She scoured through her bag. There was a candy bar in there somewhere.

Although she had no experience with "instincts," certain underlining truths smoldered in her belly. Euan was alive. The gut feeling that told her he lived was coming from the same place that pushed her toward the Pookah.

Frick.

Euan was a smart, powerful man. He must have known she was going to morph into a hottie with great breasts and killer hair. Which was probably the reason behind the letter he'd sent her last week. Except she'd been too late. Euan was gone and now it was her turn to come through for her grandfather.

Izel might not be a full-blooded Fionn, but she was Euan's granddaughter. She had felt his spirit slip from the Earth realm the day the letter had arrived. No, Euan wasn't dead, he was just no longer present on Earth.

Her hands returned to the bag. Seriously, where was that freaking chocolate!

Now, more than ever, she needed to locate the Campbell clan. Although Euan never spoke of them, they were her best bet in securing her grandfather. All Fionns had some kind of magical essence. Mystics had magic in their blood, and Poets had it in their lips and words. Warriors possessed power in their muscles and physical strength. Izel wondered what her powers would be, if any. She glanced around the dreary forest fearing the trouble that lay within. A fleet of Warriors would come in handy right about now.

Although she was experiencing a sense of nervousness, she was surprised that handling these emotional waves didn't seem as daunting as it had when she'd first transformed. Fear, anger, hate, lust. Her pulse picked up. It was still better than not feeling at all.

Her mind turned back to the Pookah.

When her body had flooded with feeling that first time, the jolt of emotions was overwhelming. Especially when she was hit with his emotions as well. She had felt Kelvin's essence buzz inside her, and for a split second caught a glimpse of his true self.

Perhaps that's why she wasn't as afraid of him as she should be. The anomaly of feeling Kelvin-literally under her skin-had not only shocked her but enlightened her. It was as if, for the briefest moment, they were one soul.

She groaned. Although her mind didn't understand what the eff was going on, her body sure as hell recognized Kelvin. Wanted Kelvin.

Traitorous body.

Just then, she felt the leather-bound book she had snagged from her grandfather's cottage. She'd stealthily grabbed the book and shoved it in her pack. And she was glad she had.

The brown hide was thick, the paper stiff. It reeked of dust and crackled when she opened the cover. She could barely see faint scribbles on the first page. Turns out humans have pretty weak eyesight. Bummer.

Izel scooted into a beam of moonlight. And there she saw it: a small square cutout. Inside was hidden a silver chain that held a small vial of clear liquid. Euan had in fact left this for her. Sliding the necklace over her head, she stuffed the small bottle under her shirt, reasoning that anything left on a chain was meant to be worn and kept close.

As she flipped to the second page she saw a date in the upper corner, underneath the gold leafing. It was her birthday. This was no book; this was a journal. She squinted, barely making out the script.

Izel Rose, Drink a sip at a time. It will disguise your scent for a short while. Never forget, you're a Campbell. You come from a long line of great men. You, though, are a miracle.

With Love, Grandpa E.

She placed a hand against her chest, pressing her palm over the vial hidden beneath her shirt. Disguise my scent?

The sound of Kelvin's clomping feet neared.

She shut the book and jammed it back into the bottom of her bag, deciding to keep the Pookah on a need-to-know basis. She wasn't sure what to expect with Kelvin. Trusting him to keep her alive was one thing. But trusting him with her secrets or her body was something else entirely.

He trekked through the trees, flinging a rabbit, a massive amount of wood, and an armful of oversized leaves to the ground.

"Souvenir from the outlands there?" Izel asked, not recalling the obscenely large foliage.

"Dinner and bed," he answered, arranging the stalks beside her.

He was making her a bed? Nothing about this Scot made any sense. She knew Kelvin wasn't particularly fond of her grandfather. The way he sneered every time he said "the Mystic" was a dead giveaway. And she still wasn't sure why he'd wanted to kill her in the first place. Ten bucks said it was merely because she was related to Euan Campbell.

True, Kelvin was a Scottish ruffian, but he wasn't the savage beast he pretended to be. She had to wonder if Kelvin Kerr had ever once put another before himself. Nevertheless, he was here, in the middle of the night, being kind to her.

After he finished aligning her "mattress," he set to building a fire.

"Yes!" she sighed, pulling a half-eaten Snickers bar from her pack and taking a heaping bite. She chewed deliberately, telling herself she didn't give a rat's ass about the Pookah.

Okay, maybe a rat's ass. But definitely not two!

The chocolate instantly melted inside her mouth and the caramel stuck to her back teeth. Mmm, so good. The candy bar was gone in two bites.

She tried not to stare at the sinfully chiseled man before her. Tried not to notice the way his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his broad shoulders and rippling abs. Tried not to tilt her head in examination as he moved.

"Will we reach town tomorrow?" she asked.

Kelvin's body tensed and he peered over his shoulder. "No. No town."

"But where will we get a car?"

"We won't."

"Then how will we get to-"

"We walk," he said with exasperation, then returned his full attention to building the fire.

Izel was all for exercise, but the only reason she had eventually hiked to get to her grandfather's cottage in the first place was because there literally was no other way to get there. Now that she thought about it, there wasn't so much as a trail through the forest, let alone a road. And cell-phone towers? Forget it! She wondered how his phone seemed to work and assumed he had some kind of special service or connection.

"I don't understand. Surely we can get some kind of vehicle?"

He didn't even bother facing her. "The Kerr stronghold is not easily accessible. No vehicle could make that kind of trek." His dark brow rose when he quickly stole a look at her face. "Besides, staying far away from roads, towns, and anything that involves others is in your best interest."

The fire crackled to life. The glow of light made his tan skin glisten and shine. She stifled a moan and clamped her thighs together. She would ignore him. Ignore the tingles on her spine and the wetness between her legs.

Inhaling a shaky breath, she pinched the bridge of her nose. This was the worse wave yet.

"Another spell?"

She looked up and found him sitting across the fire, eyeing her intently. So he was thoughtful now?

Silently nodding, she turned away from him. Straining for control, another wave hit before she could even get a handle on the first rush of feelings. This surge of emotion was stronger than the last.

Lust. Raw, raging lust. It coursed through her veins, her whole body burning with it. She pressed her palm against her forehead and tried to slow her breathing. She focused her energy on not wanting to taste the sculpted body of the Pookah in front of her.

"Think of other things. Think of other things," she quietly chanted.

"Lass?"

She had to be hallucinating because she could have sworn she heard worry in Kelvin's tone. She spun back around and faced him, fists at her side, fingernails digging into her flesh. Her eyes met his.

In a sultry voice she didn't recognize, she pleaded, "Distract me."

Chapter 5.

Distract her?

God, if she only knew what he really wanted to do to her. Kelvin watched her gently sway with her head in her hands. Poor lass was getting bombarded by aftershocks of her transformation. He wanted to pull her small body against his and rock with her- No! He should be happy she was suffering. Not fantasizing about what her skin would feel like against his.

He stared into the fire, certain the blaze of hate within himself was far hotter than the coals before him. This chit was affecting him in a way he didn't like. Hell, the fact that she was affecting him at all sat ill.

His teeth gnashed together. And I can't "physically hurt her."

He looked at the brand on his wrist. It had appeared the moment he'd agreed to Izel's terms. The sodding thing wouldn't disappear until the bargain was fully completed, or Izel released him from it. A humorous laugh escaped his mouth. Christ, he was in a contract with a Campbell. His father would turn over in his grave.

He could have, should have, just knocked her out, but he was to deliver her unharmed. Not to mention, one blow to the head from an immortal would likely kill a human.

When her exotic scent danced in front of his nose, he clenched his fists. He was so hyperaware of her it bordered on obsessive. Her presence was overwhelming him again. He wasn't lying when he said she made him uncomfortable. Christ, "uncomfortable" was an understatement. This little female made him crazed.

His gaze was rapt on her, recalling her delicate hands stroking her shoulders and drinking from the canteen. When a drop of water strayed from her lips and down her jaw, he had actually envisioned licking the liquid from her neck.

He shifted his hips, subtly attempting to adjust his incessant erection. For the hundredth time tonight, his shaft was as hard as a rock. "Ah, shite," he mumbled under his breath.

Whatever this bond was, Kelvin didn't welcome it. And by God, he would fight it. At least until he figured out what to do, or Ian got back to him with some damn information. Because one would be utterly stupid to fuck with the Dryads. His eyes continued to look over the female before him. She was still struggling with who knows what emotion.

Distract her?

Kelvin thought for a moment about how to proceed.

If she knew of his people's hatred for hers, she would have let on by now, right? What kind of information did the Mystic pass on to her? Did she know of her prophecy? These were questions he needed answers to, but how to retrieve them?

Still shaking from the intensity of the mystical aftermath, he tilted his head in examination. Could this wobbling little human really possess realm-defying powers?

"Ya must be hungry," he said, removing a dagger from his belt and picking up the rabbit. Her green eyes shot between him and the animal. A look of disgust came over her face.

"Thanks, but no thanks," she answered while palming her throat.

"You canna eat that measly chocolate and expect to have strength for our journey. We need ta make good time tomorrow, and I donna want ya slowing us down."

Her eyes turned to slits and she gave him a heated glare. "What is your deal?" she snapped. "Are you always a jerk to people? It's not like I'm thrilled to be traipsing through the goddamn old country with you."

Keeping his gaze down, he began skinning the rabbit.

"What is your issue with speed, anyway? It's not like you're getting older by the day."

Kelvin didn't take his eyes from his task. "I wanna get ya outta the forest as soon as possible. Your human scent is strong and bound ta draw unwanted attention." And I canna be near you on the Solstice.

Her eyes widened as if he had just spilled some big secret. After a moment, she settled and looked him square in the face. "Unwanted attention, huh?"

"Do you know anything about my kind?" he asked, desperate to redirect the conversation. He was inadvertently upsetting her. And if she was angry, she was less likely to give up information. His best bet was to befriend her. Earn her trust.

Maybe he could soften her by offering up useless intel of his own. Women liked chatting. Yammering on and on, constantly trying to get males to "share their feelings." Kelvin gave himself an imaginary pat on the back. Aye. Good plan.

Izel faced him fully, her previous "emotional episode" seeming to settle. "Not really," she shrugged, "though I heard once that you come in threes, like Fionns."

"We are no' like Fionns," he spat the words. "You have traits where we have instincts."

Rolling her eyes, she shifted, giving him her side.

He sighed. "Yes, there are three breeds o' Pookah."

She spun back, facing him again. Kelvin grinned. So she was curious about him. Although he'd never admit it out loud, the thought pleased him.

"I am a Razorback, but there are also Wolverine and Bear Pookahs."

Her eyes were locked on him, fascination radiating from her. "What makes you different?"

He looked down at his moving blade. "Being a Razorback comes with"-he thought for a moment how to present this-"consequence."

She put her elbow on her knee and rested her jaw in her palm. "What kind of consequence?"

He finally had her attention.

Maybe if I befriend her, tell her some things about myself, I can gain her trust and she'll answer my questions.

Simple.

If Ian wanted to know how much Izel was privy to, Kelvin was on the right track.

"There are different rules, so ta speak, with each breed. Different variables set us off."

Izel straightened and he heard her gulp. "What sets you off?"

Her wide, innocent eyes were staring straight at him. He couldn't help smirking. "Several things," he replied coyly. "More specifically, it's the night. The darkness."

She gave him a questioning look.

"Darkness brings my animal instincts to the surface," he clarified.

Now she jolted completely upright. "Are you saying that every night you turn into a pig?"

"No." He retorted quickly, eyes going back to the rabbit in his hands. "I told you, I'm no' a shifter. No changing."