Midnight's Kiss

by Donna Grant

  Andy frowned. “Pete? Why ask him?”

  “Because he’s here.”

  “Ah … that would be a nope.”

  Arran’s gaze moved around him. “Pete isna here?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “He told Ronnie he had to miss the fund-raiser to help you.”

  Andy laughed. “Yeah, right. Pete says a lot of things that he doesn’t always do.”

  “Does Ronnie know?”

  “No,” Andy said, and flattened his lips. “I try to keep those things from her. She’s been hurt too many times, and she thinks of Pete as a father.”

  Arran ran a hand down his face. “Andy, think hard. Have there been things that have gone missing from other digs?”

  “No—and I’d know, since I keep track of everything. I make the occasional mistake, but Ronnie forgives me.”

  “Mistakes how?”

  “I’ll give an artifact the same number on my spreadsheet, or accidentally put two of something.”

  Arran looked to the sky as he began to put two and two together. He lowered his gaze to Andy, fury boiling his blood. “You were no’ making mistakes. Things were being stolen.”

  “That’s not…” He trailed off. “Oh, shit.”

  “Who is always on the digs? There has to be the same people every time.”

  Andy scratched his head. “The only ones on every dig who are the same are Ronnie, me, and Pete.”

  Just as Arran thought. It was Pete. All he had to do was find Pete, get the missing items, and tell Ronnie the man she thought of as a father had been stealing from her.

  “Oh, God,” Andy said, his devastation at figuring it out showing in his eyes. “It’s Pete. This will destroy Ronnie.”

  It would, and Arran couldn’t have that. She’d been through enough already. “Andy, I need you to keep this between us. I’m going to find Pete and get the artifacts. I’ll make sure he doesna dare to steal from Ronnie again, but I need a couple of things from you.”

  “Name it.”

  “Doona tell Ronnie any of this. And second … if anything is suspicious again, you tell her immediately. And then call me.”

  Andy jabbed his pencil behind his ear. “You’re a good man, Arran. I wish you’d tell Ronnie what you’re doing so she wouldn’t let you go. You’d be good for her.”

  “I’ll keep watch over her from afar. She needs the man she thinks of as a father more than she does me.”

  “I think you’re wrong, but I’ll do as you ask.”

  Arran grabbed Andy’s arm when he began to walk away. “One more thing. There are some men after Ronnie. They tried to get her last night in Edinburgh. It’s why I wasna with her when she returned. I’ve taken care of them, but there could be more coming back. Matter of fact, I’m sure of it.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Arran liked Andy, and knew he could count on him. “Regardless of what Ronnie said, I’m no’ leaving. No’ yet. I’m going to be near, but I need you stay beside her at all times until this thing is over.”

  “Should we tell her about the men coming back?”

  “I tried. I’m also no’ sure exactly when they’ll attack, but I think it’ll be soon.”

  “What do these men want?”

  Arran knew he couldn’t tell Andy the truth. Instead he told Andy what he’d told the police. “They think Ronnie has the money from the fund-raiser. They doona understand the funds are transferred to an account. Or maybe they do and they want access to that account. Either way, they want Ronnie, and I’m no’ letting them near her.”

  Andy gave a firm nod. “I’ll stay by her.”

  Arran didn’t move once Andy left. All Arran could think about was Ronnie. He’d seen the desolation on her face when she thought he was the one who’d stolen from her. He couldn’t imagine how she’d react if she discovered it was Pete.

  “But she willna learn that,” Arran murmured.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated on Ronnie. It took no time for him to discern her magic easily through all the rest.

  It was the same brilliant, thrilling magic he’d felt when he first arrived, but it was stronger now, more potent. He still felt the magic of the chamber, and there was a trace of more magic. But Ronnie’s was prominent in his mind.

  Once he located where she was, Arran put himself on the opposite side of the site and began to patrol. Most people knew him and spoke with him. It gave Arran the reason he needed to stop and talk to others and determine how long they’d been at the site.

  Almost two hours later, everyone had been accounted for. There were no Warriors waiting in surprise among the volunteers and workers.

  Arran made sure Ronnie was well away from her tent before he went inside. He looked at the cot she slept in. His body heated as he recalled how wonderful she’d felt in his arms, how responsive her body had been to his touch.

  How fitting, how suited they were for each other.

  He pulled her necklace from the front pocket of his jeans and held it in front of him. The gold trinity knot twirled before him, its magic making a dull hum in his mind.

  Slowly, he lowered the necklace until it rested on the table next to some papers. As much as it hurt him to do so, Arran would stay away from her as she’d asked.

  That is, unless the Warriors went for her, as he knew they would. Then he would be near her, and only to save her.

  He could fight for her. He could tell her about Pete and all the thefts, but to do so would be to wreck her. Ronnie meant too much to him to do that.

  She reminded him so much of his sister. Shelley would’ve liked Ronnie. Just as Shelley had been beautiful and good and so brilliant, it hurt to look at her, Ronnie was the same.

  Ronnie deserved a good life, a life he’d not been able to give his sister. He was a Warrior now. He could—and would—ensure that Ronnie got what had been denied his sister.

  Arran jerked as he felt Ronnie’s magic drawing closer. He hurried out of her tent, and just managed to duck behind a caravan when she came into view.

  He wanted to watch her find the necklace, or at least see her with it on once more. Arran waited for her to go inside, but someone called out to her, drawing her away from the tent.

  The new mobile phone in Arran’s back pocket vibrated. He pulled it out and answered it.

  “Why are you no’ with Ronnie?” Gwynn asked.

  Arran squeezed his eyes closed. “Some artifacts were stolen, and she believes it was me.”

  “It wasn’t you.”

  Her indignation made him smile. “I know.”

  There was a pause before Gwynn said, “You know who did it.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  Arran walked from Ronnie’s tent toward the parking area. “I do. None of that matters now. Nothing has changed.”

  “I know.”

  “Good. Has anyone seen anything?”

  “Nothing so far.”

  Arran looked at the sky and the rolling landscape before him. “They’ll come tonight when it’s the darkest. Be ready.”

  He ended the call and continued to make his rounds, continually keeping out of sight of Ronnie.

  But he always knew where she was.

  The afternoon progressed into evening and then into night without incident. When everyone found their beds, Arran set up watch so he could see Ronnie’s tent and a vast area of the site.

  And just as Andy promised, he stayed near Ronnie. He was outside Ronnie’s tent in a chair, dozing.

  Arran smiled inwardly, impressed by how far Andy was taking his pledge. Ronnie had done well to put her faith and trust in Andy.

  The sounds of the evening filled the air as midnight approached. The summer sun ducked behind the mountains, giving Scotland its few hours of darkness in the summer.

  Headlights occasionally could be seen on the distant road as cars weaved around the curves and up and down the hills. But none approached the dig site.

  It was around 2 A.M. when something in
the air caused Arran to sit straighter. It didn’t take him long to realize it was danger.

  And it was approaching fast.

  Arran shifted from sitting so that he was squatting with his hands braced on the ground. With his enhanced vision, he could see something moving in the tall grass.

  It would have been easy for one of his brethren to take out the Warrior coming for Ronnie, but a trap had been set. And a trap they would close.

  Arran crept closer to Ronnie’s tent. He knew the feel of her magic, but the Warriors attacking would be disoriented and not know for sure. It would take them time to get to her, and Arran would use that to his advantage.

  Andy was sound asleep when Arran reached him. He covered Andy’s mouth so he wouldn’t cry out upon waking.

  “It’s me,” Arran whispered. “Is there a way to alert everyone?”

  Andy nodded, and Arran removed his hand. Andy looked around and then turned in the chair to Arran. Arran put his finger to his mouth to quiet him.

  “I have a bullhorn,” Andy whispered back.

  Arran saw the shapes of Warriors coming closer. These weren’t his friends, these were enemies who needed to be killed.

  “When you see the signal, use the bullhorn. Until then, keep out of sight,” Arran said, and pulled him to his feet.

  Once Andy was away and in his own tent, Arran melded into the shadows. Hiding didn’t do much good around Warriors, but hopefully they had no idea he awaited them.

  One, then two came into the center of the site. They had their gods released, and Arran recognized the light green Warrior as Dale. The other was a rust color.

  The two turned one way, then the other, trying to decipher where Ronnie was.

  Arran flexed his hands as he released his god. Fangs filled his mouth, and claws extended from his fingers. Memphaea roared with the need for battle, for blood.

  For death.

  And for the first time in a long time, Arran was in agreement.

  When a third Warrior joined the other two, Arran readied himself. They would soon sense magic coming from Ronnie’s tent.

  And just as he expected, Dale turned in the direction of Ronnie’s tent, his head cocked to the side. He stared at it a moment before he searched the area.

  Arran waited to be spotted, but the Warriors were more interested in the magic they felt than in any attack that might happen. They were overconfident, which would work to his benefit.

  Dale took one step, then two toward Ronnie’s tent. When he had taken a half dozen more, Arran moved out of the shadows. There was no way anyone would get near Ronnie. Not while he guarded her.

  Dale bared his fangs and growled. Arran smirked and motioned the Warrior toward him.

  The battle was about to begin.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-TWO

  Arran watched Dale approach, but he kept the other three in his sights as well. They would attack at once. It was their only course if they wanted to be rid of him. And it might work except for one thing.

  He was protecting Ronnie.

  They had no idea that she was his very existence, his everything. He would give up his own life if it meant Ronnie would be safe.

  And a Warrior who loved was a Warrior on a mission.

  Dale growled long and low, which brought a smile to Arran’s face. The Warrior was still angry over being defeated in Edinburgh.

  “Best get used to it, lad,” Arran said. “You’re about to be beaten again.”

  “Never,” Dale stated.

  “You’ve no idea what you’ve walked into. Be smart. Leave.”

  “Are we going to talk all night or fight?” Dale asked, his lip turned up in a sneer.

  Arran had killed enough to last an eternity. He was tired of killing, especially Warriors. These Warriors were different from those Deirdre had unbound. These Warriors had control of their gods, and had they been with the MacLeods, they would be serving on the side of good.

  But they were serving dark forces. Nothing and no one could change them from that course. It was there in their eyes, in the way they looked at Ronnie’s tent.

  If Arran was going to keep Ronnie from harm, he would have to kill these Warriors. And as many as kept coming for her.

  Arran spread his arms wide as he drew air into his lungs. Memphaea bellowed with pleasure at the idea of a battle—as well as protecting Ronnie. And in his mind, Memphaea was showing Arran ways to hurt his enemy.

  He wasn’t the god of malice for nothing.

  Dale leaned his head back and let out a loud roar. Soon the other three Warriors did the same, and Arran simply waited. His enemy thought he’d come alone. They thought they could get rid of him and have all they’d come for.

  How wrong they were.

  And then Arran felt a tingle of magic, nasty and vile. Droughs.

  So the Warriors hadn’t come alone either. The question was, did Fallon and the others sense the droughs? Could they detect the dark magic from the other magic of the area? Arran prayed they could, or things could turn in favor of his enemies.

  “Never,” he whispered as he heard Andy use the bullhorn once, twice urging everyone to run.

  Arran’s arms slowly lowered to his side. He bent his legs, ready to spring. His chin tilted lower so that he could watch the four Warriors more clearly.

  Suddenly, Dale’s roar cut off and he jumped forward, his claws extended as he came at Arran. Arran spun to the side and extended his claws so that they raked across Dale’s back when he landed.

  Dale growled and snapped his fangs. Arran enjoyed the feel of blood on his claws. He wanted more of it, needed more of it.

  Craved it like never before.

  Something cracked inside Arran, something he’d kept locked deep inside. But Ronnie had found it somehow. No matter what he had to do—or become—Arran wouldn’t hesitate.

  For her.

  Dale circled him as the other three Warriors came closer. Arran didn’t move. He watched Dale with his eyes, tracking him as the Warrior drew closer and closer.

  Arran didn’t utter a sound when Dale’s claws scoured his back from shoulder to waist. He didn’t move when Dale sank his claws into Arran’s side.

  Dale was close enough that Arran turned his head to him and watched his brow furrow with confusion.

  “There’s nothing you can do to me that will stop me from killing you,” Arran said.

  “We can take your head,” said one of the other three.

  Arran kept his gaze locked with Dale’s. But he sensed when another Warrior decided to attack. Arran ducked and spun toward the approaching Warrior.

  He straightened, and both his claws plunged deep in the Warrior’s stomach. He jerked his claws up, satisfaction filling him when he heard the Warrior gurgle with pain.

  “I could kill you now,” Arran whispered. “I could take your head with one swipe of my claws.”

  The Warrior laughed as blood fell from his lips. “We’re no’ alone, fool.”

  Arran pulled out his claws, reared back his hand, and effortlessly took the Warrior’s head. The body fell at his feet, and he slowly turned his gaze to look at Dale.

  Arran prayed the Warriors stayed tuned to what he’d just done and didn’t realize that Andy was getting everyone out of the dig site.

  He swore silently when one of the Warriors lifted his head and growled.

  “The people are leaving!” he shouted.

  Dale’s nostrils flared in anger as he glared at Arran. “A nice diversion.”

  “I’ve had centuries of practice,” Arran said.

  Another Warrior took a step toward Arran. “Let’s dance, you bastard.”

  Arran had brawn and years of fighting with swords on his side, but this Warrior was quick and agile. He moved with lightning speed and used his feet and legs more than his claws. Arran had seen enough movies to know the Warrior was using martial arts. But the moves wouldn’t save him.

  He let the Warrior believe he was making headway and defeating him. Arran cont
inued to move away from him, but always kept near Ronnie’s tent.

  Of a sudden, the Warrior let out a yell and leapt into the air. Arran saw Dale begin to head to Ronnie’s tent and went to stop him, so he never saw the attacking Warrior’s claws coming.

  Arran grunted as the claws sank into the top of his shoulder near his neck. The Warrior then wrapped his legs around Arran and jerked back, sending both of them to the ground.

  He elbowed the Warrior twice in the face and heard bone crunch. Yet he never took his gaze off Dale. Just before Dale reached Ronnie’s tent, Charon came around it and grinned.

  “My turn,” Charon said.

  Arran roared as the Warrior twisted his claws into the wound, sending more blood gushing down his body. The Warrior’s other hand hooked onto Arran’s face, and his claws tore open Arran’s cheek, nearly getting his eye.

  The dig site become a place of chaos and panic. People screamed as Andy desperately tried to get them to safety, though Andy himself wasn’t the calmest of the bunch. The Warriors of MacLeod Castle had begun to show themselves, but a few stayed hidden.

  Arran was satisfied that Dale wouldn’t get to Ronnie, thanks to Charon. And when Arran rolled to his stomach, the damned Warrior remained on his back. When he got to his hands and knees, he saw that Phelan had the third Warrior locked in battle.

  It took great effort for Arran to get to his feet while the Warrior continued to slice open his face as he tried to get to Arran’s eyes.

  Arran’s shout of rage surpassed that of Memphaea inside him. Arran reached behind him and stabbed his claws into the Warrior’s sides.

  He continued to slash and stab over and over as he weakened the Warrior. Madness took him. He saw nothing and no one but the Warrior he fought.

  He liked the feel of battle, wanted the smell of death. It went beyond craving to need.

  They were after Ronnie—his Ronnie. He had to keep her safe. It was the only thought that kept running through his mind.

  It took Arran a moment to realize he had not only gotten the Warrior off his back, but had him pinned to the ground. He blinked when his claws struck bone. Only then did he see he had completely gutted the Warrior, who even now lay gasping for breath.

  Arran threw back his head and roared his pleasure and anger at losing such control. Never in all his years had he done so, but he didn’t regret letting loose. Not when it was for his Ronnie.