“Who saved his sister’s life! Who prevented the Demon from making a sacrifice a hundred times more powerful than the death of its mortal shell. Had your sister died tonight instead of the Hierophant, or what remained of him, the hellmouth would even now be pouring forth wave after wave of servants to the Darkness. The whole countryside would be overrun with creatures out of humanity’s darkest nightmares. Your neighbors would be dying, and there would be little we few could do to stop it. Dhuhlzek would have returned with ten times the power it did, would be able to command those legions of evil and turn them into an army that would take over this entire island within days. Hear me, Michael Stephen Drummond, when I tell you that your actions tonight have prevented disaster!”
She continued to glare at him for a long time after she finished her speech. Drum said nothing. He couldn’t; he was too busy being stunned. He had never stopped to consider what alternative he’d had or hadn’t had back there in the cavern. He had been operating on pure instinct, and yet somehow he had still managed to do the right thing.
Maybe he shouldn’t tell anyone it had been an accident, though. They might not find that news reassuring.
Making a low, grumbling sound of frustration, Ash took his arm and slung it back over her shoulder before turning and dragging him back into motion. She stomped several yards closer to the barn while he struggled to keep up and to figure out how he could respond to her tirade without making her angry all over again.
“Ash, I—”
“Shut up,” she snarled at him. “Sometimes, Michael Drummond, we are both better off when you simply do not speak.”
Well, he couldn’t really argue with that.
Drum held his tongue for the rest of the slow and painful trip back to the barn. By the time Ash half carried him through the door, Dag and Kylie lay sprawled side by side across one of the cots, with Maeve curled up under a huge mound of blankets on the other. Meanwhile, Knox helped a clearly exhausted Wynn reset the circle of candles and the mirror they had used for the portal spell that had brought them here.
“Wynn, you’re killing me here,” Kylie groaned without raising her head. “I haven’t got the energy to cast aspersions, let alone cast another spell, and if you try to tell me you do, I’ll smack your face and call you a liar. I’m begging you, just get a couple of hours of sleep and then we can send you home faster than you can think.”
“Don’t worry about it, Koyote,” Wynn said, stifling a yawn. “You don’t have to get up. Uncle Griffin is doing the heavy lifting on this one. I deliberately had you build this end of the portal with a whole bunch of redundancy. I don’t have to do much more than snap my fingers and let Grif pull us back home. It’s all good.”
Drum frowned at the pair lighting candles in a circle. “You’re leaving already? But—I haven’t even gotten a chance to thank you, and I’m too fucking knackered to think of how now. You have to stay at least until I can get my brain working right again.”
Knox straightened and looked at him, the corner of his mouth tightening in something that might have been a smile on a more expressive face. “No thanks are necessary, Warden. In fact, if any are owed, it is ours to you. Your actions prevented a great evil tonight. You should take pride in having done your duty with honor.”
Wynn did smile, though it held more than a hint of sleepiness. “He’s right, Drum. You did good.” She stepped out of the incomplete circle to hug him, then repeated the gesture with Ash, who seemed surprised, then returned it fiercely. “I’m glad we found the two of you. Or, I suppose it’s more accurate to say I’m glad you two found us. I’m very much afraid we’re going to need your help again before too long.”
Knox nodded a grim agreement.
His mate stepped back to his side and bent to light the final candle. When she rose, she sent Drum a stern frown. “In the meantime, get thee to a doctor, mister. You need stitches in that arm, not to mention what needs to be done to treat the stab wound. Now, shoo!”
Then the figures turned to face the mirror and linked hands. Wynn muttered a few words, raised her hand, and a shimmering curtain of light seemed to appear in the air in front of them. It parted to let them step through, then fell shut behind them and winked out of existence, leaving nothing but an empty circle of flickering candlelight.
Kylie heaved a loud sigh from her position on the bed. “Great, now someone has to blow out those candles before we burn this place down, too. Not it.”
“Not it,” Dag echoed quickly.
Ash shot them a glare, but she quickly settled Drum into a folding canvas chair and took care of the tiny flames. When she returned to his side, she reached for his hands as if to tug him to his feet. “Come. You heard Wynn. We must bring you to a doctor and have your wounds tended to. You will tell me where to go, and I will drive your car. I admit I have been very curious about the operation of such a large machine.”
Drum let Ash grasp his hands, but instead of rising, he used the grip to pull her down into his lap. He almost regretted it when his battered body screamed at him, but the pain faded quickly (after all, his legs had sustained the least injuries of just about anywhere on his frame), allowing the feel of strong, supple woman to register with his fractious nerves.
Ah, that was better.
He wrapped his uninjured arm around her and urged her closer, rolling his eyes when a long, loud, and obviously fake snore rose from the camp bed a few yards away. The giggle Kylie added didn’t do much for the mood he wanted to create here, either.
Ash didn’t seem to notice, though. She twisted her upper body to face him, taking obvious care not to jostle any of his visible injuries. “Did you not hear me, Drum? You must visit a doctor. Wynn said it is important.”
“I heard you, mo chaomhnóir.” He sighed, squeezing her hip. “I heard Wynn when she said the same thing, and I’m not arguing the necessity, just the timing. I think we can wait a few minutes while we settle something more important.”
“More important than your health?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing. “What about your sister, then? What about her health? She had many wounds, as well. Did you not wish for her to be examined by a physician?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Nice try, but that trick won’t work on me. Maeve is safe and warm now, and none of her cuts or scrapes were very serious. As soon as we get a few things straight, I’ll pick up the phone and call Dr. O’Fallon. He’s retired, but he lives just on the other side of the village and he doesn’t mind coming out now and then for emergencies.”
“Very well.” Ash crossed her arms over her chest and raised her stubborn chin. “What do you believe needs to be straightened and settled more importantly than your health?”
“You.”
She met his revelation with stunned silence. Dag and Kylie added the sound effects. Drum just tried to tune them out.
Not Ash, the others.
“Me?” Her jaw fell open in an expression of mortal offense. “What precisely do you believe is wrong with me, human?”
He had to wrestle back his grin like an invading Fomorian. “Absolutely nothing.”
“What?”
The grin won. She was adorable when she was confused.
“Aw, he’s so sweet! I just want to pinch his cheeks,” Kylie whispered loudly enough to be heard in Dublin.
“You’d better mean the ones of his face,” Dag rumbled in response.
Drum gritted his teeth and tried to refocus. “I mean just what I said, Ash of the Guardians of the Light. There’s nothing wrong with you. In fact, I think you’re perfect. Fucking brilliant. Except for one, tiny, miniscule, microscopic little thing.”
She just blinked at him.
“You’ve never told me you love me.”
She sputtered. “I have so! The other night, in your sister’s husband’s half-demolished barn! I told you then!”
Kylie burst into giggles, then slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle them. Dag chuckled and didn’t even try to disguise the sound.
&
nbsp; Drum ignored them. “Did you? Hm. Does it count when you say it—” He broke off to glare at the pair on the nearby cot, daring them to interrupt. “Er, when you say it in the heat of the moment like that?”
More giggles. Another chuckle poorly disguised behind a cough.
“That’s the only time you said it, either!” Ash snapped, thumping her fist against his chest with no force whatsoever. It still stung.
Drum winced and rubbed the spot with his fingertips. “Not true. I’m saying it right now. I love you. I love you, Ash. You’re my heart, mo chaomhnóir.”
Ash, warrior woman, Valkyrie, the strongest woman, the strongest person he’d ever met, burst into tears.
Kylie repeated the Gaelic phrase, butchering it so badly that Drum winced, even as he struggled to ignore her and comfort the woman in his arms. “What does that mean?”
“The way you said it?” Dag asked dryly. “Nothing. When he said it, it meant ‘my guardian.’”
“Aw, that’s adorable. So why is she crying?”
“You stupid human!” Ash cried out, lifting her head from Drum’s chest to glare at the American through a veil of tears. “I am crying because I am forced to stand apart from my brethren. Our legends tell the story of our kind finding the mates of their hearts, the partners designed for them by the hand of fate, and yet I am left with nothing.”
Kylie sat up on the camp bed to frown at the weeping Guardian. “I know, bubbeleh. The seven women of power who freed the Guardians from their duty to return to stone and set them free to live as mortals, while new Guardians were summoned to take their places. I thought that story was supposed to make you happy.”
“Perhaps it would if I cared anything for a woman of power, you fool.” Ash swiped a hand across her cheek, brushing away tears that were quickly replaced. “But perhaps you failed to notice that a female Guardian fits nowhere into that story of love and freedom.”
Oh.
The light dawned for Drum in a quiet rush, explaining his mate’s reticence, her passion, and her tears all in one neat package. No wonder he had felt she tried to hold herself back from him. She had believed their relationship doomed, that when the Seven were defeated and she no longer needed to fight to save humanity from the threat, she would be forced back into her statue form and trapped in magical sleep. Hell, the idea would have tied him into knots, too.
He opened his mouth to soothe her, but Dag beat him to it.
“Silly female,” the other Guardian rumbled, his tone softer than Drum had heard it when speaking to anyone but his mate. “You know the story and yet you remain ignorant of its meaning.”
Ash scowled. “Call me silly again, brother, I will test the silliness of my axe against your skull.”
Dag just grinned. “I merely speak as I find, sister. Tell me, do you believe it benefits the Light to divide from each other those whom love has brought together?”
“What do you mean?”
“He means,” Kylie said softly, “that love is the greatest weapon the Light has against the Darkness. Love is a source of happiness, of joy, of contentment. It’s a source of life, because people who love each other build lives together. They build families together. The Light doesn’t care who’s male and who’s female and which one carries the sword in the family. The Light just wants us to love.”
Drum listened to the little Warden and agreed with every single word she said. How could he not? He might be a Catholic, and the Church may have gotten a hell of a lot of things wrong over the years, but the one thing he had always figured they had right was when they said God is Love. Whether you called it God or the Light, he didn’t think the details really mattered.
In his arms, Ash shifted, her head bowing. He tried to peer under her concealing fringe to read the expression on her face. He didn’t have to try for long. After a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, she looked up again, and the smile on her face could have lit up hell single-handed.
“By the Light,” she whispered, lifting her hand to cup Drum’s cheek and turning that smile on him. “By the Light, I love you, Michael Drummond. And I will stay by your side until the stars themselves go dark.”
Hell be damned, Drum thought, because that smile lit up his soul.
“I’ll love you longer,” he growled, and seized her mouth with all the passion in his heart. She returned it tenfold.
Life, suddenly, felt perfect.
A muffled thump in the background didn’t even make them blink as Kylie collapsed onto the air mattress.
“Oy, finally! Now can we all get a little farkakte sleep?”
Coming soon…
Look for the next novel of rock-solid romance from New York Times bestselling author
Christine Warren
Hardbreaker
Available in October 2017
And don’t miss the other titles in this series
Hard as a Rock
Stone Cold Lover
Heart of Stone
From St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Also by
Christine Warren
Hard as a Rock
Stone Cold Lover
Heart of Stone
Hungry Like a Wolf
Drive Me Wild
On the Prowl
Not Your Ordinary Faerie Tale
Black Magic Woman
Prince Charming Doesn’t Live Here
Born to be Wild
Big Bad Wolf
You’re So Vein
One Bite with a Stranger
Walk on the Wild Side Howl at the Moon
The Demon You Know
She’s No Faerie Princess
Wolf at the Door
Anthologies
Huntress
No Rest for the Witches
Praise for the Gargoyle series by
New York Times bestselling author
CHRISTINE WARREN
Heart of Stone
“The opening of Warren’s hot new paranormal series is a snarky, creative, and steamy success that delights new and longtime fans alike.”
—RT Book Reviews (4 stars)
“The sexual attraction … is palpable.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Steamy scenes, mixed with an intriguing story line and a hearty helping of snarky humor.”
—Reader to Reader
“Rousing … [an] engaging urban fantasy.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Fast-paced with characters you’ll love, and even some you’ll love to hate, Heart of Stone is another winner for author Christine Warren!”
—Romance Reviews
Stone Cold Lover
“Soars with fun, witty characters and nonstop action.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Fascinating, complex, and so well crafted … perfect for keeping fans … coming back for more.”
—RT Book Reviews (4 stars)
Hard as a Rock
“Fiery, fierce, and fun.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Smoldering-hot … the stakes are fatally high and the chemistry [is] simply blistering.”
—RT Book Reviews
About the Author
Born and raised in coastal New England, Christine Warren now lives as a transplant in the Pacific Northwest, where she gets ocean, mountains, forests, and farmland all in one pretty package. When not writing (as if that ever happens), she enjoys spoiling her horse, playing with her dogs, concocting all sorts of yummies (both liquid and solid), and most of all, reading things someone else had to agonize over. She enjoys hearing from readers and can be reached via e-mail sent to [email protected]. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
The Beginning
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Also by Christine Warren
Praise for Christine Warren
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
HARD TO HANDLE
Copyright © 2017 by Christine Warren.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
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eISBN: 9781466889392
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / February 2017
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Hard to Handle--A Beauty and Beast Novel Page 27