Darkest Flame

The world stilled, going into slow motion as she witnessed Taraeth’s red eyes go wide as he spotted the sword. Denae swung the sword down in an arc, intending to take Taraeth’s head so he would never bother her again.

 

In her anger, she forgot about his magic, so never saw it coming at her, hitting her in the chest. The pain was debilitating. The fingers of her left hand loosened on the sword, and Denae fought to keep the weapon in her right hand even as she felt herself pitching forward.

 

She squinted as the rays of the sun hit against an amulet Taraeth wore right into her eyes, blinding her for a moment.

 

Taraeth turned his body away as he raised his arm. The last of Denae’s strength left her as her knees buckled. But she brought the sword down and saw it connect with Taraeth’s arm.

 

As soon as the blade went through his arm, the world around her returned to normal in a deafening rush. She heard her name shouted behind her, and all she could think about was Kellan and how she’d failed to kill Taraeth.

 

Denae watched the sword fall from her grip and Taraeth vanish before her eyes. She pitched forward only to be caught in arms she knew all too well.

 

“I’ve got you,” Kellan whispered.

 

She blinked up at him, but couldn’t form any words.

 

“The pain will pass. Just breathe,” he said as his arms tightened.

 

“That was a killing blow of magic,” Rhi said. “She should be dead. That’s the second time I’ve seen Denae do something no human should be able to.”

 

Denae didn’t care as long as she survived. With each beat of her heart she was feeling better. Kellan’s big hand pushed aside her hair so he could see her face.

 

His pale green eyes held a wealth of worry. “I doona know how you did it, but you cut off Taraeth’s arm.”

 

“Just his arm?” Denae asked. “I was trying for his head.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

 

 

Kellan couldn’t make himself let go of Denae. Even as the yacht Guy and Laith had driven to Cork cut its way through the Irish Sea back to Scotland.

 

Thunder rumbled over the roar of the motor and a second later, an impressive display of lightning lit the sky. The storms were a great way for the Kings to fly unnoticed, but for once Kellan wasn’t thinking of taking flight.

 

He was thinking of the female in his arms.

 

“She’s not going anywhere, you know?” Phelan said as he reclined on a chair with his arms spread along the back.

 

Kellan glanced at the Warrior opposite him, noting his irritated expression that hadn’t softened since Rhi had refused to return with them. “Denae could’ve died with the magic Taraeth used against her.”

 

“But she didna. Just as, for some reason, she didna succumb to the Dark Ones while you were being held. Just as she somehow helped break you from the magical chains.”

 

Kellan squeezed Denae harder. She hadn’t woken since she had fallen unconscious. He’d already searched her for any injuries, but there had been nothing. That was the only thing keeping him calm.

 

“She’s special,” Kellan finally said.

 

Phelan turned blue-gray eyes to him. “Everyone can see she means something to you.”

 

“I didna want her to.”

 

“That’s normally how it works. I wasna prepared for Aisley, or the way I couldna stop thinking about her. I was obsessed with having her, holding her. I didna relent until she was mine.”

 

Kellan merely nodded, because he understood all too well what Phelan was talking about. It was just one of the reasons he wasn’t able to put Denae down on the couch next to him, or even in one of the many rooms on the yacht. He had to hold her against him, to feel her breath fanning him.

 

“What’s going to happen once you return to Dreagan?”

 

Kellan shrugged. “I’ve no’ thought that far ahead. I’m still trying to process all that’s happened. What about you? What are you going to do now that you know Tristan is the twin to one of your friends?”

 

Phelan’s gaze instantly swung to the narrow doorway leading out to the deck of the boat and Tristan, who stood at the railing with his back to them. “He says he has no memories of being Duncan.”

 

“I doona believe he lies.”

 

“Nor do I. It’s just … it’s hard. I never met Duncan, but I’ve fought alongside Ian. I heard the stories of Duncan and Ian while Deirdre held them in Cairn Toul Mountain. I know Ian. I know that Tristan is his twin.”

 

“He just doesna have Duncan’s memories.”

 

“That’ll kill Ian,” Phelan said as he frowned and turned his head to Kellan. “Ian was lost after Duncan died. He’ll be overjoyed to know Duncan is alive.”

 

“But is he?” Kellan asked. “None of us can remember the last time a Dragon King was made. I doona know how Tristan became a King, but I do know that he is now ours. There might be a good reason all of his memories of his former life as Duncan Kerr have been wiped.”

 

“So what do I tell Ian?”

 

“Perhaps nothing.”

 

Phelan gave a quick shake of his head. “With the way the Kings and Warriors interact, how long do you think it’ll be before Ian sees Tristan?”

 

“No’ long.”