Midnight's Promise by Donna Grant Page A

him was wrong, and that trying to set a trap for Jason wouldn’t work either. Or was I just dreaming that conversation?”
    “Nay, love,” Charon said as he took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Though it looks like we may be having that same conversation again. This isna just for Malcolm. Killing Wallace is on top of all our to-do lists.”
    Phelan’s gaze moved to Aisley as it always did. She was his beacon, his safe harbor in the treacherous world they lived in. He needed her support in order for this to work, but he wouldn’t push her. She’d already been through too much.
    “If we’re going to do this, then you’re going to need me,” she said.
    “Aisley—”
    “I’m a Phoenix, remember?” she interrupted him.
    Ramsey cut his silver eyes to her. “And it’s going to come in handy too.”

 
    CHAPTER
SEVEN
    Malcolm waited for the Druid to retaliate with magic to protect herself. Instead, she simply stared at him with an unblinking clear blue gaze. It was then he realized she was looking at his scars. If only she grasped that but half of them were visible to her.
    Normally Malcolm shrugged off the gawks, but he grew uncomfortable under the Druid’s stark perusal. He looked for sympathy or pity that inevitably showed in people’s eyes. Oddly, there was nothing but frank curiosity and … was that pleasure he saw flare in her blue depths?
    That couldn’t be right. No one so beautiful would look at him in such a way. He was damaged, mutilated—inside and out.
    “You doona fear me?” he asked before he could stop himself.
    She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, careful to keep the blanket covering her. “You said you weren’t a Druid.”
    “So?”
    “So … it means you can’t do anything if I choose to use magic on you.”
    For several seconds, Malcolm could only ogle the female in wonder. Did she not know of Warriors? Was she so naïve about the ways of their world that she would dare to flaunt her magic?
    Or was it that she did know what he was and didn’t care, because she knew she could control him if need be?
    Malcolm lifted his chin and looked down his nose at her. She was of average height, but she kept eye contact with him, her back against the stones. He saw her hand splayed upon the rocks, most likely listening as they told her all about him.
    With one word, she could have him pulled against the stones as they held him prisoner. He’d seen Deirdre do it. While he waited to see what she would do, Malcolm found himself fascinated by a wisp of a Druid who threw him off-kilter more completely than anything else in his life before.
    Her clear blue eyes went distant, her head cocked to the side. “Malcolm Munro.”
    Just as he expected. The stones were telling her who he was, but would they tell her everything? There was no denying the pureness of her magic. She wasn’t drough —not yet at least. Did the stones know she would leave if she discovered what had happened in the mountain?
    He decided to go along and see just how much the rocks told her.
    “Aye.”
    She blinked, focusing on him once more. “All the stones will tell me is your name. They also say I need to make you leave.”
    “Is that so?”
    “You don’t seem surprised.”
    “I’m no’. I knew the last Druid who commanded the stones.”
    Her eyes grew large with curiosity. “Really? Who was she? What can you tell me about her?”
    “Ask the stones.”
    That drew her up short. “You haven’t asked my name.”
    “I doona need to know it,” he lied. To his surprise, he very much wanted her name. Because he did, he didn’t ask for it. It was enough that he couldn’t stop looking at her or enjoying the wash of her magic over him. She was addictive. “We both need to leave this place.”
    She shook her head, her damp hair curling becomingly around her face. “I can’t. I’m safe here.”
    “Who are you running from?”
    “Maybe you?”
    He raised a brow at her question. Something was making her run.