by Donna Grant
Lily turned to retrace her steps, but halted when she caught sight of Dreagan Manor through the tall hedgerow. All she had ever seen was a glimpse of the manor, but she knew it had to be impressive, like everything else on Dreagan.
It was also where Rhys lived.
She discovered that fact by accident when she overheard a conversation between Cassie and Jane. Lily felt awful for eavesdropping, but how could she not once she heard Rhys’s name? Knowing that tidbit was like holding a special secret.
Then again, everything about Dreagan was unique.
Not just because they were selective about who they allowed to sell their whisky, but because they kept the distillery small instead of growing it, which kept the staff intimate. In her first week of work, she learned she was the newest hire in over two years. That didn’t count any of the Dreagan wives, as she called them.
The wives were a close group, closer than was normal. They were also careful never to talk too much about their lives in front of others. They were kind, giving, friendly, and welcoming, and yet Lily knew they were hiding something.
It wasn’t obvious to most, but her time with them made her see what others did not. Curious since childhood, Lily had gotten out of that habit quick enough with Dennis. She didn’t need to know the Dreagan wives’ secret. It was enough that she was part of Dreagan in her very small way. The people had no idea how they helped to change her. The land healed her with its simple and wild splendor.
All she needed was a little bit more time to find the girl she had once been. Then, she would gather her courage and return to her family.
Lily pivoted and walked back into the shop since Cassie and Jane were gone to lunch. She smiled as she looked at the walls lined with whisky that brought in scores of people each day. The distillery wasn’t open for tours all year round, but the shop rarely closed. It allowed the people of the nearby villages to buy the whisky.
She made her way to the shelves nearest the door. The two sections of shelving six feet wide and seven feet high were the only portion of the shop that didn’t have whisky.
Lily ran her hand down the spine of a book titled Dreagan Whisky: How it All Came to Be. She straightened the book with the others of the same title. It was one of the most popular sellers. Everyone wanted to know Dreagan’s secret so they could repeat it. As if Dreagan would tell anyone their secret.
She moved to the next set of books, which contained pictures of Dreagan from the distillery to the sheep and cattle. She knew every picture by heart since she looked at the book often enough.
There were several other sets of books, all about Dreagan in some way, shape, or form. What wasn’t in any of them? Anyone associated with Dreagan. Constantine’s name was mentioned, but there was no photograph of him. The books—all of them—focused on the whisky.
Next, Lily straightened the stickers. Dragons were apparently popular. They sold dozens of stickers every day. Then again, the Dreagan logo of the double dragons back-to-back was beautifully done. All anyone had to see were those double dragons, and they knew it was Dreagan. It was smart marketing.
Just another way Dreagan cornered the market where others failed.
Lily walked to the back to get another box, this one holding the whisky glasses that sold as well as the whisky itself. The glasses were short and wide with the double dragon logo etched into the glass. She was stocking the shelf with more of the glasses when the chime over the door dinged, letting her know someone had entered.
“Welcome to Dreagan,” Lily said over her shoulder. “I’ll be right with you.”
“Take your time.”
She froze. That voice, gravelly and a little whiny, sounded just like Dennis. She gave an inward shake of her head. Once again she was letting her past intrude upon her new life. She hated that Dennis was back in her thoughts again. Ever since her flat was broken into, she kept thinking she was seeing him everywhere.
Except she didn’t really see him, just caught a glimpse of ginger hair that turned out to belong to someone else. Or heard a laugh that made her heart clutch until she realized it wasn’t him.
It didn’t happen every day. Just when she had convinced herself it was all her imagination, she would think she saw or heard him again, and it would start a vicious cycle she feared wouldn’t break.
Last night had been the worst. She was picking up her favorite ale and a sandwich from the co-op when she heard the whistling. It was a tune she hadn’t heard before—or since—Dennis, and yet it filled the tiny store.
The ale had slipped from her fingers to shatter on the floor, soaking her boots in the alcohol, but she hadn’t noticed. Her gaze was pinned to the end of the aisle as she waited for Dennis to round the corner. Just as suddenly as the whistling began, it ended. No one turned the corner, nor did she see Dennis.
It was everything Lily could do to stay calm now. She reminded herself that she was at Dreagan, and that Dennis had no control over her anymore. She set the glass on the shelf and forced her fingers to release it. Then she turned to the customer, half expecting to see Dennis leaning on the counter with his ginger hair and cocky smile.
Instead, she found an elderly man with thick white hair and a warm smile. Lily was so relieved her knees couldn’t hold her. The man was instantly at her side helping to keep her standing.
“Are you all right?” he asked with concern in his faded gray eyes.
Lily nodded, a hand on her chest. She could feel her own heart pounding from the scare. “Yes. Thank you for your help. I guess it’s been a long day.”
“Lass, it’s more than that,” he admonished gently while walking her to the counter.
Lily was grateful for his assistance, but hoped Cassie or the others didn’t see her. She needed the job for more than just the money. The last thing she wanted was for them to think she wasn’t up to working.
“What can I get for you today?” she asked the man.
He handed her a piece of paper listing the whisky he wanted. With the fright behind her, Lily took a deep breath and let the past fade again. She began to gather the bottles of whisky while the man talked to her about his day of fly-fishing.
Thirty minutes later, she checked him out and waved while he departed the store. She shook her head with a chuckle at the stories he’d told her, which she imagined had all been made up. Still, they made her laugh and forget for a time.
Lily suddenly stilled. A prickle on the back of her neck began, her body beginning to warm at her jaw and going lower down her neck.
Rhys.
She was a mess of stuttering words and bumbling idiocy when it came to him. He had a habit of coming up silently behind her, and then talking, his rich voice sending chills racing over her. It had been weeks since she saw him. She searched for a glimpse of him every day, hoping to catch sight of him.
She spun about, a smile upon her lips, eager to hear his voice. It was rich with a hint of cynicism and a large dose of carnality. It made her envision long nights of loving, moans of pleasure, and boneless abandon.
But there was no one standing in the back hallway, no towering figure with long dark hair and aqua-ringed dark blue eyes staring at her.
Her disappointment was almost as great as her earlier fear. Lily glanced at her watch and walked to the door of the shop, which she locked. It was time to close things up. It was one of her favorite times of the day. She normally had the shop to herself.
It allowed her to feel as if she weren’t just a visitor to Dreagan, but part of it.
***
Rhys flattened himself against the wall as he listened to Lily walk around the shop. He’d known it was folly to venture into the store, but he’d need a closer look at her.
His concern grew after witnessing her reaction to the last customer. It was the man’s voice that set her on edge. Rhys stood in the shadows of the back hallway and watched as she set her shoulders and faced the man.
The utter relief when she saw the man had been palpable. Her knees even gave out.
Rhys was about to go to her when the old man stepped in. Even now, Rhys could feel the fury slide through him that someone made Lily feel such fear.
She bounced back quickly. The smile on her face, and the easy way she spoke to the customer all indicated that she had moved past the episode. Rhys, however, hadn’t.
He stalked from the store back to the manor. His hand was on the dragon-head banister when he looked up and saw Cassie and Hal coming down the stairs. “What do you know of Lily’s past?” Rhys demanded of Cassie.
Hal paused, surprise on his face and in his moonlight blue eyes. “Rhys. It’s good to have you back.”
He gave a nod to Hal. “Cassie, tell me what you know of Lily?”
Cassie shook her brunette head, her dark brown eyes glancing at Hal before she said in her American accent, “I don’t know much. None of us do. She rarely talks of the past.”
She was keeping something from him, Rhys was sure of it. “Tell me,” he stated through clenched teeth.
Hal immediately stepped between Cassie and Rhys. “What’s this about?” he asked Rhys.
“A suspicion.”
“Of what?” Hal pressed, his face going hard.
Rhys glanced away, remembering the look of dread that flashed in Lily’s black eyes. “She’s scared of someone. A man. I want to know who it is and what he did to her.”
Cassie put her hand on Hal’s shoulder and moved a step down so that she was even with her husband. She looked at Rhys, indecision warring. “I want your word, Rhys, that you won’t confront her with what I tell you.”
“You have it,” Rhys answered.
Cassie threaded her fingers with Hal’s. “I saw something weeks ago. It was by accident. Lily was embarrassed by it, which is why I never brought it up again. She has a scar on her left shoulder. I don’t know how far down it goes, but the scar tissue itself is thick.”
“Damn,” Hal mumbled.
Rhys tightened his grip on the banister, unmindful of the wood cracking beneath his hand. “What did you think made the scar?”
“It looked like a burn. But I just had a glimpse,” Cassie hurried to say. “It could’ve been anything.”
Hal looked at her then. “What does your gut tell you?”
“That she was hurt on purpose.” Cassie’s shoulders slumped. “I know she’s had a few broken bones.”
Blood pounded in Rhys’s ears. He was taking in everything Cassie said, absorbing it, gathering it. Because he was going to find the fucker and make him pay.
“I know the signs,” Cassie continued. “I had a friend who was physically and mentally abused by her husband. I could never convince her to leave, and the ass eventually killed her.”
Rhys spun around and walked off. It was worse than he feared. So much about Lily made sense now. Then he’d gone and acted like a brute by kissing her as if she were his. Now he had a mission. He didn’t need to be able to shift into a dragon to handle a wanker who beat on women. This was something he would relish.
Rhys was at the door when someone called his name. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to be deterred from his task, but Con’s voice still halted him in his tracks.
Rhys closed the door and slowly turned around to face Constantine, expecting to be lectured for being gone so long.
“It’s about damn time you came home,” Con said while turning the gold dragon-head cuff link at the wrist of his French-cuffed dress shirt. He motioned Rhys to follow. “I need your help.”
Chapter Three
Taraeth’s Palace, Dark Fae realm
“You have seconds to explain yourself,” Taraeth, king of the Dark Fae stated from his black throne, his voice laced with cold fury.
Balladyn looked into the red eyes of his king and fought the urge to plunge his sword into Taraeth’s heart. After all he had done for the Darks, after all he had become for Taraeth, the king now admonished him.
But they weren’t alone. There were six guards, two posted on either side of the door and the other four placed throughout the narrow throne room.
“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” Taraeth demanded with a sneer. “The great Balladyn brought low by a Light.”
“Rhi is no mere Light Fae,” Balladyn said.
“That she isn’t. In your quest for revenge, you lost me another Dragon King!” Taraeth bellowed.
Balladyn watched as Taraeth shifted his left shoulder and touched the nub that was left after a human female, now mated to the Dragon King Kellan, cut it off.
“Rhi will be ours,” Balladyn replied.
Taraeth snorted. He gazed at Balladyn icily. “For months you’ve been unable to find her. She eludes you at every turn. I thought you said you knew her.”
“I do,” Balladyn said between clenched teeth.
“Apparently not. You thought you could turn her Dark. Since she’s not here with us, you obviously failed.”
“I doubt that. You didn’t see her.”
“She leveled your compound!” Taraeth exploded, his Irish accent thick with his fury. “By herself, no less. What aren’t you telling me about her?”
As if Balladyn would divulge such information. “Nothing, sire. I pushed Rhi to the brink, and her rage took over.”
“While she wore the Chains of Mordare? Do you think me a fool?” Taraeth’s red eyes blazed as he leaned forward on his throne. “Tread carefully, Balladyn. You might be my favorite, but I’ve had many before you.”
Balladyn watched as Taraeth ran a hand through his long hair that was more silver than black. The more evil a Dark committed, the more silver threaded through their black hair.
The strength of Rhi’s magic was no one’s business, most especially Taraeth’s. The king wouldn’t appreciate knowing Balladyn was conspiring against him. Then again, not even Rhi knew her full potential. Balladyn, however, did. He’d glimpsed it within her while torturing her. Once she was fully Dark, the two of them would be unstoppable.
Not even the love she held within her for that imbecile of a Dragon King would survive once she was Dark.
Balladyn could hardly wait. Nothing had gone to plan, but he knew with a surety of his black soul that Rhi would be his. When she returned, she would come to him. She was always meant to be his.
“I removed the Chains of Mordare from Rhi,” Balladyn lied. “I wanted to see how the rage changed her.”
Taraeth sat back slowly. Ever the one to consider all sides, he asked, “Did she exceed your expectations?”
“Unequivocally. She’s a Fae we should pursue wholeheartedly.”
“And this has nothing to do with the fact that she left you on the battlefield for me to find and turn Dark?”
Balladyn was used to telling this lie, so he didn’t hesitate to shake his head. “I was meant to be Dark. I’ve known that since I let it inside me. I thank her for leaving me to you.”
“Is that so?”
How many more times would Balladyn have to kiss Taraeth’s ass? It was becoming a chore that enraged him each time. “Of course.”
“And your promise to hand me a Dragon King?”
“I’ve not forgotten that promise, my king. It’s one I intend to carry through at all costs.”
Taraeth chuckled. “My, how you hate them. I think you despise the Kings more than I do.”
“I do,” Balladyn replied in a low voice.
“Kiril was in our midst for months in Ireland. Most recently, we learned of the hidden doorway for us to get onto Dreagan undetected and find the weapon that will end the Dragon Kings. Yet we can’t even get near the doorway. How is it we keep failing? We have to have that weapon!”
Balladyn bowed his head. “We’ll have it.”
“Just as I’d hoped you would say.”
That’s when Balladyn realized he’d stepped right into whatever it was Taraeth wanted him to do. He fisted his hands at his sides as he thought of the precious time spent away from his search for Rhi.
“Aren’t you curious?” Taraeth asked with narrowed eyes.<
br />
“I’m merely waiting for your instructions.”
Taraeth stood, the sleeve of his left arm hanging loose with nothing to fill it. “There’s a meeting I need you to attend in Inverness.”
“So close to Dreagan?”
The king shrugged. “Take as many Dark as you wish. There will be those from MI5 there as well as our … friend.”
Balladyn scrunched up his nose. “He’s not a friend.”
“Nor is he an enemy. For now. He’s the one giving us information on Dreagan. Without him, we’d never have known the location of the secret doorway to get onto Dreagan.”
“The Dragon Kings have now secured that doorway. We can’t get near it thanks to Iona Campbell taking over as guardian of the Campbell land. Not to mention she’s mated to Laith.”
“I don’t need to be reminded of the humans binding themselves with the Dragon Kings,” Taraeth said tersely as he came down the four steps to stand in front of Balladyn. “The enemy of our enemy is our friend. Remember that during this meeting.”
Taraeth walked around him before striding away. Balladyn turned to watch the thirty-foot double doors open of their own accord as Taraeth neared.
Balladyn spread his fingers after Taraeth was out of sight. The last thing he wanted to do was go to this meeting. Then again, there might be something useful he could glean from the mortals—and even his enemy.
Because, regardless of the fact that the “other” was an enemy of the Dragon Kings, it didn’t make him a friend of Balladyn’s. Ever.
The first chance Balladyn got, he was going to kill the bastard.
Chapter Four
Rhys followed Con into his office and found Kellan, Warrick, Banan, and Kiril already there. Rhys locked his gaze on Con. There was always a reason for whatever Con did. Usually Rhys could piece it out, but this time he couldn’t.
“Glad you’re back,” Warrick told Rhys.