by Donna Grant
“Still working on that,” Charon said before Phelan could.
Constantine turned back to the small group. “The others from the castle are no’ here. You wouldna be thinking of doing this alone, would you?”
Aisley cleared her throat and shrugged. “If we could take Jason unawares, there’s a chance we could end it all.”
“A chance. A slim chance.” Con looked at each of them in turn. “I know each Warrior has been given the serum to combat Jason’s drough blood, but it hasna been that long since the last battle. If anyone knows just how dangerous Wallace is, it’s you, Aisley.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I also know he’s brash and egotistical. He can be brought down.”
Con bowed his head to her. “If I learn anything new about Wallace, you four will be the first to know.”
With those parting words, Con opened the door and left. Phelan slid the door back into place and watched as Con got back into his Maserati and drove away.
“Well. That was interesting.”
Charon grunted. “Verra. Should we take a look at this antique shop?”
“Already done,” Laura said from her desk. She turned the monitor toward them. “The store doesn’t have a Web site, but there is such a place in Perth. It’s on King Street.”
“Does it say who the owner is?” Aisley asked.
Laura shook her head. Her moss-green eyes met Charon’s. “If it is a Dragon King—and with a name like The Silver Dragon I suspect it is—this is who Con is after.”
“Agreed,” Charon said. “I’m no’ sure what to make of this visit. A Dragon King who isna on Dreagan land.”
“We do nothing. For the moment.” Phelan walked to the couch and sank onto the cushion. “I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this. Con doesna want the other Dragon Kings to know what he’s up to. He expects us to look into this, and I’ve a feeling this is about Ulrik.”
“Ulrik?” Laura repeated with a frown. “What an unusual name, and one I’ve heard recently.”
Aisley nodded. “Remember when Rhys let it slip about one of the Dragon Kings who was on the outs? We didn’t hear the entire story.”
“Nor will we,” Phelan said as he rubbed his chin. “Rhys was quick to change the subject.”
Laura shrugged and propped her elbows on her desk. “They did allow us to have that battle on Dreagan land. Not to mention they helped us.”
Charon frowned thoughtfully. “All good points, sweetheart. I’m just no’ sure it’s enough. I doona want to make an enemy of any of the dragons, but if we side with Con on this, we could potentially be stepping in the middle of a minefield.”
“Look, I know the Kings have come to your aid before. It’s just…” Aisley trailed off and bit her lip.
Phelan leaned forward and braced an elbow on his thigh. “Go on, babe. Finish your thought.”
Aisley inhaled a breath to speak, then held it a second before releasing it in a rush. “I just … I just think it’s odd that Con and the others know so much about so very much, but they aren’t helping us with Wallace. Why is that?”
“Because it’s our problem,” Charon said.
“Bugger that,” Laura said angrily. “Jason has tried to kill all of us. Repeatedly. What would happen if he succeeded and there were no more Druids to take a stand, or Warriors who could fight him? Where would that leave the great and mighty Dragon Kings then?”
Charon smiled and walked to his wife. He leaned down and kissed her. “I love when that temper of yours comes out.”
“She’s right though,” Phelan said.
Charon straightened and braced a hand on the back of Laura’s chair. “Maybe. We battled Deirdre without help from the dragons. Same with Declan. We can take Jason as well.”
“Yes, we can,” Aisley said with a firm nod of agreement.
Phelan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, worry niggling in his gut. Even though Aisley was a Phoenix and could come back to life, he wasn’t quite ready to test that theory again so soon. He had shattered when she’d died. He’d known then he would never be the same, never look at anything the same after having her in his life.
She’d been returned to him, but those few days had been a worse kind of hell than anything Deirdre had done to him. Aisley was his life, his very reason for continuing. Losing her wasn’t an option.
But he saw her need for revenge burning in her fawn-colored depths. Wallace had used her daughter, the infant who had died hours after being born, against her.
Phelan held out his hand, and Aisley eagerly took it. He pulled her into his lap and simply held her. “Tell me of Wallace’s weaknesses.”
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Evie tried to concentrate on her work, work she did to help pass the time. But her thoughts turned again and again to Malcolm.
She’d never met anyone with so much pain and torment bottled within them. If Malcolm didn’t release it, he could well explode from the force of it. A person could only stand so much.
He didn’t seem the type to want—or need—help, however. All Evie could do was try to be there for him when he opened up a fraction. It wasn’t much, but at least he was talking about some of the things that pained him.
There was a depth to Malcolm that staggered her. He was intelligent, yes, but the depth was due to the things that had happened to him.
With his hatred of droughs and his cousin being a Warrior, it wasn’t far-fetched to think that somehow a Druid had hurt him in the past.
A ding signaling a new e-mail had her clicking over from her work screen to the e-mails. Her heart hammered in her chest when she noticed it was the e-mail corresponding to her site.
The subject read: Fellow Druid.
Evie’s hand shook as she opened the e-mail and read it aloud. “Hello. I came across your site and knew instantly that I’d found another Druid. I’ve been hoping to find another of us. Would love to talk more. Sincerely, J.”
Minutes ticked by as Evie sat with her hands on the keyboard trying to decide how to answer. Or if to answer.
She was suspicious of everyone, so she contemplated ignoring the e-mail. At the same time she gloried in the fact she could communicate with a potential Druid. How could she pass that up?
For several minutes she sat there staring at the screen. She hit delete and started to return to her work, when she paused. What could it hurt just to respond to the e-mail? It wasn’t as if she was meeting with the unknown person.
Evie bit her lip and went to the Trash file and found the e-mail. She dashed off a quick response telling J that she would love to talk more, but it would have to be through e-mail and hit send before she changed her mind.
But even as the e-mail winged its way through cyberspace, she regretted it.
It was less than a minute after she sent it off that J replied. Evie chuckled to herself at the innocent message that was returned. That’s when she realized she was being entirely too paranoid.
She smiled when she read the response asking her how long she’d been practicing magic.
“All my life,” she said as she typed and hit send.
That’s all it took for the correspondence to begin. For the next hour they communicated. She learned J was a man and lived right there in Scotland. He told her how he’d only just come into his magic a few years ago and was still sorting things out. It was his mention of a book of spells that intrigued her.
Evie really wanted to see that book. J even offered to let her look at it if she met him for coffee. Which she politely declined.
She was careful not to tell him too much about herself. It would’ve been better had she told him she lived in America or something, but she was excited to find a Druid so close she hadn’t been able to pass up the chance to let him know.
Besides, he was in need of other Druids just as she was. He tried to hide how lonely he was, but she could tell in the way he worded things.
If only she didn’t feel the necessity to hide, she’d already
have agreed to meet him. Just thinking of all they could be sharing about magic made her excitement bloom.
It was that same exhilaration that had her looking to tell someone. She closed her laptop and stood. “Is Malcolm in the mountain?” she asked the stones.
“Nay.”
“Will you bring me to where he’s been staying?”
The stones were reluctant, but eventually they set her on the right path. Evie was a little surprised to find she was back in the dark chamber from the other night.
She took a deep breath and caught a whiff of fresh air. It didn’t surprise her too much because she knew there were several vents located throughout the mountain. But the breath she’d gotten was filled with fresh air.
Evie cautiously walked forward, the stones guiding her all the while. When she came to a boulder or wall—she couldn’t tell which—the shadows began to fade as light filtered in.
As soon as she turned the corner, she caught sight of the opening. It was about three feet high and two feet wide. The light she saw was lightning that lit up the sky.
She walked closer to the opening to kneel down and glanced outside. The rain splashed down on the ledge, causing the water to bounce up on her. When the lightning forked across the sky again she caught sight of just how far up she was and the majestic view of the mountains around her.
“My God,” she breathed reverently. She wanted to see the same view during the day.
So this is where Malcolm stayed? Now she understood. Evie stood and took a few steps back. “Make the opening bigger so Malcolm can stand in it without bumping his head or shoulders.”
The stones complied instantly. With the mountain shaking beneath her feet, she watched as the opening widened and lengthened.
“Thank you,” she told the stones.
Evie gave the stones a pat and turned around. This was Malcolm’s place. She didn’t want to intrude more than she already had. The fact she wanted to know more about him didn’t seem to faze her. The fact he was private and volatile didn’t daunt her.
The fact that he caused her blood to sing and her body to throb with desire only pushed her onward.
For whatever reason Malcolm was in her life. She knew he didn’t particularly care for her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t ogle him whenever he was near. He was a splendid specimen, even with his scars.
She frowned. Not “even with.” Because of.
Yes, she was beyond curious to know how he came to have the scars, and why he seemed to have such personal hatred for Deirdre. That wasn’t the only reason she wanted to know him.
It was the deadness, the numbness she saw in his beautiful azure eyes that pulled at her heartstrings. There would be no changing a man like Malcolm. He would always do what he wanted to do.
Changing him she didn’t want. She just wished to be near him. If she could somehow help him, then she would gladly do it.
“Why?” the stones asked.
Evie turned and walked out of the chamber. Instead of going left to return to her room, she turned right and found herself descending deeper into the mountain.
“Because,” she answered. “He’s unusual. And he needs a friend whether he wants to admit it or not.”
“He should leave.”
“Tell me why none of you like him,” she urged.
The stones all answered at once, their voices mixing and ringing in her ears as each shouted to be heard over the other. They were talking over each other so loudly she couldn’t hear any of them.
Evie stopped and put her hand over her ears. “Stop!”
Instantly, the stones quieted.
She dropped her hands and waited for her ears to stop ringing from the onslaught. “Obviously there are many reasons. Just give me one.”
“Betrayer.”
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Evie let the stones’ word soak in before she started walking again. There had to be more to the story, more to why the stones had such a hatred for Malcolm to call him a betrayer.
Not that either Malcolm or the stones would tell her the truth.
Evie wandered the long corridors without asking the stones anything else about Malcolm. They in turn said no more about him. It was a truce of sorts.
But how she wanted to know more. Regardless of how dangerous she knew it could be, there was something about Malcolm Munro she couldn’t leave alone.
It was that curiosity she had been plagued with since birth. It had already gotten her into an awful mess, but Malcolm was … different. His scars notwithstanding, he was an enigma she wanted to solve.
She came across many chambers. Most were small with dark stains on the floor. Evie had a distinct feeling those stains were blood. She didn’t stay in those rooms long.
Somehow, she made it back to the cavern she’d seen days before. Except this time she was looking up at the balcony. A look around the spacious area showed her broken tables and benches strewn about.
It looked as if someone had come in and destroyed everything with a wrecking ball. Or something incredibly strong.
“Like Warriors,” she whispered.
There was a loud crack behind her. Evie whirled around to see a section of the floor dropping down. She walked to it and looked into what appeared to be caves on either side of a wide area.
“What is this?” she asked the stones.
“The Pit. Veryyyyyyy useful for Deirdre.”
“How?” she asked with a shudder. What light came through wasn’t enough to see more than the outline of openings on either wall beneath her.
“It was used to break Warriors to her will.”
Well. She’d asked, after all. “Were the MacLeods held here?”
“Aye. Quinn. Marcail ruined it all.”
Now that wasn’t something she’d expected to hear. “How? How did Marcail ruin things?”
Never mind the fact the stones confirmed a MacLeod brother had been held there. That alone made her heart thud against her ribs.
“Deirdre wanted Quinn for herself. He should’ve been herssssss.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t always get what we want. So Quinn and Marcail were together?”
“Yessss. Deirdre tried to kill her. Then the others came for Quinn. They killed Deirdre’s Warriors and her wyrran.”
Evie straightened and swallowed. “There was a battle here?”
“Fallon and Lucan came for Quinn.”
Fallon, Lucan, and Quinn MacLeod. Interesting. “You said Deirdre tried to kill Marcail. So she failed?”
“Barely.”
“You enjoy death, don’t you?”
“Deirdre was our mistressssssss.”
Evie realized things were getting a bit creepy regarding Deirdre and the connection to the stones. Malcolm’s warning ran through her mind, but Evie decided to remain within the mountain. She wasn’t Deirdre. Nor was she evil. “What are the wyrran?”
“Creatures Deirdre created,” Malcolm said from behind her.
Evie spun around in surprise. Her foot slipped on the edge. She flailed her arms wildly in an effort to keep her balance and not go falling into the Pit.
Suddenly, she was yanked against a chest of solid, unyielding muscle. Evie flattened her hands against his damp shirt and felt the heat of him, the power.
It made her quiver with longing so deep, so intense it took her breath for a moment. She looked up into azure eyes filled with … nothing.
Not even that could dampen her attraction to him. He held her securely, gently against him. His wide, full lips were so close. All she had to do was rise up on her toes and fit her mouth against his.
What would he do? Would he push her away? Or would he return her kiss? Evie was tempted to find out. Just as she began to go up on her tiptoes, he spoke.
“You doona want to go into the Pit, Druid. You willna like what you find.”
“I know,” she said and tried to swallow. “The stones told me Deirdre used it to break Warriors.”
She half ex
pected him to jerk her away from him. Evie found she couldn’t move. Malcolm was like a magnet, and she was the answering side of that piece of metal who had no choice but to go to him.
No matter the threat, no matter the risk.
The darkness, the mystery surrounding Malcolm only drew her nearer. It was like she was destined to encounter him, their lives intertwined in ways she couldn’t begin to fathom yet.
“Are you all right?” he said in a low voice that sent chills over her skin.
“Yes.” In his arms, she realized she was more than all right. She was comfortable, calm. At ease.
“Good,” he said and took a step back, releasing her. “Be careful what you find in this mountain, Druid. The stones willna always be there to help you.”
She watched him walk away and wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. “Infuriating, irritating man,” she murmured.
* * *
Malcolm fisted his hands before he flexed them. Damn but he could still feel the Druid’s softness and allure. He wanted to rub his chest where her hands had been. It was like he’d been singed his skin burned so hot.
And the devil take him, but his cock was as hard as the granite he walked on. Need, intense and stark, sizzled in his veins.
It burned him, branded him. The need made it difficult to breathe, to form a coherent thought. He was on fire. Every thought centered on a Druid he didn’t dare touch, but couldn’t keep his hands off of.
A Druid who would be better off if he would leave her now and never look back. But he couldn’t. No matter what argument he used, he found himself staying in the hated mountain.
“Malcolm,” she called from behind him.
He inwardly winced at the sweet sound of her voice. It slid over him like velvet, inviting and tantalizing. Combined with her magic that kept him in a constant state of yearning, he was surprised he could think at all.
As if she had some pull over him, Malcolm halted and waited for her to catch up. She came even with him while her hands played nervously with the strings hanging from the waist of her fuchsia sweatpants.
He tried not to look at her, but once again he found himself drowning in the depths of her clear eyes. The innocence, the purity he saw reflected there reminded him of the fiend that he was.
