Scáthach is the Warrior Goddess from the Isle of Skye. When a young boy pleads for the goddess to guide his Uncle Trey, his prayers do not go unheard. However, she is surprised to find, Trey Brennan, not on a battlefield but in a hospital room, hooked to monitors, his body rejecting a bone marrow transplant. She would accept the challenge and educate Trey in the art of warfare. A war was a war no matter where the battle was held. Be it on the fields of heather with an army or an illness attacking the body. Both held the enemy that needed to be defeated.
Trey Brennan knew he was dying, but he awakes in another realm where the goddess Scáthach wants to teach him to be a warrior. He is sure he’s dreaming, but what did he have to lose? He would train and he would fight. Perhaps his destiny on the Isle of Skye would also change his path in his world.
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She’d see if this man was worthy to have her as a teacher. If so, she would give him the tools to battle this, making him a warrior. She lifted his arm and read the nametag attached to his wrist. “Trey Brennan.” Her gaze shifted to his face. His eyes had fluttered open at the sound of her voice. The catlike eyes were an amber color, warm and intelligent. “Are you a fighter?” she asked.
He appeared confused by her question, his eyebrows drawing together, giving him a fierce look, a warrior’s glare.
“Are you a fighter?” she repeated the question.
His brows smoothed and his gaze gave her an appreciative once over. “You’re beautiful. Are you an angel?”
She had been called many things. Angel was not one of them. “No. I want your word that you’ll fight to live. I will not waste my time on someone who will surrender at the first sight of a battle.”
He glanced at his nephew still asleep in the chair. “I don’t want to die.”
“Then you must listen to me.”
He nodded his head. “I will do anything. I’m all Joey has. His parents died five years ago. If I’m gone he’ll have no one to care for him.”
Joey was the boy’s name. Trey had raised him then. Good, she thought. He will work hard, knowing he must survive for his nephew. All warriors had to have a purpose or else the fight wouldn’t matter. Win or die would not make a difference. In this case, survival had to be something he wanted, something he would strive to have. She gave him a curt nod. “Then I accept you for my student.”
His lips curved at the corners.
Nice full lips meant for kissing, she thought.
“This is a nice dream.” His voice was a deep masculine baritone. “You're beautiful.”
She leaned close so she could whisper in his ear. “Work hard and you may win me as well. Aye?”