Midnight's Promise_Dark Warriors

by Donna Grant

“Yes.”

  He shook his head even as he leaned into her for another kiss. Daal laughed, the sound loud in his head, but it was a reminder of what he really was.

  Like a bucket of ice water dumped on him, Malcolm was snapped out of the irresistible desire. He released her and took a step back. “You doona understand, Druid.”

  Her body listed forward and she had to quickly gain her balance. “I’m not a … I don’t do this, Malcolm. I don’t allow men I barely know to touch me as you did. But I don’t regret it either. I’ve never felt anything like that before. I want to feel it again.”

  All he could do was stare at her and the emotions crossing her face.

  “I know you need release. If you don’t want to be with me, at least let me pleasure you,” she offered.

  “I can no’.”

  Hurt clouded her clear blue eyes, chasing away all the warmth and desire he’d given her. “Fine,” she said and pulled her pants up and fastened them. She turned and grabbed the torch as she walked away.

  Malcolm flexed his fingers, fingers that had been inside her, stroking her to a fever pitch. Her heat, her moisture had been heaven.

  Just before the Druid exited the chamber she halted and turned to him. “Tell me why you don’t want me.”

  “I never said I didna want you.”

  “You didn’t have to. You made it perfectly clear just now.”

  “There are things you doona understand.”

  She lifted her chin, daring him with her eyes. “Try me.”

  Malcolm opened his mouth only to close it again. In all the months he’d wandered after betraying Deirdre, he’d kept away from people. There hadn’t been a need to interact with those he didn’t know. It hadn’t been a problem until the Druid.

  She had smiled at him, asked him to be her friend, and she looked and touched his scars with awe. There had been no revulsion or pity in her eyes.

  “You…” He paused and started again. “I’ve no’ felt anything in a verra long time. I’ve been dead inside. It’s how things need to be.”

  “Because you betrayed Deirdre?” came her softly spoken question.

  Malcolm looked away from her probing gaze. “I was dead inside before that. I’ve forgotten what it was to have any feeling. Until you. You have … roused what I thought was dead and gone.”

  “Why is this a bad thing?” she asked and started walking toward him.

  “Because I’ve forgotten how to handle them. As it is, my skin feels too tight with trying to hold it all in.”

  “And making love would only complicate all of it,” she finished with a nod. “Will you tell me why you were dead inside?”

  “Deirdre unbound my god.”

  The Druid’s mouth dropped open as her eyes widened in astonishment and accusation. “Bloody hell. So … you’re a Warrior?”

  Malcolm watched her take an involuntary step backward. “I was born in 1579.”

  “That means you’re … Oh, shit.” She swallowed nervously and took another few steps back.

  “Do you fear me now, Druid?” he asked angrily. “You wanted to know. Shall I tell you the long, ugly truth of it?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “I’d spent years as a mortal helping Larena track down the MacLeods. We finally found the eldest brother, Fallon. As I hoped, Larena and Fallon fell in love. I was on my way to see them when Deirdre sent Warriors to kill me.” Malcolm turned his face so the light of the torch shone on his scarred side. “This is what they did.”

  “Stop,” she murmured, her face stricken by what she was hearing.

  “They tried to rip my arm from my body, using their claws to do it.” Fury built inside Malcolm so quickly he couldn’t contain it—and didn’t try to. He released his god and grimaced when he heard the Druid’s gasp. He held up his long maroon claws. “Claws like these. To this day I can still remember how it felt to have them ripping through my skin and muscle as they scraped to the bone. The Warriors could’ve yanked my arm off in a second, but they wanted me to suffer.”

  The Druid took in an unsteady breath. “I don’t want to know any more.”

  “Ah, but you asked,” he stated cruelly as the memories returned. “Broc came upon us and killed the others before taking me back to MacLeod Castle where the Druids did their best to heal me.” His chest ached as he remembered learning he didn’t have the use of his right arm.

  The humiliation and frustration had been almost as bad as the helpless feeling that hadn’t released its hold on him yet. He roared his fury and plunged his claws into the rocks.

  He didn’t want to remember any of the awful memories. The pain of it, the powerlessness he felt came rushing back as if it had just happened to him.

  “They should’ve let me die. Why didna Larena let me go?” Malcolm hung his head, wishing he could go back to that fateful day and make Broc finish what the Warriors had begun.

  “If Larena is all that you have, then you’re all the family she has. She didn’t want to lose you.”

  “I was to be laird, Druid. I couldna return to my clan half a man who didna have the use of his sword arm. It wouldna have mattered to them that I was able to wield a sword with my left. To them, I wasna whole. So I stayed with the MacLeods. Mortal. Feeble. Helpless.”

  He nearly choked on the resentment as he recalled being relegated with the Druids when Deirdre attacked. He was half a man, after all. He hadn’t been able to make a stand with the Warriors.

  That had cut him deeper than anything Deirdre had ever done to him. It didn’t matter that Malcolm knew his friends had been trying to protect him. They hadn’t allowed him to be the Highlander he was.

  “I stayed until I couldna remain any longer,” Malcolm continued. “I snuck away from the castle during one of Deirdre’s attacks. A few days later she found me and unbound my god. I promised to do anything she asked as long as she left Larena alone.”

  Malcolm pulled his claws from the stones and faced the Druid. “I’ve killed in Deirdre’s name. I became a monster. And, aye, I betrayed her!”

  His voice echoed in the chamber, making the Druid wince, but Malcolm didn’t care. He was too caught up in the raw emotions running rampant through him.

  “Look at me,” he demanded of the Druid when she gazed at the floor. “Look at what I am. A Warrior, a man with a god inside him. You allowed me close and asked me to be your friend. You’re too trusting, Druid. It’s going to get you killed.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “Perhaps I am too trusting. It’s better to be trusting than emotionally dead as you’ve been. You don’t feel anything. You didn’t even care enough to want to know my name despite promising to watch over me.” She shook her hand slowly as her ire mixed with her magic. “Every time I talk with you, you’re someone different. You want to scare me by showing me you’re a Warrior? Well bravo, asshole, because you did it.”

  All the rage deflated from Malcolm as the Druid stalked away. Each of her words had been like a punch in his gut. He had wanted to frighten her so she wouldn’t ask him to make love to her. But now that he’d done it, he keenly regretted it.

  Malcolm slumped against the wall. Who was he? He couldn’t begin to answer that question. He wasn’t the idealistic man who had been waiting to step into his father’s shoes as laird. He certainly wasn’t the easygoing person who had watched Larena with curiosity and jealousy.

  The only thing he knew for certain was that he was a murderer and a betrayer. He didn’t deserve any of the friendships that had been offered by those at the castle, Guy, or the Druid.

  He hadn’t realized not asking her name bothered her so much. He’d done it in an effort to keep his distance from her so she wouldn’t be tainted by who he was.

  That had been blown out of the water when he began to lust after her. Then he kissed her. That amazing, glorious kiss had rocked him to his black soul.

  In her kiss, he found desire, passion, and … tranquility. For those few precious moments he kissed and pleasured he
r, he forgot the fiend he was. For those minutes he’d become someone else, someone that had a soul.

  Malcolm ran a hand through his hair. Whatever he’d found in the Druid’s arms was lost forever. It was time he called Phelan and told him of the Druid. Let Aisley help the Druid in her plight.

  He pushed away from the wall and walked to the opening of the mountain. The rain had tapered to a drizzle. The mist was rolling down from the mountains to cover all that was in sight. A perfect place to hide.

  Malcolm looked over his shoulder and briefly thought of telling the Druid farewell. He’d scared her though, and he would be the last person she wanted to see.

  The taste of her was still on his tongue, her scent still clung to his body. Both of which would forever be etched upon him.

  “Good luck, Druid,” he said before he jumped.

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  Jason slammed his hand on his desk. Evangeline was cagier than he’d thought. She hadn’t responded to one of his e-mails in over a day.

  He’d thought he had her right where he wanted her. Now he wasn’t so sure. He could force her with his magic, but he needed to have more finesse than that.

  She had to willingly come to his side. He wanted her to know he had every intention of turning her drough, but that came later. First, he had to get her to his house and show her what it meant to have another Druid as her friend.

  Once she was drough, it would take nothing to have Malcolm take her to his bed. Jason would love to use magic to help her get pregnant, but if he wished to fulfill the prophecy he couldn’t.

  “Show me Malcolm and Evangeline again.”

  Instantly, an image of Malcolm kissing the Druid formed on his desk about twelve inches high and in 3-D.

  “I knew he wouldna be able to resist her. The attraction is palpable.”

  The image shifted, and Jason watched as Evangeline walked away angrily. Jason frowned as he saw all the rocks.

  “Where are they?”

  Colors blurred as the image changed and drew back to show none other than Cairn Toul.

  “Priceless,” Jason said with a satisfied grin.

  That grin faltered when the picture shifted and showed Malcolm jumping out of an opening in the mountain and sprinting away from Evangeline.

  “This willna do. I need them together.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he tried to think of a way to get Malcolm back to Evangeline. Or the Druid to him.

  Jason sat up straight and said, “Show me anyone close to Evangeline.”

  The image of a teenage boy with dark hair and dark eyes popped up. Jason leaned in close to the likeness and drummed his fingers on the desktop.

  “Who are you, lad?”

  Colors blurred as the image faded and another took its place. This picture was of a file folder from a private school with the name Brian Smyth.

  Jason leaned back in his chair and considered this new evidence. How was this Brian connected to Evangeline? He was too old to be her son.

  “Show me the connection to Evangeline.”

  In the next image the file folder was open and focused on two lines of a form.

  “Guardian,” Jason read, “Evangeline Walker. Relationship: half-sister.” He smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Oh, sweet Evangeline, looks like I’ve found the perfect way to send you straight to me. And Malcolm straight to you.”

  Jason rose from his chair and walked around his desk. He hurried to his Jaguar XF and slid behind the wheel. The school was only a few hours’ drive. He’d be there and have the kid in his dungeon before dinner.

  He started the engine and drove down his long driveway wishing the spell he’d found to teleport would work. For some reason the spell did nothing for him. Every other spell he’d tried worked without much effort. The teleportation was an entirely different matter.

  But he would master it as he had everything else. He just needed more time, which was in great supply. Once Evangeline was drough, she would convince Malcolm to stay near her. The child would come about soon after.

  Then all hell would break loose. There would be nothing the Warriors and Druids could do to stop it either.

  Jason couldn’t stop smiling as he drove toward the school.

  * * *

  Evie dried off after her bath and changed into yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Her body was still languid from the pleasure Malcolm had given her.

  She couldn’t believe he’d been able to touch her so expertly and bring her to orgasm as quickly as he had. Not once had she felt such decadent sensuality from a man before. He’d taken her to heights of pleasure she hadn’t known existed.

  She touched her lips where they still tingled from his kisses. He had the body of chiseled marble, each muscle hard and powerful. Yet, to touch him was to find molten heat. He looked at the world with an azure gaze that was as barren as a desert.

  But he caressed her as a man driven by desire and need. She felt his desperation and hunger, his need and longing in his kisses, knew pleasure from his deft fingers.

  Malcolm Munro was a contradiction. She wanted to hate him or fear him, but she could do neither. He’d told her part of his story and it ripped at her heart.

  Deirdre had tried to have him killed. In the end, she maimed him in such a way that Malcolm thought he could never return to his clan. Since Highlanders prized strength, he’d known his clan might accept him back in, but he’d never be laird.

  Evie pulled her hair into a ponytail and sighed. He’d been groomed to be a leader. He’d gone from having a future as laird to simply … existing. That would be a blow to any man, but one that could destroy someone like Malcolm.

  She walked to the sitting room and stared at her laptop. There was no sense trying to work when her mind was filled with him. Even when he wasn’t near, he occupied every inch of available space.

  “He’s a Warrior.”

  She’d never even considered it. A Druid, maybe, but never a Warrior. He had scared her witless when he’d transformed, but he hadn’t come near her. If he really wanted to put the fear of God in her, all he needed to do was move toward her.

  A Warrior. She recalled how the torchlight had shone upon his skin that turned the deepest maroon. The claws he’d held up were long and deadly. The fangs gave him a fearsome look.

  She’d thought it all some trick until she looked into his eyes expecting to see his beautiful azure gaze and found herself mirrored in maroon eyes.

  The stones had yelled at her to run, but she couldn’t. The raw emotion reflected in his maroon eyes kept her rooted to the spot. She saw grief, remorse, and self-loathing.

  Inwardly, she winced when she recalled how he’d plunged his claws into the stones. The stones themselves had screamed in pain, nearly drowning out the growls coming from Malcolm.

  Every word Malcolm uttered held a wealth of emotions. They battered him endlessly, ceaselessly tugging feelings he was desperately trying to keep locked away.

  But those emotions were breaking free.

  Evie didn’t know how to help him. If he even wanted her help. And that was a big if. Malcolm pushed her away at every opportunity.

  Had she left Cairn Toul that first night he arrived, she was sure she’d never have seen him again. He might infuriate her by not answering her questions fully, or annoy her by not being able to read his emotions.

  Yet, the idea of not knowing him or his story didn’t seem right. It was as if she was meant to stumble across Malcolm and learn the history of her ancestors and Deirdre.

  When her mind turned to Deirdre, she recalled the images that had assaulted her after the last spell she’d performed. Who was the woman with the long white hair and white eyes?

  There was one person she knew could tell her what Deirdre looked like. Malcolm. And if the woman’s image who now filled her mind wasn’t Deirdre, then Evie wanted to know who she was.

  Evie began to rise from the sofa when there was a ding from her laptop announcing a new e
-mail. She was going to ignore it when she saw it was from J.

  She’d meant to return his message earlier but had gotten sidetracked with Malcolm. No doubt J was thinking she didn’t want to hear from him again. Quite the opposite really.

  “Except for the spell.”

  There was something about the spell he’d given her. If it was supposed to relax her, why had it done the opposite? Unless she had messed it up. Or he wrote it down wrong in the e-mail. Whatever the reason, she needed to give him a second chance.

  He was the only other Druid she knew, after all.

  She clicked on the e-mail to find three simple words: “How are you?”

  Now she felt really bad for not answering him. Evie quickly wrote a note to let him know she was busy and apologized for taking so long to get back with him. She hoped it was enough to keep him sending the e-mails.

  Before she could set her laptop aside, J answered her. She blew out a frustrated breath. He wanted to know how the spell had gone.

  Evie bit her bottom lip as she tried to decide if she should lie to him. She finally settled on the truth. It would be good to know if she’d done something wrong with the spell. Especially now since she could really use some relaxation after her last run-in with Malcolm.

  She was holding out hope that J would be able to tell her what she’d done wrong. Yet, he assured her that he’d written the spell correctly. Which meant she was the one who’d screwed it up.

  “I’ll have to give it another go,” Evie said as she signed off the e-mails.

  Her mind was too jumbled with Malcolm, desire, and the image of that woman. If she could just clear her head for a bit, she’d be able to figure everything out.

  Evie read over J’s spell and instructions twice more. Then she set her laptop on the coffee table and moved to sit cross-legged on the floor.

  She took a deep breath and slowly read the words of the spell over and over until she knew them by heart. With her eyes closed and her thoughts centered on her magic, Evie kept repeating the spell.

  Time ceased to exist as she felt her mind clearing itself of everything. She took a deep breath and simply let her magic surround her.