked. For a moment, he couldn't figure out why he was sleeping in the back of his Rover. Then the events of the night before slammed into his skull. He closed his eyes again.

He'd betrayed his mother.

She betrayed you long before.

He opened his eyes. Allowing her to kill an innocent went against everything he believed in. The Wiccan Rede,"An it harm none, do what thou wilt," was more than an ancient belief. He strove to live the rule every day of his life. After one costly slip in his teenage years, it was the one lesson he'd never forgotten.

If that included stopping his mother by subverting her plans, so mote it be.

He tried to sit up, but a peculiar weight on his right side halted him. A warm, very female body was snuggled against him. He turned his head and caught sight of brilliant red hair. Her long braid lay across his chest, thick and heavy. The morning sun made the color almost blinding, even through the tinted windows. He imagined what it must look like loosened.

Most of her face was obscured by the sleeping bag, but he could see the firm line of her jaw, discolored by a small purple bruise.

He clenched his teeth as annoyance lanced through him. No one should've hit her, certainly not one of the minions.

His guest stirred, drawing his attention to the firm body molded against his. The bulky sleeping bag hid the rest of her from his view, but he certainly felt every delectable inch. l.u.s.t stirred as her leg shifted higher, nudging him, bringing the heat of her feminine warmth directly in contact with his thigh.

A soft groan escaped her and a rush of awareness raced to his groin. She stirred again, her palm flattening over his heart, her limbs heavy against him. He wrapped his fingers around her errant braid in disbelief. He thought he'd evolved past the point in his life when baser instincts ruled his nature.

The minions had kidnapped her from Sinjin's home. Was she his lover? What was the nature of her relationship to the vampire?

She shifted, her small, firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressing into his side as the scent of summer heather and warm female swirled around him, making him dizzy with its potency. He closed his eyes as his c.o.c.k lunged forfreedom and the warm flesh of the woman beside him.

It appeared he was wrong about his true nature.

Gently, he untangled himself and sat up. Wrenching the hatch open, he climbed out into the crisp, morning air. He loved the morning, it was his favorite time of day. The air was fresh, the day was young and it was a new beginning all over again.

He turned in time to see his pa.s.senger roll into the spot of warmth he'd just vacated. She wiggled her hips before settling down once more. He stifled a groan as he shut the door. They had a long road ahead of them, and by sunset, they would be at Sinjin's.

He glanced at the morning erection tenting his trousers. It was going to be the longest drive of his life.

Maeve shivered as she exited the Rover. Dressed once more in her black pants, still damp from yesterday's adventure, and an athletic bra, she leaned against the tailgate to pull on her knee-high boots.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd camped in the wilderness-not that there'd be smoky eggs and burnt bacon for breakfast today or a twin sister to chase around the campfire.

A wistful sigh escaped her as she retrieved her knife and tattered shirt. There were times she missed her sister like a severed limb. Her twin, the one person who'd understood her without reserve, was dead.

Even now, eleven years later, it was a tough pill to swallow.

Eternity had never looked so lonely.

Tossing the shirt over her shoulder, she shut the hatch. Lonely or not, she had work to do and that included finding her erstwhile traveling companion.

After taking care of her most pressing needs, the sound of running water drew her attention. Following it, she walked down a small hill, through a thicket of trees. Without warning, the trees gave way to a rocky sh.o.r.eline and a broad river.

On the opposite sh.o.r.e, the trees grew thick and impenetrable within a few feet of the river. The water was a swift, crystal blue torrent, and the roar was loud in her ears. Delighted, she took a deep breath and exhaled with gusto. The stark beauty of this spot on the river tugged her soul. When was the last time she'd left behind the trappings of civilization in favor of roughing it?

Tilting her head back, she spied a large bird overhead. It hung on a current, wings outstretched, hovering as if suspended by wire. What did that kind of freedom feel like?

Her gaze dropped to the water. She caught a glimpse of several fish in the depths of a still pool near the sh.o.r.e. The flash of silver scales caught the sun as they moved about beneath the surface. She loved the water. How easy it would be to step in and just let go.

She took a step toward the pool, then a movement caught her attention. Balanced on the trunk of a ma.s.sive fallen tree stood her companion.

He'd shed his shirt and stood facing the morning sun, arms straight out from his shoulders, palms up with his head tilted back. Impervious to the chill, he looked completely at ease in his surroundings. The sunbleached his hair to white fire and gilded his bronzed physique. Loose-fitting black pants rode low on his hips, molding to his long limbs as a breeze tugged at them.

Her mouth watered as a wash of desire streaked through her. He wasn't built like a weight lifter, all muscles and no neck, but he was solid-looking, strong. His shoulders were broad, his stomach flat and it rippled as he swayed with the breeze. It was obvious he took good care of himself; it showed in every inch of him. She licked her lips. He was possibly the handsomest man she'd ever seen.

That's what you'd thought abouthimtoo.

A wash of cold realization doused her, tearing her gaze from the man on the tree. One mistake was enough. Her lack of judgment had cost her sister her life. Never again would a beautiful face and handsome body fool her. He was dangerous to her sense of self-preservation. Maybe it would be better if she struck out on her own to find civilization.

A raucous cry overhead drew her attention. Several feet over the man's head flew several birds of differing sizes. They swooped and played, calling as if beckoning the man to join in their antics. A large black bird hung in the center, a raven perhaps-its beady eyes fixed on her.

Startled, she jerked backward, her boots stuttering over the rocks before catching on a gnarled root.

Maeve stifled a squeak as she lost her balance.

Quinn spun as he heard the rattle of stones underfoot. He caught sight of his companion, her arms flailing in the air before landing almost silently on her backside. He leapt off the tree to a smaller rock, then jumped to sh.o.r.e, wincing as a sharp stone dug into his bare foot. Keeping to the larger rocks, he hop scotched to the fallen woman.

"Are you okay?"

She scrambled to her feet before he could reach her. In the bright sunlight, her braid was the color of flame and her eyes were a startling shade of green. Brilliant as the greenest meadow in Ireland and filled with distrust, they ensnared him.

Ye G.o.ddess, but she was lovely. Soft brows arched over those mesmerizing eyes. Her nose was pert with a slight tilt at the end hinting at impudence. With the pale skin of a true redhead, a few freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose and her lips were full and damp. The only mar to her lovely face was the bruising on her jaw, which stuck out in dark hues of purple and blue.

She was a sight to behold, even if she was oddly dressed. She wore a tight black athletic bra that smashed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s almost flat. No wonder she'd felt so hard against him. A professional bodybuilder would have to work to attain her physique.

Tight black leggings clung to long legs, outlining slim hips and muscular thighs. Knee-high suede boots covered her feet and calves. Her stomach was perfectly flat and her arms corded with muscles. From her capable-looking fingers dangled her shirt.

Normally, he preferred his women to be small, if not delicate. There was nothing delicate about this Amazon standing before him. l.u.s.t reawakened in his body and he shifted. Maybe he should try reiterating his tastes to his body. It seemed one part of him wasn't paying attention. "Like what you see?"

Quinn jerked his gaze from her washboard stomach to her hostile eyes. "I was just thinking you must work out a lot."

Her gaze narrowed and he had the sneaking suspicion she knew he was lying. Muttering something uncomplimentary under her breath, she stalked past him, allowing him a glimpse of her back. What he saw shocked him.

From the nape of her neck to the top of her pants was a mehndi tattoo done in henna. The three phases of maiden, mother and crone were depicted in the face of the moon. Her bra straps and swaying braid obscured the design, but he could tell the skill of the artist even from here. Just above the waist of her pants were runic symbols, but he couldn't read them as she was moving too rapidly.

The deep russet of the henna tattoo, exotic against her pale skin, was also one h.e.l.l of a turn on.

No doubt about it, he was in trouble.

As she turned, he caught sight of the gash on her shoulder. Dried blood had run down her shoulder blade, halting at her bra. Red and irritated, the wound looked incredibly painful.

"You're hurt."

She dropped into a crouch by the river. Cupping her hands, she flung handfuls of icy water on her face.

"I'll live," she replied between splashes.

Ignoring the pain from the small rocks digging into his feet, he stalked to where his bag and discarded clothing lay. "We need to get that cleaned."

She paused in her hasty ablutions. "I said I'll live," she snapped.

Quinn pulled on his moccasins and reached into the bag for a clean T-shirt, then moved to dangle the shirt within her range of vision. She looked up at him, protest on her lips.

"Humor me," he spoke quietly.

After a moment, she accepted his offering with a slight nod of thanks. She dried her face on the shirt, then rose to her full height and met his gaze, her shoulders back, head held high. "Thank you."

She was a p.r.i.c.kly thing.

"You're welcome." He nodded at a low, flat boulder nearby. "Why don't you sit there and I'll attend your shoulder?"