Highlander's Magic (Highlander Heat #2)

“If you say so.” He whipped around and his sword slashed down. I moved with lightning speed and met his attack. Our blades crashed dead center, steel ringing loud against steel.

“Oooh, I like a man who can fight.” I leaned past our crossed blades and tousled his golden-brown hair. The silky strands brushed his shoulders, glimmering in the sunlight. Whoa. What was I doing touching him? Get it together. He’s a protector.

He grasped my hand, his gaze flickering with frustration. Nose to nose, he eyed me. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

My heartbeat thumped at his closeness. “Yeah, but I have no idea what it is. What’s happening?” Inside me an urge to be even nearer burned, and I was quite close enough.

“The bond.” He threaded our fingers together. “You’re my mated one. I’ve only ever felt the male’s drive within the bond toward Earth, and at other times beyond Dralion’s protective dome. I’ve suspected this past year my mate was a warrior since it’s only Dralion’s elite who have the freedom to travel. It’s why I stayed away from you. Did I get my bearings wrong? Are you a Peacian?”

Oh my goodness. The truth blazed in his eyes. That’s what this was. I’d never in my life felt an attraction to any man and my skill had brought me here. From the moment I’d seen him my emotions had settled. We were mated, the soul-bond pulsing to life between us.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

“Cole, I think we have a problem, a very big problem.” I was mated to a protector. Only half our people were soul-bound. The bond was what I desired, but not with my enemy.

“Hell, I’m right. You’re a warrior from Dralion. We need to talk. Now. In private.” Grip tight on my hand, he stalked toward a gap in the rail and tugged me along the first row of seats.

“I can’t leave Hope behind.”

“She can wait here. You said she’s a friend of Silas’s, which means she’s safe enough.”

I threw open my link with Hope. “Change of plans. I’ll be back shortly. Go nowhere without me.”

“What’s wrong? Should I be worried?”

“His name is Cole Cyrano. My stupid hunter senses led me straight to my mate. I’ll be back before you know it though. I’ve gotta dump the big guy.”

“You know the whole dumping thing, Lieska?” She snorted down our link. “Yeah, not that easy. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just hang here. If Silas finds out, I’m mincemeat, so whatever you do, make the dumping snappy.”

“Are you speaking to her now?” Cole continued to tow me along behind him.

“Yes, and I didn’t say I wasn’t a Peacian.” I had to try and talk my way out of this if I could.

He stared into my eyes, the gold in his sparking intensely. “We’re soul-bound, and I can sense when you lie. I can’t hurt you, Lieska. It’s impossible because of the bond. Hell. If these protectors knew who you were though, they’d slice and dice you. Let’s keep moving so they don’t.” He turned left and strode between two rows that dipped into a darkened corridor. “This is the way to the barracks. I have my own quarters, and that’s as private as we’re going to get.”

The tunnel came out before a short flight of upward stairs. At the top we passed through double doors and into a bright passageway. Doorways were recessed into paneled walls of pure white. Light streamed in from windows positioned between every other doorway on alternate sides. I slowed before the first window since the passageway remained clear. Wow. Flowers bloomed in a myriad of colors amongst thick green foliage. Talk about cheerful, nothing like our barracks in Dralion, which were dark and gloomy. “Nice place.”

“Yes, and one you’re only going to visit once.” He opened a door. “This is my place. Come inside.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? Us, alone in your room?”

“Inside now, and before someone comes and asks me who you are. I don’t care to lie and protect a warrior’s butt, even if it is yours.”

“Puh-lease, I wouldn’t ask it of you.” I strode past him and into his quarters, allowing my hunter senses to roam. A massive bed was pressed against one wall, a brown comforter with flecks of gold, spread over top. Four plump white pillows rested against a dark wood headboard, the letters CCC skillfully engraved along it. “Hmm, I take it those are your initials?”

“Yes, take a seat.”

“No thanks. What does the middle C stand for?” I strolled toward his corner desk. In delicate scrollwork on the back of the dark wood chair were the same matching initials. I trailed my finger over the etching. His wooden pen was engraved too, as was the polished stand it sat in. “Either you have a fascination with your name, or you have a furniture maker in your family.”

“Maybe. Is this room too distracting for your hunter senses?” He leaned against the wall as he eyed me.

“Nope. Oh, I know. Maybe the C stands for Cabinet. Cole Cabinet Cyrano.”

“What?”