“More than you’d think.” He stepped aside and allowed her to enter first, then whispered close to her ear, “Don’t they say you should picture people in their underwear?” He glanced around the room, where most of the warriors, including Ronan, wore kilts. “Guess you’ll have to picture them without…” He gave her a devilish wink. Bree ignored Faelan’s brooding stare and politely refused Ronan’s offer to find her a place to sit. He squeezed her shoulder and moved to the back of the room. Still smiling, her gaze connected with Faelan’s. Something akin to despair crossed his face before he glanced away. What had happened? If she hadn’t seen him in the darkened room and smelled his intoxicating scent, she’d have thought someone else had slipped into her bed and ravished her.
Several times now he’d made love to her without protection, although she initiated the last. It seemed out of character for him, with his sense of propriety, to risk having a child with a woman he could never marry.
The room had already filled with warriors, all male, except for Sorcha. Bree hadn’t met any other female warriors yet. She’d learned they were far fewer than male warriors. The house had been bustling all day with arrivals, some coming after news of Faelan, but others already en route because of Bree’s call so soon after Angus’s message.
She took one of the few empty seats near the blazing fire, settling between Tomas and Brodie, the warriors she and Faelan had met when they first arrived. Brodie glanced over, and his sheepish grin confirmed a man’s suspicion that he was the one who’d gotten her drunk. Both warriors were tall and strong, with ready smiles, but underneath the charm lay deadly skill.
Faelan sat on a large leather sofa between Shane and Niall, warriors descended from Faelan’s sister, Alana. Niall, with a golden buzz cut and arms as big as a man’s thighs, looked like he could take on an army by himself. Shane was tall and slim, quiet but alert.
There must be some unwritten code that warriors be gorgeous or beautiful, Bree thought, looking at Sorcha lounging on an oversized leather love seat, flirting with Jamie, a warrior who’d just arrived. Maybe the warriors’ beauty was part of their defense, luring the demons until they could get close enough to grab them.
They all wore talismans, some Bree could see, some hidden by their shirts. The talismans were all similar, made out of the same metal, held on a thin leather cord, except Sorcha’s, which she wore on a chain. And they were all armed, despite being in a castle in the middle of hundreds of acres, surrounded by well-trained guards.
Bree was included in the meeting, since she was the one who’d known Druan best in his human form and the one who freed Faelan. Sean introduced Faelan and Bree to the warriors they hadn’t met then turned the meeting over to Faelan, who explained to those who hadn’t heard, how he discovered the war Druan was trying to incite was a cover for his virus. He told of the night he’d planned to put Druan in the time vault, pausing to clear his throat when he spoke about the urgency, not having time to wait for his brothers.
Bree would have thought these warriors had seen almost everything, but not a sound was uttered. Even the ones honing and polishing weapons sat spellbound as Faelan described seeing the other three demons of old riding with Druan, how he’d felt the blow to his head, then awoke what he thought was a moment later to Bree’s shocked gaze and found himself in another time.
Curious faces turned to her, and she saw almost everyone in the house, even those who weren’t warriors, had crowded around the door listening to his story. There must have been a dozen questions at once, everyone wanting to know about the legendary demons, why Faelan hadn’t been killed, why he’d been sent alone.
Conall, a young warrior who couldn’t be a day over twenty, asked her with a gentle smile, “How did you know where Faelan was hidden?”
Bree faced the room of warriors and opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Ronan coughed once, and when she looked at him, he waggled the bottom of his kilt and winked. Bree couldn’t help smiling. From the corner of her eye, she saw Faelan glance at Ronan and frown. She wouldn’t dare think of Faelan’s kilt. She knew all too well what was under there.
“I found my great-great-grandmother’s journal. She wrote about a visitor who thought there was a lost treasure hidden nearby. We know now he was someone the clan sent. I’d also found the map he drew. When I saw the crypt was missing on the map, I knew it was important. I think I’ve always known that crypt was special. It’s haunted me since I was a child.”
“Has it now?” Sean asked, watching her.
“I’ve always found it… disturbing.” An image formed in her mind, a little girl reaching for the burial vault with bloody hands. Bree pushed the thought away and focused, describing how she’d believed the missing treasure was hidden inside the burial vault and discovered the locked chest. The three days she spent trying to open it, and the shock of finding Faelan. She then talked about the dreaded part. Russell. How charming he’d been, how dark and disturbing he became at the end. It was embarrassing to admit to these brave warriors that she’d been engaged to a demon, but they needed to know if they were going to fight this battle.
“How do you know Russell is Druan?” Duncan asked.
“Druan sent halflings to the house. We traced their vehicle to his castle. I thought he’d captured Faelan, so I sneaked in and saw Russell talking to an old man.”
Niall, in the process of taking a drink of water, spewed it all down his shirt. “
“Maybe the old man was the demon, or someone else inside,” Tomas said, next to Bree.
“Russell’s description matches how Druan looked as Jeremiah,” Faelan said. “And Druan’s too vain to take on an old body.”
“Most of them are,” Duncan muttered. “Makes sense he would target Bree. He’d need access to the place.”
Sorcha crossed one booted leg. “Were you and Druan lovers? If you mated, you could’ve had halflings. I assume Faelan filled you in on what an unpleasant quandary that would have presented.”
Bree’s bitch alarm went off. There was some relevance, but she doubted it was the reason for the question. Sorcha was a bitch on the surface, but Bree had a feeling her behavior was a cover for something else. “There were no children,” Bree said, holding Sorcha’s gaze until the female warrior blushed and squirmed in her seat.
Duncan watched Sorcha’s cheeks warm, and he leaned back with a satisfied smirk. Faelan looked like he might
