Midnight's Captive (Dark Warriors)

by Donna Grant

  She wasn’t a Druid, and he had seen enough death in his long life. Not even the lust that burned through his veins could change his mind and have him slack his body with hers.

  He knew it would be glorious to have her in his arms, to taste her kisses, and hear her cries of ecstasy, but he couldn’t stand to lose one more person in his life.

  So, whatever pleasure he might find in her arms would have to be forgotten.

  The glass door slid open and she greeted him with a soft smile he’d come to expect. “I was getting worried.”

  Charon glanced at the deck. How much longer would she worry about him? There would come a time he would have to leave Ferness behind forever. The people he knew, the friends he had would stop thinking of him, and he would fade to nothing.

  Maybe that’s why Phelan didn’t put down roots anywhere and why the other Warriors kept hidden at MacLeod Castle.

  He thought he was doing something good for himself. In reality, he’d only made things more difficult. At one time, things had been so easy, so uncomplicated. Where had it all gone wrong?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Laura didn’t miss the misery on Charon’s face, and even though she usually kept her distance, she found herself reaching out to him.

  Her hand rested on his arm. Beneath her palm she felt the steel of his muscles, the warmth of the man himself. She sucked in a startled breath but didn’t release him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked when his dark brown eyes jerked to her face.

  “Aye. Thank you,” he said and lifted the arm that held the carafe and the shirt.

  She reluctantly dropped her hand, instantly missing his warmth. “No problem.”

  Silence lengthened between them until she grew uncomfortable. She glanced down when she felt the cool night air on her toes and realized she had forgotten her shoes inside.

  “The day ran smoothly,” she said as she turned to walk back into the office. Work was always a safe topic.

  “That’s good.”

  She heard the door slide shut and the lock click into place as she put her feet in her heels. “By the way, I sent another e-mail to Dreagan last week.”

  His chuckle, deep and soft, filled the room. “You doona give up, do you?”

  “No.” She found him standing in front of her, and that’s when she noticed the stains on his shirt. The material was dark, but the stains were obviously blood. She reached out to him again. “Are you hurt?”

  Before she could touch him, Charon took a step back and tossed the tee over his shoulder so that it covered the torn section of his shirt. “Nay.”

  Laura cleared her throat, wounded that he would lie so blatantly. “Um … anyway, I received an e-mail from Dreagan. They want to meet with you next week.”

  “You’re worth your weight in gold. I really doona pay you enough.”

  “You pay me plenty,” she said, but preened at his praise. “I told you I’d get you that meeting.”

  “I think you need to come with me, then.”

  She blinked. This was something knew. Charon always took these meetings himself. “You never take anyone.”

  “I’m taking you this time. You need to learn that side of the business. I’m no’ always going to be around to take these meetings, and I need someone I can trust.”

  She shook her head emphatically. Her stomach clutched, not at the thought of the meeting, but the idea that Charon wouldn’t always be around. “Oh, no. I’m much better drafting e-mails and letters than in person. Find someone else.”

  “You doona see your own worth. Have you no’ noticed how men stare after you?”

  “Me?” she asked with a frown. “Charon, no one looks at me.”

  “They do.”

  His words were softly spoken. The way he held her gaze told her he wasn’t lying, but she still couldn’t quite believe him. Because the one man she wanted to notice her, didn’t.

  She looked away and reached for her purse. “I prefer to sit behind a desk for a reason. I’m really not good in front of people. I’m too shy, and some people think I’m rude or cold because of that shyness. In truth, they frighten the crap out of me.”

  Charon’s snort had her lifting her gaze to him. “You can no’ even curse, can you?”

  “I can.”

  “Prove it. Say something.”

  She adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “I have to be in the right mood,” she hedged.

  “Bollocks. You doona like to curse.”

  “Well, no. I think the point can come across using other terms.”

  “I hate to tell you this, but there are times when ‘gosh darn’ and ‘crap’ just doesna cut it, lass. A good curse word solves the problem every time.”

  As usual, Laura found herself entertained when she was around Charon. He had an affable way about him that had immediately put her at ease, something she thought she’d never feel after what her family had done.

  Whereas it used to take her weeks to get up the nerve to talk to people, she had begun talking to him within an hour of arriving in Ferness.

  The pint of ale might have helped as well. Mostly it was his charm and easy smile that had won her over as no one else ever had.

  Regardless, Charon always made her cheery.

  The smile faded when she caught another glimpse of his torn shirt. “I tried to call you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and set down the carafe. “I lost my mobile. Was it important?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t take care of. I just like to keep you informed. I’ll be sure to get you another mobile tomorrow.”

  With a nod, Laura turned and walked to the stairs that would lead her to the pub and out the front door.

  “What am I going to do without you?”

  Charon’s words halted her on the first step. She swiveled her head to him and saw the sadness in his dark eyes that he couldn’t always keep hidden.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve told you. I love this place. It’s my home.”

  “One day you’ll leave. Everyone leaves.”

  She opened her mouth to deny it again, when he walked into his office. He quietly closed the door and, in the process, shut her out.

  For several seconds, she stood rooted to the spot, debating whether to go to him or not. Had there been a double meaning in his words? Charon rarely showed this side to himself, but whatever it was caused the hurt to go deep inside him.

  Laura recognized it because she felt it within herself. Even after two years. It had faded, but it was still there. It would always be there.

  Just as her family was always there.

  “Good night, Charon,” she whispered and started down the stairs.

  * * *

  “Good night, Laura,” Charon whispered when he heard her words with his enhanced hearing.

  The sound of her heels on the stairs faded as she opened, then closed, the door at the bottom of the stairs. He wondered what she would do when she hadn’t immediately left, and he found himself wanting her to come to him.

  He’d needed her. After her touch on the balcony, it had taken every ounce of restraint he had not to pull her against him and just hold her.

  Holding her wouldn’t be enough. The few times he’d found himself touching her, all he’d wanted was to bend his head and take her lips, to kiss her until she was panting and clinging to him.

  He wanted that tonight. He wanted to rip the dress from her body, sit her on his desk, and plunge inside her. Maybe then the horrors of the night before would be pushed from his mind.

  It was only because he felt sorry for himself. In the light of day, he would regret taking her to his bed.

  Charon rubbed his eyes and walked to his desk. He pulled off his ruined shirt and tossed it into the garbage. Just as he was about to tug on the clean tee, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across from his desk.

  He didn’t regret taking the blade for Arran. In his mind, taking a thousand blades covered in drough blood wouldn’t be enough to
make up for spying on Arran, Ian, and Quinn for Deirdre.

  Was it just a year ago that Charon had found Ian and his wife, Dani, in Ferness? Charon hadn’t known Ian was pulled through time along with Deirdre by Declan.

  But seeing Ian had been like the four centuries hadn’t happened. It still felt as if it were the fourteenth century and they were running from Deirdre.

  So much had happened since then. Deirdre had killed Duncan, Ian’s twin. Deirdre, and then Declan, had been killed by the Warriors and Druids.

  And Charon had told Ian why he had spied for Deirdre. He hadn’t done it for Ian’s forgiveness, but as an explanation of why Charon didn’t feel as though he belonged with the others at the castle.

  Even now when those at MacLeod’s called, Charon felt odd going to them. He would never tell them no, but he wasn’t part of their close-knit group.

  He, along with Phelan, were outsiders.

  That was all right. Charon deserved no less. He would do his part in the fight against evil, but in the end he would return to Ferness. Alone.

  Charon shoved his chair into his desk and strode toward the door. The phone rang just as he put his hand on the doorknob to open it.

  With a sigh, he turned and answered the phone. “Charon here.”

  “You left early.”

  Charon squeezed his eyes closed as he recognized Arran’s voice. “Aye. I’ve businesses that needs my attention.”

  “I wanted to say thank you again.”

  “You said it once. That was enough.”

  There was a loud sigh through the phone. “Nay, Charon, it isna. I blamed you for what happened to us in Cairn Toul, but you were just as much a part of Deirdre machinations as we were. You were trying to stay alive. I’d have done the same thing you did.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Ian told me what happened with your father.”

  Charon dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling. “I didna share that story for sympathy.”

  “That’s no’ what you’re getting from me. You’re getting an apology for my attitude,” Arran said. “You shouldna have left. The girls cooked a big meal. Malcolm even stayed.”

  Malcolm. Charon thought his life had been hell. It was nothing compared to Malcolm’s. He’d been mortal helping his cousin, Larena. Larena was the only female Warrior and married to Fallon MacLeod, but Malcolm had done everything he could to keep Larena from Deirdre.

  In the end, Deirdre sent Warriors to kill Malcolm. Sonya had managed to save him, but could do nothing about the scars or the loss of the use of his right arm.

  Malcolm remained at the castle for a while, and then left. Only to be captured by Deirdre and his god unbound. In exchange for doing as she wanted, Deirdre promised Malcolm Larena would never be harmed.

  But even that hadn’t saved Deirdre, for it had been Malcolm who ultimately served her the killing blow.

  “As I said, I had things to do,” Charon stated to Arran. “I’ll stay next time.”

  “Nay, you willna. And neither will Phelan. I understand though. If you need anything, you call me. I’m serious.”

  “I know.”

  Charon hung up and made his way up the stairs to the third floor. He shut the door behind him and listened to the silence.

  It had cost a fortune to make sure the second and third floors were soundproofed from the pub. But the silence was deafening tonight.

  He tossed aside the tee Laura had gotten for him and pulled open the glass doors that led to his deck. In one jump he leaped over the railing. He landed with one foot in front of the other, knees slightly bent.

  Without looking back, he took off for the woods. He had to find peace before the sun rose.

  No matter how far he ran through the dense forest, there was one thing that kept calling him back to the village.

  Laura.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  University of Edinburgh

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  Aiden MacLeod adjusted the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder and eyed the building in front of him. He stepped around a couple standing on the sidewalk as his gaze surveyed the area.

  It had taken some talking to convince his father that he didn’t need to have someone with him. Quinn MacLeod had given up a bit too easily in their argument.

  Somewhere among the huge buildings of the university, his father stood watching him, Aiden was sure of it. He also knew his father wouldn’t be alone. He’d probably brought his uncles, Lucan and Fallon, as well.

  But that’s what happened when a person grew up in a castle hidden by magic filled with Druids and immortal Warriors.

  For four centuries, Aiden had been protected because he was immortal only in the magical shield surrounding MacLeod Castle. He’d watched his parents and family go off to fight the droughs while he stayed at the castle, worried and frustrated.

  No longer would he allow that to happen.

  As a mie, or good Druid, he had magic. It was time he contributed to the cause everyone else was fighting.

  The evil they fought had taken things up a notch, and it was only fair that the MacLeods do the same.

  Aiden pulled the heavy door open and stepped into the building. He stopped and looked at the stairs that would lead him to answers he desperately needed.

  Someone bumped into his shoulder, sending magic skidding along Aiden’s hand, ready to use as defense. When no threat appeared, he sighed and lowered his hand. He took one more look around before he started toward the stairs.

  Finding just the right person to help them had taken tons of research from him and the resident hacker at MacLeod Castle, Gwynn. Gwynn didn’t consider herself a hacker, but her skills with the computer were unmatched by anyone else there.

  She was from Texas, but as a Druid she found sanctuary—and love—at the castle. Gwynn and Logan, like the other couples at the castle, only made Aiden realize how lonely he was.

  Others might call him fortunate because he had lived four hundred years. What they didn’t know was that each time he left the protective shield over the castle, he put his life on the line.

  Yet he didn’t fear dying. He yearned for a family of his own. It was something he knew he’d never have, not that he blamed his parents.

  They had done what they could to ensure he was kept with them and allowed to mature. What they didn’t know was how he craved to go out in the world alone and experience all the wonders he saw on the computer and TV.

  That wasn’t possible, not with the new threat of Jason Wallace. Aiden knew Wallace could find him and use him against his parents if he was able.

  So he remained at MacLeod Castle, venturing out into the world when he could. And when he needed to clear his head.

  This time was different. This time Aiden decided he could help solve one of the problems plaguing the Warriors. He took the last flight of stairs two at a time until he reached the landing. He looked down the brightly lit hallway and the numerous rooms on either side.

  “Gwynn, I hope you’re right,” he mumbled as he turned to the left and searched for the room numbers.

  He was beginning to wonder if Gwynn had texted him the wrong room as he reached the end of the hall. And then he noticed a door slightly ajar to his right.

  A glance at the numbers confirmed it was the room he searched for. As he approached, he recognized the music of Godsmack coming from within.

  Aiden leaned around the door and peered inside to find rows upon rows of tables filling the entire room. Each table had at least one microscope on it and numerous vials and other equipment whose use he couldn’t begin to guess.

  His gaze fell upon a woman in a white lab coat leaning forward as she looked into a microscope and jotted down notes on a pad of paper beside her.

  Her golden blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the base of her neck and loose curls flowed to the middle of her back. It seemed at odds with the picture of Dr. Barbara Smith he’d seen on the computer.

  He shrugged, figuring the goo
d doctor had changed her hair in the hopes it helped to soften her middle-aged look.

  Aiden knocked once on the door, but Dr. Smith didn’t turn around.

  He sighed and said, “Excuse me.”

  “Go away,” came the muffled reply.

  He narrowed his gaze on the woman. He’d expected it to be difficult to get her help, but he hadn’t anticipated this. “Nay.”

  When she ignored him, Aiden walked into the lab and leaned his hip against the first table he came to. “I’ve got all day to sit here and bug you until you at least look at me.”

  She fiddled with the microscope for several minutes before she said, “I’m busy. Bugger off.”

  Her accent, muffled before, was clear to him now. He didn’t remember reading anything about Dr. Smith being from America, not that it mattered. She was the only one who could help him, and he wasn’t leaving until she did.

  Aiden decided words weren’t doing the trick. He made a great show—and lots of noise—when he removed his messenger bag, set it down, and then pulled out the stool. He ensured the stool scrapped the floor long and loud before he took his seat.

  There was a loud sigh before Dr. Smith slapped her hands on the table and lifted her head.

  Aiden’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t Dr. Smith staring at him, but some siren come to seduce him into doing her bidding.

  Her bright blue eyes blazed with fury, which was so at odds with the strands of loose curls framing her cheeks. Her heart-shaped face tilted to the side as she lifted one golden brow.

  “Well?” she demanded. “I’m looking at you. What else do you want?”

  “You.”

  The word was out of his mouth before he realized it. What was worse was that it was the truth. He wanted her. Wanted her as he had never wanted anything in his life.

  Her lips compressed as she rolled her eyes. “Really? That’s the best you could come up with?” She turned back to the microscope and murmured, “I need to start locking the damn door.”

  “Wait,” Aiden said as he jumped off the stool and started toward her.

  Her blond head swiveled back to him, her eyes suddenly wary. “Look. I don’t know who sent you up here, and I don’t care. Just leave, and no one gets hurt.”