She watched as he brought the horse toward the stable, shading her eyes from the midday sun. “Hi,” she said, stepping onto the path. She blushed, thinking about last night. He hadn’t talked to her all day. If there hadn’t been so much activity at the castle, warriors arriving every few minutes, she would have thought he was avoiding her.

He frowned and jumped off the horse, affording her a good look at his kilt-clad legs. He led the horse past her without a glance.

“That was amazing,” Bree said to the back of his head.

“I have to take care of the horse.” He picked up a bucket of brushes and kept walking, leaving her gaping after him. Not even a hello, how are you, did you sleep well after I spent my body in yours? Mr. Hyde was back.

Had she been too bold last night? Was he just preoccupied? Confused, she turned and trudged toward the house. She looked back once and saw him staring at her. She knew that frown. She’d worn it many times herself. It wasn’t preoccupation. It was regret.

Sean’s wife, Coira, was in the kitchen, trying to pull a man away from her stove.

“Come join us, Bree,” she said, voice tinkling with laughter. “Rescue me from this rogue.” She swatted the man with her dish towel, and he turned. He was stunning—weren’t they all? Tall, muscular, dark hair a little lighter than Faelan’s, and he was wearing a kilt. “This is Ronan. He’s Faelan’s… let’s see… great-great-great-nephew on his brother Ian’s side. Is that right? Oh, well, Ronan, meet Bree. She’s the one who brought Faelan home to us.”

“Bree, huh? You’ve caused quite a bree.”

“In Gaelic, that means a great disturbance,” Coira explained.

Ronan moved forward, lithe as a tiger, and took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Bree. Ah, sorry,” he said pulling back. “Bacon grease. Coira’s kindly fixing me breakfast for lunch.” He snagged Coira’s towel and wiped Bree’s hand first, then his own, leaving her breathless.

“Nice to meet you too.”

“We’ll be forever grateful for what you’ve done. In fact, I’d say the entire planet is indebted to you. Not that they’ll ever know.”

“I have to admit it was an accident,” she said politely, her thoughts still with Faelan.

“So you were searching for treasure and found the Mighty Faelan instead?” He smiled. “I hope you’re ready for fame. They’ll be telling this story for generations to come.”

Fame? She’d always been obsessed with legends, now she would become part of Faelan’s. Her story would be told and passed down, and someday, maybe a hundred and fifty years from now, someone would stumble across it and wonder if such a thing could happen.

“Ronan just got back from Ireland.” Coira turned the bacon sizzling in the pan.

“You’re a warrior?” Bree asked.

Something dark flashed behind his eyes, fading just as fast. “Until something persuades me otherwise.” He grinned mischievously and leaned closer.

“If he stares into your eyes, ignore him. He knows it’s too soon.”

“Too soon for what?” Bree asked.

“To find his mate.”

“You think you’ll find her by looking into a woman’s eyes?” Bree smiled, their frivolous banter soothing her gloomy mood.

“They know their mates at first sight.” Coira pinched Ronan’s arm lightly as she passed. “She must be from one of the clans, Ronan, you know that. It’s an excuse for him to look at bonny lasses,” she told Bree. “If he actually saw the sign, he’d run so fast there’d be no catching him. There was that one cousin from England. He stared at that lass every time he saw her, even knowing he wouldn’t see anything.” She gave Ronan a mild disapproving look. “I doubt it stopped him.”

Ronan’s grin turned wicked, and Bree doubted it had either. “At first sight?” she asked, confused.

“Aye,” Coira said. “They know their mates as soon as they see them, in most cases, usually after their duty is finished, when they go on a different kind of hunt altogether, for a mate, not a demon. It’s always a distant cousin or someone from another clan.”

“Why?”

“Warriors can’t marry outsiders,” Coira said. “It’s clan law. We have to keep the lines pure. There’s too much at stake.”

Ronan smiled. “We don’t have to worry about divorce.”

Bree’s head rattled as if she’d head-butted Coira’s iron skillet. She struggled to keep her voice light. Faelan had known all along nothing could come of this thing between them and never once bothered to mention it.

Ronan grinned and leaned closer. “But one never knows where a distant cousin might turn up.”

Faelan came in and found them that way, Ronan’s hands on either side of Bree’s face, noses so close they were almost touching. Faelan’s face looked as volatile as a thundercloud. Served him right, with Sorcha hanging all over him like a cat in heat, when he wouldn’t give Bree the time of day.

“You must be Faelan.” Ronan reached for Faelan’s hand and then clapped him on both shoulders. “Welcome home, brother. You’re a legend here, you know. Not one that most believed, but a legend, nevertheless. I’ve just got back from Ireland. I can help you battle Druan. We’d wondered where he was lurking these days. If you have the time, I want to hear this fantastic tale.”

***

Tension filled the air as warriors gathered from near and far. The friendly homecoming was over. It was time to focus on the mission the clan had carried out since the beginning of time, protecting the world. A world most people—including Bree, until a few days ago—didn’t know needed saving. Keeping their normal, unenlightened lives safe from demons running around disguised as their neighbors, co-workers, and friends. Bree had learned demons were responsible for most of the diseases and viruses she’d always considered an ugly part of life. Wars, famine, natural disasters, all orchestrated from hell. It was as if her entire existence until now had been lived in a vacuum.

Ronan fell in step as she walked toward the library. “You look a bit nervous.”

“Are you kidding? I have to walk in there and tell them what I know about Russell. How many people can say they’ve been engaged to a demon?”

“More than you’d think.” He stepped aside and allowed her to enter first, then whispered close to her ear, “Don’t they say you should picture people in their underwear?” He glanced around the room, where most of the warriors, including Ronan, wore kilts. “Guess you’ll have to picture them without…” He gave her a devilish wink. Bree ignored Faelan’s brooding stare and politely refused Ronan’s offer to find her a place to sit. He squeezed her shoulder and moved to the back of the room. Still smiling, her gaze connected with Faelan’s. Something akin to despair crossed his face before he glanced away. What had happened? If she hadn’t seen him in the darkened room and smelled his intoxicating scent, she’d have thought someone else had slipped into her bed and ravished her.

Several times now he’d made love to her without protection, although she initiated the last. It seemed out of character for him, with his sense of propriety, to risk having a child with a woman he could never marry.

The room had already filled with warriors, all male, except for Sorcha. Bree hadn’t met any other female warriors yet. She’d learned they were far fewer than male warriors. The house had been bustling all day with arrivals, some coming after news of Faelan, but others already en route because of Bree’s call so soon after Angus’s message.

She took one of the few empty seats near the blazing fire, settling between Tomas and Brodie, the warriors she and Faelan had met when they first arrived. Brodie glanced over, and his sheepish grin confirmed a man’s suspicion that he was the one who’d gotten her drunk. Both warriors were tall and strong, with ready smiles, but underneath the charm lay deadly skill.

Faelan sat on a large leather sofa between Shane and Niall, warriors descended from Faelan’s sister, Alana. Niall, with a golden buzz cut and arms as big as a man’s thighs, looked like he could take on an army by himself. Shane was tall and slim, quiet but alert.

There must be some unwritten code that warriors be gorgeous or beautiful, Bree thought, looking at Sorcha lounging on an oversized leather love seat, flirting with Jamie, a warrior who’d just arrived. Maybe the warriors’ beauty was part of their defense, luring the demons until they could get close enough to grab them.

They all wore talismans, some Bree could see, some hidden by their shirts. The talismans were all similar, made out of the same metal, held on a thin leather cord, except Sorcha’s, which she wore on a chain. And they were all armed, despite being in a castle in the middle of hundreds of acres, surrounded by well-trained guards.

Bree was included in the meeting, since she was the one who’d known Druan best in his human form and the one who freed Faelan. Sean introduced Faelan and Bree to the warriors they hadn’t met then turned the meeting over to Faelan, who explained to those who hadn’t heard, how he discovered the war Druan was trying to incite was a cover for his virus. He told of the night he’d planned to put Druan in the time vault, pausing to clear his throat when he spoke about the urgency, not having time to wait for his brothers.

Bree would have thought these warriors had seen almost everything, but not a sound was uttered. Even the ones honing and polishing weapons sat spellbound as Faelan described seeing the other three demons of old riding with Druan, how he’d felt the blow to his head, then awoke what he thought was a moment later to Bree’s shocked gaze and found himself in another time.

Curious faces turned to her, and she saw almost everyone in the house, even those who weren’t warriors, had crowded around the door listening to his story. There must have been a dozen questions at once, everyone wanting to know about the legendary demons, why Faelan hadn’t been killed, why he’d been sent alone.