By the Light of the Scottish Moon - Unrated (My Kilted Wolf, #1) Read online

  By the Light of the Scottish Moon (Unrated)

  By

  Red Phoenix

  By the Light of the Scottish Moon (Unrated)

  Copyright © 2014 by Red Phoenix

  Kindle Edition

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  [email protected]

  Edited by Jennifer Roberts-Hall and Becki Wyer

  Cover Design by Kim Killion

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dear Paranormal Lovers

  Epigraph

  Coming Home

  The Chosen

  Little Lamb

  Bryn

  The Wolf

  Old Wounds

  Rebirth

  Preview of the exciting Sequel

  About the Author Red Phoenix

  Excerpt from Keeper of the Wolf Clan

  Excerpt from The Keeper Finds Her Mate

  Excerpt from His Scottish Pet: Dom of the Ages

  Excerpt from Varick: The Reckoning

  Connect with Red on Substance B

  Dear Paranormal Lovers,

  I hope you enjoy By the Light of the Scottish Moon (Unrated), the touching romance of Freya and Bryn. Two lost souls who find each other in the magic and enchantment of Scotland…

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  You can find me on:

  Twitter: @redphoenix69

  Website: RedPhoenix69.com

  Facebook: Red Phoenix

  If you love their romantic tale, please check out my other work:

  The Keeper of the Wolf Clan & The Keeper Finds Her Mate

  Join Layla as she navigates the alluring—but difficult—role of Keeper to four Alpha males

  (contains shifter/human coupling)

  His Scottish Pet: Dom of the Ages

  Join Ryce Leon, an immortal, as he pleases and teases the women of Scotland with his unique skills.

  (contains BDSM scenes)

  Varick: The Reckoning

  This dark erotic romance proves that love can save the darkest of souls

  (contains some blood & violence – these aren’t sweet vamps)

  He looked up at the moon and let out a long and terrible howl. It felt as if the pain would never end…

  Coming Home

  Freya McKenna gazed out of the airplane window at the blue ocean below. Even from way up here, she could see the white crest of the waves. She loved that about the ocean—the fact that it was its own force but still influenced by the moon above.

  The sky was a dark blue except for a few billowing clouds. It had the look of heaven to her so she turned away, sliding down the window shade in anger.

  Why did life have to be so cruel?

  A month ago, things were normal before she got the dreaded news: “We found something on your scan…”

  That something turned out to be stage-four pancreatic cancer which was growing at a rapid rate. She’d been advised to start an aggressive combination of chemo and radiation, but opted out. What was the point? If she was going to die anyway, she might as well pass this life on her own terms, surrounded by the hills of her homeland—the country of her ancestors—the place that called to her soul.

  Freya regretted she had no one to share her last weeks with. Her parents had died two years ago in an automobile accident, so she was pretty much alone in the world. She held onto the fact they had lived good, long lives and were spared this terrible end to their only dochter. Although she did have one sibling, her brother worked for one of the larger law firms in Texas and was consumed by his work, ignoring his wife and kids.

  Cameron had no time to spare for her, but Freya didn’t really care. The sad truth was that they’d grown apart over the years, and she wasn’t even sure she liked the person he’d become. She felt no sorrow that he would not be there for her when she died.

  Freya looked at a young family across the aisle and sighed, regretting that she’d never had kids of her own.

  She’d been married once, right out of college. Unfortunately, the man morphed into a violent creep after their wedding vows. Being the sole focus of his jealousy and anger, she quickly determined never to have children with the loser. Even though she took her vows seriously, it didn’t take her long to realize that if children didn’t deserve to be abused by the dunderhead, then neither did she.

  Freya divorced the asshole a year after they married, causing a scandal in her Catholic family, but she never once looked back.

  Instead of raising a family, she went back to college to get a nursing degree and poured herself into caring for her patients. They became her dear friends, and the staff she worked with became her family; her life was complete.

  How morbidly funny, Freya thought, snorting to herself. She’d devoted her life to helping dying cancer patients, and now fate had seen fit to make her one of them.

  Life sure had a perverted sense of humor—however, she could appreciate the irony of it—now that she was finally headed home.

  Scotland…that green jewel of the world.

  Her parents had moved from her homeland when she was just a tiny bairn, so she had no memories of the place. However, it remained a part of her. If she must die, then it would be on Scottish soil.

  From your dust I was made, and I will return again…

  Freya walked off the plane in no particular hurry. She lingered at baggage claim, listening to the pleasant Scottish lilt of her fellow passengers. It was lovely to see families reconnecting, and to watch lovers unite.

  Life would move on, even if she would not, and that brought Freya comfort.

  She’d rented a small house in the village of Kilchoan, a charming stone cottage that had been converted from a barn. One of the locals had transformed it into an enchanting getaway, complete with a mature garden to welcome guests and a spiral staircase beckoning them upstairs to the romantic bedroom suite.

  As soon as Freya had seen the cottage online she’d felt a soul connection to the place, knowing it was where she was meant to die. As soon as she’d secured reservations, she felt a deep sense of peace. She was no longer afraid of what was to come…

  The drive to Kilchoan was long, bumpy and slow, but the countryside was breathtakingly beautiful. Green, low rolling hills, pockets of water, and the crumbling remnants of castles seduced her. It was as if time had stood still here, while the rest of the world relentlessly marched on.

  Freya laughed with joy, struck by the fact that one could actually believe in fairies and nymphs in this place. The magical feeling the scenery inspired was enchanting!

  She didn’t hurry her drive, arriving at her destination just as the sun set. Pulling into the driveway, Freya took a sharp intake of breath. The view was beautiful—the oranges and purples of the sky reflecting their radiance on the water below.

  Freya jumped out of her car and stood in humble silence, breathing in the sweet fragrance of the garden as the sun slowly disappeared behind the horizon. She mourned the fact she only had a few of these miracles left to witness.

  Dragging her heavy suitcases on the ground, Freya deposited her
many pieces of luggage just inside the doorway and abandoned them there, feeling far too tired to unpack. Instead, she heeded the irresistible call of the spiraling staircase and giggled in childish delight when she saw the large canopy bed.

  Freya curled up on the fluffy bed, promising herself that she would only rest her eyes for a few minutes, but she didn’t wake until midnight. She was surprised to find her room lit up by the glow of a full moon. She ventured outside to admire it, shivering in the cold night air.

  Truly, the moon was an extraordinary and mysterious thing.

  I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss it all…

  The next day, Freya laid out her map and circled all the castles she wanted to visit. Even though time was not on her side, she decided her first day should be one of pure exploration—no agendas. She packed a simple lunch, took her allotted pills and headed out for the day.

  After hours of driving through the rolling countryside, she happened on an overgrown dirt road that seemed tempting. She felt a thrill of excitement as the road slowly dwindled down to a thin, overgrown trail, indicating no one had traveled this way in a long time.

  Freya’s heart beat faster as she followed it, certain she was about to stumble onto a priceless treasure few others had seen. She actually held her breath as she crested a large hill, pleased beyond words when she reached the top and saw the lonely castle beside a lake.

  This is the stuff fairytales are made of!

  Parking the car a respectful distance away as not to disturb the ancient site, she grabbed her picnic basket and made her way towards the castle. There was something bewitching about the medieval fortress, something otherworldly—even dangerous.

  As she stepped over the stones that had once made up the castle walls, she wondered who had owned it and how many people had lived within its once protective barricades.

  She swore she could feel the presence of those who were long since dead still lingering in this place. The feeling wasn’t one of fear or dread but of belonging, and it filled her with a sense of peace as she explored the ruins. One unforeseen benefit of dying was that she no longer had to concern herself with her safety. She had spent her entire life being cautious and practical, but now she had the freedom to be completely reckless.

  Freya set down the picnic basket, and eagerly climbed the crumbling stairs of a turret without a second thought. The stone staircase was covered in debris, pieces of it dislodging as she gingerly made her way up. They echoed ominously as they bounced down the stairs to the ground below.

  She actually slipped once, almost taking the same tumble as the stones. However, she was determined to make it to the top and did not let her fear of falling stop her. She was too entranced. The coldness of the stone and the darkness of the castle added to the otherworldly atmosphere. She felt as if the spirits were guiding her upwards, encouraging her lack of caution.

  Small openings within the wall gave her glimpses of the spectacular view waiting for her at the top. When she finally neared it, a sharp pain in her belly doubled her over. She grasped the wall trying to soften her fall as she tumbled down several stairs.

  Freya held back the tears as she got back on her feet. Common sense insisted she head back down, but she resented that her cancer was trying to steal this moment from her.

  “Fuck you!” she growled at her body, forging forward with renewed resolve as she crawled on hands and knees the last few steps. When she made it to the top, she huddled in a fetal position as she waited for the pain to ease. When it finally passed, she pushed herself up and let out a satisfied sigh.

  The height of the turret gave her an unobstructed view of the entire area. She could appreciate why the castle had been built here. No one would be able to attack it without ample warning. It was a worthy stronghold.

  She was curious how many battles had been fought here and how many kings had died defending it. So much history, so many lives had been lost… Freya closed her eyes and could almost hear the screams and the sound of swords clanging violently below.

  Exhaustion forced her to lie down on the cold stone. Although she fought it, Freya soon found herself drifting off. Swirls of strange and unfamiliar images flooded her mind. She resisted them initially, but then gave in and let them carry her away.

  She imagined herself a part of the castle staff—a young man, a soldier of the lord of the castle.

  I stand with pride at my watch. It is my duty to protect, and I am fully prepared to die to guarantee my Lord’s safety. However, it is not just for him I am fighting. I also protect a young woman, the girl I plan to marry. I would die a million deaths for her.

  I spot an invading army on the horizon and warn the castle inhabitants. They rush about below me, preparing to defend it, but everyone is in a jovial mood. The opposing army is comprised of only a handful of men compared to the multitudes housed within the walls of our castle.

  “We will go out and meet them,” my officer commands.

  With pleasure I ride out with the others, laughing inwardly at the invading force standing before me. The men aren’t even on horses and don’t stand a chance against us.

  As we ride up, a tall man of impressive stature advises our army, “Surrender now or I promise everyone will die. Not one of yer kind will remain.”

  “Who dares to threaten Lord Graham?” my commanding officer demands.

  “Who we are does not concern ye.”

  Our commander is obviously angered by their lack of respect and barks, “Leave now before I lose patience with ye and yer lot.”

  “This is yer last warning,” the other man states coldly. “Either surrender now or die.”

  I notice an unnatural glow coming from the eyes of the opposing army. It sends shivers down my spine. There is something unnatural about these men, something terrifying.

  For the first time fear sets in our troop where before there had been only arrogance.

  My commander pulls out his sword in answer. “The only blood that will be spilled this day shall be yers.”

  The small band of men grin at each other and then begin ripping off their clothes. I realize now they must be crazy and pull out my sword, ready to put them out of their misery.

  It will be a slaughter…

  The Chosen

  A lone wolf’s howl startled Freya out of her dream. She opened her eyes and was unnerved to see that it was dark. Had she really been dreaming that long?

  She stood up unsteadily and looked towards the direction of the cry. Far off in the distance she spotted a large bonfire. Curious who would be out so late, she carefully made her way back down the stairs with the help of the pale light of the moon. As Freya approached the huge fire, she admired the unusual tree towering over it. The tree’s naked, skeleton white branches seemed to reach up towards the night sky in silent worship.

  At the crest of the small hill, she stopped dead in her tracks. There were men surrounding the raging bonfire, all of them naked except for a few who wore a long strip of leather on their left wrists.

  For modesty’s sake, she knew she should turn away and make her way back to the car, but those men…

  Their toned bodies and fine asses tempted her to remain and stare. Seriously, they were too hot not to stay and admire. Knowing this would be her last chance to see such fine specimens of manhood, Freya decided to lay low and appreciate their muscular frames just a little longer.

  It appeared the group was performing a traditional dance of some kind, based on the way they marched around the fire as a unit, stopping every quarter turn to raise their hands and howl at the moon in deep, low tones.

  Freya noticed that the men seemed to be of similar height, build and physique—all except one. He was a head shorter than the rest. However, it wasn’t that which made him stand out. What made him stand out the most was the awkward way he moved.

  She focused on him, noting the extensive scars covering his back which shimmered eerily in the firelight. She couldn’t help wondering what the story was beh
ind those scars.

  Freya was startled to see a naked woman escorted out of the dark by one of the men. She joined them in their unique dance, twirling in and out of the circle, touching each man as they passed. The girl moved with the grace of a ballerina and the sexual allure of an erotic dancer.

  Freya held her breath when one of the men grabbed the female and dragged her forcefully to the white tree. The other men continued to dance as if nothing had happened, although the tempo of their chant and the movement increased in intensity.

  With cold precision, the girl’s captor took the leather from his wrist and gagged her with it. Another male exited the dance, and used his strip to bind her ankles together. A third joined them, binding her wrists tight and pulling her up on her toes as he secured her arms to a branch above her head.

  Then they left the woman hanging there, returning to the circle to rejoin their primal dance. Freya had no idea what they planned to do, but she was riveted to her spot.

  That’s when there was a slight shift in the night breeze. The entire group suddenly stopped, looking in Freya’s direction. She wasn’t about to get caught spying on the sexy group of naked Scotsmen, so she backed down the hill slowly.

  Unfortunately, her shoe brushed against a small stone. She held her breath as it rolled down the grassy hill, bouncing against a large boulder at the bottom. It was the slightest of sounds, but it was as if she’d banged two cymbals together. The group started towards her as one unit—all twenty naked, magnificent-looking men headed her way.

  A sense of real danger washed over Freya as she scrambled to her feet and raced towards her car. In a matter of seconds, the group was on her, circling Freya as if she were prey.

  “Who are ye?” the burliest of the males demanded.

  “No one…” she stammered, trying not to stare at his exposed manly parts. Freya bit down her fear, deciding to make light of the situation in the hope she could win them over with her playful teasing. “I’m just a lost American girl who happened upon your…ahem, private party.”