Free Highland Shapeshifter by Clover Autrey Page A

he couldn’t help it, being this near to her.
    She held a cylindrical item in her hand with a form of a rather large insect painted on it, thumb on a small tab on top. He had no idea what it could do, but had witnessed enough small weapons of this time wreak surprising damage on creatures much larger than himself. His eyes flicked from the weapon to her face. ‘Twas a strike right to his belly, looking at her up close and without the haziness of potions. That strange sensation nearly took him off his feet. Magic streamed between them as though her very essence pierced into his soul and took hold, shaking him to his core and baring everything he was for her to see out in the broad light of day.
    Powerful Sorceress. He was weak before her. ‘Twas unsettling and wonderful all at once.
    He lifted his chin, feigning amusement against her weapons and magic. “What d’ye intend with that?” He kept his voice indifferent.
    A small shoulder lifted in a shrug and she pointed the cylinder downward. “You are kind of exposed.”
    Col felt himself shrivel.
    Her eyes tipped back to his face. “What do you want with Charity?” Anger strained the delicate features. Col cocked his head, studying the desperate tension of her limbs. She was scared. Not for herself. Protective. Of Charity.
    As was he.
    He lifted his palms outward. “I mean her no harm. Ye’ve my oath on that.” His heart pounded just thinking about this one narrow opportunity he had and what would be if he missed it. “She hasn’t gone yet, has she?”
    “Gone yet?” The color leeched from the lass’s skin. “What does that mean?”
    His intentions weren’t to upset her. He wasn’t sure how much to reveal or if he could trust her. She’d purchased him from the ogre, for rood’s pity. He should not lose sight of that.
    Col looked her up and down, uncertain what to do next. He didn’t want to frighten her off, not if she could take him to Charity. Although she obviously didn’t frighten easily. Though slight, she’d faced the ogre thrice her size unflinchingly, not to mention an unclothed stranger in a darkened alley.
    Fearless, his little Fae was.
    She glared at him in silence and then suddenly her eyes widened a fraction and her lips parted.
    “Col?”
    He flinched at the use of his name. He hadn’t heard it for more than a fortnight since he’d been thrown into the rift. No one of this century knew him. Or so he thought.
    She must have caught his reaction because her eyes widened larger and she flung a hand over her mouth.
    Col’s mouth went dry. “You know me?”
    “Oh crap,” she wailed. “Oh crap, crap, crap. You are him! Col Limont!” A sharp tremor shook her slim frame. “What’s going on? How did you get here? What’s going to happen to my sister?”
    Sister?
    He took in her features again, the pert nose and the way she firmed those stubborn lips. He should have realized. Charity’s sister. Which…was the most promising event to favor him thus far. As long as he gained the lass’s cooperation, he could get to Charity. Get home.
    “Ye’re Charity’s sister then?” He smiled. “Praise the gods. I need to find Charity before…” How much to reveal? “I need to get to her.”
    “Before what? You need to get to my sister before what? Before your sorcerer brother comes through time? Because he’s already done that.”
    Everything went numb. A sword could have stabbed through him and he wouldn’t have felt it. Every thought stilled, save one. “Toren? Toren’s already come? And Charity? She’s still here?”
    “Still here?” the lass shrieked. Her face flushed pink. She aimed her cylinder at him in a shaky hand. “Quit saying that. What do you know? You spill now.”
    “I—“ Col plowed his hand through his hair, reeling. Toren had already come and gone. He’d missed him. He’d missed his chance for Toren to send him home.
    He stumbled back, swiveled around, looking for answers on the dirty street that weren’t there.