Midnight's Temptation

by Donna Grant

  “Ah, but our gods were pulled from Hell by magic. We doona have magic.”

  “You’re magical enough for the selmyr to want to eat you.”

  Phelan chuckled. “True enough, beauty.”

  “So, what other magical beings are walking about?”

  He pointed to the water. “Why do you think they call this the Fairy Pool?”

  “Surely not for fairies. They don’t exist.”

  He didn’t argue with her, just smiled patiently.

  “Tell me,” she urged.

  “Scotland has many myths and legends about magic and magical beings. Druids were real. What makes you think none of the others are?”

  Aisley looked at the water. It looked so inviting. She turned on her heel and began looking for a way down to the water.

  It didn’t take her long to discover a narrow trail that was nearly covered by the tall grass. Aisley was about to take her first step when Phelan’s arm wrapped around her waist.

  “Hold on, beauty,” he said just before he jumped off the side.

  Aisley’s gasp caught in her throat as the air whooshed around her. Phelan landed softly before he let her feet touch the flat stone he stood upon.

  “You come in handy,” she said with a laugh.

  His blue-gray eyes dropped to her lips. Heat filled Aisley as her breasts swelled and her nipples hardened. Her body ached for his. The hunger filling her was primal, unadulterated.

  Raw.

  Before they could kiss again, Phelan’s head snapped up. Aisley looked to where he was staring to find an older man with a gray beard hanging to his chest and penetrating black eyes.

  “What do you want here, Warrior?” the man demanded.

  Phelan moved so that she stood behind him. She leaned to see around his shoulder and get a better look at the old man. His shoulders were slightly bent, and he held a large walking stick in his right hand.

  Gray hair was pulled back in a neat queue at the base of his neck. He wore a plain, dark green military-like jacket over a tan shirt. Black pants and boots completed his outfit.

  Phelan let out a slow breath. “We’re looking for you, actually.”

  “Why?”

  “We’ve found information that the Druids of Skye could help contain the selmyr.”

  At the mention of the creatures, Aisley saw the old man’s body give a slight jerk. So they knew what the selmyr were. Maybe Phelan had been right in wanting to come here.

  “Who are you?” the man asked.

  “Phelan Stewart. I bring a Druid descended from your line—Aisley. And your name?”

  The old man’s gaze came to rest on Aisley. She refused to look away. Why should an old man cower her when Jason hadn’t been able to? Somehow she stood her ground.

  “Corann,” the man answered. “You’ve found us, but whether we help or no’ remains to be seen, Warrior.”

  Phelan squeezed her hand and started to follow Corann when he walked away. Aisley hesitated a moment wondering why Corann had looked at her so strangely.

  “Don’t do it,” came a female voice behind her.

  Aisley turned to see the same vivid blue eyes from earlier staring at her. Up close she could tell the Druid was only in her early twenties. “Don’t do what?”

  “Tell Phelan your secret.”

  “He needs to know,” Aisley whispered. She scrunched her face as she looked at the woman before her. “Who are you? And how did you know?”

  “I’m Ravyn. I know because the wind told me.”

  “Then you understand he has to be told. He has a right.”

  Sadness came over Ravyn’s face. “I know, but you can’t do it here. If you do, Phelan will kill you as you’ve guessed. Then we’d have to kill him for harming you.”

  “I don’t understand.” Aisley rubbed the back of her neck where a dull pain had begun. “You know I’m drough. I’m connected to Jason Wallace. I can stop my cousin, if I give in to the evil. And then my death is the answer.”

  “Perhaps. But you’ll not tell Phelan on Skye. Not if you want our help with the selmyr.”

  It was blackmail plain and simple. Yet, Aisley accepted Ravyn’s threat. After all, Aisley wasn’t ready to tell Phelan anything and spoil what they had.

  Aisley turned to look at Phelan and Corann. Phelan stood head and shoulders above those around him. He commanded attention with his good looks and the self-assured way he held himself.

  He could have been a great lord or even a powerful ruler had Deirdre not taken him. But it didn’t matter what century Phelan was in. He was a man others took notice of and respected.

  “You love him,” Ravyn stated. “But you must wait to share your secret. Phelan is needed.”

  “I know he’s needed. He’s important in the fight against evil. To harm him just because he’d be doing the right thing in killing me is absurd.”

  Aisley had heard enough. She started after Phelan only to feel Ravyn move up behind her. Her voice, when it reached Aisley, was barely above a whisper. The wind swept through her hair at the exact moment, sending a tingling along her skin.

  “He’s a prince.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-TWO

  MacLeod Castle

  Camdyn MacKenna tapped his finger on the table absently. The evening meal was over, but no one left the great hall. He missed being in his own home, a home he and Saffron had built outside the shield protecting the castle.

  He’d brought his wife and daughter to the castle to keep them safe, but he was beginning to wonder if there was such a place. Before, there had never been a question. Everyone gathered at the castle.

  The combination of magic within the stones and the magic of the Druids, along with the Warriors’ powers made the castle a stronghold few could get through.

  That no longer held true.

  He could see the strain of that knowledge on the face of every Warrior. The Druids weren’t immune to it either, but the women were better at hiding their anxiety.

  “I’d rather no’,” Broc’s voice rose to echo through the hall.

  Camdyn’s gaze swiveled to where Broc, Fallon, Arran, and Ramsey stood at the other end of the long wooden table. The conversation in the hall quieted as everyone turned their attention to the four men.

  “I’m no’ asking you to get him,” Fallon argued.

  Broc crossed his arms over his chest, his dark brown eyes narrowing dangerously. “That’s exactly what you want. Phelan told Charon he’d call when he had news.”

  “That’s no’ good enough!” Fallon bellowed.

  Arran held up his hands between the two men. “Easy, lads. We’re all testy here. Remember that.”

  Fallon inhaled deeply, never taking his eyes off Broc. “I need to know where Phelan is.”

  “Give a good reason then,” Ramsey stated calmly, his voice laced with a hard edge. “You’ve no’ told Broc why.”

  “Why do I need to?” Fallon demanded.

  One black brow rose in Ramsey’s forehead as his silver gaze coolly watched Fallon. “Common courtesy for one, my friend. You’ve never had a problem trusting Phelan before. Why are you concerned?”

  Camdyn rose from the bench and walked toward the group. “That’s easy to answer. Larena. I just doona understand why you need Phelan.”

  “His blood,” Fallon said as he began to pace. “I want his blood to try and help my wife.”

  Camdyn glanced at Saffron who stood with the other women near the hearth. He’d do anything for Saffron, so Camdyn understood why Fallon was so insistent on finding Phelan.

  “You need to leave Phelan out there,” Arran said into the silence.

  Fallon snorted. “Why? So he and Malcolm can continue to find nothing?”

  “Have you, Lucan, or Quinn discovered Wallace?” Broc asked angrily.

  Camdyn and Ramsey exchanged a glance. When Fallon looked at Camdyn he said, “It’s true. We’ve all known what you three have been about.”

  “So much for secrets,” Quinn mumbled
from his position leaning against the wall.

  Ramsey looked around the hall. “There are no secrets here. Everyone should know that.”

  “Leave Phelan alone,” Broc said. “We need him out there searching for Wallace.”

  Arran lowered his hands. “Phelan has a Druid with him now, so it willna be long before he brings her to us. We’ll talk to him then about helping Larena.”

  “It may be too late,” Fallon said as he stalked away.

  Camdyn watched him leave. He took a step to follow when Saffron’s sweet magic washed over him. Camdyn reached her just as her eyes began to swirl white with a vision.

  He caught her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. She was a Seer, which was a rarity in the Druid world, but he never got used to her having the visions.

  When Saffron finally blinked, tawny eyes stared up at him once more. “I know,” she whispered.

  “Know what, love?”

  “I know why Britt can’t finish her research on the drough blood.” Saffron swallowed hard, her fingers digging into his arm. “It’s Jason.”

  “What about him?” Lucan asked from beside them.

  Camdyn waited as impatiently as the others while Saffron let her mind wander through the flashes of scenes her magic gave her. The visions weren’t always clear. Sometimes it took Saffron days to work out exactly what her visions had been trying to tell her.

  Saffron stood with Camdyn’s help, though she didn’t let go of him. “Britt can search for all of eternity for a marker in the blood that will tell her what’s different about it and never find it.”

  Gwynn handed Saffron a glass of water and asked, “What do you mean?”

  Camdyn could feel the turmoil rolling off Saffron in waves through her magic. She was angry, frightened, and worried. He kept an arm around her to offer her as much support as he could.

  “There’s nothing scientific for Britt to find,” Saffron said. “Jason added more evil.”

  Hayden frowned and shook his head. “That doesna make sense. Droughs are already evil.”

  “So are the gods within us,” Logan pointed out. “If you go by that theory then the drough blood shouldna harm us.”

  Saffron moved out of Camdyn’s arms when Emma began to cry. It wasn’t until Saffron had their nine-month-old daughter in her arms that she was able to take a deep breath.

  “Drough blood is evil. What Jason has done is add in more evil.” Saffron kissed Emma’s head and met Camdyn’s gaze. “I saw it. I saw Jason asking Satan for help bringing us down. The answer was to make it that none of the Warriors would recover fully from drough blood.”

  Camdyn took Saffron’s hand and looked at his fellow Warriors. “Britt needs to stop looking for the marker and finish whatever she’s doing so that we can counter this new drough blood.”

  “That’s going to be damned difficult without the marker,” Britt said from the top of the stairs. “I need that marker to make an antidote. Whether magic was used on the blood or not, there is a marker. And I’ll find it.”

  Saffron stood and handed Emma to Camdyn. “Then I’ll help.”

  Camdyn waited until Saffron was out of sight before he turned to Fallon. “You’re no’ the only one wanting to protect a wife. We need to know where Wallace is.”

  “And I’ve been no help,” Broc said, his voice laced with anger. “Wallace is no’ on this world, no’ yet anyway.”

  Quinn rubbed his chin. “Between worlds maybe? That’s where Deirdre was.”

  “Does it matter?” Isla asked.

  Galen watched the green claws extend from his fingers. “Nay. Wallace will die like the droughs before him.”

  Broc clapped Galen on the shoulder. “We may no’ know where he’ll strike, but we know he’s coming. We’ve known less and won the battle.”

  “We’ll win this one as well,” Ramsey stated.

  * * *

  Agony sliced through him, sharp and intense. He cried out, though he had no voice, as his bones began to knit together. The anguish of it was borne because he knew he would have it all in the end.

  The torment of his muscles and tendons reforming was more torturous than his bones. Then came his flesh. It was horrific, the stinging of new skin tightening over his body made his lungs seize.

  It took a moment for him to realize he had organs once more. Before he could enjoy it, he was ripped from the nothingness.

  Rain pelted his skin as he opened his eyes to find himself squatting, his fingers braced on the ground. He dug his fingers into the wet grass and threw back his head.

  He let loose a bellow that had been locked inside him for what felt like eons. Slowly he stood and looked down at his hands.

  His bones cracked as he opened and closed his fingers. He drew in a deep breath and released it. His eyes were unfocused, and it took several blinks before he could see.

  A smile formed when he found himself standing in the backyard of his home. What remained of his mansion were black pillars and rubble everywhere.

  With a flick of his hand the mansion was restored to its former glory. He strode to the back door and walked in. A mirror in the long hallway caught his attention. He stopped and glanced down at his naked body before he met the blue eyes of his reflection.

  A smile that didn’t have an ounce of kindness or mercy turned up his lips. “I’m back.”

  His first order of business was Aisley. His cousin owed him her life.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-THREE

  Phelan wanted to look around the Fairy Pool more. It was the real Fairy Pool, not the tourist pools on Skye that were named after this one.

  Aisley’s gaze was trying to take it all in as Corann led them toward the cliff facing. Corann waved his hand in a wide sweeping motion and the rocks began to shimmer. Phelan’s body raced with excitement when the entrance to a cave appeared.

  Corann stepped through without looking back at them. Phelan put his hand on Aisley’s lower back and urged her forward when she hesitated. Phelan wasn’t sure how many Druids surrounded them since they remained hidden, but a young black-haired Druid that had spoken to Aisley earlier was the last to enter the cave.

  Phelan caught sight of hundreds of Celtic symbols marked along the walls of the narrow entrance before it opened into a low-hanging cavern.

  “This is as far as you go,” Corann said as he stopped and faced him.

  Fire flared between Phelan and Corann, the flames hopped erratically and danced in Corann’s black eyes that watched him. Phelan had nothing to hide. He remained still while Corann finished his inspection.

  “You could’ve done this outside,” Phelan said.

  Corann grunted and lowered himself to a log that had been cut to make a stool. He kept his hand on the walking stick and placed his other on top of his thigh. “I could’ve. I preferred no’ to.”

  “You wanted to see if I could enter the cave,” he said as realization hit.

  A smile flitted across Corann’s aged face. “Aye. Does that anger you, Warrior?”

  “Should it?”

  “Hmm.” Corann ran his left hand down his beard. “Sit. We’ll talk.”

  Phelan lowered himself to another log stool. When Aisley didn’t follow, he turned his head to find her staring at Corann. Phelan took her hand and tugged her down to the stool beside him.

  “What is it?” he asked in a whisper.

  Aisley shook her head, not meeting his gaze.

  “You’ve been attacked,” Corann said to Aisley.

  She covered the tears in her shirt with her hand. “Phelan healed me.”

  “We saw.”

  “You watched as I was attacked and did nothing?”

  Phelan was glad Aisley asked the question, because it had been on the tip of his tongue.

  Corann shrugged. “We were too far away.”

  “Ballocks.”

  Aisley said it softly, but the impact was like a punch. Phelan inwardly smiled at the spirit of his Druid.

  “Would you r
ather hear that we didn’t want to help you?” the black-haired girl said.

  Corann’s head whipped to her direction. “Ravyn.”

  That’s all it took. One word and the young girl didn’t say another.

  “You doona trust us,” Phelan said. “We understand this. As I told you, we’ve come for your help and nothing more.”

  “Is that right?”

  Phelan felt Corann’s question was directed at him, but the old man’s eyes were on Aisley. Phelan leaned forward to brace his elbows on his thighs. “You know of the selmyr.”

  Corann gave a single nod.

  “Can you tell us nothing of them?” Aisley asked.

  “I can tell you that you’ll be safe on Skye. For a time. The selmyr will feed elsewhere until there is no more. Only then will they dare come to Skye.”

  Phelan ran a hand down his face, his mind running with possibilities. “How do magical beings fight the selmyr?”

  “You can no’. No’ unless you’re a Warrior.”

  That wasn’t what Phelan wanted to hear. “So Druids are at risk?”

  “Aye,” Corann said.

  “How did you contain the selmyr last time?”

  “It took my ancestors years. The selmyr should’ve remained trapped. What happened?”

  “You seem to know everything else,” Aisley said. “Why don’t you know this?”

  Corann said not a word as he looked from Aisley to Phelan.

  Phelan cocked his head to the side. “Things happen. We were busy fighting droughs. While we were searching for a spell that could bind the gods within us once more, a Druid accidentally released the selmyr.”

  “That is unfortunate.” Corann stood and began to pace in slow strides. “As I’m sure you’ve known since arriving on Skye, Warrior, our Druids are powerful. We doona have the same potent magic as my ancestors, but we’re still a force.”

  “Aye,” Phelan agreed.

  “Even with our magic, I doona know if it’s enough to capture the selmyr again.”

  “I see.” And Phelan did see. Corann was fearful of the selmyr, which told him that it had taken an incredible amount of magic and skill to trap the creatures before. “Is there any way Warriors can help capture the selmyr?”