The Hunger (The Lycans 3)

The cottage door opened before I got to it, the small elderly woman on the other side partially shadowed as the light filtered from behind her.

“I want tae say I’m surprised yer bloodline is back for my assistance, but I’m no’,” Magdalena said in Gaelic, her voice soft and aged, reminding me of my paternal seanmháthair—grandmother—who’d passed a couple of decades before.

I didn’t speak, didn’t trust my voice. But standing here was wasting time.

“Need more wards tae keep away intruders?”

Although she phrased it like a question, I could tell by her tone she knew why I was here. Maybe she could sense my mate just feet away. Maybe she could scent the wildness inside me, the impatience and anxiety that I wanted to get this done and over with.

“Or maybe yer here for yourself? Maybe yer here…” She let her gaze go to the vehicle, and I knew she knew my female was within. Despite the glass and steel that surrounded her, it was still no match for the acute smell of a Lycan. Even if said wolf was advanced in age and only half-wolf. Like the witch.

“Are ye an Oracle now?” I responded back in Gaelic, my voice low and deep, and although I wanted to get this moving along and didn’t much care if she actually was an Oracle, I also didn’t want to offend. I needed help, and she was the only one who could give it to me.

She was silent for a moment, then inclined her head and stepped aside, allowing me to enter. But I was rooted to the spot, slowly shaking my head and unable to stop myself from looking over my shoulder and staring at the vehicle. Everything in me demanded I go to my mate and make sure she was okay, to reassure myself she was safe.

“Never thought I’d see the day when yer bloodline would be so fearful of something.”

I snapped my head back in her direction and held in my growl.

“Although the little female inside causes very surprising emotions in ye, yes?”

I ground my molars, not bothering to answer verbally, just giving a curt nod.

“I can smell the Linked Connection. My congratulations to ye and this gift you’ve been given.”

I wasn't surprised she could scent the truth. I could smell my mating pheromones for my female pouring off me.

“Verra well. I know how the males of our kind get overprotective at the smallest of instance for their mates.” She clasped her hands in front of her and positioned herself back in the center of the doorway. “What do ye need of me, son of King Banner McGregor?”

Again, not surprised she knew who I was. Any Otherworld creature could smell familial ties with just an inhale. “I need a talisman.” My voice was a rough growl, something I was unable to control. I was more wolf than man right now, barely hanging on to my sanity as it was. My only priority was getting my mate to safety where she and I could be alone.

Where I could claim her. Mark her.

I was confident Lycans hadn’t caught my mate’s scent back in the woods, not with all the activity that had been going on right before I’d chased after her. But even if they had, we’d been in a vehicle for hours, the distance so far between us that I knew it would be impossible for them to track her.

Me, on the other hand… they had my scent ingrained in their very DNA. They could find me anywhere, although it would take some time. Which I wasn’t willing to chance. I wasn't willing to bet that the Rover and distance were enough to keep me hidden.

Because a Lycan was a powerful tracker.

We are, after all, animals.

She inclined her head again. “As ye wish. I’ll be back in a moment.” She turned and disappeared back into the candlelit cottage.

I stayed put, looking at the car again, expecting to see my female trying to escape. I’d chase her, of course. I’d follow her to the ends of the world if need be.

But I sensed she was still deep in sleep, and my panic rose. I was anxious to get to the estate, which was a few short hours away.

Magdalena came back out a moment later, something in her hand catching the candlelight and flashing gold.

The medallion spun around before instantly stilling, as if forced to stop… a movement that wasn’t natural. There were tally marks along the flattened gold, the medal looking aged and worn… ancient.

I reached out, but before my fingers could touch the metal, she pulled it away.

“Lad, payment must be discussed first.”

I felt my spine straighten, my impatience growing. “Name yer price. Ye know I’ll give ye anything ye want for it.” I stared into her eyes, ones that were light blue, wrinkles and creases surrounding them, her skin looking as delicate as the finest tissue paper. “Name ye price, Magdalena.” The McGregor clan had an insurmountable amount of riches, centuries of growing it. I’d pay anything for that small circle of medal in her hand.