The fight went on. She felt her muscles burning as she continued her battle. Each breath cost her strength, but every gulp of air also provided her with hope. The need to survive was the only thought in her mind. It was a pulsing demand she made of herself. She fought harder but felt her strength waning. The current forced her head down again, leaving her immersed in a watery world where she couldn’t find any means of deducing which way was up.
Cora felt the lack of air stealing her consciousness. Wasn’t it especially cruel of Fate to allow her to notice her life slipping away?
No, it was a beacon of hope! She wanted her life. Every last second of it was worth fighting for.
She pushed against a rock and shoved off in a direction she hoped was up. A flash of lightning was her reward, and she broke through the surface of the water. She clawed at a rock, finding one that was no bigger than her hand. She grasped it with her fingers, fighting against the chill in her flesh, willing herself to hold on as she kicked and flailed.
The side of her face landed on the sand. She choked and spat out a mouthful of water but gained a second breath and then a third. The burning in her lungs started to subside, making way for a blistering hot rise of pain from her arms and legs. It was so intense, she felt her breath freeze in her chest.
No. She would draw breath!
Cora sucked in air and gritted her teeth against the rise of pain.
She couldn’t hurt if she wasn’t alive.
That thought was a victory. She struggled to her feet, her dress heavy with water. Her legs protested standing, but Cora lifted a fist toward the sky.
“Is that all that ye have?” She demanded of the churning storm above her. Thunder rumbled in response. A long sound like a growl before the lightning crackled across the dark mass of clouds. The flash of light illuminated the place where she stood. Showing her the river roaring by and the sandbar she’d managed to crawl onto.
And it showed her the form of a man standing four feet away.
Chapter Two
Siren.
A fabled creature of moonlight and the sea… Something feared and yet sought by sailors as they braved the ocean and challenged Fate’s unyielding mercy.
The storm was vicious.
Faolan bared his teeth and soaked in the raw violence of the night. Behind him, the two towers of his home held against the onslaught of the fury of the storm. Standing firm against the elements as they had for over a century.
His own flesh wouldn’t persevere as well.
Faolan didn’t let the morbid thought disturb him. He was accustomed to being lacking, or at least being told he didn’t measure up to the expectations of the world around him. He enjoyed the struggle life presented. Strength came from refusing to buckle beneath everything Fate threw at him.
Tonight, Fate tossed a siren onto the rocks at his feet. He was drawn to her just as completely as the sailors of myth and lore. But she surprised him because instead of attempting to tempt him close with lyrical enticements, she bared her teeth and faced the storm.
“Is that all ye have?” she demanded.
The sky rumbled with an answer, growling at her like a hungry bear. The lightning flashed, affording him a view of her face. She was smiling with the victory of surviving the river’s rage. He’d grant her that feeling, for the water was tearing at the edges of the bank, ripping rocks and trees away. It seemed winter wasn’t planning to wait until Samhain to rake its claws across the land.
The siren was due her measure of accomplishment for surviving.
The lightning gave her a view of him. Her head tilted in his direction as her eyes widened. Darkness wrapped around them both a moment later, stealing any further details of her away from Faolan. The wind was howling around them. He had no idea if sirens were the same as other women when it came to manners they expected men to have, but it mattered very little at that moment because all that was important was survival.
Another crack of lightning showed him the way her frame shook. Soaked to the skin, the wind was biting into her. The river had failed to kill her quickly with drowning; now the water was going to continue to try and claim her life by freezing her.
He wouldn’t let it happen.
Faolan reached out and closed his hand around her wrist. Her flesh was chilled where his fingers touched it. She turned her face toward his, her teeth bared against the onslaught of the storm. Her strength of spirit impressed him, sparking something inside him that was just as determined to keep her out of the jaws of death. He pulled her along, fighting against the wind and the mud to make it back to shelter. She struggled with her skirts. The fabric was waterlogged and plastered to her legs. He could feel her arm trembling. But a glance behind him showed him that her teeth were set, her jaw tight as she forced herself to take the next step. There was no hint of surrender on her face.
But where her spirit might be willing, her flesh had limits.
So, he’d force her to keep moving.
Because he didn’t want to find himself digging her grave when the storm broke.
*
Cora gasped.
The wind stole the sound in a second as though she’d never uttered it.
The fingers wrapped around her wrist were so warm.
Hot really.
The surge of victory she’d used to stand was fading now; her perception of how warm his fingers were drove home just how chilled she was. She felt the cold in her bones, which meant if she wanted to live to see the dawn, she needed to warm herself.
Whoever he was, he knew it, too. He turned and pulled her along behind him. The rain pelted his wide shoulders, the wet fabric of his clothing sticking to his frame. He kept his pace slow as they traversed a section of bare rock, which was made slick by the heavy amount of water. Once they reached the regular ground, he moved faster. Her skirts were sticking to her legs, too heavy with water. She struggled against them, fighting to lengthen her stride.
If he noticed, his pace never faltered.
A crack of lightning brightened the scene, affording her a glimpse at a pair of dark towers. They were built of stone, the surface of them glistening. Whoever he was, he must have called them home, for he moved toward one with steady purpose. When he stopped, he released her wrist so he could use both hands to open the door. The wind fought him. But he persisted until the door was pried open in the face of the wind.
She was half blown inside. He followed her, allowing the door to shut behind them.
The air inside was hot on her cheeks. Cora immediately realized how hard she was shaking. She clamped her mouth shut to keep them from shredding her tongue, while she wrapped her arms around her middle in an attempt to gain control over her body.
But it wasn’t to be. Escaping from the river appeared to have used up her share of luck. It wasn’t that she truly felt as though it was unfair, for surviving the night certainly was a feat. Only now, her knees were buckling, and no amount of protest from her pride was going to stop her collapse onto the floor.
But her companion kept her from hitting the ground.
“We must get ye free of yer wet clothing, lass,” he offered before reaching for the tie holding her dress closed. “Ye’ll die from the cold if ye do nae get warm.”
She knew he was correct.
“I…can…do it…” She forced her lips to allow her to form the words. Her companion offered her a doubtful look but withdrew his hand.