by Donna Grant
“Dreagan.” Phelan wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but then again, the Dragon Kings were incredibly powerful. Without them, he was sure they’d all be dead in the last battle.
Charon raised a brow in question. Phelan glanced at Laura before he gave a nod. Charon got his mobile and pressed a button.
Somehow Phelan wasn’t surprised to know his friend had Dreagan on speed dial, and he was sure it had nothing to do with the business of stocking their exceptional scotch in Charon’s bar.
“Con, I need a favor,” Charon spoke into the phone. There was a moment of silence as he listened to whatever Con said. “I need someone who can hack into a computer.”
Phelan looked down at his small bag. His life was in that bag. He could go anywhere at any time and have all he needed. Aisley had been the same way. It had felt so good to have someone who understood his lifestyle and hadn’t tried to change him.
Now he knew why she hadn’t demanded anything or altered his life. She was content to string him along until she had her claws in him so deep he wouldn’t know up from down.
“Let’s go,” Charon said, jerking Phelan out of his musing.
Phelan grabbed his bag and reached for the door when Laura called his name.
“Do we bring Aisley’s stuff?” she asked.
He opened the door and started walking out as he said, “Burn it for all I care.”
In no time at all they were on the road headed to Dreagan Distillery. Phelan followed behind Charon’s sleek charcoal-gray Mercedes CL AMG Coupe.
The rain fell in a steady stream while lightning lit up the sky in a dramatic and beautiful display of artistry. Any other time he’d be watching the storm.
But as the tempest raged around him, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling inside.
All the women he’d bedded, all the women he’d charmed, not a single one of them touched him as deeply as Aisley. And many had tried.
How foolish he felt acting the besotted lover doing anything for her. How utterly ridiculous he was to believe the story she told him of her parents throwing her out, being pregnant, and then the baby dying.
He accepted every word she spoke.
She was a consummate deceiver. Not once had he questioned her. As for her secret, he knew it had all been a ploy. Every action, every emotion, every touch had all been to get him to fall for her.
It was a good thing he hadn’t or he really would be in trouble. He cared for her. Or rather, he had cared for her.
He should have killed her as she asked. Now he would have to hunt her down. The only good thing about that is he was sure he’d find Wallace when he found her.
Taking both their lives would go a long way to soothing his hurt pride. Never again would he trust a woman. Now he remembered why he charmed them, seduced them, and left them.
It was something he’d never forget again no matter how long he lived.
By the time they turned off the road onto the long, winding drive between mountains that led to Dreagan, Phelan was so angry he had to fight to keep Zelfor under control.
When they came to the rock-lined parking area of Dreagan there were two men waiting for them beneath the large overhang of the distillery. Phelan got off his bike and walked to Rhys.
Rhys’s long, dark hair was wet from standing in the rain. His unusual aqua eyes ringed with dark blue were crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “Good to see you.”
“Likewise.”
Rhys cocked his head. “Why do I no’ believe you, Warrior?”
“Because you’re a pain in my arse, Dragon.”
Rhys threw back his head and laughed. “We didna know you were tagging along with Charon.”
“He’s no’ tagging,” Charon said from beside Banan. “We’re here so hopefully one of you can help him.”
Rhys’s gaze jerked back to him, all laughter gone. “What’s happened?”
“I’ll explain everything as we make our way inside. Time is of the essence.”
Banan opened the door and waved them in. “I think you all know your way to the manor.”
Phelan nodded to Banan as he passed him. The manor was hidden from view of visitors that came to see the famous distillery. But it was more than privacy those at Dreagan wanted.
It was the fact they were dragons who could shape-shift that had to be kept a strict secret.
Phelan relayed the story, leaving out key points that were no one’s business, by the time they reached the manor. Laura hadn’t said a word, but he saw the way she frowned at a few choice words he used for Aisley.
“That’s quite a story,” Banan said. He turned gray eyes to Rhys. “Want to give the hacking a try?”
Rhys strode up the stairs and into a small office where he sat behind a desk with five computer monitors surrounding him. Phelan shared a surprised glance with Charon.
“I didna realize you were a computer guru,” Phelan said.
Rhys snorted. “This room is for anyone at the manor. We’ve a lot of time on our hands, Phelan. We like to … mess … sometimes.”
Banan chuckled from the doorway. “That’s a good way of saying we’ve accidentally taken down sites because we were … messing.”
“That’s how you learn,” Rhys said and began to pound on the keyboard. “Where were you at?”
Phelan gave him the location of the Internet café in Inverness and shifted around the desk so he could see what Rhys was doing. Surprisingly it didn’t take long for Rhys to gain access.
“Where was she sitting?” Rhys asked.
Phelan leaned forward to look at a picture of the café that Rhys pulled up on another monitor and pointed to where Aisley had sat. “There.”
Rhys keyed in more information, his eyes moving from one monitor to another before his fingers moved over the keyboard again.
“What time did the both of you log onto the computers?”
Phelan gave him the information and watched him enter more information.
The process was repeated a couple of times before the other four monitors flashed Web sites about Saxony on their screens. Phelan glanced at each of them, not understanding what he was seeing.
“Did you get the wrong terminal?”
Rhys slowly shook his head. “Nay. If that’s where she was sitting, then this is the information she looked up.”
“This has nothing to do with the name Hunter.”
Laura, Charon, and Banan moved around the desk to see what they were looking at.
Banan pointed to one of the screens. “It mentions here that the Saxony royal family had special blood that could heal others.”
Phelan felt the room spinning around him. “What? What did you say?”
Banan began to repeat it when Phelan slashed a hand through the air. “I heard you. Why would she do a search on that?”
“She didn’t,” Rhys said. “She searched for a lost prince. These sites are the last ones she looked at.” He turned his head to look at Phelan. “She was searching your history.”
Phelan rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The day kept getting crazier and crazier. “I doona understand why.”
“You’re a damned prince?” Charon asked, his voice pitched high in surprise.
Phelan shook his head. “Nay.”
“You might want to rethink that,” Banan said and lifted his head from the screen he was reading. “It looks like Aisley found information about your family.”
“That’s no’ possible. I doona even have that information or know what to look for. How would she?”
Rhys rolled his chair back so Phelan could get a closer look at the monitors. “I think you’ll have to ask her. Regardless, if you didna know of your family before, she found it for you. You might want to thank her.”
“Over my fucking dead body,” Phelan said as he stalked from the room.
CHAPTER
FORTY-TWO
Phelan spewed a mouthful of curses when he ended up for the third time in the kitchen. The manor was a
damned maze. He just wanted out.
“That way,” Jane pointed.
He gave a nod of thanks to Banan’s wife and hurried out of the manor. A fine mist of rain swirled around him. He could see it dancing on the air as he stalked into the open field.
Sheep scattered as he drew near, their baas growing louder in their hurry to get away from him. He ignored them and continued to the trees he saw.
When he reached the grove, his anger still hadn’t cooled. Phelan took a look around and started up the incline. Sweat beaded his brow and rolled down his back as he ran up the mountain.
Rocks slid beneath his boots, but he paid them no heed, not even when he slipped nearly a hundred yards down the mountain. Phelan kept his gaze focused on the summit until he reached it.
After he got to the top he simply took in the magnificent view. The clouds hovered around the peaks while the thick mist rolled leisurely down the mountains and swallowed anything that stood in its way.
“Feel better?”
Phelan whirled around at the sound of Rhys’s voice. “Sod off.”
“What’s bothers you more, Warrior? The fact that Aisley knew something of your past and didna tell you? Or that she was drough and you didna know it?”
“Leave,” Phelan said between clenched teeth. He was looking for a fight, and anyone would do. Including the dragon next to him.
“I’m saying what Charon willna.” Rhys ran his hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “Can you admit the truth to yourself?”
Phelan turned his head to glare at him. “What do you want from me?”
“To admit that you care for her.”
“Why? Does that make you feel more powerful that I got played?”
“Did you?” Rhys asked. “We doona know for sure.”
Phelan put his back to him. If he ignored Rhys then maybe he’d go away.
Rhys, however, didn’t seem to understand as he said, “Tell me, Phelan, have you wondered why you didna feel her black magic? The real reason? The one you willna even consider?”
“She used me.”
“Perhaps. But you felt something for her.”
“Nay. I was mistaken.”
“Denying it willna make it go away. Admit you loved her.”
Phelan growled and spun around the same time he released his god. He bent and barreled his shoulder into Rhys’s gut. Rhys wrapped his arms around him as they tumbled over the side.
They rolled in a mass of arms and legs, banging into boulders and smashing into trees until they were jerked to a stop. Phelan lifted his head to see it was Rhys who had grabbed hold of a tree to halt them.
Phelan jumped to his feet and bared his fangs. It felt good to have Zelfor released. It would feel even better if he could spill blood.
Rhys swiped the back of his hand over his lip and looked down at the blood smeared there. “If you were looking for a fight that’s all you had to say.”
“Why say anything when I can show you?”
“Give it your best, Warrior,” Rhys said and beckoned him with his fingers.
Phelan knew it wasn’t wise to attack when anger burned through his veins as it did, but he couldn’t stop himself. He swung his arm at Rhys’s face with his claws extended.
Rhys leaned back in time, but Phelan’s claws sank into his shoulder. A satisfied roar sounded inside his head from Zelfor. Phelan smiled and jerked his claws out. He readied for another swing when Rhys landed a punch to his jaw.
The force of it sent Phelan on his ass. He shook his head to clear the ringing and looked at Rhys. The Dragon King stood with his fists held in front of him and a cocky smile on his face.
“I bet it’s been awhile since anyone set you on your arse.”
Phelan climbed to his feet. They circled each other while he spread his fingers wide looking for an opening to cut Rhys again.
Yet when Phelan looked, the injury he’d given Rhys was already healed. As a Warrior, Phelan’s god healed him, but not that quickly.
“There is much you doona know of us Dragon Kings,” Rhys said when he caught Phelan looking at his shoulder.
Phelan shrugged. “So you heal faster than we do.”
“Is that all? Or is there more?”
He hated the smile on Rhys’s face. “Are you going to talk me to death or fight?”
Phelan grinned when he and Rhys clashed again. He lost count of the hits he gave and the ones Rhys landed. A tree groaned ominously when Rhys threw him into it. In the next moment Phelan tossed Rhys against a boulder.
Their fighting had them rolling down the mountain again until they landed in the valley. It was Rhys’s laughter that made Phelan pause.
He was on his back and looked over to find Rhys had risen up on his elbow staring at him. The curious sheep drew closer to them, and that’s when Phelan felt one sniff his face.
Phelan shooed away the animal and sat up. He drew his knees up until he could put his heels in the ground. Then he wrapped his arms around his knees and clasped his hands together.
“I’m game for that anytime,” Rhys said as he sat up.
“As am I.”
“Do you feel better?”
The smile Phelan had slipped. He looked away from Rhys’s probing aqua gaze. “I swore no drough would ever get the better of me again after what Isla and Deirdre did to me.”
“Let the past go, Phelan.”
It didn’t go unnoticed by him that Rhys was giving him the same advice he’d given Aisley. “Isla took me from my family.”
“A family that was no’ only on the run to save your life, but a royal one at that. You’re royalty, Phelan. A prince. And your family never left Scotland. They remained, searching until death took them.”
“Why did she look into my past? What could’ve been there that Aisley wanted to use against me?”
“Maybe it wasna to use something against you but to help you.”
Phelan looked up to find Rhys standing above him with a hand held out to help him up. He took it, and Rhys pulled him to his feet.
“Contain your fury until you’ve captured Aisley, Phelan, or Wallace will get the better of you.”
He knew Rhys gave solid advice, but he couldn’t get Aisley out of his head. How could he set aside his anger if he couldn’t stop thinking of her?
* * *
Consciousness came to Aisley slowly. She realized she was sitting up and opened her eyes to a distortion of colors. It took her blinking several times before she was able to focus on what she was looking at.
A cold, sinking feeling filled her when she saw the iron bars. She didn’t need to look around to know where she was.
Jason’s prison below the mansion.
“So you’re finally awake.”
She hadn’t dreamed him preventing her from jumping. He really was there. Aisley couldn’t stop her racing heart, but she’d be damned before she let Jason know how much just the sound of his voice frightened her.
“No quip, cousin?” Jason shifted from outside the bars and moved out of the shadows. “What happened to your cheeky comments always at the ready?”
The one thing she hadn’t wanted to happen had. She was in Jason’s clutches. Whatever death Phelan planned to give her would be nothing compared to what Jason would do.
She looked at her cousin. “You disgust me.”
“You were no’ so disgusted when I pulled you out of that gutter.”
“Believe me, you slimy bugger, I wish I’d have refused you.”
“As if I’d have let you.” Jason narrowed his gaze on her. “You think you control your destiny, Aisley, when in fact it’s in my hands.”
She lifted her chin in a show of defiance. “Do you still feel like that bullied weasel of a boy from school, Jason? Do those lads who used to push you around still give you nightmares?”
“You’ve no idea, do you?”
A ripple of terror rolled down her back. “What do you mean?”
“You doona know what I’ve become. You doo
na yet comprehend what I can do to you. But you will, Aisley, you will.”
His eyes flashed solid black before magic slammed into her, breaking several ribs.
CHAPTER
FORTY-THREE
“What now?” Phelan demanded when he walked into the large room to find Rhys, Banan, and Charon playing pool.
Charon called his play before the ball rolled into the pocket. He slowly straightened and held his pool cue beside him. “While you and Rhys were … letting off some steam, Banan and I did a little research on what Aisley discovered.”
“Doona say her name.” Phelan couldn’t stand to hear it. Already she invaded his every thought. Everything reminded him of her. It was too much.
His hands itched to hold her against him, to run his hands through her midnight hair. It had only been a few hours without her. How could he face eternity?
Banan walked around the table, never taking his eyes off the burgundy felt and the balls scattered on it as he decided on his play. Finally he stopped and leaned over the table to call his shot, carefully holding the cue as he lined up his play and took his aim, knocking a solid yellow ball in a pocket. “So we willna say her name. Are you going to comment on the fact we found something?”
“What do you want me to say?” Phelan looked out one of the many windows on the opposite wall at the mountains that urged him to walk their craggy slopes and get lost in the wilds of Scotland.
Rhys chuckled from an overstuffed leather chair he reclined in, sipping the famous Dreagan scotch. “I told you, Banan. Phelan doesna want to know.”
“You want to know,” Charon told him. “Trust me.”
Phelan rubbed his hand over his jaw thinking he needed to shave so he wouldn’t scrape Aisley’s skin. Then he recalled she was no longer his. He remembered the betrayal and the lies.
And his heart shattered all over again.
“Tell me,” he said when Banan missed his second shot.
Rhys rose and poured two glasses of whisky before turning and handing one to Phelan. “You look like you could use this.”
“Ais—” Banan stopped and cleared his throat. “She was on the right track. With more time I think she would’ve discovered what we did.”
