Free Wild Passion by Lori Brighton

contrasted against her pale, pale
cheeks. Slowly, Meg lifted her hand and pressed a finger to that
trail.
    Blood.
    The woman was bleeding from her eyes. Meg drew in a
sharp breath and lurched back. Not just the woman’s eyes, but also
from her nostrils. Two thin lines of blood, seeping down and around
the corners of her perfect mouth.
    “Oh God,” Meg whispered.
    “Please,” the woman gasped. “Please, take care of
Collette.”
    A mother’s desperation shone in the depths of the
stranger’s eyes, a desperation that painfully pierced Meg’s heart.
Her gaze shifted to Collette. Large, green orbs shimmered with
tears, small fists pressed to a bow mouth. Meg had the urge to pull
her close, to rush her into the church so she wouldn’t have to
witness death; witness what Meg had witnessed at such a tender
age.
    “Yes,” Meg whispered. “Yes, I—”
    An eerie cry pierced the quiet night. Meg jumped. An
inhumane sound that sent a shiver over her skin. As quickly as it
had come, it was gone. Silence fell; the only noise was the soft
whisper of snow against the ground.
    Meg scampered to her feet, her heart slamming wildly
against her chest. “Who’s there?”
    From the darkness, snow crunched. She spun around,
searching for the intruder. No one was there. Panic clawed its way
through her body.
    “Hurry,” Collette whimpered, taking Meg’s hand, her
icy fingers startling Meg into action.
    “Go!” Meg shoved the child toward the wide, shallow
steps that led into the church. “Go now!”
    The child raced toward the large, wooden doors. Time
was running out. Meg slipped her arms around the woman’s waist. She
would not abandon her here on the street with whatever was coming.
She leaned back, her boots slipping over snow and ice as she
dragged the woman toward the steps.
    “Leave me,” the woman whispered, her weak voice
barely audible. “Leave me. They will know what to do with my body.
They will take care of me.”
    Meg grunted with determination. “No, hush now. You’ll
be all right.”
    “You don’t understand. They’re coming, you don’t have
time. Leave me.”
    Snow crunched from her left. Meg jerked her head
toward the direction of the sound. No one was there. Her heart made
a mad dash for her throat. Was there someone out there in the
shadows, or had fear finally made her insane?
    The woman reached up, her fingernails digging into
Meg’s sensitive wrists. Meg cried out, releasing her hold. The
woman slumped to the ground.
    “He will not allow me into the church.” Her voice
came out in a low hiss that sent a chill over Meg’s spine.
    It made no sense. But then nothing made sense.
Frustrated, Meg stomped her foot. “But…why?”
    “Meg!” Papa’s voice was a welcome relief.
    Meg spun around. Thank God! Her father would know
what to do, know how to reckon with this stubborn woman. “Papa! I
need your help. She won’t let me…”
    Papa froze at the bottom of the steps, his long black
cloak swirling around his booted feet. His wide gaze was pinned to
the woman. His face went pale, his lower lip trembling with some
sort of emotion she couldn’t possibly understand. What the hell was
wrong with everyone?
    “Papa?” Meg stepped closer.
    Her father latched onto Meg’s arm, his strong grip
belying his old age. “Leave her, Meg.”
    “But Papa!”
    His weathered face grew fierce, those faded blue eyes
flashing under his fluffy white eyebrows. “Leave her!”
    Shocked, Meg glanced down at the woman. How could her
father be so cruel? This wasn’t the Papa she knew. Like a helpless
doe, the woman was curled into a ball, a pile of velvet and blood.
Her skin so pale, her face practically melted into the flurries,
but for her eyes… her eerie, green, glowing eyes.
    “You promised to take care of my daughter,” she
whispered, her lips lifting into a snarl as her gaze focused on
Papa.
    “We will.” Papa pushed Meg toward the steps. His eyes
were fierce, but his body was trembling…with fear or