Midnight's Promise_Dark Warriors

by Donna Grant

  Evie took a deep breath and reached for her luggage once more. The stones led her down an ever ascending slope of a hallway that curved time and again as she went higher and higher into the mountain.

  Her breathing was ragged and a stitch began in her side when she came to an open door. “I really need to get my arse to a gym or take up jogging. This is pathetic.”

  The warm glow coming from inside the room caught her attention. She quickly forgot all about being out of shape as she stepped inside.

  “Wow,” she murmured.

  The room was a sitting area with torches on each wall. The sofa and two chairs were in need of recovering, but the coffee table and two end tables were in decent shape, if not antique in their look.

  Evie walked farther into the room and glanced through another open door. She caught sight of a bed and hurried forward.

  “Unbelievable,” she said and touched the four-poster bed. A vanity table sat on the opposite wall with a small stool before it. There was a large chest, a couple of chairs, and a massive tapestry of a black dragon hanging on a wall.

  “Is there a kitchen?”

  “Use magic.”

  “I’d rather not. Is there not a kitchen?”

  “Not a place for youuuuuuu.”

  Evie sighed as exhaustion began to weigh upon her. Not only did her new quarters need a good cleaning, but it looked as though she would have to find a way to get food.

  “Um … is there a bathroom?”

  “Show us what you want.”

  Evie touched a wall and let her mind fill with the image of a bathroom with a large tub, roomy shower, sink, and toilet. She was just wondering how the plumbing would work when the mountain began to shake.

  Almost instantly, the back section of the room started to tremble as the rocks shifted and moved. Evie stared in awe as another doorway was created.

  When the vibrations halted, she walked to the new doorway and gasped as the image she’d seen in her head appeared before her. The tub wasn’t porcelain or a claw-foot. Instead it was made out of the stone surrounding her. Same with the shower, toilet, and sink.

  Even the faucets were made from stone. She’d never been so amazed. Evie ran her fingers along the smooth stone, thoroughly impressed.

  “This is just what I saw in my head. Well, except for the running water.”

  “Use your magic.”

  That seemed to be the stones’ answer for everything. She might have magic and know how to use it, but Evie had lived her life without it. Unless it had been important.

  Did she dare to use it on something as simple as running water and food?

  Suddenly a thought occurred to her. “The runoff from the rain. Can you collect it for me?”

  There was more trembling throughout the mountain for a few minutes.

  “Aye. It’ll be routed to this room when you want it.”

  Evie laughed and twirled around the room. This all had to be a dream. How could anything be so fabulous and magical all at the same time? And be for her?

  “Thank you!” she shouted. “Thank you so much!”

  Again the stones seemed to purr in contentment. She knew just how they felt.

  She was going to drop onto the bed when she saw all the dust and cobwebs. Evie hesitated for a moment before she used her magic to make the bedroom and sitting room clean with merely a thought.

  “I’ll do the others by hand tomorrow. I’m just too exhausted now,” she told herself as she fell back on her now clean bed.

  She laughed at how soft the mattresses were. And they were mattresses, not the straw-filled bedding she had expected. The stones had said hundreds of years, but she was beginning to think it had been sooner than that.

  Evie kicked off her wet boots and sat up long enough to peel out of her soaked clothes before she snuggled under the thick covers.

  If the stones were right and she could use magic for anything, then she could make this as nice and cozy as she wanted.

  There were some modern conveniences she missed, such as hot water for tea or baths, a hearth for a fire, and a stove. But she would make do.

  The main thing was that she was safe. There was no way the stones would allow anyone in without alerting her.

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  Malcolm stared at Cairn Toul for hours. Memories of Deirdre and the horror she’d wrought filled him until he couldn’t distinguish what were memories, and what was real.

  The fury, the fear of when he’d become a Warrior seized him. The recollection of it taking him back to that fateful day when he was ripped apart only to come back together with a persistent voice in his head.

  With those memories, Deirdre returned in all her glory. Her beauty, marred by the evil inside her, and her long white hair she used as a weapon.

  Her insistence to rule the world, her disregard for life, it all slammed into him, breaking past the wall he’d erected in his mind to shut out such recollections.

  Malcolm grabbed his head as he recalled the screams in the mountain, of death and destruction. He squeezed his eyes shut when he remembered how easily he’d killed for Deirdre.

  What kind of man was he?

  But he wasn’t a man. He was a monster, a fiend not fit for anyone’s company.

  He dropped his head and opened his eyes. There was no use in looking to the past. He’d made his choices. He knew what the consequences would be, and he would gladly pay them when the time came.

  Malcolm began to reach for his phone to alert those at the castle about the new Druid in Deirdre’s mountain. But he paused at the last minute when he thought of Larena.

  His cousin was still dealing with everything the X90 bullet filled with drough blood had done to her. One drop of drough blood could kill a Warrior. Jason Wallace had done something to make the drough blood in the X90s stronger.

  Larena had died before the Druids could help her. Somehow, she had found her way back to Fallon. Malcolm still didn’t understand how, but there were many things about magic he didn’t comprehend.

  Malcolm raked his wet hair out of his face and contemplated the situation. If he called the other Warriors, it would be Fallon who would want to bring the Druid to the castle. Fallon had taken it upon himself to save as many Druids as he could from the evil bent on destroying everything.

  No one seemed to understand that without the Druids they wouldn’t be in this mess. There was only one answer: kill the Druid.

  A flash of clear blue eyes the color of a summer’s sky flickered in Malcolm’s mind. He shoved it aside. Beautiful or not, the Druid had to die.

  There was only one reason for a Druid to be back in Cairn Toul. She was evil.

  Or going to become evil.

  Malcolm frowned. He’d felt her magic. It had been pure and magnetic, radiant and sensual. It had been … incandescent. There was no way she would have been able to mask her magic from him.

  Yet, he couldn’t fathom why a mie would be in such an evil place. The things that had taken place in Cairn Toul Mountain were unspeakable. The sheer number of Druids who had died by Deirdre’s hand as she took their magic was unthinkable.

  And the men captured and imprisoned in the hopes they held a god within them was unimaginable.

  For over a thousand years, evil had ruled the mountain. That kind of wickedness left a mark, a mark that would remain forever. If the Druid didn’t know where she was, then she could be in danger.

  Malcolm found himself pulled in two directions again. He could get inside the mountain and confront the Druid. Or he could allow her to remain where she would most likely die or turn evil—then he would kill her.

  He turned and looked over his shoulder to the forest. The deer were still there, waiting for him to resume his hunt. No matter how much he wanted to return to them, he couldn’t.

  For whatever reason, he had come across the Druid. Whether she lived or died was now in his hands. Whereas other Warriors might feel kindness or patience for her, Malcolm had no such difficu
lties.

  He would evaluate her as the cold, calculating beast he was. If she left Cairn Toul, he might steer her toward MacLeod Castle.

  If she remained … it would be his duty to end her life. There were enough problems caused by one powerful drough. One less drough wouldn’t be missed.

  His enhanced hearing picked up a slight whoosh from above. Malcolm jerked his gaze upward, searching the clouds. It would be just like the Dragon Kings to watch him.

  The Kings were immortal like him, but unlike Warriors, they had been around since the beginning of time. They could shift from dragon to human form and back again at will. It was their duty to keep the peace between the dragons and humans, which is why when a war broke out millions of years ago, they sent their dragons to another realm.

  The Kings remained, powerful and influential. They hid behind Dreagan Industries, which also produced the most sought-after scotch in the world—Dreagan whisky.

  Malcolm searched the skies for several minutes, yet he found no sign of a dragon nor heard anything that sounded remotely like a beating wing.

  Which was good. He didn’t want to explain himself to anyone. The farther he was from the others the better. They might not see it that way now, but they would eventually when it came time to hunt him. It was always easier to hunt something you didn’t know than to kill a friend.

  Malcolm faced Cairn Toul again. He’d never wanted to return, but it looked as if he would step once more into Hell itself thanks to this new Druid.

  He had no doubt the stones knew he was there. Whether they had told the Druid or not, he wasn’t sure. Deirdre had made certain there were ways for her Warriors to get in and out of the mountain besides using the main entry.

  Malcolm jogged around the backside of the mountain regretting his decision with every step he took. When he finally reached his destination, the stones shifted and blocked the entrance.

  He didn’t bother trying to move the large boulder. Cairn Toul had another Druid in its bowels, and it would do whatever it needed to in order to keep her protected.

  Malcolm leaned close and said in Gaelic, “Fosgail, open.”

  The stones had no choice but to allow him entry. He waited as the boulder rolled away and the entrance was once more revealed.

  With a slight hesitation, Malcolm stepped into the mountain. For several seconds, he simply stood in the silence. The stones could have imprisoned him right then, but they allowed him through the small room and deeper into the mountain.

  He knew there was only one place the rocks would have taken the Druid. Malcolm’s boots didn’t make a sound upon the stones as he made his way to Deirdre’s old room.

  The torches were lit to cast aside the shadows, but to Malcolm, it only made the shadows deeper, more sinister. Evil leeched from the stones until it enveloped him.

  He wasn’t sure what he would find when he reached Deirdre’s chamber, but it wasn’t the Druid fast asleep and buried under a mountain of blankets.

  Her deep brown curls streamed across the pillow behind her as she lay on her side, one hand beneath her cheek. Lips, full and tempting, were slightly parted and her breathing was deep and even.

  He wanted to spy on her for a few days to see what she was about, but the stones would no doubt tell her he was there.

  There were few choices left to him. He could leave. He could make himself comfortable in one of the chairs and remain until she woke. Or he could go to another part of the mountain and wait.

  Malcolm contemplated all three options and the consequences. Each held its own appeal, but in the end there was really only one choice.

  * * *

  Evie wasn’t sure what yanked her so unceremoniously from her much needed sleep. One moment she was dreaming, and the next she opened her eyes—to find a man leaning over her.

  She gasped and found herself gazing into the most spectacular azure eyes the color of the brightest sapphires. They glittered like gems as he stared dispassionately at her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  His voice, dark, rich, and sultry, sent a tremor down her spine to settle in a warm flood between her legs. His blond hair, a golden color that made it seem as if he were born of the sun, hung wet and tangled about his shoulders.

  “Did you no’ hear me? What are you doing here?” he demanded again, his tone even, but brooking no argument.

  She wanted to answer him, but she was arrested by what her eyes saw. Even with the thick growth of a beard she spied his angular jaw, strong chin, and cheekbones so high they could cut her.

  Then she saw the scars. He didn’t hide behind them, but displayed them as if waiting for some poor soul to try and pity him.

  It took just a glance to see that there were five gashes that slashed across his face from his left temple to his right jaw. One even went over his eye, making her wonder how he hadn’t lost it.

  “Answer me,” he growled dangerously.

  Evie jerked her gaze back to his and licked her lips nervously even while she tried to stay calm. “I needed a place to stay.”

  “And you knew of this place how?”

  There was something in his tone that told her he knew exactly how she knew. After all the running, all the hiding, she’d finally found a place she felt safe. She was tired of being scared. A wave of anger filled her. “Don’t patronize me.”

  “Ah,” he murmured. “You’ve a spine then.”

  It was only when she managed to pull her attention from the gorgeous—and frightening—specimen before her that she finally heard the stones. They were deafening as they shouted her name over and over. With one word she could have the stones hold the man, and it might come to that, but she wasn’t ready to take that action. Yet.

  Just knowing she had that option gave her the courage to stand up to him.

  “Do you live here?” she asked.

  “I asked you a question first.”

  She pulled her hands out of the covers and shoved at his chest. He was like a wall of granite, hard and unmovable. Her hands tingled from the contact, the warmth and power she felt urging her to touch him again, to learn the thick sinew she saw beneath his tight shirt.

  When he didn’t move, she did. Evie climbed out of the covers and stood on the opposite side of the bed. Only to realize she was in nothing but her bra and panties, having been too exhausted to riffle through her luggage for her jammies. She hastily grabbed one of the blankets and held it against her.

  His gaze slid down her, but no desire flared in his eyes. She should be thankful. Yet all she could do was marvel at the man before her. He stood tall and commanding, large and impressive. His arms hung by his sides, belying the alertness she sensed within him.

  He wore the charcoal-gray tee as if it were a second skin. It molded to every hard muscle and valley of his body, making her yearn to tear the shirt off and see him in all his glory.

  The dark jeans were still damp from the rain and hung low on his hips. She had the insane urge to ask him to turn around so she could see his bum.

  Evie let her gaze rake back up his trim hips to the deep V of his chest, to his impossibly wide shoulders. That’s when she saw more scars half hidden on his neck by his hair and shirt.

  He was danger and torment hulking in the doorway with a mouthwatering body and enthralling azure eyes. He was sex in its most primal and untamed form.

  And she couldn’t believe he was within reach.

  His deep, sultry voice was a weapon on its own, but combined with his eyes and rock-hard body, Evie had to force her mind to remember what they were talking about.

  “You asked a question, and I answered. Seems only fair you answer mine,” she said in a voice calmer than she felt as she met his eyes.

  The man set her on edge, her body seeming to come alive with him near. It was as if it recognized the very masculine, very dominant man would ease the deep ache within her.

  She didn’t know who he was though. For all she knew he could be the one who hacked her site.


  And she didn’t care.

  He was frightening in the way he stared at her as if she could be the enemy, but he was also exciting and … stirring.

  “Nay.”

  She swallowed and ignored how tempting his full lips were. “Look. I’m not being unfai—”

  “Nay, I doona live here,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

  Evie fiddled with the edge of the blanket. “Oh.”

  “Now. How did you know of this place?”

  She had never told another soul she was a Druid, and now that the time was upon her, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to talk about it.

  “Shall I tell you?” the stranger asked. “You’re a Druid, and you heard the stones.”

  It took a moment for Evie to realize her mouth was hanging open she was so shocked. Belatedly, she closed her mouth and dragged in a deep breath. “Are you … are you a Druid?”

  “No’ even close.”

  “But you know of Druids?”

  He gave a single nod.

  Evie stopped herself short of rolling her eyes. “Can you tell me what you know of them?”

  “You know you’re a Druid and you doona know of them?”

  “It’s complicated,” she said with a shrug. “Will you tell me who you are?”

  “I’m the worst thing that could’ve crossed your path, Druid.”

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  Ferness, Scotland

  “I doona like this,” Phelan said as he paced the length of floor-to-ceiling windows in Charon’s living room above the tavern. “Malcolm is keeping to himself more and more. This doesna bode well.”

  Charon set down his glass on the coffee table and put his hand on Laura’s knee. “We could always have Broc find him.”

  Phelan came to a halt when Aisley stepped in front of him. Her fawn-colored eyes held a wealth of concern. He tugged on a long lock of her black hair. “No’ yet.”

  Broc was a viable choice since his power as a Warrior was to find anyone, anywhere. But Phelan wasn’t ready for those at the castle to know how concerned he was over Malcolm.

  “Any word on Larena?” Aisley asked.

  It was Charon who said, “No’ since Fallon told us Britt was close to finalizing the antidote that could help.”