Darkest Highlander

I’ll see you in Hell first.” Deirdre threw back her head and laughed. Her floor-length white hair twitched around her ankles. “This is Hell, Broc.

It hadn’t been Druid magic. It had been the power of a Warrior. There was only one Warrior who she knew could alter a person’s perception of their surroundings with such ease. “Phelan,” she murmured. His power was so great, she and her wyrran had thought they were being attacked by at least a dozen Warriors. Their claws had felt real as they scoured her skin, their roars loud to her ears.

I knew I chose you for a reason.” She playfully punched his shoulder. “You chose me? If I remember correctly, Fallon MacLeod—and I always remember correctly—I was the one who picked you. You wanted nothing to do with me.

Phelan chuckled at Deirdre’s outrage as her precious wyrran were being beaten by Warriors she didn’t control. There were times Phelan thoroughly enjoyed his power. Like now. If only the rest of his life could give him such enjoyment he might be able to put aside the resentment that filled his soul. Until then, however, he was going to relish hurting Deirdre.

think it’s the artifact. It says the tablet is on the Isle of Eigg, hidden and guarded in a stone circle.

It was true. Logan had created a different side of himself, one that always wore a smile and made jests to hide the truth. It had worked effectively. Everyone thought he was something he wasn’t. And if he had any say in it, no one would know the truth.