Midnight's Captive(26)

“I don’t owe you anything.”

A scream lodged in her throat as he grabbed her arms and started to drag her to his car. Laura fought for all she was worth. She’d taken self-defense classes after striking out on her own, but no one had bothered to tell her that she would have a difficult time remembering anything through the terror that seized her.

She scratched his face, and kicked out with her foot, hoping to connect with something.

“Help!” she screamed, only to have her head jerked around when his meaty fist slammed into her cheek.

“Get in the bloody car,” Ben growled as he continued to drag her to his car.



Charon was in the woods, leaning against a tree when he felt mie magic. The panic mixed in the magic had him rushing toward it.

It was instinctive. As a Warrior, he could sense the magic of Druids. A mie’s magic was soft and gentle, and a drough’s magic felt vile and oppressive.

There was no doubt it was a mie he felt, and the Druid was in danger. In his village. Charon might not live at MacLeod Castle, but he fully supported the Warriors who fought to keep the few remaining Druids safe.

He was surprised to find the feel of the magic came from Ferness. But more surprising was that as quickly as the magic had washed over him, it disappeared.

Charon came to a stop in the alley between two buildings and tried to pick up the Druid again, but whoever it was, was long gone.

“Damn,” he muttered.

He was turning away when his enhanced hearing heard a scream and then a struggle. Charon whirled around and raced toward the voice, a voice he recognized all too well.

Laura.

With his speed, he was out of the alley and racing toward Laura’s flat a heartbeat later. He could see some man with his hands on her while she fought him off like a wild animal.

Charon heard the god inside him roar with rage. He growled, agreeing with Ranmond. And in an instant, something barreled into him from the side, sending Charon crashing into another alley.

He rolled and came to his feet, ready to battle whoever dared to get between him and helping Laura.

“Enough,” Phelan said with a growl.

Charon started to move past him only to have Phelan grab his arm.

“You can no’ go to her looking like this.”

“Like what?” Charon demanded.

Phelan lifted Charon’s hand to show him the copper skin and claws. It was then Charon felt the fangs in his mouth. He had shifted without even knowing.

“Laura needs help,” he argued.

“No’ anymore.”

Charon peered around the corner to see the man still had a hold of Laura, but Brian from the pub was suddenly running toward her.

He huffed and leaned against the building wall as Laura got free and rushed into her flat. The man, who Charon assumed was her date, fled away in his car.

“I think I’ll go for a run,” Phelan said, and chased after the car.

Charon knew Phelan would discover who the man was and why he’d attacked Laura. It took a moment, but Charon was able to get his god back under control.

That in itself shook him. It had been centuries since he struggled with his god. He was in control, and had been since the days of Deirdre and Cairn Toul Mountain.

But the thought of Laura in trouble had sent all those centuries of restraint flying on the wind like a feather. It was because of Laura that he had gone to the forest.

Charon drew in a steadying breath and walked out of the alley. He frowned when he saw the door to her flat was barely hanging on its hinges, which told him she had tried to get away and the bastard hadn’t let her.

He stood in the doorway, the sound of her scream echoing in his head. Charon stepped over the threshold to find Laura standing in the middle of the tiny kitchen, staring at nothing.

“Laura,” he called as he approached so he wouldn’t spook her.

Yet she didn’t appear to hear him.

Charon came to stand in front of her. She blinked and lifted her head, her eyes coming to focus on him.

“Charon.”

“Aye,” he said, trying to mask the fury that welled inside him as he saw the bruise forming on her jaw. “He hit you.”

“I think I need to do better on my background checks,” she muttered.

She was in shock, and by the way she looked around her flat, Charon knew she didn’t want to be there. And he didn’t want her alone. The weasel might come back.

“You doona need to stay here,” he said, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

It wasn’t until she laid her head on him and her shoulders began to shake that he lifted her in his arms and strode from the flat. Whatever distance he’d wanted put between them no longer mattered.

She’d been hurt. She needed him, and he wasn’t about to let her down. If there was one thing he could do, it was protect her.