CHAPTER 47
Catherine was flying. At least that's what it felt like until her dizzy senses came into focus. No, she wasn't flying. She was being carried. The large arm that held her firmly to the saddle on the wild horse squeezed so tightly she felt her ribs would break with a flick of the Dullahan's strong fingers.
The Dullahan was an Irish fae creature of death. He was clad completely in black, and―daring to look―she saw he carried his head on the other side of the saddle she was trapped against. Sparks from the horse's snorting nostrils pelted her. She could feel the raging steed's muscles moving rapidly beneath her. Her constantly slipping hand struggled to prop her up.
Catherine couldn't see a way out. Growing up, she'd heard the numerous Irish folklore stories of such a creature. S
