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Dark Alpha's Caress
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Dark Alpha’s Caress
Reapers
Donna Grant
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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DARK ALPHA’S CARESS
© 2020 by DL Grant, LLC
Cover Design © 2020 by Charity Hendry
Formatting © 2020 by Charity Hendry
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Excerpt from: DARK ALPHA’S OBSESSION
© 2020 by DL Grant, LLC
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ISBN 13: 978-1942017622
Available in ebook, audio, and print editions.
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All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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www.DonnaGrant.com
www.MotherofDragonsBooks.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Excerpt of DARK ALPHA’S OBSESSION
Thank You!
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About the Author
Praise For Donna Grant’s
Best-Selling Romance Novels
“A breathtaking tale...I absolutely loved it!”
–Romance Junkies on Dark Craving, Dark Kings Series
“The author has created a fantastic and mesmerizing fantasy world with intriguing twists, surprises and unique elements that keeps the reader turning the pages to the very end.”
–Night Owl Reviews on Dark Heat, Dark Kings Series
“Evie and Malcolm is a couple that makes it impossible not to love them.”
–The Jeep Diva, Dark Warriors Series
“Grant’s smoldering seventh Dark Warrior outing will grip readers from the first page, immersing them in her wounded, lonely couple’s journey of redemption…each scene is filled with Grant’s clever, complex characters and trademark sizzle.”
–Romantic Times Magazine (RT Book Reviews), Dark Warriors Series
Chapter One
Ballycastle, Ireland
July
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She had officially lost her mind. That was the only thing she could think of that would have taken her from her home on the Isle of Skye and brought her to Northern Ireland. Sorcha wasn’t exactly courageous. In fact, she considered herself a hermit.
But because she preferred to be alone, it made it easier for her to do precisely what she was currently doing.
“Rhona, you owe me big for this,” she mumbled to herself as she walked the hilly landscape toward the coast.
The wind whipped her hair from its braid and into her eyes. She pulled the strands out of her lashes and tucked them behind her ears, but it did no good as the next gust tugged them free and put them right back.
Sorcha’s heart pounded more erratically with every step she took. She was the last person who should be here. She was a horrible liar. Not only that, but she also caved under pressure. Always. There was a reason she liked her solitude. She didn’t have to answer to anyone, and no one looked to her for anything.
Which meant she couldn’t let anyone down.
But this was bigger than her. It was bigger than the Skye Druids. That’s why she was here. No longer could she turn a blind eye to what was going on. What Usaeil had done to Corann, the leader of the Skye Druids, was enough to convince Sorcha to get off her arse.
It had been no surprise when Sorcha learned that Rhona had taken over as leader of the Druids. As soon as she heard the news, she went to Rhona and offered to do anything to help. It’d never entered her mind that Rhona might send her off on a dangerous mission that could very well get her killed.
Sorcha stopped walking. Her thighs burned from the incline. The sky had grown darker from an incoming storm. She turned and looked back the way she’d come. There hadn’t been anyone around, and that’s how this had been planned. The only way this would work was if she remained unseen. Even so, she and Rhona had come up with a story in case she was stopped.
She drew in a deep breath and zipped up her raincoat. Every fiber of her being wanted to return to Skye and the safety of her cottage. For so long, she had buried her head in the sand and let others handle things. All because she was too scared to actually live.
Bracing herself for whatever was to come, Sorcha began walking again. The climb up to the summit was for skilled climbers only. Spray from the sea coated everything in a fine mist, making the rocks and the grass slippery. She had to watch every step she took. And she wasn’t even to the most dangerous part yet.
Climbing such cliffs and mountains had been something Sorcha had grown up doing with her mother and sister. She was an expert, but that didn’t mean she liked what was happening. She didn’t know these cliffs like she did the ones on Skye.
A crack of lightning followed closely by a boom of thunder made her jump. Loose sediment slipped beneath her feet and caused her to slide. She quickly grabbed hold of an outcropping of rock and a clump of grass to stop herself.
“Bloody hell,” she murmured and paused long enough to gather herself.
Then she continued. She didn’t look back again. Little by little, she progressed over the terrain. She covered a lot of ground before the first raindrop landed on her. Sorcha ignored it as the path became narrower. She glanced up and saw a group of people ahead. The moment she saw them, she ducked down, afraid that they might have seen her, as well.
When no shout of warning or the sound of anyone coming for her followed, Sorcha slowly rose up enough to see ahead. Only then did she continue on. The fat raindrops came down more readily. She lifted up the hood of her raincoat as she inched closer, using the footholds and handholds to keep herself anchored to the cliff. Then—finally—she was there.
Sorcha pressed her forehead to the damp rocks of the cliff and let out a relieved breath. She’d worry about getting back once she was finished here. She strained her ears to listen, but she couldn’t make out any of the words being said by the group. She had come this far. There was no way she would leave without something.
She reached up and grabbed a rock before she set her foot on another and climbed. It was only a meter’s difference, but it allowed her to hear. The only problem was that she needed to hang off the side of the cliff to do it.
“…you have to see,” a woman said, her Irish accent thick. “Now is our time. We can no longer stand back and wait for someone to come to us. It’s time we act.”
A man snorted loudly. “We might be Druids, but we do not stand a chance against the Fae. I’ve heard they’re gathering their own group.”
“Fek the Fae,” the woman stated angrily. “This isn’t their world. It’s ours!”
A cheer went up from the others.
“You say that until a Fae shows up,” the man retorted. “I doubt you’d be so quick to say those words if they did.”<
br />
Sorcha raised up enough to try and see who had spoken. The crowd stood in a circle. A glow emanated from the ground in the center of the group, the light showing everyone’s face, including the man and woman in the middle. The woman was in her mid-forties with chin-length straight, black hair laced with gray. She was attractive with a trim figure she showed off with tight-fitting clothes.
The man appeared his forties, as well. He was tall with broad shoulders and a beer belly that looked as if he’d sported it for many years. His blond hair had thinned on the top, and the comb-over he seemed to prefer, blew in the wind.
Sorcha knew that the Fae sometimes liked to use glamour to disguise their beauty so they could walk among mortals. There was always a chance there could be Fae around, but she didn’t think the two main speakers were it. The fact that she was hiding proved just how secretive this meeting was. And how secure the area had been.
None of them seemed concerned with the cliffs, because only someone highly skilled—or an idiot—would even dare what she was doing.
Sorcha was pretty sure she was also an idiot, but there was no turning back now. She was here, and she would finish her mission so she could return with intel for the Druids. Then, she would go back to her cottage and return to the hermit lifestyle she’d lived for the past decade.
The woman in the middle of the circle shook her head. “Patrick, isn’t it time we stood up to the Fae? Isn’t it time we showed everyone who we are?”
“We?” Patrick asked with a bark of laughter. “You can combine all of our magic together, and it still wouldn’t be enough against one Fae. How the bloody hell do you think we can fight against them?”
“Who said anything about fighting them?” she asked with a pointed look.
Patrick ran a hand down his face and walked away a few steps before turning back to her. “You’ve lost your mind. You’re basing all of this on hearsay.”
“Hearsay from someone who is a Fae,” she pointed out.
“Beth, that Fae could’ve been planted at the pub so you’d overhear him and do all of this.”
“You heard him, too.”
Patrick sighed as he dropped his chin to his chest and put his hands on his hips. After a few tense moments where the only sound was the rain pelting the ground, he lifted his head. “The Others were disbanded. Whatever their main goal was, we’ll never know. But what we do know is that they’re gone.”
“There’s no way they’re gone,” Beth said.
There were nods of agreement from the other Druids around the circle, some adding “ayes,” as well.
Sorcha’s arms started to ache. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay in this position.
“It was probably all a lie,” Patrick said.
A woman with dark skin stepped forward. “It isn’t a lie. I can say that because I was part of the Others. Moreann chose me herself.”
Everyone looked at the woman, including Sorcha. She memorized the woman’s features, all while hoping to hear a name.
Beth gave Patrick an I-told-you-so expression. “Between her words and what we overheard, I decided to call this rally together with those I knew were not only powerful enough to stand against the Fae but also strong enough mentally to know what they’re getting into.”
Patrick ignored Beth and looked at the other woman. “Where is Moreann?”
“I don’t know. I’ve not heard from her in weeks.”
Patrick threw up his hands and glared at Beth. “See?”
“But…” the woman said, drawing out the word to get everyone’s attention. “I can tell you that I was visited by the Dragon Kings, who made it very clear that I was to forget anything to do with the Others.”
At the mention of the Dragon Kings, some Druids stepped back, visibly shaken, while others frowned in concern. Sorcha knew of the Kings, but she had never met one. She honestly wasn’t sure she wanted to. She knew they protected this realm and had since the beginning of time, but they were obviously a group that one simply didn’t want to fuck with on any level.
Beth jerked her head to the woman. “Dragon Kings? You never said anything about them.”
“Why does it matter?” the woman asked with a twist of her lips.
“It matters because of who they are,” Patrick told her. “You should take their warning to heart.”
The woman laughed. “The Others were out to destroy the Kings. And it was working, too.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Obviously not if the Others are gone, and the Kings are still here. And why would the Others want to be rid of the Kings?”
“None of that matters!” Beth shouted and slashed her arm through the air to halt any more talk. “We’re here because the Others needed Druids. That’s what we are. If the Fae think they can form a group themselves to take over what the Others began, then there’s no reason we can’t do the same.”
This time, it was Sorcha who rolled her eyes. She debated showing herself to the group to tell them the facts of what had happened between the Others, the Dragon Kings, the Fae, and the Druids. Still, she realized none of them would believe her. They wanted their own version of the facts, and that was the only thing they would listen to. It would be her folly if she allowed them to know that she was here.
No longer able to hold herself up, she let her arms straighten so she could lower herself down. It didn’t take long for her to realize that the words of the group were garbled once more. Sorcha steeled herself and resumed the position to pull herself up.
“We need to take a vote,” Patrick said.
Beth nodded and folded her arms over her chest. “I agree. All for creating a Druid group, raise your hand.”
Sorcha’s gaze scanned the circle to see that more than half had raised their hands.
“Against?” Patrick asked as he raised his.
Fewer people were completely against the idea, but even more in the circle hadn’t chosen a side at all.
Beth flashed a bright smile. “Guess we know who wins.”
“Not so quick,” Patrick pointed out. “Many didn’t vote.”
Beth wasn’t happy to hear that. She must have realized that if she pushed things now, those who didn’t vote might not side with her, which meant that Patrick would have won. Instead, the Druid said, “All right. Let’s take a few days to think about it. Let’s meet back here again in three days. Everyone who comes must vote. Understood?”
The group nodded and began to turn and hurry away as lightning lit up the sky. With that cue, the rain intensified. Sorcha wanted to stay and listen, see if anything else was exchanged. But between her arms aching and the roar of the rain, she doubted she’d be able to hear anything. Deciding to be safe, she carefully lowered herself and looked over her shoulder at the storm that raged behind her.
She then looked at the cliffside and the narrow trail she’d used. The growing darkness, along with the storm, made it difficult to see. She didn’t want to get caught out on the cliffs. It was either go up and climb over the edge with the possibility of someone in the group seeing her. Or she could go back the way she’d come.
Sorcha debated the choices for a moment and decided to chance going back along the cliffs. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten caught in a rainstorm while climbing. But it was the first time in Ireland on cliffs she didn’t know. And, she was alone. Without anchors.
“Well, this night just keeps getting better and better,” she said.
She took a step and was suddenly slammed against the cliffs by a fierce wind gust. Her hands clenched the rock in an effort to stay rooted to the spot. Maybe she should’ve chanced climbing up and over. Then she thought about being caught climbing up with wind like that, and it sent a chill down her spine.
“Slow and steady,” she told herself. The same words her mother had used often with her and her sister.
The rain pelted her now. The droplets were large and heavy as they slammed against her. The lightning, wind, and thunder sounded and felt as if it w
ere on top of her, but she didn’t look up to find out. She didn’t take her eyes from her route, because all it would take was one slip for her to fall. No one would hear her screams over the storm, and her body would likely not be found for days.
She had no identification on her, so the authorities wouldn’t even be able to return her to Scotland. The last thing she wanted was to die in Ireland. She still couldn’t believe she was on the isle the Fae called home. She’d hated it for as long as she could remember, and the current situation didn’t make her feel all warm and fuzzy.
An eternity later—with a couple of heart-stopping slips—she finally made it back to solid ground. Even then, she had to traverse the rocky terrain down to where she’d parked the rental car.
Sorcha picked up the pace. Now that she was off the cliffside, she felt she could move more quickly. It was a mistake. Within minutes, her foot slipped off a wet rock, and she twisted her ankle. She crumpled, grabbing her injury.
“Dammit,” she said as her ankle began to throb.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted lightning not far from her. It hit the ground, causing a loud crack. Sorcha screamed and jumped. She had to get to the car and out of the storm. She wasn’t safe here. But when she tried to put weight on her injured foot, her eyes welled up with tears.