“That’s how you learn,” Rhys said and began to pound on the keyboard. “Where were you at?”
Phelan gave him the location of the Internet cafe in Inverness and shifted around the desk so he could see what Rhys was doing. Surprisingly it didn’t take long for Rhys to gain access.
“Where was she sitting?” Rhys asked.
Phelan leaned forward to look at a picture of the cafe that Rhys pulled up on another monitor and pointed to where Aisley had sat. “There.”
Rhys keyed in more information, his eyes moving from one monitor to another before his fingers moved over the keyboard again.
“What time did the both of you log onto the computers?”
Phelan gave him the information and watched him enter more information.
The process was repeated a couple of times before the other four monitors flashed Web sites about Saxony on their screens. Phelan glanced at each of them, not understanding what he was seeing.
“Did you get the wrong terminal?”
Rhys slowly shook his head. “Nay. If that’s where she was sitting, then this is the information she looked up.”
“This has nothing to do with the name Hunter.”
Laura, Charon, and Banan moved around the desk to see what they were looking at.
Banan pointed to one of the screens. “It mentions here that the Saxony royal family had special blood that could heal others.”
Phelan felt the room spinning around him. “What? What did you say?”
Banan began to repeat it when Phelan slashed a hand through the air. “I heard you. Why would she do a search on that?”
“She didn’t,” Rhys said. “She searched for a lost prince. These sites are the last ones she looked at.” He turned his head to look at Phelan. “She was searching your history.”
Phelan rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The day kept getting crazier and crazier. “I doona understand why.”
“You’re a damned prince?” Charon asked, his voice pitched high in surprise.
Phelan shook his head. “Nay.”
“You might want to rethink that,” Banan said and lifted his head from the screen he was reading. “It looks like Aisley found information about your family.”
“That’s no’ possible. I doona even have that information or know what to look for. How would she?”
Rhys rolled his chair back so Phelan could get a closer look at the monitors. “I think you’ll have to ask her. Regardless, if you didna know of your family before, she found it for you. You might want to thank her.”
“Over my fucking dead body,” Phelan said as he stalked from the room.
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
“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?”
