Because he'd done it to her, she slapped his ass. He flashed her a smoldering look over his shoulder, his eyes saying, You're going to pay for that.
As he loped off to the field, he pulled his shirt over his head; he was on the skins team-hallelujah for that. His brother Munro was on the same team-double hallelujah.
Two muscular, manly specimens, exuding strength and vitality.
One of the females in the clan, a tall beauty named Cassandra, snapped her fingers in front of Chloe's starstruck eyes. With a smile, she said, "You've got a little something here"-she patted the back of her hand against her own mouth-"mayhap drool? Munro and MacRieve have that effect on females."
"They get that reaction all the time?" Hot and Hotter. She pictured MacRieve kissing some supernaturally beautiful Lorean, and her fists clenched.
"Oh, aye. They have since they were just boys." She bit her lip, as if she'd said something she shouldn't have.
"Why is MacRieve called by his last name?"
"He's the chieftain of the Nova Scotian Lykae, so it's a title. He's considered the MacRieve there. Plus, Sassenach have been slaughtering his given name for centuries." She spelled it for Chloe. "I suppose it got old. Only his twin calls him Will. For the rest of us, it's MacRieve."
Chloe herself had slaughtered his name. "Are you sure I can't help you clean up?"
Cassandra said, "You just enjoy the show."
The game started with a barn burner of a drive. Chloe had never really paid attention to rugby-if a particular sport had no women's league, then she wasn't much of a fan. Yet after a few plays, she noted similarities to both soccer and football.
All of the males were fast, but MacRieve's speed down the field was blistering. A good thing. Considering the way these men tackled, she would've been doing anything possible not to get caught with the ball.
His chest sheening with sweat, his eyes focused, he and Munro passed the ball back and forth, eluding defenders, seeming to know exactly where the other brother would be.
A twin thing? Or just lots of practice?
Oh, yeah, did MacRieve have moves on the field. And off it. Whenever she recalled what he'd done to her, her face would flush scarlet.
He was so domineering. And a dirty talker. Apparently, she liked both. A lot.
He'd said that she'd surrendered to him, and she supposed she had. But in her mind, sex was a new sport she'd never played, while he was a seasoned pro. Of course she was going to let him take the lead, submitting to what he wanted, because sex was his home turf.
Was it any wonder she'd promised to stay with him? Yet even though she'd been under duress, how could she have just blown off trying to leave this compound, to find her dad?
Granted, she had no idea where to begin searching-or how to get past a freaking siege. But she played offense. So what gives?
Was some dark part of her convinced she'd already forfeited the Games by having an immortal mother? Was some darker part of her relieved?
If she was triggered and became immortal, then this worry would be gone. She'd have more strength to defend herself from all the Loreans that wanted to abduct and torture her. She'd never get sick or die.
And she'd get to be with MacRieve.
The more she liked him, the more out of touch she felt. Her old existence was slipping away. Her dreams, her goals, her training-all gone. Yet when she was with him, she didn't feel the pang of loss.
Shouldn't she? Maybe she didn't because she'd suspected for weeks that her life as she'd known it was over?
You're not human.
Instead of devastation, at that moment, she experienced a sense of foreboding, like the other shoe was about to drop. It couldn't possibly be worse than the one that had already penalty-kicked the shit out of her life. Between the enemies at the gate and not knowing what was happening with her own body, how could she not feel foreboding?
Ronan slid into the seat next to hers, patting his belly. "Okay, lass, I've decided to forgive you for no' cooking breakfast. Just so long as it never happens again."
"Lucky me." Since she'd probably be this kid's roommate for the next week, she figured she should get to know him. He looked about fifteen, so she said, "You're nineteen, right?"
Shoulders back, he said, "Just turned fifteen. But I get that all the time."
She checked a grin. "So what grade are you in?"
"We doona have grades." He rolled his clear gray eyes. "Doona go to human school. We learn from parents, then we pick up everything we need."
"Pick up?"
"Lykae spot details others can't see, and then our curiosity drives us to investigate them. Our superior intellects mean we retain most of what we learn."
This kid had attitude. But then, Chloe had always liked attitude.
He popped a new beer for her-because she'd finished hers.
"Thanks. Why have I never discovered beer before?" Then she frowned to see a bottle in Ronan's underage paw. "They let you drink?"
"It's no' like I'm a lightweight human who canna handle my liquor."
"Ooh, burn." To be fair, she was already buzzed.
He chuckled, and she joined him-until a particularly high-pitched shriek sounded from over the wall.
"It doesn't freak you out that those things are out there?" she said.
"You've never seen a turned Lykae. There's a reason those creatures have no' braved an attack."
So she kept hearing. Which made her wonder how terrifying a turned Lykae truly was.
MacRieve scored just then, giving a mocking bow to his opponents. He ran his arm over his forehead, and all the sweat-slicked muscles in his torso contracted. His body was even larger from exertion, his corded thighs pressing against the legs of his jeans.
When unturned, MacRieve was hotter than flames. As if he sensed her eyes were glued to him, he turned to wink at her. She resisted the urge to fan her face. Casting about for a subject, she said to Ronan, "This must be a fun place to grow up." Underage drinking and no school.
"I guess. I'm new here. For the most part, Glenrial is the dreck dump."
"The what?"
"Our clan originates from Kinevane, Scotland. And then we have an official colony in Nova Scotia called Bheinnrose. The twins founded it, carving that place from scratch in the wilds up there. But here? This is where the fuckups come, the ones who doona fit in elsewhere."
"Like who?"
"Our prince, Garreth-a.k.a. the Dark Prince-lived here before he met his mate. And see Cassandra over there?" He subtly pointed with his beer. "She's in love with our king, but Lachlain's happily mated, so she's taking a hiatus from Kinevane. And Madadh? They call him Mad Dog, 'cause once he loses his temper, he nigh goes insane."
Though she'd met Madadh in the security area, she gazed at the man anew. That scar on his face made him look not just dangerous, but thuggish, like he'd list his "hobbies" as hookers and blow.
Since he was a Lykae, that just meant he looked like a dangerous, hot thug. Still, she never, ever wanted to see him lose his temper.
She asked Ronan, "So why are you here then?"
"Ben and I are orphans. It's no' exactly common to lose immortal parents at our age, so no one knows what to do with us."
"What happened?"
"Ghoul attack. Fuckers got two members of our family."