“I didn’t see any reason to worry you further. It’s not your fight.”
“Not my fight? I almost married Druan, and you wouldn’t be sitting here if I hadn’t opened the time vault. That makes it my fight. Where do you get this idea you’re Superman?”
“Who’s Superman?”
“He thought he was a one-man show, too.”
“Druan created a disease. I found out the night before I went to suspend him.”
“What kind of disease? Like the flu? The plague?”
“The plague was Druan’s father’s creation. Druan’s disease will make the plague look like a runny nose. It’ll destroy all human life.”
“Cripes. That’s why you were mumbling about war and disease.” It sounded like Druan had created a deadly virus.
“Those halflings I tracked said Druan was ready to release the disease. I couldn’t suspend Druan until I knew what the disease was, how he planned to use it, and there wasn’t time to wait for help, whether I wanted it or not. My only choice was to capture Druan, put him in shackles, and force him to tell me where it was before I suspended him.” Faelan’s jaw tightened. “If I hadn’t been so preoccupied, I might have realized Grog was a demon.”
“Do you think the halflings lied? I mean, humans are still here.”
“No. When I mentioned it, Druan was scared. I don’t think he wanted the other demons to know. Maybe Tristol destroyed it. He looked pissed enough.”
“Who’s Tristol?”
“Another ancient demon. Probably the most powerful. He’s supposed to be the closest to the Dark One.”
“This demon was with Druan?”
“He was, and two more ancient demons. Malek and Voltar.”
“Are they as powerful as Druan?”
“Aye.”
“That’s why you’re worried. I wondered why you’d be bothered over a few demons after what you did to those things in the chapel.”
“Those were halflings. Most of the demons with Druan were full. But the ancient demons, well, you know that FBI’s Most Wanted List you told me about? If our clan had a list, they’d be on it. They’re powerful, fast, and clever. It would be nigh impossible for anyone to get close enough to hurt Druan, even a warrior, unless he was assigned.”
Bree shuddered. She’d held hands with one, touched its face… slept with it.
“What were these ancient demons doing with Druan?”
“I didn’t have time to find out. They must have been helping him with the war.”
“War?”
“That’s why I was sent to America, to stop a war.”
“In 1860? You don’t… you can’t mean the Civil War.”
“That’s the name you’ve given it.”
“You were supposed to stop the Civil War? My Civil War?” The war she’d spent her life studying? Weekends she’d spent metal detecting with her dad. The Civil War collection they’d built. “You mean Russell was responsible for it?”
“He was.”
Talk about coincidences. “This is… beyond bizarre. How could one man stop a war?”
“The warriors who came with me were helping. I had them hunting Druan’s demons and halflings, but destroying him was my responsibility. I’d hoped getting rid of him would collapse his efforts. I didn’t expect the other ancient demons to be helping him.”
“Why a Scottish warrior? Didn’t America have warriors?”
“America was still a bairn, as far as countries go. All the warriors in this country came from Scotland.”
“If Druan is so powerful, why didn’t you keep some of the warriors with you? Was it because you thought your brothers were coming?”
“I didn’t want anyone else with me. It was too dangerous. Only my talisman can destroy Druan or his evil. If another warrior accidentally aimed his talisman at Druan, the warrior would be dead.”
“So these warriors and your brothers risked everything to help you fight Druan?”
“Aye. They trusted me with their lives, and I let them down. I sent the warriors away, which means that when my brothers arrived, they would have faced Druan, and maybe the other demons of old, alone.”
Druan was alive, so that meant his brothers hadn’t succeeded, probably hadn’t survived.
Faelan focused on a spot over her head, a muscle working in his jaw. “I failed at all of it. Druan, his disease, the war.”
Bree touched his hand. “It’s Druan’s fault, not yours. The war started a year after you were suspended. You couldn’t have stopped it even if you had destroyed Druan. The trouble had been brewing for too long. Those other three demons were probably helping him for months, even years. You’re a good man, Faelan. Don’t carry Druan’s blame.”
“I betrayed the clan, the entire human race, when I sent the other warriors away.”
“If they’d stayed, or your brothers had arrived, could you have killed all of the demons?”
“I don’t know.” He looked doubtful.
“You may have saved the warriors’ lives. Druan might have been gone when they arrived. They could’ve lived long, full lives.”
“Perhaps.” He turned his hand over and captured hers, linking their fingers.
“Did anyone else know about the disease?”
“I sent word to the clan and the other warriors in America before I went to meet Druan. I doubt my brothers knew. They were likely already on the way.”
His brothers must have been desperate when they couldn’t find him. “Did they know where to look for you? Where had you planned to meet?”
“They would have brought a Seeker. Seekers can locate a warrior’s talisman. It’s the only way to find a warrior when he’s hunting or lost… or dead. I don’t know if they could find a talisman inside a time vault. They couldn’t have opened it, anyway.”
“What happens when a warrior dies?”
“His talisman is reassigned to another warrior.”
“But your talisman was locked in the vault with you. Cripes! Do the demons know a warrior’s talisman can destroy them?”
“No. None live to warn the others. If they found out, our greatest weapon would be compromised, one of the reasons secrecy is so important.”
“Can I see yours?” she asked. Her body tingled, as if she’d asked to see something far more private.
Faelan held the talisman out so she could take a closer look. She ran her fingers across the metal, brushing his. “How does it work?”
“It’s hard to explain. I guess you could say it’s like holy light.” He gripped her chin softly, raising her eyes to his. “Don’t ever look at it again. You can yell or hit me if you think I’m belittling you, but if you’re around and I aim this thing, you’d better close your eyes.”
“Yes, warrior.”
“I think the time vault weakened it. Otherwise, you’d be dead. We’re lucky it destroyed those halflings.”
“It didn’t look damaged to me. Does it do anything beside destroy demons?”
“It transports the shackles and time vaults. We have shackles that paralyze the demons so we can get them inside the time vaults.”
“What do you do with the time vaults? Bury them?”
“They’re sent to a holding place, not on earth.”
“Another dimension?”
“Aye.”
“Good heavens. Can you take the talisman off?”
“No. We don’t take off our talismans. Ever.”
Not even when they bathed or made love? “You were almost finished with your duty. You could’ve married soon. Did you have anyone special? Were you ever in love?”
He studied an old scar on his hand for too long before he shook his head. There had been a woman. Bree was sure of it. The thought gnawed at her, but there was no point in asking him. Whoever she was, the woman would be dead now.
“You must have dated?” He’d put every other lover she’d had to shame. He had acquired the skill somewhere.
“Dated?”
“Courted women.�
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“A warrior needs his head in the battle, not worrying over a lass or a mate,” he said, not answering her question. “Many remain virgins until they take a mate. There are always demons trying to find weaknesses to use against us. The female demons take on exceptional forms.”
“I saw one in the castle. She was incredibly beautiful, then she turned into this thing with hooves.”
“Be glad she didn’t see you. They can be very nasty.”
“So a female demon uses her beauty to distract you, then ka-bam. It must be tough going into training while your hormones are raging.”
“It teaches us to focus. Makes us stronger. What about you and all these men?”
He still acted like she had a male harem. “I’ve dated some… well, a lot.”
There was a slight narrowing of his eyes. “Define a lot.”
She cleared her throat, not wanting to explain her disastrous love life to a man from the nineteenth century. “Ten boyfriends… more or less. Most of them didn’t make it past the first good-night kiss.”
“Most?” He stared at her knees. “How many did you…” his jaw worked, as if he was clenching his teeth.
“Four.” She blushed and looked away. Including him… and Druan. The unspoken words lay between them like a ticking bomb.
Faelan didn’t say anything, just studied her, so she didn’t know if he was horrified or relieved.
She touched his talisman again, the warmth of the metal soothing. “So no one else can use your talisman?” she asked quickly, changing the subject.
“Not unless it’s reassigned. It would kill him… or her.”
“These symbols,” she said, running her fingers over the markings, “look like writing.”
“They are.”
“I don’t recognize the language.”
“No one does. It’s a heavenly language.”
“Like heaven heaven?”
“There’s only one.”
“Is that what you were speaking when you destroyed the halflings in the chapel?”
He nodded.
“At first I thought it was Gaelic. You do speak Gaelic?” She was sure he’d spoken it when they’d made love.
“Aye.”
“Say something.”
“What?”
“Anything.”
A gleam lit his eyes. “Tha thu as do chiall.”
“What does that mean?”
He smiled but refused to tell her, and she finally gave up. She’d look it up on the computer, if she could ever get the thing to work.
“Where do the talismans come from?”
“Michael—” Faelan pressed his lips together.
“Who’s Michael?”
“It’s a long story. Why don’t you tell me about this instead?” He slipped one finger underneath her shirt collar, pulling out the silver cross.
“It was my dad’s.”
“What was it doing under the floor?”
A barrage of memories assaulted her. A young girl in tears, bloody fingernails, a glowing crypt. Her dad before he died, fear in his eyes, hugging Bree so tight it scared her. “It’s a long story,” she said, throwing his words back at him.
He met her gaze, then gave a brief nod and released the necklace.
“What about your tattoos? What do they mean?” She stroked one of the curved symbols on his chest, and his skin quivered under her touch.
“They’re battle marks. They appear after our training, when we accept our calling.”
“You have a choice whether to be a warrior?”
“A warrior can refuse his mission. He wouldn’t do much good if his heart weren’t in it.”
“Are all battle marks the same?”
“Each warrior is marked according to his strengths and weaknesses. Same with the symbols on the talismans. They protect and bless.”
“There’s writing on the side of your talisman, too. I didn’t see it before.”
“Before?”
“The night you passed out, your shirt was off. I saw the talisman and your marks then.”
Faelan’s look turned mischievous. “I remember waking with far less than my shirt. What else did you notice?”
“Very little. And I didn’t take your clothes off. You did.”
“Little? You think I need some of those supplements you were talking about?” His gaze flickered over her breasts and legs.
She grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her lap, cheeks burning. No, he didn’t need them.
“I remember a dream. But it didn’t feel like a dream. I was kissing you.” He brushed a knuckle across her lips. “And you were kissing me back.”
Danger, Bree Kirkland. Danger. “Do I need to get a broom from Mrs. Edwards?”
He grinned and tucked his hands back under his arms, making the muscles in his shoulders and chest ripple. “Better?”
No. “Is this another battle mark?” she asked, touching the small circle behind his ear. She felt a jolt run up her fingers.
“I don’t have…” He stood and walked to the mirror. The color drained from his face.
Chapter 19
Faelan scrubbed his fingers across the small circle with jagged edges. A mate mark. How? Bree stared at him, puzzled. Her hair was pulled back. He could see she didn’t have a mark, at least not behind her ear. A woman often got her mark later than her mate, and it wasn’t always in the same place, but Bree wasn’t his mate. She wasn’t even from his time or his clan. Was his mark for a dead woman he’d never known?
He wanted to sleep, to forget about coincidences and questions without answers and things that couldn’t be. Just for a few hours.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” He sat on the bed with a weary sigh and lay crossways on the soft mattress.
“I should get back to my room.” She glanced at the door but didn’t move.
“Don’t go.”
She watched him, her eyes wide. Her hair was damp, and her skin, scrubbed clean, was as smooth as porcelain, cheeks with a hint of blush, growing deeper as he stared at her. Clear green eyes he knew he’d see in his dreams, whether he was alive or dead. And red, juicy lips, like an apple waiting to be tasted. She’d broken into a demon’s castle and escaped, but she looked like a princess. His bonny princess, he thought, like the stories Alana had begged him to tell. He touched his neck again and patted the bed next to him. “Sleep next to me.” He didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. “Please.”
***
The man eased across the landing, unaware he was being watched. The air thickened, forming a black mist. The man turned. It was Faelan. The mist swirled like a great, dark cloud, and when it was gone, Faelan had vanished.
Bree’s eyes flew open, and it took her a minute to figure out where she was. Faelan’s body was curved around her, keeping her warm and safe. He moved his head, mumbled a name she couldn’t make out, and tightened his arms around her. Was this a premonition or another dream? She let the steady beat of his heart soothe her to sleep.
***
Faelan woke to a warm scent as familiar as his talisman, but he felt unsettled, maybe because Bree was sleeping half on top of him. Her head rested on his chest, one leg nestled between his thighs, and her hand curled close to his belt.
He shifted, and the arm holding her prickled with numbness. He needed to see the mark on his neck again, to make sure. It must be the time vault throwing things off kilter. He didn’t know everything Bree was, but he knew what she wasn’t. His mate. And lying here any longer would be a bad idea. He didn’t need the entanglement. He couldn’t let his guard down again, and she’d said she didn’t want a man in her life, but having her draped over him made it hard to remember what was best. He tried to lift her head so he could move, but she sighed and rubbed her face against his chest. He repositioned his arm, and blood flowed into the starved limb. Both of them.
He made the mistake of sniffing her hair, which had worked loose from its clasp. He pr
essed his lips to it and inhaled. Hunger stirred, making him hard. He suspected she wouldn’t say no if he persisted, but it wouldn’t be right. Last night he’d wanted her next to him for comfort. It would add insult to injury to ravish her after what he’d already done. Even as he tried to talk himself out of it, her scent roared into every part of his body. Now that he’d had a taste of her, it was harder to hold back.
He felt her wake and heard a soft gasp. Her fingers twitched, far too close to his groin. He reached down to pull the covers across his lap, to spare them both further embarrassment, but her hand moved quicker. He held back a groan as she grazed one fingertip over him. Did she have any idea what she was doing? She made the trail a few more times while he held his breath. Unbuttoning his pants, she tugged on the zipper, and slipped her hand inside.
He nearly lost it as her fingers wrapped around him. He remembered how it felt being inside her. Did he dare beg her to let him do it again? She stroked him twice, moved her hand lower, and he shifted to make room, gritting his teeth to keep from exploding as she cupped him. His lack of control was shameful. Not that any respectable woman in his time would’ve had her hand wrapped around his balls.
If she didn’t move away soon, he’d make a mess all over both of them. He didn’t want that. He wanted her, to join their bodies the way nature intended. Married would be better, but he couldn’t marry her; it wasn’t allowed. He eased her hand out of his pants, trapping it against his stomach. “I can’t let you do this.”
“Yes, you can.” She pulled free and continued caressing. His resolve fled as quickly as a hungry child tempted with sweets.
He touched her thigh, bare underneath her skirt, the skin silky and soft. He wanted her so badly it hurt. Other than a few mistakes, he’d tried to follow the rules, but he’d never felt anything like this burning, beautiful ache. Rolling over, he settled his thigh between hers and slipped his hands under her shirt, touching the warm skin of her stomach before moving higher. He pulled at her. “What is this thing?” It was much smaller than the undergarments lasses wore in his day.
“A bra.” With a flip of her fingers, she opened the front, spilling her breasts out for him. If he wasn’t awake before, he was now. He filled both hands with warm flesh, sure he’d die if she stopped him now, but the soft sounds she made told him she was enjoying it too. He was glad. He wanted her to feel good, but partly he was relieved he wouldn’t have to stop. He tried to be gentle, but all he could think about was getting inside her. He removed her shirt and started to push her skirt up, but he wanted to see all of her. He moved over, far enough to pull off her skirt and the thing she called panties. He threw them on the floor and feasted on the sight of her bare body as his hands stroked the inside of her thighs, caressing the rough scrapes—already healing—moving closer and closer to his prize. He wanted to taste her, to drown in her scent, but he couldn’t wait that long.
Awaken the Highland Warrior Page 17
