Midnight's Kiss (39 page)

Ronnie shuddered. She desperately wanted to get to Arran, but how could she? There wasn’t just Jason to contend with, but also the two Warriors Arran fought.

Maybe if she could get outside there was another way into the house where she could find Andy. Her mind set, Ronnie made a dash for the opened window.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and adrenaline pumped through her, giving her a little extra speed. Just as she was about to hurdle over the windowsill, a hand grabbed her arm and spun her around.

“Jason.”

He leered viciously, his blue eyes alight with anger. “Did you forget our pact? Because, if you leave, I’ll kill Andy with a mere thought.”

Ronnie wasn’t willing to bet Andy’s life on the hopes that Jason was bluffing. Arran had come for her. He’d promised to keep her safe. And she knew he would continue to try to free her.

She stopped trying to pull away, her decision made.

“That’s what I thought. Now, this is what we’re going to do. You’re going to march to the door so Arran can see you, and you’re going to tell him to stop.”

Ronnie wanted to scream that she wouldn’t do it, but what choice did she have? Jason knew better than to threaten Arran, he was a Warrior. And Jason must have realized bullying Ronnie herself would do no good either.

He’d managed to pick one of the two people she would have done anything for. At least Pete was far enough away that he was safe.

“Arran doesn’t need to see me,” she said.

Jason’s smile was evil and conniving. “Oh, but he does, darling. Now, move!” he shouted in her ear.

Each step toward Arran was like a knife in her heart. Her feet seemed to be made of lead. Would Arran know she lied? Would he realize she did it to save someone? After all she’d said to him, would he believe the worst about her?

Ronnie knew that he probably would. At every turn, Arran had been there for her, even when she hadn’t wanted him to be. So he took a few items. Was that so much to worry over after everything he’d done?

She could hardly take in a breath by the time she reached the doorway. Ronnie watched as Arran fought both Dale and the second Warrior effortlessly.

It was almost as if he were playing with them. He moved elegantly, fluidly. His claws and hits lethal. Even when he sustained an injury, he barely gave notice to it.

He was a magnificent fighter, a majestic warrior. And for a time, he’d been hers.

Those few precious hours made all the heartache she’d ever endured worth it. And if she had to do it all over again, she would. In a heartbeat.

When she thought of those wasted days with Arran, she wanted to scream. Somehow, someway she would get away from Jason and she would do her damnedest to make it all up to Arran.

If he doesn’t kill you first.

Ronnie inwardly flinched at the reminder of the prophecy. She watched as he elbowed Dale before he spun and ducked the second Warrior’s claws.

She could have watched him all day. The slight smile on his face when he landed a good hit, the way his white eyes sparkled with challenge. The way his muscles moved with fluid grace beneath the white skin of his Warrior form.

Ronnie’s inspection halted when she found Arran’s gaze fastened on her. For a few moments he increased his attack. Then he saw Jason standing beside her.

She wanted to cry when she spotted the brief flare of pain and betrayal that burned in his gaze. But somehow she held back the tears.

It wasn’t just her own life she was playing for. It was Andy’s and Arran’s and everyone’s in the entire world. For she wouldn’t be the bringer of doom. She wouldn’t align with evil. Not now, not ever.

But first, she had to make Jason think she was.

“Tell him,” Jason said, his tone brooking no argument.

Ronnie fisted her hands at her sides, her soul withering in her chest. “Arran. Stop.”

*   *   *

Malcolm rarely gave in to his power as he did in that moment. It felt … right … to release the lightning, to hurtle it toward his enemy. Each strike released the pain he kept locked, bound within him.

For his scars. For being a Warrior. For killing Duncan.

For losing Larena.

He squeezed his eyes closed at the thought of his cousin gone from his life for good. She’d been the only one he let in after Deirdre and Declan had been vanquished.

Larena had a way of making him listen even when he hadn’t wanted to. What was he going to do now that she was gone?

Malcolm’s eyes flew open, his lightning ceasing instantly. He tried to release a breath, only to have agony streak through his body.

The pain was blinding, the suffering growing tenfold with each second. His blood burned like fire, and his lungs seized as they struggled for breath.

“Not so powerful now, are you, Warrior?” asked a female voice behind him.

Malcolm looked down to find the head of a spear showing through his stomach. But the weakening of his body told him his end was near.

Because the spear was coated with
drough
blood.

*   *   *

Phelan took off running, intending to impale the first
drough
he encountered with his claws until something barreled into him from the side and knocked him into a small room.

He banged his head against something hard, and looked over to find a toilet. Phelan growled and brushed aside the blood that began running down his temple. He turned his head to find Charon at the door with his back to Phelan and peering around the corner.

“What did you do?”

“Saved your bloody arse, you idiot,” Charon whispered over his shoulder.

Phelan jumped to his feet. “Explain yourself.”

Charon softly closed the door and leaned back against it. “I found Hayden and Logan. Both were being tortured by
droughs
. I knew I was going to need your help, so I came to find you.”

“What you did was stop me from killing a
drough
.”

“What I did, you arse, was keep you from being discovered.”

Phelan frowned. “I was using my power. They wouldna have seen me.”

“Then how did I?”

“What do you mean?”

Charon dropped his chin to his chest. “What I mean is that you had stopped using your power. They would’ve seen you before you could have done anything for Ian or Galen.”

“Fuck me.” Phelan prowled the small bathroom. “Have the
droughs
cornered everyone?”

“No’ Malcolm.”

As soon as the words were out of Charon’s mouth, the lightning ceased.

The two Warriors looked at each other. In order for any of them to get out alive, it was now up to Phelan and Charon.

“They’ll try and bring us all together,” Charon said.

Phelan leaned back against the sink. “How do you know?”

“It’s what I’d do. Plus, that gives Jason the means to kill all of us at once.”

“No’ bloody likely.”

Charon smiled. “As if I’d allow that. Now. Here’s the plan.”

*   *   *

Arran’s world was spinning out of control, and at its center, looking pale and withdrawn, was Ronnie. His beautiful, bright Ronnie.

Her hazel gaze met his, but the warmth, laughter, and honesty he was so used to were gone. As if they’d never been. This wasn’t the same woman he’d made love to, the woman he’d spent the evening dancing with. This woman was … different.

She’d asked him to stop fighting. She stood beside Jason without being held or threatened. Had she really joined the other side?

He’d have bet his life that nothing could make Ronnie join evil. His instincts had never been wrong before. How could he have been so mistaken with the one person who had his heart?

Arran wished he knew Jason Wallace better to determine just how he’d gotten Ronnie. Because Arran wasn’t sure he could fulfill the prophecy and kill her.

Even if it meant saving the world.

“I think he’s in shock,” Jason said to Ronnie and leaned over, a smirk on his face.

Arran released the hold he’d had on the Warrior, and didn’t even bother to look at Dale. Fury unlike anything Arran had ever experienced consumed him.

Inside him, Memphaea was screaming with outrage. And Arran let him, because his god was doing what he couldn’t. Yet, as Memphaea’s frenzy grew, so did the need for blood and death.

It was all Arran could do to hold himself back, to keep the craze, or bloodlust, from taking him. But how he wanted to give in.

He accepted the fury and glowered at Jason. “You look nothing like Declan. Declan must have gotten all the good looks, talent, and brains in the family.”

Arran’s lips lifted slightly when Jason’s face mottled red. So, he’d hit a nerve. Good.

“Declan was a buffoon!” Jason screamed.

Arran’s brows rose at Jason’s tone. “There’s some history there, I think. Was Declan no’ so nice to you? Did he get the fine clothes and you didna? Was it his hair, or maybe Declan’s strong jaw? Those seemed to have skipped you, but you did get the weak chin.”

Jason started to say something, but suddenly stopped and glanced at Ronnie. “It doesna matter where I was before this. I’m here now. I have the power and position to do everything Declan imagined. My first order of business is killing every Warrior and Druid from MacLeod Castle.”

“Good luck with that,” Arran said.

“Oh, I’m no’ worried. After all, I have many people at my disposal,” Jason said as he slowly walked around Ronnie. “You know my newest one. Intimately, I’m told.”

Arran fisted his hands and let his claws sink into his palms, anything to keep his calm and not attack Jason. Yet. “You’ll never touch anyone at the castle.”

“Is that so? Did you really think you could get past my spells without me knowing it?”

“Aye,” Arran answered confidently.

The way Jason’s eyes narrowed proved he had been right.

“I knew you’d come for Dr. Reid,” Jason said. “Dale told me how close the two of you have gotten, how you watched her so … tenderly. I wasna sure when you’d come for her, but I knew you would. And I made sure I was prepared.”

There was something in his words that gave Arran pause. It wasn’t that Jason might have been expecting him, it was the thought that they could have very well walked into a trap.

“Doona fight,” Dale whispered from behind him. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Arran looked over his shoulder at the Warrior, and that’s when he saw his friends being herded into the large foyer by
droughs
.

“As I said. I was prepared,” Jason said, laughing at his own remark.

Arran looked back at Ronnie, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. And that’s when he knew they had lost.

CHAPTER

FORTY-ONE

Fallon was about to teleport into Jason’s office and kill the son of a bitch when
drough
magic sizzled along his skin. He turned his head to the right just in time to see the Druid skewer Malcolm.

“Nay,” Fallon ground out.

He’d lost Larena. He wasn’t going to allow her cousin to die along with her.

Fallon teleported directly behind the
drough
and, with one vicious swipe of his claw, took her head. He didn’t even wait for her body to hit the ground before he grabbed Malcolm and teleported him to the castle.

As soon as they arrived in the middle of the great hall, Fallon bellowed for Sonya. Fallon stared at the spear sticking through Malcolm’s back, his fellow Warrior desperately trying to take in air.

“Hold on, my friend. Sonya is coming.”

Malcolm grasped Fallon’s arm, his blue eyes filled with pain and grief.

Fallon knew Malcolm would want to talk about Larena, and he wasn’t ready to do that. Not even if it was Malcolm’s dying breath.

He yanked the spear from Malcolm and tossed it aside. Malcolm listed to the side, and Fallon easily caught him. “You’re no’ going to die. Do you hear me? You’re no’ going to die.”

“Fallon,” Malcolm rasped.

“Nay. Save your words.” Fallon looked up to find Sonya rushing down the stairs with Larena’s blood still on her jeans and white shirt.

“Not another one,” she said, and jumped down the last few stairs to run to them.

Fallon tightened his grip on Malcolm as he looked at Sonya. “Save him. I’ve got to return to the others.”

“Fallon, wait!” Sonya called.

But Fallon laid Malcolm on one of the long benches used for seating at the table, and then jumped back to the Wallace mansion.

*   *   *

Arran never took his gaze off Jason as the bastard paced slowly in front of them. It had been a kick in the balls for Arran to see his fellow Warriors being led into the foyer by
droughs
. Their magic was nauseating, heavy.

And none of it touched him as of yet.

“I told you I was prepared,” Jason said with a satisfied laugh as he walked into the foyer. He stopped to smooth down his dress shirt in the mirror. “I’m always prepared.”

“One day, you willna be able to say that.”

Wallace threw back his head and laughed. “You willna be around to see it.” He halted in front of Arran. “Because I’m taking every one of your heads tonight. There will no longer be Warriors at MacLeod Castle.”

“There will always be Warriors at MacLeod Castle.” Arran readied, his claws itching to thrust into Jason’s chest and rip out his heart. With his speed, and with as close to Jason as he was, it would be a simple thing.

Just as Arran was about to do it, Jason took two quick steps back.

“Do none of you wonder how I was able to keep myself hidden from you for a year?” Jason asked.

Since Arran was the only one who could speak because there was no
drough
magic halting him, he shrugged. “We didna suspect you or anyone. We didna look.”

“Exactly!” Jason put his hands in the front pocket of his dress pants and looked down at his once shiny black shoes. “I spent the year no’ just restoring this beautiful house, but in building my army.”

“So you worked fast. Shall I give you a golf clap?”

Jason ignored him and continued. “It’s amazing what can be accomplished with unlimited funds. I used to never care for expensive clothing, and certainly never suits and ties. But,” he said, and stopped in front of a cracked mirror hanging on the wall for a second time. “I make this suit look good.”