Highland Wolf Pact: Blood Reign: A Scottish Werewolf Shifter Romance Read Online Free PDF

That much was clear. Not royalty though. Not that kind of entitlement. She sensed more of a... confidence about him. Mayhaps a little arrogance?
    Bridget swallowed, lubricating her throat, before lowering her voice and booming her own reply, “Who seeks entrance?”
    The horse startled, giving a low whinny and pawing the dirt. The man handled the horse with ease, turning the animal toward the rocks.
    “Now we’re getting’ somewhere,” he muttered, calling back, “My name’s Griffith.”
    Just Griffith? No surname? No title? She cocked her head, frowning at that. A simple man, then? But he did not look simple. The man was big, well-muscled. This man trained, and he trained hard. 
    “An’ what d’ye seek, Griffith?” Bridget called, making sure she kept her voice an octave lower than usual. Funny, how his name felt in her mouth. Familiar, somehow, although she’d never heard it called. 
    “Knowledge.”
    Her heart sank. Not healing, then. A seeker who was true, who sought anything other than healing, would have to force the guardian to yield in combat if they wanted entrance. The guardian could, on rare occasion, choose to yield without a fight, but it hardly ever happened. Had never happened, in her lifetime, or Alaric’s either, he’d told her. 
    “Are ye there?” Griff called. Impatient. She’d have to remember that. 
    She wasn’t relishing fighting this man, who was twice her size at least. Were Alaric and Aleesa watching in the pool? They would be, of course. It would be her first real combat with an entrant, and she didn’t want to disappoint her father. Especially after her loss to him that afternoon. 
    “Ye mus’ prove yerself worthy, seeker,” she called, managing to keep the tremble from her voice. It was both excitement, and, mayhaps, a little fear. “By bestin’ me in combat.”
    “Then come out an’ meet me, stranger.” Griff straightened in his saddle, a slow smile spreading across his face.
    “I’m t’guardian of t’temple.” Bridget stepped toward the rocks, putting her face plate down, and her hand on the hilt of her sword. “And ye shall not pass ’til ye best me an’force me t’yield.”
    “I can’na best ye unless I can see ye.” Griff stared at the rocks, blinking in surprise when Bridget appeared from behind them. She’d never used the secret entrance before, but it worked just like Alaric said it would.
    “I can’na fight a boy.” Griff snorted as he slid off his horse. She saw him searching the rocks with his eyes, wondering where in the world she’d come from. “T’would nuh be right.”
    “I’m not a boy.” Bridget raised her sword, feeling anger burning in her chest at the man’s words. A boy, indeed! Not only wasn’t she a boy—and what a surprise he’d get when he was bested by a girl!—she was a warrior, trained by one of the best warriors in all of Scotland.
    She might not have been quite good enough to beat Alaric, but she could beat this man—even if he was twice her size.
    “I do’na wanna fight ye, lad.” Griff sighed, shaking his head as he unsheathed his sword.
    “Ye’ve no choice, seeker.” Bridget straightened her spine to give herself full height, but the top of her head still barely reached his shoulder. “If ye wan’ entry t’the temple, ye mus’ force t’guardian t’yield.”
    “I do’na hafta kill ye?” Griff frowned. “I’d hate t’hafta kill ye.”
    “Tis not to the death.” Bridget rolled her eyes behind her face plate. “But ye’ll be lucky if I do’na kill ye, seeker.”
    “Let’s get this over wit’, lad.” Griff stepped away from his horse with another deep sigh, moving quickly into fighting stance, sword up.
    “I’m not a lad!” she snapped gruffly as she swung, their swords clashing with the ring of steel in the afternoon sunlight.
    She was still a little tired, muscles sore, from her training with Alaric, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. The big man blocked her blow