Read Enchanted Moon (Moon Magick Book II) for Free Online

happened,
Ailyn repeated the words in a hiss. Panic laced her features and he guessed
that which she sought.
    Her
blade.
    Seeing
the glint of the handle, Quinlan kicked his toe beneath it. It rose in the air
between them. He caught it first. Her eyes widened. He offered it to her on an
open palm. A treaty of sorts, he hoped. Yet she didn’t take her dagger.
    The
prickle of the energy in the air irritated his skin and sent his heart racing.
A stark thought seeped through. What if
the rite held real power? “We must leave here. Our skins will be safer deep
into the woods. Away with me now, lest they find us here. Whoever you’ve lost,
I’ll help find.”
    She
tipped her head. Had she no sense? He’d be damned if he’d take her over his
shoulder and run with her screaming like a banshee. The deep thump of a bodhran
startled her. Her gaze darted to the bonfire, its flames just visible through
the few trees.
    She
grabbed for her blade, then retreated, frowning. “I have to find someone,” she
said.
    Quinlan
closed the space between them, and took hold of her upper arm. “Whoever it is,
they are not here. As I said, none have passed.”
    She
wrested it free, looking at him like one would a snake. “I must look elsewhere,
then.”
    Turning
on her heel, she strode back into the woods.
    “Not
on your own, you won’t.” He could just imagine the lass winding through the
trees only to emerge on the other side of the rite, ripe for the plucking. “If
you’ll listen to sense, I’m offering help.”
    “I
neither want nor need your help!”
    But
her voice belied that with every passing moment her fears grew. Her confidence
didna falter in her skills. She looked as much a warrior as any he’d man on in
a raid with the skills to match. What scared her, then? He knew better than to
test a man, or a woman’s pride. The prickle on his arms pinched. Whatever
enchantments the rite might have stumbled into, the sensation in the air grew,
too.
    “Let
us away from this,” he said, attempting a placating tone and failing miserably.
“Once safe, I vow we shall find your friend. This land is my home. I know it
well. Agreed?”
      She didn’t like it. The set of her jaw
said as much, but after a moment she acquiesced and followed him when he
stalked into the wood. The prickle in the air receded, along with the hum and
roar. He took them deeper still. They’d near the cliffs soon. The sea’s briny
scent hung heavier in the air.
    Through
the winding path amid the trees, in the damp air, wet as she was, she kept up.
More impressively, she cooperated, following, only glancing about a bit. Not a
single protest. A new sound carried to his ears. The faint crash of the ocean. Slieve League cliffs.
    “A
bit further is all....” He paused, looked.
    She
was gone.
    He
spun right, left, again. Around. “Lass?” he called low, insistent. The air hung
still as a frozen pond. They’d escaped the dark magick, he was certain, yet
where could she have gone to? Quinlan stepped carefully back through the dense
patch of trees, listening for signs of her. Breathing, movement, anything.
    A
tight, high-pitched scream rent the air. Quinlan’s stomach fell. He stalked
through the thicket. “Lass? Answer me. Ailyn?” If they’d found her, made off
with her, he couldna live with himself. “Lass,” he called out in a deep bellow.
A faint answer. He brushed limb after limb away, the branches snapping,
scratching. He stumbled toward the sound of her voice, through a patch of trees
and into a clearing.
    “Maera,”
she called out.
    He
turned toward the sound. She swirled into view, seemingly from the shadows of
the trees, thick locks of her hair swinging free of her braid. But her cheeks
were no longer dry. “It’s gone,” she said upon seeing him.
    “What
is gone?”
    Shaking
her head, she walked into the water. “How can it be gone?”
    “Are
ye daft? Come out of the water.”
    She
waded further in, sweeping her hands through it, sending