Midnight's Promise (Dark Warriors) Read online

  Phelan turned to look out the windows. The darkness couldn’t hide the thick clouds that filled the sky. With the intermittent rain and cool temps, it had been a dreary day, which didn’t appear to be letting up anytime soon.

  “Text him again,” Laura suggested.

  Phelan closed his eyes when Aisley came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. She laid her cheek on his back as he covered her hands with his. “It wouldna do any good. Malcolm will respond when he wants to.”

  “He’s been distancing himself from all of us,” Charon said. “I didna expect him to do the same to Larena.”

  “That’s what tells me things are bad.”

  Aisley squeezed him. “You said yourself you didn’t imagine he’d agree to meet us.”

  “Nay.” Phelan turned and drew her against him. “I didna, but I also have a feeling something is going on with him. Before … well, before he talked. Now he willna even do that.”

  Charon got to his feet and poured a glass of wine that he handed to Laura. “How close to the edge do you think he is?”

  “Verra,” Phelan answered with a grimace. He wished it wasn’t true, but he’d glimpsed it in Malcolm’s eyes the last time they were in battle.

  “You didna see the things I did in Cairn Toul,” Charon said. “There are some men who couldna be saved, Phelan, no matter how much someone might want to. It’s up to the Warrior to make that decision.”

  Phelan had been spared witnessing what Charon and the others had suffered at Deirdre’s hand, but he experienced something else entirely, something no one could begin to comprehend.

  Perhaps that’s what led him to want to help Malcolm. Phelan had been where he was before. Somehow Phelan had found his way back. He wanted to give Malcolm that chance as well.

  “All you say is true, but Malcolm is different. You know this,” Phelan argued. “He didna suffer in the bowels of that hellish mountain. Deirdre tried to kill him first.”

  Laura uncrossed her long, jean-clad legs as she rose from the couch, wine in hand. “Neither of you were at the castle during the time Malcolm was recovering from those wounds. It might help if we could get someone else’s opinion of how he was.”

  Phelan was shaking his head before she finished. “It’s a good idea, but I’m no’ ready to include the others. Fallon will worry, and so will Larena. Both need to concentrate on Larena getting better.”

  “Not to mention Jason’s next attack,” Aisley said.

  Phelan tightened his hold on Aisley. Wallace had nearly taken her from him just a few weeks earlier. It was Aisley’s Druid ancestor who had informed her she was a Phoenix, able to be reborn again and again. If it hadn’t been for that, Aisley would be dead and Phelan would be right where Malcolm was.

  “Jason needs to be killed for good,” Laura said with a shiver.

  Phelan watched Charon pull his wife into his arms and whisper something that made Laura smile. If anyone had asked Phelan a year before if he and Charon would ever find their mates, he’d have laughed.

  Now it seemed that Aisley and Laura had always been a part of them, just waiting until they could join their lives together. All Phelan knew was that he couldn’t survive without Aisley.

  “I know my cousin well enough to know that he’ll keep striking when we least expect it,” Aisley said into the silence.

  Phelan met Charon’s gaze as smiles pulled at their lips. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Charon chuckled. “Oh, aye.”

  “Care to fill us in?” Laura asked as she pushed her long, dark hair behind her ear.

  “We attack him just as we did Declan,” Phelan answered.

  Aisley pulled out of his arms and looked at him with fear and anxiety. “You can’t.”

  “We can, and we will.”

  “No. You don’t understand, Phelan. Jason is more powerful now. If he can come back from death, regenerate a new body, and triple his powers, how do you think attacking him will destroy him for good? If you do this, Jason will kill you.”

  “He’s tried. And failed.”

  Laura set down her wineglass. “Aisley’s right. I went up against Jason before his powers grew. I was also part of the battle after he seemed to more than double his powers. He’s different.”

  “We know,” Charon said. “It’s Warriors who feel a Druid’s magic. Neither of you are telling us anything we doona already know.”

  “Then why be so damned foolish?” Aisley asked Phelan. “Don’t you understand? I can’t live without you.”

  Phelan dragged her into his arms. He rested his chin atop her head and simply held her. She was shaking, not because she didn’t think he could kill Wallace, but because she knew all too well what Jason could do.

  “Wallace wants revenge against you still,” Phelan told her. “I’m sure he knows you’ve regenerated. He’ll be coming for you.”

  Charon sighed loudly. “We can no’ wait for him to attack again, and Aisley says we shouldna strike first. What do we do then?”

  “Set a trap?” Laura offered.

  Aisley said, “That didn’t work so well last time. He knew what was being planned.”

  “Then what?” Phelan asked. “I’m out of ideas, sweetheart.”

  A knock on the window behind him had Phelan jerking around to find Ramsey and Logan on the deck looking in. Charon motioned them in as Logan opened the sliding glass door and stepped inside.

  “What brings the two of you here?” Phelan asked.

  Ramsey turned his silver eyes to him. “The girls were worried about Aisley and Laura. And Fallon wanted us to check on the two of you.”

  “We’re fine, as you can see,” Charon said.

  Logan accepted the tumbler filled with whisky from Charon. “I’d believe you except for the fear I sense coming from your women.”

  Phelan scratched his jaw after Aisley moved to his side. “What do you expect with Wallace still out there?”

  “Which is Fallon’s point,” Ramsey said. “We’d all be safer at MacLeod Castle.”

  “Nowhere is safe,” Aisley said and turned to walk toward the sofa.

  Phelan lived his life battling the droughs who had dared to think they could take over the world. Aisley knew firsthand the lengths Wallace would go to ensure no one thought to betray him.

  Aisley’s parents had been killed by Jason. Aisley herself had been wounded, and still bore the scar, when Wallace thought she might leave. In this last battle Wallace had brought forth an image of what Aisley’s daughter, who died just hours after her birth, might look like. That alone had nearly killed Aisley.

  What would Wallace try next? Phelan wasn’t sure he wanted to find out, but neither could he hide his head in the sand and pretend nothing was going on.

  He was a Warrior, and whether the droughs who first dragged up the gods from Hell had known it or not, it would be Warriors who ended the droughs.

  “Have either of you spoken with Malcolm?” Charon asked.

  Phelan growled his frustration and looked away. But not before he saw Ramsey frown.

  “Why?” Logan asked.

  Charon rolled his eyes. “Can you no’ just answer the damned question?”

  “That would be too easy,” Logan said with a grin. “Besides, I like to rile you.”

  Ramsey crossed his arms over his chest. “Nay, we have no’. Have either of you?”

  “In a way,” Charon answered.

  Logan grunted in irritation. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means he answered my text,” Phelan stated. He faced the two Warriors to find their gazes locked on him. “I called Malcolm over a week ago when I was with Aisley and trying to figure things out. We were both looking for Wallace, and I checked in with Malcolm on occasion. He did the same.”

  “And now?” Ramsey asked.

  “Now I get a text saying he’s fine.”

  Logan drained the whisky and moved to pour himself another. “That’s more than Larena or Fallon have gotten. Conside
r yourself lucky.”

  Phelan hoped the topic would be dropped, at least until he knew more of what was going on with Malcolm. But as usual, Ramsey heard more than just the words.

  “You’re worried for him.”

  Phelan glanced at Aisley who gave him a small nod. “Aye,” he admitted with a sigh. “I want both of you to swear what we say here about Malcolm goes no further.”

  “Agreed,” Ramsey stated.

  Logan stared at Phelan for a long moment before he said, “I give my word.”

  Phelan lowered himself into the nearest chair and braced his elbows on his knees while he plunged his fingers into his hair. “I think Malcolm is distancing himself.”

  “Larena has suspected that for some time,” Logan said. “It’s why she and Fallon kept trying to find ways to bring him to the castle.”

  “It’s no’ enough now. I saw it in Malcolm’s eyes during battle. If he passes that point, there’ll be no returning for him.”

  Ramsey dropped his arms. “Then we find him.”

  “Easier said than done,” Charon said.

  “Broc isna the only one who can find someone. His way is easier and quicker, but no’ the only way,” Ramsey stated.

  For the first time in days, Phelan realized there just might be a way to help Malcolm after all. “After we find him, then what?”

  “That’s the tricky part.” Ramsey looked around the room, his gaze meeting each of them. “There was a time Hayden stood on the same knife’s edge. He didna know it at the time, but it was Isla who pulled him back.”

  Logan choked on his whisky. “Are you telling me we need to somehow find Malcolm a woman?”

  “There has to be another way,” Laura said, a frown marring her forehead.

  Phelan lifted his head and grinned. “There is. We make him know he’s needed. No’ once has he failed to join us in battling the droughs. Forget about finding him a woman. Give him something to kill, give him a reason to keep focused on helping us.”

  “I like it,” Logan said. “I doona suppose you have a plan in mind?”

  Ramsey took the glass in Logan’s hand and tossed back the contents in one swallow before pinning Phelan with his silver eyes. “You want to go after Wallace.”

  Phelan nodded. “It’s the only way.”

  “Didn’t we just talk about this?” Laura asked Charon before looking at Phelan, her English accent getting thicker as her anger rose. “I’m pretty sure we decided that attacking him was wrong, and that trying to set a trap for Jason wouldn’t work either. Or was I just dreaming that conversation?”

  “Nay, love,” Charon said as he took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Though it looks like we may be having that same conversation again. This isna just for Malcolm. Killing Wallace is on top of all our to-do lists.”

  Phelan’s gaze moved to Aisley as it always did. She was his beacon, his safe harbor in the treacherous world they lived in. He needed her support in order for this to work, but he wouldn’t push her. She’d already been through too much.

  “If we’re going to do this, then you’re going to need me,” she said.

  “Aisley—”

  “I’m a Phoenix, remember?” she interrupted him.

  Ramsey cut his silver eyes to her. “And it’s going to come in handy too.”

  CHAPTER

  SEVEN

  Malcolm waited for the Druid to retaliate with magic to protect herself. Instead, she simply stared at him with an unblinking clear blue gaze. It was then he realized she was looking at his scars. If only she grasped that but half of them were visible to her.

  Normally Malcolm shrugged off the gawks, but he grew uncomfortable under the Druid’s stark perusal. He looked for sympathy or pity that inevitably showed in people’s eyes. Oddly, there was nothing but frank curiosity and … was that pleasure he saw flare in her blue depths?

  That couldn’t be right. No one so beautiful would look at him in such a way. He was damaged, mutilated—inside and out.

  “You doona fear me?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, careful to keep the blanket covering her. “You said you weren’t a Druid.”

  “So?”

  “So … it means you can’t do anything if I choose to use magic on you.”

  For several seconds, Malcolm could only ogle the female in wonder. Did she not know of Warriors? Was she so naïve about the ways of their world that she would dare to flaunt her magic?

  Or was it that she did know what he was and didn’t care, because she knew she could control him if need be?

  Malcolm lifted his chin and looked down his nose at her. She was of average height, but she kept eye contact with him, her back against the stones. He saw her hand splayed upon the rocks, most likely listening as they told her all about him.

  With one word, she could have him pulled against the stones as they held him prisoner. He’d seen Deirdre do it. While he waited to see what she would do, Malcolm found himself fascinated by a wisp of a Druid who threw him off-kilter more completely than anything else in his life before.

  Her clear blue eyes went distant, her head cocked to the side. “Malcolm Munro.”

  Just as he expected. The stones were telling her who he was, but would they tell her everything? There was no denying the pureness of her magic. She wasn’t drough—not yet at least. Did the stones know she would leave if she discovered what had happened in the mountain?

  He decided to go along and see just how much the rocks told her.

  “Aye.”

  She blinked, focusing on him once more. “All the stones will tell me is your name. They also say I need to make you leave.”

  “Is that so?”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “I’m no’. I knew the last Druid who commanded the stones.”

  Her eyes grew large with curiosity. “Really? Who was she? What can you tell me about her?”

  “Ask the stones.”

  That drew her up short. “You haven’t asked my name.”

  “I doona need to know it,” he lied. To his surprise, he very much wanted her name. Because he did, he didn’t ask for it. It was enough that he couldn’t stop looking at her or enjoying the wash of her magic over him. She was addictive. “We both need to leave this place.”

  She shook her head, her damp hair curling becomingly around her face. “I can’t. I’m safe here.”

  “Who are you running from?”

  “Maybe you?”

  He raised a brow at her question. Something was making her run. Interesting. “Did the stones tell you someone was after you?”

  “As if,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “They’re the ones who told me to come here so I could hide. No one was supposed to know I was here.” A frown marred her forehead. “How did you know I was here?”

  Malcolm didn’t want to let her know too much too soon. The less she knew about him the better. “I felt your magic.”

  “You can feel my magic? What does it feel like?”

  Sunshine. Harmony.

  Hope.

  Not that he would tell her any of that. Ever.

  Instead he said, “Wholesome.”

  She wrinkled her nose in distaste, her stance becoming more casual and comfortable. “Is that bad?”

  “It would be if the feel of your magic made me sick. That would tell me you had black magic. If you were drough, I’d kill you.”

  “You say that as calmly as if you do it every day.”

  He let his silence be his answer.

  The Druid swallowed hard and shifted her feet nervously. “What are you, some kind of Druid Hunter or something?”

  “Or something.” Malcolm watched the red-orange glow of the torch flicker alluringly over her skin. He remembered how soft her cheek had been, and he found he wanted to test the rest of her body.

  Did she know how fetching she looked standing there with the blanket barely covering her and giving him glimpses of her lean leg
s and feminine curves? Was she trying to tempt him?

  His body had been aching since he first held her in his arms. That ache only increased the longer he stood near her.

  “Are you intentionally not giving me in-depth answers?”

  Malcolm widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re just now recognizing that?”

  “Ah. Answering a question with a question. That was something my mum did,” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sarcasm and anger. Her gaze narrowed on him as she pushed away from the wall. “The stones don’t like you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  She gave a loud snort. “They’re stones. How could you not like them? They didn’t do anything to you.”

  “Really? How do you know? Just because they doona tell you doesna mean it’s the truth, Druid.”

  “Then you tell me.”

  Malcolm walked right into the trap without realizing it. It was the amazing feel of her magic surrounding him that kept him from focusing properly. Her magic crashed over him like the waves against the cliffs at MacLeod Castle—violent and unforgiving. But beautiful and beckoning all the same.

  He wanted to sit back and soak up the wonderful essence of her magic. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to her.

  “You berate the stones for not sharing your past, but you won’t do it either?” she asked with a slight shake of her head. “What am I to think?”

  “I doona give a rat’s arse what you think, Druid.”

  “Is that so? Do you forget I’ve magic?”

  How could he when it enveloped him so completely? His body roused at the first feel of her magic, and the longer he was around her the more he … yearned.

  There was just a thin blanket blocking the tempting view of bare skin and a turquoise bra and panties. He could yank it away from her. If he dared.

  And at the moment, he dared.

  “Are you so sure your magic will work on me?”

  She let her hand not holding the blanket slap against her thigh. “You’re impossible.”

  “If you’re running from something, then you shouldna trust anyone.”

  “You came here to scare me, and it worked. Now you can leave.”