Midnight's Temptation

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Phelan spewed a mouthful of curses when he ended up for the third time in the kitchen. The manor was a damned maze. He just wanted out.

“That way,” Jane pointed.

He gave a nod of thanks to Banan’s wife and hurried out of the manor. A fine mist of rain swirled around him. He could see it dancing on the air as he stalked into the open field.

Sheep scattered as he drew near, their baas growing louder in their hurry to get away from him. He ignored them and continued to the trees he saw.

When he reached the grove, his anger still hadn’t cooled. Phelan took a look around and started up the incline. Sweat beaded his brow and rolled down his back as he ran up the mountain.

Rocks slid beneath his boots, but he paid them no heed, not even when he slipped nearly a hundred yards down the mountain. Phelan kept his gaze focused on the summit until he reached it.

After he got to the top he simply took in the magnificent view. The clouds hovered around the peaks while the thick mist rolled leisurely down the mountains and swallowed anything that stood in its way.

“Feel better?”

Phelan whirled around at the sound of Rhys’s voice. “Sod off.”

“What’s bothers you more, Warrior? The fact that Aisley knew something of your past and didna tell you? Or that she was drough and you didna know it?”

“Leave,” Phelan said between clenched teeth. He was looking for a fight, and anyone would do. Including the dragon next to him.

“I’m saying what Charon willna.” Rhys ran his hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “Can you admit the truth to yourself?”

Phelan turned his head to glare at him. “What do you want from me?”

“To admit that you care for her.”

“Why? Does that make you feel more powerful that I got played?”

“Did you?” Rhys asked. “We doona know for sure.”

Phelan put his back to him. If he ignored Rhys then maybe he’d go away.

Rhys, however, didn’t seem to understand as he said, “Tell me, Phelan, have you wondered why you didna feel her black magic? The real reason? The one you willna even consider?”

“She used me.”

“Perhaps. But you felt something for her.”

“Nay. I was mistaken.”

“Denying it willna make it go away. Admit you loved her.”

Phelan growled and spun around the same time he released his god. He bent and barreled his shoulder into Rhys’s gut. Rhys wrapped his arms around him as they tumbled over the side.

They rolled in a mass of arms and legs, banging into boulders and smashing into trees until they were jerked to a stop. Phelan lifted his head to see it was Rhys who had grabbed hold of a tree to halt them.

Phelan jumped to his feet and bared his fangs. It felt good to have Zelfor released. It would feel even better if he could spill blood.

Rhys swiped the back of his hand over his lip and looked down at the blood smeared there. “If you were looking for a fight that’s all you had to say.”

“Why say anything when I can show you?”

“Give it your best, Warrior,” Rhys said and beckoned him with his fingers.

Phelan knew it wasn’t wise to attack when anger burned through his veins as it did, but he couldn’t stop himself. He swung his arm at Rhys’s face with his claws extended.

Rhys leaned back in time, but Phelan’s claws sank into his shoulder. A satisfied roar sounded inside his head from Zelfor. Phelan smiled and jerked his claws out. He readied for another swing when Rhys landed a punch to his jaw.

The force of it sent Phelan on his ass. He shook his head to clear the ringing and looked at Rhys. The Dragon King stood with his fists held in front of him and a cocky smile on his face.

“I bet it’s been awhile since anyone set you on your arse.”

Phelan climbed to his feet. They circled each other while he spread his fingers wide looking for an opening to cut Rhys again.

Yet when Phelan looked, the injury he’d given Rhys was already healed. As a Warrior, Phelan’s god healed him, but not that quickly.

“There is much you doona know of us Dragon Kings,” Rhys said when he caught Phelan looking at his shoulder.

Phelan shrugged. “So you heal faster than we do.”

“Is that all? Or is there more?”

He hated the smile on Rhys’s face. “Are you going to talk me to death or fight?”

Phelan grinned when he and Rhys clashed again. He lost count of the hits he gave and the ones Rhys landed. A tree groaned ominously when Rhys threw him into it. In the next moment Phelan tossed Rhys against a boulder.

Their fighting had them rolling down the mountain again until they landed in the valley. It was Rhys’s laughter that made Phelan pause.

He was on his back and looked over to find Rhys had risen up on his elbow staring at him. The curious sheep drew closer to them, and that’s when Phelan felt one sniff his face.

Phelan shooed away the animal and sat up. He drew his knees up until he could put his heels in the ground. Then he wrapped his arms around his knees and clasped his hands together.

“I’m game for that anytime,” Rhys said as he sat up.

“As am I.”

“Do you feel better?”

The smile Phelan had slipped. He looked away from Rhys’s probing aqua gaze. “I swore no drough would ever get the better of me again after what Isla and Deirdre did to me.”

“Let the past go, Phelan.”

It didn’t go unnoticed by him that Rhys was giving him the same advice he’d given Aisley. “Isla took me from my family.”

“A family that was no’ only on the run to save your life, but a royal one at that. You’re royalty, Phelan. A prince. And your family never left Scotland. They remained, searching until death took them.”

“Why did she look into my past? What could’ve been there that Aisley wanted to use against me?”

“Maybe it wasna to use something against you but to help you.”

Phelan looked up to find Rhys standing above him with a hand held out to help him up. He took it, and Rhys pulled him to his feet.

“Contain your fury until you’ve captured Aisley, Phelan, or Wallace will get the better of you.”

He knew Rhys gave solid advice, but he couldn’t get Aisley out of his head. How could he set aside his anger if he couldn’t stop thinking of her?

* * *

Consciousness came to Aisley slowly. She realized she was sitting up and opened her eyes to a distortion of colors. It took her blinking several times before she was able to focus on what she was looking at.

A cold, sinking feeling filled her when she saw the iron bars. She didn’t need to look around to know where she was.

Jason’s prison below the mansion.

“So you’re finally awake.”

She hadn’t dreamed him preventing her from jumping. He really was there. Aisley couldn’t stop her racing heart, but she’d be damned before she let Jason know how much just the sound of his voice frightened her.

“No quip, cousin?” Jason shifted from outside the bars and moved out of the shadows. “What happened to your cheeky comments always at the ready?”

The one thing she hadn’t wanted to happen had. She was in Jason’s clutches. Whatever death Phelan planned to give her would be nothing compared to what Jason would do.

She looked at her cousin. “You disgust me.”

“You were no’ so disgusted when I pulled you out of that gutter.”

“Believe me, you slimy bugger, I wish I’d have refused you.”

“As if I’d have let you.” Jason narrowed his gaze on her. “You think you control your destiny, Aisley, when in fact it’s in my hands.”

She lifted her chin in a show of defiance. “Do you still feel like that bullied weasel of a boy from school, Jason? Do those lads who used to push you around still give you nightmares?”

“You’ve no idea, do you?”

A ripple of terror rolled down her back. “What do you mean?”

“You doona know what I’ve become. You doona yet comprehend what I can do to you. But you will, Aisley, you will.”

His eyes flashed solid black before magic slammed into her, breaking several ribs.