“Do you know protection spells you can put around my cabin? If so, I can leave you there while I meet up with Charon and tell him all we’ve learned.”
“I know spells. I don’t know how effective they’d be however.”
He put his finger under her chin and lifted her face until she looked at him. “If you’re worried about telling me this awful secret you have once we get back to the mainland, then forget it. I know the person you are now. That’s enough for me.”
“You’re a good man, Phelan Stewart. A very good man. It’s because of who you are that you need to know all there is about me.”
“Why? What’s so damned important about your past?”
“It’s shaped who I am.”
“You say I’m a good man. I know you’re a good person, Aisley. Let that be enough.”
She looked away and let out a long, slow breath. “Will you leave me at your cabin?”
It had been his plan, but he suddenly realized she could run from him again. He didn’t mind chasing her. It was the thought that Wallace could get to her before he could that froze his blood.
“You wanted a nice dinner. I think I’ll give you that. Inverness has one of my favorite restaurants. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
He didn’t give her time to answer as he picked her up in his arms and used his speed to get them back to the hotel.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jason Wallace stared at his reflection in the mirror of his room. His skin felt too tight over his body. After being nothing more than mere consciousness for so long, he felt small.
And he didn’t like it.
It didn’t help that he’d returned to an empty house. No servants, no Dale, and no Druids. Had Dale and all the Druids died in the last battle with those ugly white-skinned creatures?
Jason ran his hand over his clean-shaven jaw before smoothing back his short blond hair. The blue eyes stared back at him. He might look the same, but he was far from the man he had been.
He wasn’t even sure if he was a man.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile. What exactly he was he couldn’t be sure. Not that it mattered. The potent black magic running through him could barely be contained. He could feel it moving through his veins hot as lava, scalding him the same time it empowered him.
There was a violent need to release his magic on anything and everyone. The ferocious, vicious necessity couldn’t—wouldn’t—be ignored.
He craved to unleash his magic. Because with every bit of magic he used, it helped to feed him. It seemed odd, this newfound magic.
The resurrection spell he used had worked far beyond his expectations. If he’d known what could happen to him, he’d have done it sooner.
“If only I’d been this strong when I first fought the MacLeods. They’d be dust in the wind now.”
But there was still time. Right after he found Aisley.
“Ah, cousin, do I have something in store for you,” he told his reflection.
With his magic it wouldn’t take long to locate her. It’s too bad he didn’t know where she’d been when he attacked. He had hurt her, but he was sure she wasn’t dead.
If she was, he’d simply resurrect her. She had to suffer for what she did.
He turned away from the mirror as he struggled to remember what he’d experienced when he found Aisley. It had been just a day since he attacked her then been made whole again.
Where had she been? And who was she with?
Jason grabbed his suit jacket as he walked out of his room. He put it on as he made his way down the stairs to his office. It was the same office Declan had used, the same office where Gwynn and Logan had destroyed things when they came to see Declan. The same office where he had held Ronnie and tried to convince her to become
The same office where the MacLeods attacked and destroyed the house again.
He stood in the middle of the large office and looked at the wall of books behind the large mahogany desk. Magic had restored the house. Again.
The mansion had been in his family for generations. It had been remodeled and added onto with each owner, but over the course of several years there had been more death and destruction than in the entire history of the Wallaces.
Jason walked to the burgundy leather Chesterfield couch and sat. He stared at the glass-topped coffee table before he glided his hand about six inches over the top.
Instantly a landscape rose up like a 3-D model. Craggy mountains with jagged peaks surrounded by thick mist came into view.
There was no doubt he was looking at a place in Scotland, not with such rugged appeal and untamed beauty. But where?
“What am I looking at?” he asked.
The land blurred into a mass of green and brown as it changed from the mountains to a welcome sign near a port.
“Welcome to the Isle of Skye,” Jason read the sign. “So, cousin, you’re on Skye. What would bring you there?”
He leaned his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands together. For several minutes he looked at the port trying to think why Aisley would venture to the isle.
“Show me Aisley,” he demanded.
Again the landscape blurred, but for only a second before it stopped in front of a hotel. Now that he’d found her, he could begin.
He raised his hand to dismiss the image when something made him pause. “Who is Aisley with?”
A small replica of Phelan Stewart replaced the scenery of Skye.
“Now this is too fucking easy,” Jason said and leaned back against the couch.
There was much he could do now that Aisley was with Phelan. Once he discovered why she was with him. She could be using him, but then again, Aisley was weak. When he originally asked her to be a
Just because she lost a babe. Jason snorted. He’d made sure she’d lost much more than that. Her parents had died horribly. All while Aisley watched, unable to do anything about it.
That should have made things right. Instead, the silly bitch had tried to leave him. It had taken his resorting to inflicting physical pain upon her to get her on the right track.
Which had done the trick. Then something else happened. Jason wasn’t sure when, but Aisley had changed, softened again.
He’d planned to kill her before the last battle with the MacLeods, but then Mindy died and he needed all the Druids he could get.
His mistake was giving Aisley the opportunity to betray him. And no one betrayed Jason Wallace. Those who did paid the ultimate price.
Jason waved away the image of the Warrior. He rose and poured himself a dram of whisky as he contemplated his next move.
He could approach Aisley on Skye, kill Phelan, and then deal with Aisley as he’d dreamed of doing. It was a simple enough plan, but he was curious why a Warrior had teamed up with a
