Dark Warrior [5] Midnight's Kiss

by Donna Grant

  Jason wore the expensive suit, but it didn’t improve his looks. If anything, it only brought to attention how unsuited he was to wearing it.

  “You no more make that suit look good than you know what you’re doing with magic. You don the suit because that’s what Declan did. But Declan knew how to wear it. Same for the magic.”

  Jason turned to Arran. His blue eyes were cold with fury and malice. “I know all about Declan and Deirdre. He had a book he kept hidden between walls. It told about Deirdre and what he’d done to achieve his magic.”

  With a calculating smile, Jason once more stood in front of Arran but out of reach. “The book also described each Warrior living at MacLeod Castle as well as a few of the Druids. So you see, MacCarrick, I know much more than any of you ever realized.”

  On either side and behind Arran were his friends, all silently listening to his conversation. Ronnie had taken a seat as far from him as she could, her gaze on the floor. She hadn’t moved or uttered a single sound since she’d sat.

  Arran might be free to move, but there was no way he could kill Jason or best the droughs holding his friends and not be killed himself.

  For the first time since he’d woken imprisoned in the deep bowels of Deirdre’s mountain, he felt beaten. Defeated.

  Conquered.

  And for a Warrior it was a feeling he never wanted to experience. For all his power and strength, Arran was helpless to do anything.

  Much as he’d been watching Shelley killed before him.

  He’d vowed to never be in that position again. And yet, here he was. Fate really was a bitch.

  Arran kept his face devoid of expression as he watched Jason. “And I suppose you’re as unoriginal as Declan and want to rule the world as Deirdre tried to do?”

  “I do. But whereas Declan and Deirdre made a crucial mistake, I’ve learned from them.”

  “And what might be that mistake?” Arran knew he wasn’t going to live to use the information, but maybe, just maybe, Ronnie would realize her error and take the information for herself.

  He had faith in Ronnie, faith that the goodness inside her would keep her from turning evil and damning the world.

  “Deirdre slaughtered the Druids, and Declan didna trust them. Neither realized that having the Druids as allies would have shifted the balance in their favor.”

  “You obviously never had an encounter with a wyrran,” Arran said with a snort.

  Jason shuddered with revulsion. “Those nasty yellow creatures Deirdre made from magic? They might have been many, but they didna have the ability to use magic as my army does.”

  Arran hated to admit Jason had made a good move. There were few things that could stop a Warrior, but a Druid with strong enough magic could do it.

  “Before I kill you, I’ll give you one chance,” Jason said. “Each of you gets an opportunity to move to my side in this war. I’ll spare you, and in return, I want your complete and total loyalty.”

  Arran knew his answer, but he didn’t have a wife or children as the others did. He turned to look at each of his brethren, their answers written all over their faces.

  It was then that Arran realized two Warriors were missing. Fallon and Malcolm. There was still a way for them to get out of this—or at least some of them.

  Arran turned to Jason. “The answer is nay. For all of us.”

  Even if each of them died, Fallon and Malcolm, along with the Druids, would have a chance against Jason. At least then the world wouldn’t be at the mercy of Jason Wallace.

  “A pity,” Jason said. “At least then you’d have been with the lovely Dr. Reid. I’ve no doubt there will be someone who will warm her bed soon enough.”

  Arran growled, low and long, at the thought of anyone touching his woman. Jason could threaten him all he wanted, but not Ronnie.

  A slow grin spread over Jason’s face. “I see I struck a nerve. It’s a pity I need Ronnie, or I’d love to torture her in front of you. Maybe I’ll keep you alive long enough to see it done.”

  “I’d advise you to take my head now, because the first opportunity I get, I’m killing you,” Arran said between clenched teeth.

  No longer did he hide his anger. He let it rise up within him, let it fill the air as his growls grew. He let loose the monster inside him, welcomed him with open arms.

  He glanced at Ronnie to find her watching him. For just an instant, a millisecond of time, he saw the old Ronnie. But that’s all he needed.

  Arran took a step toward Jason, only to be brought to his knees by the pain slicing through him. Arran threw back his head and bellowed with rage as the drough magic surrounded him, choking him.

  The agony doubled, then tripled as more and more magic pummeled him. Arran wouldn’t bend though. He was a Warrior. He would die defending the people he cared about.

  It took several tries, but he got to his feet, his gaze locked on Jason. Jason’s lip curled in a sneer as he threw more magic at Arran.

  Arran braced himself, but the magic was so strong, so penetrating he had to take a step back just to stay upright.

  There was a crash behind him, but Arran refused to take his eyes off Jason. Wallace was his target, and he wasn’t going to stop until he had his hands around the bastard’s neck.

  Arran leaned forward and bared his fangs as he fought against the unimaginable agony in his head. It was near impossible to think beyond the torture, but Arran kept just one thought in his mind: Kill Jason.

  It seemed an eternity had passed as he took two more steps. Jason’s confidence began to wane by evidence of his widening eyes and hesitant step backwards.

  Arran kept moving. Just one foot in front of the other.

  There was a shimmer out of the corner of Arran’s eye, and he heard the high-pitched scream of a woman, but still he didn’t see what was going on.

  Jason, however, wasn’t so single-minded in his focus. He looked over Arran’s shoulder, and it was all the time Arran needed to launch himself.

  Arran’s claws sank into the left side of Jason’s jaw and scoured across his neck. Arran raised his other hand to repeat his attack when something toppled Jason.

  The drough magic surrounding Arran was suddenly gone. He caught himself before he could fall, and looked to find Ronnie on top of Jason, punching him in the face with her one good fist.

  Arran started for her when he heard a Warrior growl from behind. He turned to find that somehow, his brethren had gotten the upper hand on the droughs. Several Druids had already been killed, and Dale was getting the others away.

  And then Fallon was there. He glanced at Arran before he put his hand on Ronnie and they both disappeared.

  Arran approached Jason with the intent to end everything right then. Blood coated the front of Jason’s suit he’d been so proud of, and by the looks of it, Ronnie had broken his nose.

  “A fitting end for such a pig,” Arran said as he lifted his hand, and to his surprise, a long shard of ice formed. That had never happened before, but it was perfect timing. Arran grinned and started to hurl it at Jason.

  “Arran!” Charon yelled from behind him.

  Arran turned in time to see a Druid come at him with a dagger coated in drough blood. She threw the dagger, the blade going end over end and aiming right for Arran’s heart the same time he threw the shard of ice. The shard embedded deep in her throat, killing her instantly.

  Before Arran could dodge the weapon, Charon was suddenly in front of him. Arran could only stare in horror as the blade sank into Charon’s chest.

  Charon landed hard on the floor. And didn’t move.

  Arran whirled around to Jason, but the bastard was gone.

  “Damn,” Arran mumbled.

  He squatted next to Charon and yanked out the dagger. Charon’s eyes were closed, his breathing labored as Arran tossed aside the blade and hefted the Warrior over his shoulder.

  When he stood, it was to find his brethren had taken back control of the mansion.

  “They’re all gone,�
�� Lucan said, breathing hard as blood coated him.

  Hayden grunted. “Where’s Fallon? I want the hell out of here.”

  Phelan moved the bodies of several droughs and shook his head as he stared down at Fallon. “We’re going to have to find another way.”

  “Is he—?” Quinn couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  Phelan knelt and touched Fallon. He shook his head. “Nay. I saw a Druid fighting him. He took her down, but when he did, he hit his head. He’s just unconscious.”

  “We need to hurry back to the castle,” Arran said as he sprinted past them and out of the mansion. “Charon’s been wounded by drough blood.”

  Seconds later, they were loaded up in three vehicles and speeding down the Wallace drive.

  All Arran could think about was getting to Charon healed. And holding Ronnie.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-TWO

  Ronnie stared aghast at the emptiness of her dig site. She’d begged Fallon to take her back to find Andy, but he hadn’t believed her.

  He’d assumed the worst and believed she was with Jason now. Not that she could blame him after what she’d made everyone believe. If only she could talk to Arran.

  Had he gotten the silent message she’d sent him? Did he understand her part was all a ruse? She prayed he did. If not, she was prepared to do all sorts of begging until he listened to her.

  He had to know she wasn’t evil.

  She walked aimlessly around the site. There had been something different about Fallon. In the midst of the battle at the mansion, her focus had been on Arran and Jason, but it hadn’t taken her long to see Fallon for what he was.

  A man possessed.

  Ronnie hadn’t stayed close to him because he frightened her. His skin of jet-black, his claws coated with blood, but it had been his eyes that glistened like obsidian death that made her shiver with anxiety.

  Those eyes were now lifeless and cold. Dead.

  Ronnie hadn’t dared ask about Larena, but then she didn’t need to. The answer was in Fallon’s eyes. Larena was deceased.

  She swiped at her hair that kept flying in her face because of the wind. If only she’d had a few minutes to convince him of what Jason had done to her, but Fallon had teleported away.

  There was nowhere Ronnie could run, nowhere she could hide that Jason or the Warriors couldn’t find her. She didn’t know who would win the battle, but she suspected it would be Arran.

  All she could do now was pray that Fallon believed her hastily told explanation about Andy and find him. Otherwise, she suspected Fallon might just kill her for her supposed siding with Jason Wallace.

  She released a pent-up breath, and her legs folded beneath her. She dropped her head in her hands and let the tears come. All the fear, all the worry. All the death.

  And still, she was alone.

  The eerie quiet of the site made her skin crawl. The only sound was the wind whistling through the tall grass and the carnage of her site.

  Ronnie wiped her eyes and lifted her head. It broke her heart to see her dig in such shambles, but more than that, her soul ached for all those who had died.

  She slowly rose to her feet not caring that it was the middle of the night and the sun was just setting into the horizon. Her gaze roamed the area, from cars that looked crushed in half to the RVs that were broken into pieces.

  Ronnie ambled around the site looking at broken pottery that she had dug up just hours before. Pottery that had been almost completely intact.

  At one time she would have cried for the loss, and though she hated that the artifact was ruined, she, at least, had her life.

  “Andy. Please be all right,” she whispered when she came to stand in front of his RV.

  She smiled as she recalled how he’d refused to call it a caravan as they did in the UK. It had been his RV, and he’d been especially proud of it.

  There wasn’t much left other than a portion of the back wall and his world map, where he’d put in thumbtacks to every place they’d been.

  Her thoughts soon turned to Arran. Before she knew it, she was standing in the area where his tent had been. There was nothing left, not even his cot.

  She recalled the day they first met and how even then the attraction had been fierce and undeniable. Her fear kept her from having Arran sooner. Her apprehension had nearly cost her the most amazing man she’d ever met.

  A laugh bubbled through her tears as she remembered how affronted he’d been when she compared him to other men. Now she knew why. He was in a class all his own.

  Arran was a true Highlander, an ancient warrior from a bygone era. He was proud, loyal, and honorable. He put himself between her and danger without a second thought.

  He’d recognized her for what she was—a Druid—and helped her to accept the new world she’d been thrust into. He’d smiled and charmed his way into her heart.

  And he’d seduced his way into her soul.

  For now and always, she would carry him in her heart. No longer would her work simply be digging up relics of the past. She would use her magic to hunt the things Jason Wallace might use against the Warriors and Druids of MacLeod Castle.

  She would prove to them by her actions that she wasn’t evil. It would take her learning more about her magic, because she would need to ensure she was protected against Wallace.

  Pete would have to be told the truth. And Andy. She sighed. If she ever got Andy back, he would need to be told as well. They were the only two outside of Arran she could fully trust. Everyone else was a potential enemy.

  Ronnie glanced at her tent, and though it still stood, it was the last place she wanted to be. She walked to the area where they’d dug around the chamber and sat, her legs dangling over the side cut from the ground.

  Memories of how Arran had been there helping her unearth the vault filled her mind. She could recall in vivid detail his smile and laughter, his muscles and sun-kissed flesh as he worked without his shirt.

  She remembered how he’d been there to save her from the selmyr, and how he’d almost died in the process. Then there was the fund-raiser. She’d felt like Cinderella, and though the dress had been spectacular, that wasn’t the reason.

  It had been Arran.

  His smile, his touch. The way he held her. The way his golden eyes had filled with desire and yearning.

  “Oh, God,” she said as fresh tears coursed down her face. “I love him.”

  * * *

  Arran sped around corners and passed untold number of cars as he raced to get Charon to MacLeod Castle and Sonya. Some ways back, Broc had left the black SUV and flown to the castle in full view of anyone who dared to look up.

  The dire situation called for such drastic measures. It was a chance they all took, because Charon’s life depended upon it.

  Arran glanced in the backseat as Ian stared gloomily at Charon.

  “We’re no’ going to make it,” Ian said.

  Arran jerked the wheel to miss a dog that trotted onto the road and noticed his skin was still white. The others had already tamped down their gods. With a sigh, Arran did as well. “Then use your blood.”

  “We have been.”

  Phelan cut his arm. “Let me. My blood will heal him instantly.”

  It was the first time any of them had spoke since leaving the mansion. Arran glanced in the rearview mirror to see Phelan cutting his arm deep to let his blood flow into Charon’s wound.

  “What happened at the mansion?” Arran asked. “How did everyone get free of the droughs?”

  Phelan shrugged, his face lined with worry. “Charon and I discovered the Druids had gotten the upper hand. We hid as they were herded into the foyer and then into Jason’s office.”

  “No one noticed you?” Ian asked in surprise.

  Phelan said, “Nay. Amazing as that is. Too many droughs to know who was doing what. We slipped right in the foyer and watched as we waited for the appropriate time to attack.”

  A cold chill ran down Arran’s spine just thinking
about it.

  “And then you and Jason were having words,” Phelan said. “I waited until the opportune time so you could get as much information as you could out of him. And then, I used my power to alter reality a wee bit.”

  Ian made a sound in the back of his throat. “He made the droughs think dozens of mies had flooded the mansion.”

  “Too bad I missed that,” Arran said while trying to form some semblance of a grin. He would have loved to see the droughs turn in fear.

  Phelan’s face was grim. “All but a few droughs were so frightened they dropped their magic and tried to run. That’s when we began to attack.”

  “I almost killed Wallace,” Arran said with a shake of his head.

  Phelan briefly put his hand on his shoulder. “I know. I saw. I also saw what Charon did.”

  Arran swallowed past the lump of emotion in his throat. “He can no’ die. Especially no’ for me.”

  “What happened to Ronnie?” Ian asked as he watched Phelan cut his arm once more.

  Arran didn’t let off the accelerator as he came to one of the numerous one-lane stone bridges, even though there was a car coming at him. He wasn’t going to be the one to slow. Fortunately, the other car slammed on its brakes and turned into the grass to miss Arran.

  “Close one,” Phelan said grimly.

  Arran gripped the steering wheel. “Fallon took Ronnie. I pray she’s at the castle with the others.”

  “Where else would he have taken her?” Ian asked. “The castle is where we’ve always taken Druids who needed protection.”

  “She broke Wallace’s nose,” Arran said. “She faked it all. The problem is, I need to know why. He had to have used something against her.”

  Ian nodded with approval. “Good for her for hitting him. Wish I could’ve.”

  “You didna hear her asking me to stop as she stood beside him. I want to believe she lied, but I’m no’ sure.”

  Phelan cleared his throat. “A lot could’ve happened at the mansion before we arrived. Remember that.”

  “Deirdre was inventive when it came to getting people to do what she wanted,” Ian said. “Declan was as well. What would make Jason any different?”