Midnight's Temptation

CHAPTER TEN

Phelan turned off the paved road onto a back road. He kept the speed down mostly because he quite liked how Aisley’s arms hugged him.

The first time he took a turn and her hands flexed against his stomach, he knew she wasn’t the adrenaline junkie he was.

With her body plastered against his back, Phelan could think of nothing but divesting her of her clothes and touching every lovely inch of her.

He knew she had an amazing body—her tight clothes revealed a lot as she danced—but he longed to see her naked. Her mocha-colored skin begged to be caressed.

Phelan slowed the Ducati as he neared the loch. Even over the bike’s engine he heard Aisley’s sharp intake of breath when she caught a glimpse of the water.

He stopped and turned off the motor, simply staring at the sight that had stunned him from the first moment he saw it four centuries earlier and every time he visited since.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aisley pull off the helmet and run a hand through her midnight hair. Her lips were parted slightly, and her eyes took in everything.

He couldn’t hold back the grin. It was a magnificent sight with the trees surrounding the loch and the mountains rising up in the distance.

“I think I could stand here and look at this forever,” Aisley whispered.

Phelan grinned at her. “Aye. That’s how I felt when I first saw this place.”

“Where are we?”

“My home.”

She raised a black brow. “Your home?”

“Aye,” he answered with a chuckle. “Did you think a Warrior couldna have a home?”

Aisley shrugged, but she looked away hastily, causing Phelan to frown. She had almost said something, but he wouldn’t push her.

“Is this where you grew up?” Aisley asked.

Phelan rested a hand on the handlebars and tried to pull up any memories he had of his parents. “Nay,” he finally answered.

“It’s beautiful and peaceful. And so quiet.”

“A good place to escape for a while.”

She cut her eyes to him. “Is that what you do when you come here? Escape?”

“Oh, aye. No one knows of this place. No one.”

“Do you trust so few people?”

He contemplated her words, wondering why he’d never told Charon. “No one ever asked, and I didna volunteer the information.”

“Your own private haven. I’m jealous.”

“It’s your private haven as well.”

Her fawn-colored eyes turned to him. He spotted the uncertainty and trepidation in her gaze. She had said he didn’t trust, but she was the one who didn’t trust anyone. Aisley had secrets aplenty, and he worried there wouldn’t be enough time to get her to share them all.

Because he had a distinct feeling Aisley didn’t plan on staying for long.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea for you to take me to your home.”

Phelan drew in a deep breath. “Why?”

“It’s private. No one even knew you had such a place. Now I do. Aren’t you worried I might tell someone?”

“It doesna matter if you do.”

“What about me intruding on space that was yours alone?”

“I wouldna be bringing you if I didna want you there.”

“Still. I think we should go somewhere else. To keep your place private.”

Phelan turned to better see her. “What are you no’ telling me, beauty?”

“A lot,” she admitted. “A terrible lot, Phelan. Don’t bring me to your house. You’ll regret it. Trust me.”

“It’s just a structure. Nothing more.”

“Not true. It’s your sanctuary. No,” she said when he started to interrupt her. “If you didn’t care who knew about it, others would. You admitted no one else did. Don’t ruin that now.”

Phelan straightened. He was irritated at her rationale, mostly because he knew she was right. It hadn’t been a whim that made him bring her here. He wanted her to see it. He just wasn’t sure why. “Put the damn helmet on.”

Just as she took a breath to argue, he started the Ducati and revved it. He glanced over his shoulder to see her quickly put on the helmet and buckle it.

She was a contradiction. One minute he wanted to protect her, and the other he wanted to throttle her. She was ridiculously stubborn, astonishingly beautiful, and grievously broken.

With any other woman, Phelan would bring her to bed, give her a night of pleasure, and leave before she woke. But with Aisley, he wanted to do more.

The crux of the matter was that he didn’t know what to do. His only option for the moment was to keep her safe and gain her trust.

As soon as Aisley’s arms wrapped around him, Phelan continued on the barely discernable dirt road. After a ten-minute drive that took them around the loch, Phelan caught a glimpse of his home.

* * *

Aisley was prepared to continue arguing with Phelan about taking her to his home while she ogled the forest around her. Heavy clouds rolled in, but not even that could dampen the stunning scenery around her.

She was so absorbed in the forest that when Phelan stopped the motorbike it took her a moment to see the house. It wasn’t huge, but it was quaint and fit into the landscape perfectly.

Phelan shut off the Ducati and put his hands on his legs while his feet balanced the bike. She watched the pleased look come over his face, the small smile that told her he loved this place.

And she would ruin it by telling him who she was.

No. She refused to do it here. She’d find a way to leave and let him follow her. But there’s no way she could let him kill her in his own home, a home he cherished. It was too cruel.

Aisley got off the bike and removed the helmet as she took in the house. It had a steep roof with a chimney sticking up through the far side of the roof. A porch extended off the front of the house and faced the loch that was only twenty feet from it.

There were roses, pansies, bluebells, and violas planted in a glorious array of color around the house and porch. A path led from the parking area on the side of the house around to the porch.

Aisley looked at Phelan, and he gave her a nod to tell her it was all right to go look. With his helmet still in hand, Aisley followed the path to the steps leading to the porch. Then, she turned and looked at the loch.

“How do you ever leave?” she asked as he slowly followed.

He waited until he stood beside her before he said, “It gets more difficult each time.”

“If this was mine, I’d never leave.”

“Then consider it yours for as long as you want.”

Aisley jerked her gaze to his. She was used to being treated with disdain and hatred. It had been so long since anyone was nice that Aisley wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I mean it,” Phelan continued. “Stay as long as you’d like.”

She looked away, her throat clogged with emotion. It was wrong for her to have allowed Phelan to help her in any way, shape, or form. She regretted it now more than ever. “Just one night. I’ll stay one night.”

He didn’t say anything as he turned and pulled a key out of his pocket to unlock the door. Aisley took another few minutes to stare at the calm waters of the loch before she followed him inside.

There she came to a stop. The outside might be quaint and look more like a home built two hundred years ago, but the inside was completely modernized.

“Surprised, I see,” Phelan said as he leaned a hip against the kitchen counter.

“Yes.” Aisley laughed as she continued inside. “I think you spend more time here than you let on.”

Phelan tossed the keys onto the small island. “I used to spend a lot of time here, but lately it seems all I’ve been doing is going to battle after battle fighting evil.”

Aisley set the helmet down on the island and saw three bar stools tucked beneath the overhang of the countertop. She spotted her duffle lying near the couch. When he had brought that in?

“Make yourself at home,” Phelan said. “I’m going to go pick us up some groceries.”

Before she could form a response, he was out the door and on his bike. She watched him drive away, wondering if she should make a break for it now.

Then she remembered the feel of his muscles, the heat of his body as she’d leaned against him the entire ride. She recalled the feel of his arms as he lifted her when she had the migraine.

She remembered how he had quickly found her after the accident and gotten her onto his bike before the authorities came. Or worse—Jason.

Aisley shuddered. Leaving now would be the best thing, the right thing. But an image of Phelan’s blue-gray eyes filled with desire flashed in her mind, and she knew she would stay.

“For just one night,” she said to herself as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Though she’d never driven a motorcycle, she was already making plans to steal it in the wee hours of the morning and leave.

Phelan would find her. She knew that without a doubt. That’s when she would tell him every sordid, ugly detail of her life. And ask for his help.

It wasn’t death she was afraid of, it was the disappointment and fury she suspected to see in Phelan’s eyes.

Jason had promised her she would be powerful. Becoming drough made her magic potent, but she was still the scared, pitiful, starving girl he’d found waiting for death in that alley.

He’d given her hope. Aisley hadn’t realized how desperate she’d needed something to hope for, and she had grabbed it—and Jason’s offer—with both hands.

Her father had called her weak.

Her mother had called her amoral.

Jason had called her devious.

Only one person had ever seen any good in her. Phelan.

She longed to believe Phelan when he said she was a good person, but Aisley knew the awful truth. She was evil and what part of her soul remained was destined for Hell.

There was one slim chance to do something good, and she was going to take it and pay whatever it cost to make sure Jason never harmed another person in this life or the next.

Something dropped onto her hand. Aisley reached up to swipe at her face and felt the wetness of tears.

“Damn you, Phelan,” she said. “You’ve made me cry.”

Tears—or any emotion—hadn’t been possible while in Jason’s company. It was a sign of softness, and as droughs, any emotion was forbidden.

For so long she kept everything she was feeling inside her. Aisley feared the day she gave in to everything, because it would likely consume her.

She removed the wide leather bracelet she wore on her right arm. It hid the two-inch scar on the inside of her wrist from the drough ceremony. Her watch hid the scar on her left wrist.

Keeping them hidden from Phelan would take some doing, but he deserved to hear the truth from her. Not by seeing the scars.

At least she didn’t have her Devil’s Kiss anymore. The small silver vial droughs wore around their necks holding a few drops of their blood had been one thing she refused to do.

Jason hadn’t understood it, but he hadn’t pushed her. Aisley hated the Devil’s Kiss more than she hated the scars on her wrists.

The scars she could lie about. The Devil’s Kiss she couldn’t.

Aisley turned on her heel and grabbed her duffle as she walked down the small hallway until she found the bathroom. A large claw-foot tub sat under a wide window overlooking the forest.

She wasted no time in turning on the water to fill the tub. A good soak would wash away the threat of tears. At least she prayed it did.