Her Scottish Alpha: Colliding Worlds, #3

Chapter 1

Every time the dragon came to visit, Lachlan MacPherson kept a close eye on the silverware. Not that he thought his friend Damon Knightley, dragon shifter, would steal from him, but dragons were known for their acquisitiveness and that was something he could never forget.

It made him just a little wary of Damon’s motives for wanting in on the alliance the werewolves were forming. On the other hand, Damon said he had a lead on a world-walker, and if that was true, it was worth risking a lot. Even the centuries-old silver.

Have you spoken to him? Lachlan said. World-walkers were beyond rare, and just as valuable for their ability to jump between the worlds.

Damon flipped a spoon end over end and caught it. I’m not even sure he’s a he.

Lachlan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the wooden table that lay between him and Damon. The Great Hall felt exceedingly empty with only the two of them in it. A couple of guards stood outside the door at the far end, but they were out of sight–and more importantly, earshot. If you don’t even know the gender of this world-walker, how do you think you’re going to find him? How can you be sure he even exists?

Damon flipped the spoon again. It flashed as it sailed by his black hair and dark eyes then fell into his hand again as though drawn there. I think the world-walker’s a woman. I think that’s why the vampires can’t locate her.

Lachlan felt all his muscles tense. We’re looking for the same world-walker as the vampires? Bloody hell, man. Couldn’t we find our own? We could end up in outright war.

The smooth bastard had the gall to laugh. That’s why you need me. I’ll find the chit, get her to join us and whisk her away before the vampires even figure out her gender.

As near as the scientists could tell, Earth came first–Earth and Earth animals and human beings. But with human beings came something else, something none of the other animals had…a vivid imagination. Human beings dreamed up all sorts of creatures that didn’t really exist. And then they did exist, but not on Earth. Not yet. Those human dreams created whole other dimensions that were like Earth but not Earth.

Each of those dimensions was drawn to Earth as though pulled by an invisible string. Earthlings couldn’t see those worlds as they approached–they were out of phase–but little things clued them in. And when one of those dimensions overlapped Earth, bam, the worlds collided. All of a sudden, Earth–or Earth Prime, as the scientists called it–had a whole new set of inhabitants, often creatures Earth had never seen before, and they always had their own agendas.

The worlds that held werewolves and vampires and dragons, among others, had collided with Earth Prime centuries ago. Now a new dimension was headed for them but no one knew what sorts of creatures it might hold. Lachlan and the other werewolves wanted to find out this new world’s agenda before it got thrust on them. This world-walker was the answer. What do you think you’re going to do, seduce her?

The edges of Damon’s mouth turned up. Whatever it takes.

All right. Let’s say you find this world-walker and lure her to our side. What then? What is it you want out of this? When Damon placed the spoon on the table, Lachlan fought not to snatch it away. He still remembered his grandfather, the then Scottish Alpha, telling a story about the silver being lovingly forged by his own great-great-grandfather. He couldn’t let something so old and treasured be stolen by a dragon.

I want in. Damon leaned forward. We shifters should stick together, no matter what we shift into. You’re allies with the bears, the big cats, even the hyenas—

We’re allies with the dragons.

Only just. You tolerate us. And I don’t blame you. Many of my kind are total assholes. But not all of us. He put his palm flat on the table next to the spoon. I want in on the alliance.

He wasn’t asking for much. Just the sun, the moon and the stars. I’d need to discuss that with my allies.

Damon slapped the table with his palm. You do that. In the meantime, I’ll find that world-walker and get her on my side. If you want her to be on your side, you know what to do. He stood.

Damned bastard. Damon.

Damon opened his mouth to answer but at that moment the doors flew open, crashing against the wall. One of the werewolf guards skidded across the floor toward the table where Damon and Lachlan stood. Behind him strode two women, all in black leather, their dark hair falling straight and smooth down their backs. Twins. No doubt about it. But what the hell were they doing breaking into his Great Hall?

Damon Knightley, one of the women said, her voice loud.

Shit. Damon stripped his clothes off as fast as he could.

If he was getting ready to shift, the women must be trouble. What the hell? The table Lachlan stood behind reached several yards on either side, far too long to go around. So he vaulted it, landing beside Damon just as Damon hopped on one foot, trying to pull his pants off the other.

The two women neared. We just want to talk, one of them said. Her voice sent a sensual shudder of arousal through Lachlan. Again, what the hell?

The hell you do. Damon dropped the last of his clothing then vaulted into the air, his arms erupting into obsidian-colored scaled wings, his body quadrupling in size. He hovered in the air above them.

Thank the Gods for the tall ceilings.

The two women drew weapons, a semi-automatic in one hand and a dirk—a long dagger—in the other. They watched Damon, their identical chins tipped upward at exactly the same angle.

Get down here! the first woman said. Her voice didn’t move him.

Damon flew, flapping his wings and stirring the air. As he headed for the wide open double doors, a scent blew across Lachlan’s nose.

His cock grew instantly, painfully hard. He’d never smelled the scent before but he had no doubt what it was.

His mate.

Where before he had seen two women, exactly the same, now he could tell them apart. His mate’s scent marked her as though she had a flashing sign over her head saying This one. This is the one. Lachlan headed for her.

Then everyone moved. The women realized Damon was planning to escape through the door. They ran after him. Lachlan knew he couldn’t let his mate get away or he might never see her again. He pushed a little faster and managed to snag her around the waist just before she reached the doorway. Her sister sped after the dragon, not seeming to realize she was alone.

His mate screamed. She struggled, elbowed him, tried to smash her head back into his face–which he narrowly evaded–and nearly stuck him with the dirk.

Stop, he said. He didn’t want it to go like this. I just want to talk.

You’re letting him get away, she hissed.

He’ll be back. What I’m doing is not letting you get away. Ye need to stay. She wasn’t a wolf; it was easy enough to tell that much. This would all be much easier if she were a wolf. But he wasn’t sure what she was. She seemed to be human and yet more. He’d never seen a human fight the way she did, and with such strength. And her scent–besides being the most luscious, decadent thing he’d ever smelled in his life–seemed not quite human either.

She twisted in his arms until she could look into his eyes. Hers were dark brown and deep. He could drown in them.

Let me go, she said.

I canna.

Sure you can. Look, I’m sorry about your little guards there, but they got in the way. They’ll wake up soon enough. When he didn’t answer, preferring to continue gazing at her instead, she said, I haven’t broken any laws. You have no right to hold me.

Och, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve broken a good many laws. But that’s not why you’re stayin’. You’re stayin’ because you’re the other half of my soul and I aim to keep you with me.

***

Keira Harlow laughed. Other half of his soul? Give her a break.

The big werewolf didn’t laugh, though. He didn’t even crack a smile. If anything, the grip he had on her got a little tighter.

You’re kidding, right? she said.

No. Werewolves know their mates when they scent them. You’re mine.

She felt a frisson of something almost like fear run down her spine. He might be bat-crap crazy but if he really thought she was his mate, he might hold her indefinitely. And Gillian needed her.

Keira flew into action again, thrusting her elbows back into his wide, hard chest, kicking at him with the feet that dangled off the floor. She was a tall enough woman at 5'8. How fricking tall was he? At least 6'4, maybe more.

Her struggles got her nowhere. He wrapped his arms more firmly around her, pinned her arms to her sides and held tight. Stop. The voice that rumbled in her ear sent another frisson through her, this one frighteningly like arousal.

Arousal?

She got aroused by weapons, by thick history tomes, and by Google. By men? Not so much. Not that she was gay, but it had been a long time since a man had anything to offer that she had the slightest interest in pursuing. So what was up with getting aroused by a six foot-something Scottish guy who had her effectively pinned?

Maybe it was because he was the first man in years who’d been able to pin her.

Before she could follow that thought–if she even wanted to–he spoke again. What’s your name?

I’m not your mate. She continued to struggle, though her efforts seemed feeble. The tension made her throat sound hoarse.

Your name, lass. Mate or no, I want something to call ye.

You can call me ‘gone’ if you’ll just put me down.

He growled. The damned werewolf actually growled at her. Name.

Keira.

Keira.

When he said her name, the