The Highlander's Curse (Legions of Fate)

The Highlander's Curse (Legions of Fate) - Chapter One

The Highlander’s Curse

Legions of Fate

 By

Katalyn Sage

Published by

Katalyn Sage 

www.katalynsage.com

Copyright © 2013 Katalyn Sage

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

This sample is marked as suitable for many audiences, but please keep in mind that the full-length novel is best suited for mature (18+) audiences.

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CHAPTER ONE

“Is it true what they say, about what’s under a Scot’s kilt?” I waggled my eyebrows at a pair of spindly old legs as their owner loped past my table and joined a group of men.

Shannon glanced at the geriatric, a loud laugh escaping her as she took in the pastiness of his legs that were blinding between the bottom of his kilt and the top of his stretched argyle socks. After a lot of searching on my part, I’d found him to be the only man in the pub that wore a kilt. A fact that was more than slightly disappointing. On the upside though, the pub was exactly as I’d imagined a tavern in Scotland would be: lined wall-to-wall with Scottish men who were bantering in their awesome accents and having a good time. Many were packed with muscle, and somehow sported tans despite the fact that rain and clouds covered the skies nearly all the time—or so I’d been told—while others were small in stature and looked like they hadn’t seen the sun in years.

Aside from Shannon and myself, there was only one other woman in the bar, and she was behind the mahogany and brass counter, serving up drinks as fast as they were ordered, in addition to handling food requests that were hollered at her from every direction. It was a wonder she could keep up, with as fast as these Highlanders were downing their liquor. There were also a few goth guys huddled over their drinks at the bar, one of which could have possibly been a woman—not that I could really tell, so I left that one clumped in with the more masculine sex.

As I looked around the pub, my gaze landed once more on the creepy guy in the corner. I’d spotted him the minute we’d walked into the bar, the sight of him giving me the willies.

He still did, too.

Wearing a hooded cloak, the man slouched over his drink in the far corner of the room, as far as possible from any natural light that filtered in through the windows. No portion of his face could be seen, despite my multiple attempts at squinting in his direction. And, unless I’d missed any movement in that corner of the room, he’d been nursing that same drink since we’d walked through the door. I seriously doubted I’d missed anything going on there though, since one eye had been practically glued to his corner for the last ten minutes. Discreetly, of course.