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Lately, Skye Collins has been unable to shake the feeling that she's being watched. After a lifetime spent hiding her true nature, she knows that any unusual attention is something to be wary of. And the only attention she's been receiving lately is from the intense and attractive Jason McVale.
Jason claims to know things about Skye that can't be true, and it's obvious he's hiding secrets of his own. Yet despite herself, Skye can't resist the attraction between them, and her surrender will set in motion a chain of events that will have consequences for everyone she holds dear.
Gradually, Jason convinces Skye that she has to trust him if she is to solve the riddle of her past and learn the truth about her power. But believing Jason means that her entire life has been based on a lie.
As her enemies gather strength and the danger increases, Skye is forced to accept who she really is. Will she risk everything and fight for those she loves? Or save herself and let them be destroyed by the forces of darkness?
About the Author
Leisl is a tall red head with an overly large imagination. As a child, she identified strongly with Anne of Green Gables. A voracious reader and a born performer, it came as no surprise to anyone when she did a double major in English Literature and Drama for her BA, then went on to a career as an actor, singer and dancer, as well as script writer, stage manager and musical director for cabaret and theatre restaurants (one of which she co-owned and ran for six years).
After starting a family Leisl stopped performing and instead, began writing the stories that had been plaguing her dreams. Leisl's stories have won and placed in many competitions in Australia and the US, including the STALI, Golden Opportunities, Heart of the West, Linda Howard Award of Excellence, Touch of Magic and many others.
Leisl lives in the leafy suburbs of Melbourne with her two beautiful boys, lovely hubby, overly spunky dog, Buffy, and likes to spend time with family and friends. She sometimes sings in a choir and works as a swim teacher in her day-to-day job.
Killing Me Softly is Leisl's first published book.
Jason claims to know things about Skye that can't be true, and it's obvious he's hiding secrets of his own. Yet despite herself, Skye can't resist the attraction between them, and her surrender will set in motion a chain of events that will have consequences for everyone she holds dear.
Gradually, Jason convinces Skye that she has to trust him if she is to solve the riddle of her past and learn the truth about her power. But believing Jason means that her entire life has been based on a lie.
As her enemies gather strength and the danger increases, Skye is forced to accept who she really is. Will she risk everything and fight for those she loves? Or save herself and let them be destroyed by the forces of darkness?
About the Author
Leisl is a tall red head with an overly large imagination. As a child, she identified strongly with Anne of Green Gables. A voracious reader and a born performer, it came as no surprise to anyone when she did a double major in English Literature and Drama for her BA, then went on to a career as an actor, singer and dancer, as well as script writer, stage manager and musical director for cabaret and theatre restaurants (one of which she co-owned and ran for six years).
After starting a family Leisl stopped performing and instead, began writing the stories that had been plaguing her dreams. Leisl's stories have won and placed in many competitions in Australia and the US, including the STALI, Golden Opportunities, Heart of the West, Linda Howard Award of Excellence, Touch of Magic and many others.
Leisl lives in the leafy suburbs of Melbourne with her two beautiful boys, lovely hubby, overly spunky dog, Buffy, and likes to spend time with family and friends. She sometimes sings in a choir and works as a swim teacher in her day-to-day job.
Killing Me Softly is Leisl's first published book.
on
CHAPTER 1
Skye stopped at the crest of the ski run and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the Victorian Alps laid out before her. A breeze, full of the scent of eucalypts and the cool freshness of snow, blew a lock of red hair into her eyes. She swept it back under her ski hat and took in a deep breath.
'What a beautiful day.' She'd skied in Austria and Canada but even though the ski season was so much shorter in Australia and the snow not nearly as good, there was nothing like the stark beauty of the blue-tinged mountains of the Great Dividing Range. The other ski resorts were breathtaking too, but these mountains were home. They sang to her soul in a way the others couldn't.
Taking another deep breath, she pushed off over the crest and with a wild 'Yahoo!' flew down the slope, her knees moving like rubber pistons as she attacked the moguls.
She could hear the swish and slide of skiers around her but ignored them, enjoying this moment of freedom on her last day before she had to go back and face the real world. She sighed, wishing she had an extra few days to gird her loins – as her grandpa used to say – against the responsibilities awaiting her at home.
But she wouldn't think about that now. This was a rare clear day at Mt Buller and she was going to enjoy it to her fill.
A strange chill crept down her spine; the kind of chill you get when someone is watching you surreptitiously. She'd been having that feeling off and on all day. She slowed down, turning to see if she could catch them at it.
'Whoa!' she heard. Then something hard and heavy smashed into her. The sky tipped and an 'Oof' of breath exploded out of her as she hit the snow. A large body landed on top of her and then they were sliding, smashing over and through the moguls until they finally slowed and came to a stop.
Head spinning, she lay with arms flung out wide, crushed under the hot weight of a man, and moaned.
'Are you okay?' the man's husky voice murmured in Skye's ear.
'Only if I don't breathe,' she managed, surprised she wasn't winded. Snow inched into the collar of her parka. She shivered.
He shifted, pushing up onto his elbows to look down at her.
Despite the pain sparking through her body – damn, she was going to have some impressive bruises for show and tell on Monday – she became uncomfortably aware of the way their hips pressed together, their legs tangled. She hadn't been this close to a man in way too long. This wasn't the way she'd imagined it happening again, though.
She tried to move. The action made his board – amazingly still attached to his feet – cut into her leg. She winced. 'Well, this is a very charming way to meet and all, but can you get off, please? You're crushing my legs.'
'Sorry.' He scrambled back.
'Oh, fudgy-duck!' She gasped as his board scraped over the bruise.
'Are you hurt?' He ran his hand ran over her leg, checking for injury.
Shivers chased across her skin that had nothing to do with the snow melting inside her jacket. Skye pulled away. 'No. I'm fine. Just let me stretch it out.'
He shifted back. But instead of getting up and skiing off like most other people would, he stayed, kneeling beside her as she stretched out her leg.
'I'm so sorry. I usually ski but my brother talked me into trying out a snowboard this year.'
Rubbing her aching leg, her temper spiked at his words. Glaring at him, she snapped, 'Are you kidding me? What the hell are you doing on Federation? It's a black run – or didn't you notice all the signs up the top, you irresponsible arse?'
His eyebrows rose above his sunglasses. 'Wow. That thing about redheads and tempers is true.'
She bristled. 'You could have killed yourself or someone else. Namely me!'
He brushed snow from his hair. 'For your information, I was doing okay until I hit that goddamned icy patch. I don't know why I agreed to try a board,' he grumbled.
He sounded so much like her twin River when he was pouting, that her flare of anger disappeared and she had to hide her grin.
'So why did you go over to the dark side?'
'My trickster of a brother said it would be a rush but I think he just wanted to see me fall on my arse.'
Her lips twitched. 'That would be okay except for the fact you fell on mine.'
'It looked softer than mine.'
She choked on a laugh. 'Are you saying I have a fat arse?'
Rather than trying to backpedal, his mouth curled into a lopsided smile – such a lovely mouth. 'No. In fact, I was thinking how nice it looked before I smacked into you.'
Skye dragged her eyes from his mouth. 'Is that why you took me for a toboggan ride with me as the toboggan? To meet me and my nice arse?'
'That and the fact you stopped so suddenly.'
She snorted. 'I thought you said there was an icy patch.'
'Yeah.' He laughed. 'I did, didn't I?' He pushed his sunglasses off his face to look down at her.
She gaped.
He had the most startling eyes. They were deeply blue on the edge, almost black but lightened to an icy blue at their centre. Lightning bolt striations crazed through the iris, making it seem like his eyes glowed. They reminded her of a picture of a wolf River had put on his bedroom wall when they were young. She'd asked him to take it down. He'd thought it was because she was frightened of big dogs, but it hadn't just been that. The wolf's eyes had haunted her in a way that had confused her ten-year-old soul.
This man's eyes were even more dangerous to her equilibrium. They pulled her in. Her chest ached like she'd been winded.
He broke eye contact and pushed to his feet, allowing her to catch her breath.
'Here, let me help you up.' He put out his hand.
Don't touch him!
Skye hesitated as her inner voice barked at her; part of a spell her grandpa had woven to stop her from using her magic and to warn of any other magic users around. It usually sounded like her grandpa, calm and kind and supportive, but now her grandpa's voice held a tone like her grandmother, Morrigan Cantrae, at her commanding best.
Her first instinct was to do the opposite of anything that sounded like what Morrigan would say. But she was no longer a child and she wondered why the inner voice had changed. It never had before and was only supposed to react forcefully if she tried to use her magic – something that could never be allowed – or if an equally powerful Witch or Warlock was around, or if she was in danger.
Well, she hadn't used her magic and there was nothing about this man that suggested he was a Warlock; no tingling under her skin warning her that a true magic user stood before her. No sense of impending disaster.
And the chance of him being an axe murderer was pretty well zip.
So if he wasn't a Warlock or an axe murderer, there was no reason not to accept his offer of help.
She put her hand in his. His fingers were strong as they wrapped around hers, and so warm she could feel the heat of him through her gloves.
'Thanks,' she choked out as his warmth slid through her. Overwhelmed, she pulled her hand from his grip.
He stepped back. But perversely, now that he'd moved away, she wanted to get closer and beg him to touch her again. What the hell?
'Are you sure I can't do anything for you?'
Looking up into his face and those remarkable eyes, his voice a melting tenor in her ears, she forgot all about the pain in her leg and ankle. 'I'm pretty certain there are many and various things you could do for me.'
Oh God! Had she said that out loud? She slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. The look on his face told her she had. 'I'm sorry,' she muttered through her fingers. 'I don't know why I said that.'
He moved closer. 'I don't mind that you did.'
She swallowed hard and forced herself to answer. 'But I do. I don't know what's wrong with me.'
His brow furrowed again. 'Maybe you knocked your head.'
'I don't think so.' She tried to look away but couldn't. It was those eyes. And his voice. That was why she was behaving like such a weirdo. There was one room in the house where eyes and a voice like that really came into their own, and it wasn't the kitchen.
He was so gorgeous with sinfully long dark lashes, the chiselled features of a male model and a dimple in his left cheek. The only thing that marred his perfect good looks was the scar that ran through his top lip – but that just made him look rugged and tough, rather than pretty.
She sighed, wanting to touch his dimple, run her fingers across the stubborn jut of his jaw and linger on that scar. She wanted to flirt and have some fun. This was her holiday, after all. But she was out of practice with flirting. She hadn't been on a date for years. There was no point when she could never get serious with anyone. Instead, she'd concentrated on building her business and spending time with River. Not that she minded: it was her fault her twin was housebound. She owed it to him to always be there.
The man stepped closer. 'Are you sure you're okay?' The more he spoke, the more she thought of a good bottle of red low seductive music and a plush fur rug before a fire. It was difficult not to reach forward, push her fingers through his silky brown hair and bring her lips up to his.
But the way he looked at her indicated he didn't have the same inclination, regardless of his comments about her nice arse. He looked more confused than interested.
Disappointed although she knew she shouldn't be, she said, 'I'm fine, really.' She put weight on her sore foot and took a few hobbling steps. 'Almost as good as new.'
He didn't look convinced. 'Perhaps you should call it a day, though. You're limping.'
She shook her head. 'Are you kidding? It's not often you get days like this at Buller.' She gestured at the blue sky, the snow-laden trees lining the run and the mountains of the Victorian Alps marching into the distance covered in the blue haze of thousands of eucalypts. 'You would have to chop my leg off with your snowboard to stop me from skiing on such a beautiful day.' She cocked her head to the side, considering it. 'Nah. Maybe not even then.'
He laughed and the sound washing over her like warm water lapping at her skin.
'Let me see you down to the bottom at least. Make sure you get to the lift.'
Skye blinked at him. The way he looked at her reminded her of something . . . someone.
'Hello!' He waved his hand in front of her face. 'Don't tell me I gave you a concussion.'
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. 'No. I'm fine. Just a bit of snow blindness.' A pathetic excuse but with him standing so close, she couldn't seem to do better. Opening her eyes, she squinted. 'It's a bit bright with the sun. I should have worn my goggles.'
'Are you sure?'
His voice was hypnotic. She leant forward and breathed in his scent. The need to give in to the temptation to touch, to kiss, to lick, was overwhelming. It was like she'd been bewitched.
That thought had her snapping back. Panic clawed at her throat. Could she be?
No. Bron said she had stronger shields than anyone she'd ever met thanks to her grandpa's spell, and there was no reason not to trust her best friend in this matter. She was Wiccan after all. Not a true magic user but she did know about this stuff.
It was just that Mr Too-Gorgeous-For-Sanity was a fantasy come to life. This was simply about lust. She had to ignore the sensations shooting through her body. Force herself to be sensible. He was just being friendly because he'd knocked her over. And she'd made enough of a fool of herself for one day.
Biting her lip, trying to shelve her disappointment, she nodded. 'I'm sure. Go and kill your brother for making you snowboard and then enjoy the day.'
He chuckled. 'I might just do that. Adam needs a good killing.'
'Excellent. So off you go. I'll be fine by myself.' Before he could say anything else, she hobbled down the hill to her skis. She clicked into the bindings, swallowing a gasp as pain sliced up from her ankle and refused to give in to it. She'd put up with worse pain.
There was the slide of board on snow behind her and she looked up to see the Adonis making his way down the slope toward her.
'How about I shout you a hot chocolate at Kofflers just to make sure you're fine?'
Surprisingly pleased by his perseverance, Skye opened her mouth to say yes.
Don't say it! her inner voice snapped.
Taken aback, she blinked and asked it, Why?
He may not stink of magic but there's something about him that's affecting you. Think about River. Think about what your magic did to him.
Even though the voice still didn't sound like it usually did, Skye knew it was right. This man might not have the magic to bewitch her but he was making her behave strangely, almost to the point of acting without thinking – which she never did. She could never afford to lose control because her magic had only ever brought pain. She swallowed hard, knowing that despite the fact this was a holiday and she should be able to flirt and have fun, she couldn't do it with this man.
Taking herself in hand, she said, 'Thanks, but no thanks. I still want to get a few runs in before I call it a day.'
'What about a drink after? I feel I need to say sorry in some way.'
The wish to say yes was almost a pain inside her; but that in itself was reason to say no. 'I can't. I've got a prior engagement with friends.'
'I'm sorry to hear that.' He flashed a grin so charming it made her breath catch. 'I'll just have to hope we'll meet another time and your answer will be different.' He leant forward so she could feel his astonishing warmth radiating toward her and took a deep breath, as if trying to breathe her in.
'Okay,' she squeaked. Unable to stand his closeness for another moment, and not give in to his invitation, she pushed off with her good leg and took off down the slope. Her ankle ached. She shoved aside the pain and took a deep breath of clean clear air hoping to get rid of the warm male scent of him.
It didn't help. His scent seemed to have been imprinted on her senses: earthy and yet clear and fresh like the mountain air.
A tingle started down her spine. Was he watching her? Were his eyes caressing her arse again? She almost groaned at the memory of the way they'd come to a stop, his body spread on top of hers, chest to chest, legs tangled. Skye bit her lip as muscles well below her abdomen clenched and quivered.
It was a sensation she'd not felt for a long time – too long. Hell, she'd almost become a nun with the length of time she'd been celibate and she'd been content with that. But coming face to face with that Adonis would make even a nun change her habits. It wasn't so unusual he'd had such an impact on her. She chuckled at her pun.
Not that it mattered what she felt. Lifting her face to the sun, she decided to luxuriate in the rare spring day and not worry about could have beens.
The sapphire blue sky was glorious. She was so thankful Shelley and Bron had agreed to change their Noosa plans and had come with her to Mt Buller for the last of the season. When she was a child, there'd often been good snow until the end of September. Now, spring snow was a rarity, so she hadn't expected to get any good skiing done but she'd been looking forward to it regardless. It brought back good memories of times with her grandpa.
None of them could believe it when there was a massive dump of snow the day after they arrived, and instead of slush with only a few runs open, they were skiing on fresh powder on over half the runs.
Swishing down the slope with the deep, downy white snow squeaking beneath her freshly waxed skis, the fresh air a chill puff on her face, she tried to recapture the feeling she'd had before Adonis had crashed into her. But no matter how lovely the day still was or how soft and powdery the snow, she just couldn't regain that sense of freedom being in the mountains always gave her; that feeling like she could fly.
Her spine tingled again. Just in case Mr Too-Gorgeous-For-Sanity was watching her, she decided to show off. She jumped over a snow-encrusted boulder, catching some air. But the thrill of flying ended the moment she landed and pain shot up her leg. She groaned.
'Are you okay?' he yelled.
She didn't look back and only waved, hiding her red face. She hadn't groaned that loudly. How had he known? The landing had been perfect.
So much for showing off.
And why was she trying to impress him when he'd knocked her down, ruining her perfect run record?
That thought brought her up short as she joined the queue at the lift. She wasn't a massive hothead, but being mown down by a beginner on a run he shouldn't have been on was just the kind of thing that would normally have had her firing up and letting loose. Yet, her temper only lasted a few seconds and then died away.
What the hell was that about?
Adonis might not be a Warlock but his combination of good looks, charm and velvety voice was just as dangerous. He'd not only made her want to change her nun-like habits, he'd made her behave like a horny teenager. He'd even made her consider, for a split second, turning her back on her obligations and the promises she'd made to her grandpa and to River.
She could never do that. Ever.
Those promises kept them all safe.
As the lift rose over the crest of the slope, she shivered. This time it wasn't the feeling of being watched that made that strange tingle race up and down her spine; thoughts of what happened all those years ago always did this. Her magic pushed at her, fighting to get out. She swore, pushing it back down. That man's presence had addled her brain and had made her shields weak. Closing her eyes, she repeated the mantra she'd been taught.
Her magic was dangerous. To protect River and everyone she loved, it was something she could never set free.
'Was that her?'
With a slide of board on snow, Adam came to a halt. Jason didn't turn to look at his brother; his gaze was still following the lithe redhead down the slope. A warmth fired through his body that was totally unexpected.
'If that was her, why's she running away?' Adam clapped his brother on the shoulder. 'Did you try your charm on her?'
Jason didn't answer. His mind was too full of the woman: those green eyes like spring pools, glistening with hidden depths in the sun; her hair, licks of flame on her shoulders; her generous mouth full of laughter and mischief. Even that spike of temper and the funny way she'd had of swearing had been sexy.
Despite himself, he was engaged. He hadn't expected that. And her scent – his wolf had growled at her scent. Familiar, yet there was also something strange about it.
'Aren't you going to follow her?'
Jason shook his head and brushed the snow off his pants. 'No. Something's wrong. She didn't recognise what I am.'
'Maybe she isn't our Pack Witch.'
Jason clicked his boot onto the snowboard and balanced for a moment, shifting his weight back and forth. 'I'm pretty sure she is. But there's something . . .' He shook his head. 'She should have expelled some magic when she saw me but she didn't.'
Adam frowned and sniffed. 'But I can smell that zip in the air, like the electrical build-up before lightning. Doesn't that denote magic?'
Jason thought about the last time they'd encountered the scent of magic. The night their parents, two older brothers and their mates had been murdered in their never-ending quest to find their kidnapped Pack Witch. The scent in the air now, a scent that lingered in his nostrils like a teasing perfume, was nothing like that acrid scent. 'It is magic. But she didn't expel it when I came along. It's around her all the time like a cloak, but muted or something.' That was definitely wrong. Yet he was sure it was her. He'd seen her in his dreams. Dreams he'd always had of her; dreams that had been nebulous things until the Calling had caught up with him after his father's murder and he'd become Alpha.
'How can you be certain it's her, then?'
'Because of the dreams. I saw her skiing here with her friends.'
'You dragged us here chasing down a woman who doesn't even smell like she has the magic of a Pack Witch all because of some dreams?'
'They're not just dreams. It's the link.'
'What link?'
'The link between the Alpha and the Pack Witch. Dad was linked to Paul Collins—'
'As Lydia Collins was linked to Grandpa before him.'
'Yes.' It was the only way the magic worked. The Pack Witch fed it into the Alpha and the pack syphoned it from the Alpha through the pack bond – the ultimate form of synergy.
'But how are you linked to Paul's daughter?'
The question was understandable. A bonding wasn't supposed to be undertaken until a Pack Witch or Warlock was of age, after they'd imbibed the Bond Wine. But in this case . . .
Jason looked out at the distant mountains. The moment he'd clapped eyes on her he'd realised that Paul Collins had linked them all those years ago – the future Alpha and the future Pack Witch. It's why he'd had the dreams. It made sense of something that had always seemed nonsensical to him. Something he'd spent years denying because he'd been too young to understand the significance of what had been done to him. The proof was irrefutable, though. The link was the reason he'd found her when nobody else could.
'Paul linked us when Skylar was a few months old.'
'What?' Adam gripped his arm, his voice bitter. 'Did you keep this from me because I'm nothing but the Trickster?'
'No.' Jason clasped Adam's shoulder. 'And don't talk like that about yourself. From what I've been reading in the Pack Witch Diaries, the Trickster is far more essential to a pack than we remember. Besides, I have named you my second. I wouldn't keep anything from you. It's just . . . I've only now realised what Paul did.'
He remembered standing in the dark room looking down at her crib while Paul was lighting candles that smelled like jasmine, cinnamon and honey. He'd muttered words Jason hadn't understood and in the quiet hush that followed, a sizzle had shot along Jason's skin sinking into his nerve ends and sparking in his brain. The baby had cried out, holding out her chubby little arms to him. Despite being a boy who thought babies were smelly, noisy things, he'd picked her up and bounced her until she giggled. That giggle had made him feel good inside.
'It is done. You will keep my daughter safe,' Paul had whispered.
Jason hadn't realised its significance. He'd just been a small boy holding a pretty baby that smelled of powder and her mother's sweet milk.
'Why would he do that when it goes against pack law?'
Jason was brought out of his reverie by his brother's question. He understood the horror in Adam's tone. The pack's greatest duty was to look after their children. They would never do anything to hurt or place unnecessary burden on a child. But Paul had done exactly that when he'd linked Skylar to Jason.
'He was prescient. Maybe he'd seen this future. Maybe he knew I would become Alpha and that I would have to find her.'
Adam shook his head. 'I always thought Paul looked sad. It's no wonder, if this is what he saw.'
Jason glanced at his brother and sighed at the look of devastation on his face. Nobody would have looked at Paul and thought him sad, yet Adam had seen beyond the facade Paul showed to the world, to the grief of a man who saw things he shouldn't. It was remarkable sometimes, the things the Trickster saw. Things none of them had realised the significance of until it was almost too late. Now he knew that without Adam pushing fun and laughter into the pack bond, the pack would already have succumbed to the Curse. He'd maintained positivity when there was nothing to be positive about.
And it was taking a toll. As an Alpha he was linked to his brother in ways he'd never been linked before and could feel the pressure of pack wellbeing tear at Adam. He wished he could take on some of that burden but knew that he couldn't. Not until they had their Pack Witch back safe and sound and the Curse averted. Because, more than anything, he knew that what Adam was doing for the pack was also helping to keep him from slipping into deadly insanity.
Gripping his brother's shoulder, Jason whispered, 'I know. I know the burden that knowledge places on you.'
Adam swallowed hard. 'I know you do.' He gripped Jason's shoulder in turn. 'That's why you make one fucking great Alpha.'
Jason smiled and slapped his brother on the arm. Even when torn apart by a pain that wasn't his, Adam couldn't help but see the bright side. 'I think you're right with regard to Paul. He saw at least some part of the future. That's why he linked Skylar and me at an age when it would normally be forbidden.'
'Did Mum and Dad know?'
Jason frowned. 'I think perhaps they did after the fact. Why else would they have given me such freedom?'
'Because they were sick of listening to you whinge and whine about wanting choice,' Adam said. He managed to keep a straight face when Jason glared at him, then burst out laughing.
Jason chuckled 'You can't help yourself can you?'
'Comes with the burden of being the funny one.'
'You're funny, alright,' Jason said, twirling his finger beside his head.
'You can talk. I'm not the one following strange dreams.'
'You're right.' Jason sighed, all levity dying as his thoughts turned darker. 'I just wish the link had activated properly before Mum and Dad, Seamus and Sian, and Josef and Marianne were killed.'
'But that's not how it works.'
'No. Dad had to die for me to find her.' He ground his board into the snow, fingers clenched, the wolf desperate to break through and claw at something.
'You can't blame yourself for that. You didn't kill them.'
Jason's lips curled into a snarl. 'No. I didn't. But I swear by the Dark Moon, I will find who did.'
He stood there for a moment, eyes tracking the lift as the woman he was certain was Skylar Collins disappeared over the rise. She was their hope of a future without madness. She was also the only hope he had of finding those responsible for causing the Curse to touch his pack and bringing them to near extinction.
'So if that is Skylar, why didn't she use her magic when she saw you?'
Jason took in a deep breath of clear, cool air, trying to calm himself. 'I don't know. But I have no doubt that the reason why Cordelia or the old McClune Pack Witch could never scry her is at the heart of it. Whoever took her hid her by changing more than her name.'
'So what's the plan?'
'I'm going to bump into her again at the lodge and when the time's right, I'm going to share some wine with her.'
Adam's eyes glittered with understanding. 'Do you think crashing into her was the best way of meeting her, then? I don't know if she'll want to share the Bond Wine with an accident-prone idiot.'
Adam was trying to lighten his mood again. It worked. Jason's lips split into a grin. 'I didn't think she'd stop short like that, but in retrospect it was a stroke of genius. Because if she heals herself, we'll know there isn't anything wrong with her magic. Besides, I got so close, I filled myself with her fresh scent. I can track her anywhere now.'
'Will that be necessary?'
'We'll see. But at least we know she can't disappear again. It's taken too long to track her down. I don't want to waste any more time.'
'I'm with you there. I'm sick of this.'
Hearing the growl in his brother's tone, Jason's gaze slid to Adam's, noting the red tinge in the amber of his eyes. The darkness Adam had banished moments ago had returned. Ultimately, breaking the Curse would cure that but for now . . .
'You need to hunt.'
'Later. Let's race.'
With a whoop, Adam took off down the slope, his motions balletic as he controlled the board. Jason's smile widened into a thoroughly wolfish grin as he caught sight of the woman on the lift far below. The hunt was on. But for now he would give himself over to the thrill of the much simpler chase his brother posed.
Pushing forward he followed Adam down the slope, catching air as he flew over the same snow-capped boulder she had. He heard Adam's bark of laughter, a sound he copied as he came even with him and then passed in a few quick movements.
Adam might have been doing this longer, but nobody beat Jason in the chase. And Skylar Collins was about to find out that running only served to sweeten the hunt.
Skye stopped at the crest of the ski run and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the Victorian Alps laid out before her. A breeze, full of the scent of eucalypts and the cool freshness of snow, blew a lock of red hair into her eyes. She swept it back under her ski hat and took in a deep breath.
'What a beautiful day.' She'd skied in Austria and Canada but even though the ski season was so much shorter in Australia and the snow not nearly as good, there was nothing like the stark beauty of the blue-tinged mountains of the Great Dividing Range. The other ski resorts were breathtaking too, but these mountains were home. They sang to her soul in a way the others couldn't.
Taking another deep breath, she pushed off over the crest and with a wild 'Yahoo!' flew down the slope, her knees moving like rubber pistons as she attacked the moguls.
She could hear the swish and slide of skiers around her but ignored them, enjoying this moment of freedom on her last day before she had to go back and face the real world. She sighed, wishing she had an extra few days to gird her loins – as her grandpa used to say – against the responsibilities awaiting her at home.
But she wouldn't think about that now. This was a rare clear day at Mt Buller and she was going to enjoy it to her fill.
A strange chill crept down her spine; the kind of chill you get when someone is watching you surreptitiously. She'd been having that feeling off and on all day. She slowed down, turning to see if she could catch them at it.
'Whoa!' she heard. Then something hard and heavy smashed into her. The sky tipped and an 'Oof' of breath exploded out of her as she hit the snow. A large body landed on top of her and then they were sliding, smashing over and through the moguls until they finally slowed and came to a stop.
Head spinning, she lay with arms flung out wide, crushed under the hot weight of a man, and moaned.
'Are you okay?' the man's husky voice murmured in Skye's ear.
'Only if I don't breathe,' she managed, surprised she wasn't winded. Snow inched into the collar of her parka. She shivered.
He shifted, pushing up onto his elbows to look down at her.
Despite the pain sparking through her body – damn, she was going to have some impressive bruises for show and tell on Monday – she became uncomfortably aware of the way their hips pressed together, their legs tangled. She hadn't been this close to a man in way too long. This wasn't the way she'd imagined it happening again, though.
She tried to move. The action made his board – amazingly still attached to his feet – cut into her leg. She winced. 'Well, this is a very charming way to meet and all, but can you get off, please? You're crushing my legs.'
'Sorry.' He scrambled back.
'Oh, fudgy-duck!' She gasped as his board scraped over the bruise.
'Are you hurt?' He ran his hand ran over her leg, checking for injury.
Shivers chased across her skin that had nothing to do with the snow melting inside her jacket. Skye pulled away. 'No. I'm fine. Just let me stretch it out.'
He shifted back. But instead of getting up and skiing off like most other people would, he stayed, kneeling beside her as she stretched out her leg.
'I'm so sorry. I usually ski but my brother talked me into trying out a snowboard this year.'
Rubbing her aching leg, her temper spiked at his words. Glaring at him, she snapped, 'Are you kidding me? What the hell are you doing on Federation? It's a black run – or didn't you notice all the signs up the top, you irresponsible arse?'
His eyebrows rose above his sunglasses. 'Wow. That thing about redheads and tempers is true.'
She bristled. 'You could have killed yourself or someone else. Namely me!'
He brushed snow from his hair. 'For your information, I was doing okay until I hit that goddamned icy patch. I don't know why I agreed to try a board,' he grumbled.
He sounded so much like her twin River when he was pouting, that her flare of anger disappeared and she had to hide her grin.
'So why did you go over to the dark side?'
'My trickster of a brother said it would be a rush but I think he just wanted to see me fall on my arse.'
Her lips twitched. 'That would be okay except for the fact you fell on mine.'
'It looked softer than mine.'
She choked on a laugh. 'Are you saying I have a fat arse?'
Rather than trying to backpedal, his mouth curled into a lopsided smile – such a lovely mouth. 'No. In fact, I was thinking how nice it looked before I smacked into you.'
Skye dragged her eyes from his mouth. 'Is that why you took me for a toboggan ride with me as the toboggan? To meet me and my nice arse?'
'That and the fact you stopped so suddenly.'
She snorted. 'I thought you said there was an icy patch.'
'Yeah.' He laughed. 'I did, didn't I?' He pushed his sunglasses off his face to look down at her.
She gaped.
He had the most startling eyes. They were deeply blue on the edge, almost black but lightened to an icy blue at their centre. Lightning bolt striations crazed through the iris, making it seem like his eyes glowed. They reminded her of a picture of a wolf River had put on his bedroom wall when they were young. She'd asked him to take it down. He'd thought it was because she was frightened of big dogs, but it hadn't just been that. The wolf's eyes had haunted her in a way that had confused her ten-year-old soul.
This man's eyes were even more dangerous to her equilibrium. They pulled her in. Her chest ached like she'd been winded.
He broke eye contact and pushed to his feet, allowing her to catch her breath.
'Here, let me help you up.' He put out his hand.
Don't touch him!
Skye hesitated as her inner voice barked at her; part of a spell her grandpa had woven to stop her from using her magic and to warn of any other magic users around. It usually sounded like her grandpa, calm and kind and supportive, but now her grandpa's voice held a tone like her grandmother, Morrigan Cantrae, at her commanding best.
Her first instinct was to do the opposite of anything that sounded like what Morrigan would say. But she was no longer a child and she wondered why the inner voice had changed. It never had before and was only supposed to react forcefully if she tried to use her magic – something that could never be allowed – or if an equally powerful Witch or Warlock was around, or if she was in danger.
Well, she hadn't used her magic and there was nothing about this man that suggested he was a Warlock; no tingling under her skin warning her that a true magic user stood before her. No sense of impending disaster.
And the chance of him being an axe murderer was pretty well zip.
So if he wasn't a Warlock or an axe murderer, there was no reason not to accept his offer of help.
She put her hand in his. His fingers were strong as they wrapped around hers, and so warm she could feel the heat of him through her gloves.
'Thanks,' she choked out as his warmth slid through her. Overwhelmed, she pulled her hand from his grip.
He stepped back. But perversely, now that he'd moved away, she wanted to get closer and beg him to touch her again. What the hell?
'Are you sure I can't do anything for you?'
Looking up into his face and those remarkable eyes, his voice a melting tenor in her ears, she forgot all about the pain in her leg and ankle. 'I'm pretty certain there are many and various things you could do for me.'
Oh God! Had she said that out loud? She slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. The look on his face told her she had. 'I'm sorry,' she muttered through her fingers. 'I don't know why I said that.'
He moved closer. 'I don't mind that you did.'
She swallowed hard and forced herself to answer. 'But I do. I don't know what's wrong with me.'
His brow furrowed again. 'Maybe you knocked your head.'
'I don't think so.' She tried to look away but couldn't. It was those eyes. And his voice. That was why she was behaving like such a weirdo. There was one room in the house where eyes and a voice like that really came into their own, and it wasn't the kitchen.
He was so gorgeous with sinfully long dark lashes, the chiselled features of a male model and a dimple in his left cheek. The only thing that marred his perfect good looks was the scar that ran through his top lip – but that just made him look rugged and tough, rather than pretty.
She sighed, wanting to touch his dimple, run her fingers across the stubborn jut of his jaw and linger on that scar. She wanted to flirt and have some fun. This was her holiday, after all. But she was out of practice with flirting. She hadn't been on a date for years. There was no point when she could never get serious with anyone. Instead, she'd concentrated on building her business and spending time with River. Not that she minded: it was her fault her twin was housebound. She owed it to him to always be there.
The man stepped closer. 'Are you sure you're okay?' The more he spoke, the more she thought of a good bottle of red low seductive music and a plush fur rug before a fire. It was difficult not to reach forward, push her fingers through his silky brown hair and bring her lips up to his.
But the way he looked at her indicated he didn't have the same inclination, regardless of his comments about her nice arse. He looked more confused than interested.
Disappointed although she knew she shouldn't be, she said, 'I'm fine, really.' She put weight on her sore foot and took a few hobbling steps. 'Almost as good as new.'
He didn't look convinced. 'Perhaps you should call it a day, though. You're limping.'
She shook her head. 'Are you kidding? It's not often you get days like this at Buller.' She gestured at the blue sky, the snow-laden trees lining the run and the mountains of the Victorian Alps marching into the distance covered in the blue haze of thousands of eucalypts. 'You would have to chop my leg off with your snowboard to stop me from skiing on such a beautiful day.' She cocked her head to the side, considering it. 'Nah. Maybe not even then.'
He laughed and the sound washing over her like warm water lapping at her skin.
'Let me see you down to the bottom at least. Make sure you get to the lift.'
Skye blinked at him. The way he looked at her reminded her of something . . . someone.
'Hello!' He waved his hand in front of her face. 'Don't tell me I gave you a concussion.'
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. 'No. I'm fine. Just a bit of snow blindness.' A pathetic excuse but with him standing so close, she couldn't seem to do better. Opening her eyes, she squinted. 'It's a bit bright with the sun. I should have worn my goggles.'
'Are you sure?'
His voice was hypnotic. She leant forward and breathed in his scent. The need to give in to the temptation to touch, to kiss, to lick, was overwhelming. It was like she'd been bewitched.
That thought had her snapping back. Panic clawed at her throat. Could she be?
No. Bron said she had stronger shields than anyone she'd ever met thanks to her grandpa's spell, and there was no reason not to trust her best friend in this matter. She was Wiccan after all. Not a true magic user but she did know about this stuff.
It was just that Mr Too-Gorgeous-For-Sanity was a fantasy come to life. This was simply about lust. She had to ignore the sensations shooting through her body. Force herself to be sensible. He was just being friendly because he'd knocked her over. And she'd made enough of a fool of herself for one day.
Biting her lip, trying to shelve her disappointment, she nodded. 'I'm sure. Go and kill your brother for making you snowboard and then enjoy the day.'
He chuckled. 'I might just do that. Adam needs a good killing.'
'Excellent. So off you go. I'll be fine by myself.' Before he could say anything else, she hobbled down the hill to her skis. She clicked into the bindings, swallowing a gasp as pain sliced up from her ankle and refused to give in to it. She'd put up with worse pain.
There was the slide of board on snow behind her and she looked up to see the Adonis making his way down the slope toward her.
'How about I shout you a hot chocolate at Kofflers just to make sure you're fine?'
Surprisingly pleased by his perseverance, Skye opened her mouth to say yes.
Don't say it! her inner voice snapped.
Taken aback, she blinked and asked it, Why?
He may not stink of magic but there's something about him that's affecting you. Think about River. Think about what your magic did to him.
Even though the voice still didn't sound like it usually did, Skye knew it was right. This man might not have the magic to bewitch her but he was making her behave strangely, almost to the point of acting without thinking – which she never did. She could never afford to lose control because her magic had only ever brought pain. She swallowed hard, knowing that despite the fact this was a holiday and she should be able to flirt and have fun, she couldn't do it with this man.
Taking herself in hand, she said, 'Thanks, but no thanks. I still want to get a few runs in before I call it a day.'
'What about a drink after? I feel I need to say sorry in some way.'
The wish to say yes was almost a pain inside her; but that in itself was reason to say no. 'I can't. I've got a prior engagement with friends.'
'I'm sorry to hear that.' He flashed a grin so charming it made her breath catch. 'I'll just have to hope we'll meet another time and your answer will be different.' He leant forward so she could feel his astonishing warmth radiating toward her and took a deep breath, as if trying to breathe her in.
'Okay,' she squeaked. Unable to stand his closeness for another moment, and not give in to his invitation, she pushed off with her good leg and took off down the slope. Her ankle ached. She shoved aside the pain and took a deep breath of clean clear air hoping to get rid of the warm male scent of him.
It didn't help. His scent seemed to have been imprinted on her senses: earthy and yet clear and fresh like the mountain air.
A tingle started down her spine. Was he watching her? Were his eyes caressing her arse again? She almost groaned at the memory of the way they'd come to a stop, his body spread on top of hers, chest to chest, legs tangled. Skye bit her lip as muscles well below her abdomen clenched and quivered.
It was a sensation she'd not felt for a long time – too long. Hell, she'd almost become a nun with the length of time she'd been celibate and she'd been content with that. But coming face to face with that Adonis would make even a nun change her habits. It wasn't so unusual he'd had such an impact on her. She chuckled at her pun.
Not that it mattered what she felt. Lifting her face to the sun, she decided to luxuriate in the rare spring day and not worry about could have beens.
The sapphire blue sky was glorious. She was so thankful Shelley and Bron had agreed to change their Noosa plans and had come with her to Mt Buller for the last of the season. When she was a child, there'd often been good snow until the end of September. Now, spring snow was a rarity, so she hadn't expected to get any good skiing done but she'd been looking forward to it regardless. It brought back good memories of times with her grandpa.
None of them could believe it when there was a massive dump of snow the day after they arrived, and instead of slush with only a few runs open, they were skiing on fresh powder on over half the runs.
Swishing down the slope with the deep, downy white snow squeaking beneath her freshly waxed skis, the fresh air a chill puff on her face, she tried to recapture the feeling she'd had before Adonis had crashed into her. But no matter how lovely the day still was or how soft and powdery the snow, she just couldn't regain that sense of freedom being in the mountains always gave her; that feeling like she could fly.
Her spine tingled again. Just in case Mr Too-Gorgeous-For-Sanity was watching her, she decided to show off. She jumped over a snow-encrusted boulder, catching some air. But the thrill of flying ended the moment she landed and pain shot up her leg. She groaned.
'Are you okay?' he yelled.
She didn't look back and only waved, hiding her red face. She hadn't groaned that loudly. How had he known? The landing had been perfect.
So much for showing off.
And why was she trying to impress him when he'd knocked her down, ruining her perfect run record?
That thought brought her up short as she joined the queue at the lift. She wasn't a massive hothead, but being mown down by a beginner on a run he shouldn't have been on was just the kind of thing that would normally have had her firing up and letting loose. Yet, her temper only lasted a few seconds and then died away.
What the hell was that about?
Adonis might not be a Warlock but his combination of good looks, charm and velvety voice was just as dangerous. He'd not only made her want to change her nun-like habits, he'd made her behave like a horny teenager. He'd even made her consider, for a split second, turning her back on her obligations and the promises she'd made to her grandpa and to River.
She could never do that. Ever.
Those promises kept them all safe.
As the lift rose over the crest of the slope, she shivered. This time it wasn't the feeling of being watched that made that strange tingle race up and down her spine; thoughts of what happened all those years ago always did this. Her magic pushed at her, fighting to get out. She swore, pushing it back down. That man's presence had addled her brain and had made her shields weak. Closing her eyes, she repeated the mantra she'd been taught.
Her magic was dangerous. To protect River and everyone she loved, it was something she could never set free.
'Was that her?'
With a slide of board on snow, Adam came to a halt. Jason didn't turn to look at his brother; his gaze was still following the lithe redhead down the slope. A warmth fired through his body that was totally unexpected.
'If that was her, why's she running away?' Adam clapped his brother on the shoulder. 'Did you try your charm on her?'
Jason didn't answer. His mind was too full of the woman: those green eyes like spring pools, glistening with hidden depths in the sun; her hair, licks of flame on her shoulders; her generous mouth full of laughter and mischief. Even that spike of temper and the funny way she'd had of swearing had been sexy.
Despite himself, he was engaged. He hadn't expected that. And her scent – his wolf had growled at her scent. Familiar, yet there was also something strange about it.
'Aren't you going to follow her?'
Jason shook his head and brushed the snow off his pants. 'No. Something's wrong. She didn't recognise what I am.'
'Maybe she isn't our Pack Witch.'
Jason clicked his boot onto the snowboard and balanced for a moment, shifting his weight back and forth. 'I'm pretty sure she is. But there's something . . .' He shook his head. 'She should have expelled some magic when she saw me but she didn't.'
Adam frowned and sniffed. 'But I can smell that zip in the air, like the electrical build-up before lightning. Doesn't that denote magic?'
Jason thought about the last time they'd encountered the scent of magic. The night their parents, two older brothers and their mates had been murdered in their never-ending quest to find their kidnapped Pack Witch. The scent in the air now, a scent that lingered in his nostrils like a teasing perfume, was nothing like that acrid scent. 'It is magic. But she didn't expel it when I came along. It's around her all the time like a cloak, but muted or something.' That was definitely wrong. Yet he was sure it was her. He'd seen her in his dreams. Dreams he'd always had of her; dreams that had been nebulous things until the Calling had caught up with him after his father's murder and he'd become Alpha.
'How can you be certain it's her, then?'
'Because of the dreams. I saw her skiing here with her friends.'
'You dragged us here chasing down a woman who doesn't even smell like she has the magic of a Pack Witch all because of some dreams?'
'They're not just dreams. It's the link.'
'What link?'
'The link between the Alpha and the Pack Witch. Dad was linked to Paul Collins—'
'As Lydia Collins was linked to Grandpa before him.'
'Yes.' It was the only way the magic worked. The Pack Witch fed it into the Alpha and the pack syphoned it from the Alpha through the pack bond – the ultimate form of synergy.
'But how are you linked to Paul's daughter?'
The question was understandable. A bonding wasn't supposed to be undertaken until a Pack Witch or Warlock was of age, after they'd imbibed the Bond Wine. But in this case . . .
Jason looked out at the distant mountains. The moment he'd clapped eyes on her he'd realised that Paul Collins had linked them all those years ago – the future Alpha and the future Pack Witch. It's why he'd had the dreams. It made sense of something that had always seemed nonsensical to him. Something he'd spent years denying because he'd been too young to understand the significance of what had been done to him. The proof was irrefutable, though. The link was the reason he'd found her when nobody else could.
'Paul linked us when Skylar was a few months old.'
'What?' Adam gripped his arm, his voice bitter. 'Did you keep this from me because I'm nothing but the Trickster?'
'No.' Jason clasped Adam's shoulder. 'And don't talk like that about yourself. From what I've been reading in the Pack Witch Diaries, the Trickster is far more essential to a pack than we remember. Besides, I have named you my second. I wouldn't keep anything from you. It's just . . . I've only now realised what Paul did.'
He remembered standing in the dark room looking down at her crib while Paul was lighting candles that smelled like jasmine, cinnamon and honey. He'd muttered words Jason hadn't understood and in the quiet hush that followed, a sizzle had shot along Jason's skin sinking into his nerve ends and sparking in his brain. The baby had cried out, holding out her chubby little arms to him. Despite being a boy who thought babies were smelly, noisy things, he'd picked her up and bounced her until she giggled. That giggle had made him feel good inside.
'It is done. You will keep my daughter safe,' Paul had whispered.
Jason hadn't realised its significance. He'd just been a small boy holding a pretty baby that smelled of powder and her mother's sweet milk.
'Why would he do that when it goes against pack law?'
Jason was brought out of his reverie by his brother's question. He understood the horror in Adam's tone. The pack's greatest duty was to look after their children. They would never do anything to hurt or place unnecessary burden on a child. But Paul had done exactly that when he'd linked Skylar to Jason.
'He was prescient. Maybe he'd seen this future. Maybe he knew I would become Alpha and that I would have to find her.'
Adam shook his head. 'I always thought Paul looked sad. It's no wonder, if this is what he saw.'
Jason glanced at his brother and sighed at the look of devastation on his face. Nobody would have looked at Paul and thought him sad, yet Adam had seen beyond the facade Paul showed to the world, to the grief of a man who saw things he shouldn't. It was remarkable sometimes, the things the Trickster saw. Things none of them had realised the significance of until it was almost too late. Now he knew that without Adam pushing fun and laughter into the pack bond, the pack would already have succumbed to the Curse. He'd maintained positivity when there was nothing to be positive about.
And it was taking a toll. As an Alpha he was linked to his brother in ways he'd never been linked before and could feel the pressure of pack wellbeing tear at Adam. He wished he could take on some of that burden but knew that he couldn't. Not until they had their Pack Witch back safe and sound and the Curse averted. Because, more than anything, he knew that what Adam was doing for the pack was also helping to keep him from slipping into deadly insanity.
Gripping his brother's shoulder, Jason whispered, 'I know. I know the burden that knowledge places on you.'
Adam swallowed hard. 'I know you do.' He gripped Jason's shoulder in turn. 'That's why you make one fucking great Alpha.'
Jason smiled and slapped his brother on the arm. Even when torn apart by a pain that wasn't his, Adam couldn't help but see the bright side. 'I think you're right with regard to Paul. He saw at least some part of the future. That's why he linked Skylar and me at an age when it would normally be forbidden.'
'Did Mum and Dad know?'
Jason frowned. 'I think perhaps they did after the fact. Why else would they have given me such freedom?'
'Because they were sick of listening to you whinge and whine about wanting choice,' Adam said. He managed to keep a straight face when Jason glared at him, then burst out laughing.
Jason chuckled 'You can't help yourself can you?'
'Comes with the burden of being the funny one.'
'You're funny, alright,' Jason said, twirling his finger beside his head.
'You can talk. I'm not the one following strange dreams.'
'You're right.' Jason sighed, all levity dying as his thoughts turned darker. 'I just wish the link had activated properly before Mum and Dad, Seamus and Sian, and Josef and Marianne were killed.'
'But that's not how it works.'
'No. Dad had to die for me to find her.' He ground his board into the snow, fingers clenched, the wolf desperate to break through and claw at something.
'You can't blame yourself for that. You didn't kill them.'
Jason's lips curled into a snarl. 'No. I didn't. But I swear by the Dark Moon, I will find who did.'
He stood there for a moment, eyes tracking the lift as the woman he was certain was Skylar Collins disappeared over the rise. She was their hope of a future without madness. She was also the only hope he had of finding those responsible for causing the Curse to touch his pack and bringing them to near extinction.
'So if that is Skylar, why didn't she use her magic when she saw you?'
Jason took in a deep breath of clear, cool air, trying to calm himself. 'I don't know. But I have no doubt that the reason why Cordelia or the old McClune Pack Witch could never scry her is at the heart of it. Whoever took her hid her by changing more than her name.'
'So what's the plan?'
'I'm going to bump into her again at the lodge and when the time's right, I'm going to share some wine with her.'
Adam's eyes glittered with understanding. 'Do you think crashing into her was the best way of meeting her, then? I don't know if she'll want to share the Bond Wine with an accident-prone idiot.'
Adam was trying to lighten his mood again. It worked. Jason's lips split into a grin. 'I didn't think she'd stop short like that, but in retrospect it was a stroke of genius. Because if she heals herself, we'll know there isn't anything wrong with her magic. Besides, I got so close, I filled myself with her fresh scent. I can track her anywhere now.'
'Will that be necessary?'
'We'll see. But at least we know she can't disappear again. It's taken too long to track her down. I don't want to waste any more time.'
'I'm with you there. I'm sick of this.'
Hearing the growl in his brother's tone, Jason's gaze slid to Adam's, noting the red tinge in the amber of his eyes. The darkness Adam had banished moments ago had returned. Ultimately, breaking the Curse would cure that but for now . . .
'You need to hunt.'
'Later. Let's race.'
With a whoop, Adam took off down the slope, his motions balletic as he controlled the board. Jason's smile widened into a thoroughly wolfish grin as he caught sight of the woman on the lift far below. The hunt was on. But for now he would give himself over to the thrill of the much simpler chase his brother posed.
Pushing forward he followed Adam down the slope, catching air as he flew over the same snow-capped boulder she had. He heard Adam's bark of laughter, a sound he copied as he came even with him and then passed in a few quick movements.
Adam might have been doing this longer, but nobody beat Jason in the chase. And Skylar Collins was about to find out that running only served to sweeten the hunt.
ISBN: 9781743484968
ISBN-10: 1743484968
Published: 17th March 2014
Format: ePUB
Language: English
Number of Pages: 401
Edition Type: Digital original
