Donna Grant - Midnight's Temptation

And really didn’t want to find out.

Aisley ate as much of the soup and sandwich as she could before she paid and walked out of the restaurant. The cool night air felt good on her heated flesh.

She took only two steps when the world began to tilt. Aisley grabbed hold of the side of the building to keep her feet. After several deep breaths, the spinning continued until she knew she was about to fall on her face.

Just before she did, strong arms wrapped around her, and a voice, smooth, sexy, and altogether too dangerous, whispered her name.

“I’ve got you,” Phelan said.

Aisley wanted to demand he put her down, but the world finally stopped spinning. She latched onto his thickly muscled shoulders and leaned her head against him.

It should be a sin for someone to be as handsome and roguishly charming as Phelan. She had no defense for him, but in the back of her mind, she conceded that she didn’t want one.

He was sin and seduction, sex and persuasion. He had been perfectly formed to make a woman mindless with desire. He was wild and untamed, just like their land, and that gave him a thread of danger that sent her senses reeling.

It never entered her mind to push away from him. Regardless of whether she liked it or not, she needed him that night.

“You’re going to get some sleep, beauty. You’ll thank me in the morn.”

Her eyelids closed even as she formulated a response. “No,” was all she got out.

Phelan knew something was wrong the moment he saw Aisley’s face. She was too pale, her shoulders held high in a sign of pain.

He reached her in three strides when he saw her grab ahold of the building. It was a good thing, too, or he might not have made it to her in time before she fell.

With a nod to the staring, wide-eyed hotel clerk, Phelan strode past him to the stairs. There was an urgency pushing him to get Aisley inside the room, but he was careful not to jar her, which meant going slower.

He looked down to see Aisley’s closed eyes. Her forehead was still creased in a slight frown. Phelan got them inside the room and quickly lay her on the bed.

After removing her shoes and covering her with a blanket, he reached for her purse and the medicine bottle he knew was inside. He didn’t recognize the name of the medication, but with a quick search on the Internet with his phone, he learned it was prescribed for migraines.

“Damn,” he whispered and returned the pills to her purse.

Phelan knew nothing of migraines. He pulled up a chair beside the bed and simply stared at Aisley. The steady rise and fall of her chest let him know she was sleeping deeply.

He should leave her, but he found he couldn’t. Phelan gently moved aside strands of her hair from her face. Her golden skin was as soft as mink, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop touching her.

Phelan ran a finger over her forehead to smooth out the lines. She sighed in her sleep and turned her head toward him. He licked his lips, the need to hold her in his arms and taste her sweet mouth again too much to bear.

Control over his god and his urgings had been something Phelan learned quickly. He reined in his desire. Barely.

His cock ached to be inside Aisley, to hear her scream his name as he filled her again and again. And no matter how long it took, he would have her in his bed.

Phelan wound a strand of her midnight locks around his finger. “How long will you make me chase you, beauty?”

While he watched her sleep, he did another search on his phone and learned about migraines. By the time he finished reading the fourth Web site, he was frowning.

He had no idea they could be so debilitating. Was she light sensitive or sound sensitive? He recalled the way she had worn her sunglasses in the eatery at lunch and decided she must be light sensitive.

Phelan rose and hurried to close the curtains to block out any light that might filter in from outside. He didn’t bother with a lamp since his enhanced eyesight allowed him to see just as clearly in darkness as it did in the light.

He resumed his seat next to the bed and let her magic wash over him. It wasn’t as … clean … as when he felt mie magic. It was almost as if Aisley’s magic held a drop of excitement, a punch of attitude, a dash of charm, and a bucket full of seduction.

It was a mixture he’d never encountered, and the more he was around her, the more he craved her magic.

Phelan comprehended all too well that he was treading on dangerous ground. During the first weeks he chased her, he told himself it was because she was the only woman who hadn’t fallen easily into his bed.

Now, he was sure it was much more than that. Aisley enchanted him, captivated him … enthralled him as no one had in the very long years of his life.

That in itself should be making him run the opposite way. He wasn’t the settling-down type. He was a wanderer, a drifter. The life suited him.

The more he thought of Aisley and his confusing feelings, the more restless Phelan became. He paced the room, but it didn’t help.

He should walk away, leave and never look back. Charon was counting on him. Wallace had to be found and Aisley was a distraction he didn’t need.

Finally he walked out into the hall and drew out his mobile. He stared at the screen wondering if he should tell Charon about Aisley. Charon was always the voice of reason. If anyone would know what he should do, it was the man he called brother.

His finger hovered over Charon’s number, but he couldn’t dial it. At the last second he chose another number. Though Phelan had never called Malcolm before he’d heard how the others could never get him to answer. So, imagine Phelan’s surprise when Malcolm answered on the second ring.

“Did you find him?” Malcolm asked.

Phelan flattened his lips. “Well, hello to you as well.”

“Did you?” Malcolm repeated in a flat voice.

“If I did, do you think I’d be so casual?”

There was a slight hesitation before Malcolm said, “Nay.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in the north up near Wick.”

Phelan leaned his head back against the wall. “I’m south of Glasgow and have felt nothing of Wallace.”

“I have no’ either. The MacLeods will be joining in the search soon.”

Phelan’s eyes snapped open. “All the Warriors?”

“Nay. Just the brothers.”

“How do you know this?”

The sound of a hollow laugh filtered through the phone. “Because I know Fallon. He willna stay cooped up for long, regardless of what Larena wants him to do.”

“We could use the extra help.”

“Aye. I’m going to go back by Wallace’s mansion tomorrow and see what I find there.”

“That’s a good idea,” Phelan said. “What do you know of Wallace’s associates?”

“The other droughs ? No’ much other than the few that survived scattered.”

That was interesting. “How many survived?”

“Maybe two. You wanting to find them?”

“I’m thinking it might be a good start if Wallace does come back.”

Malcolm grunted. “Everyone assumes he died in that blast.”

“You were there. You know how powerful that was.”

“I also know there was potent magic being used by Wallace and the other Druids. That magic could’ve sent him anywhere.”

Phelan raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “Meaning he could be in the future?”

“Or the past, or floating in another reality.”

“Bugger it. We could be searching the rest of our lives.”

Malcolm blew out a breath through the phone. “Wallace waited a year to get everything in order before he attacked us. If we give him that kind of time again, we may no’ win.”