Phantom's Touch: Sexy Paranormal (Book 2, Phantom Series) Read Free

would they find Salina before it was too late?
    Not by standing still and wallowing in their surprise.
    Aiden shot off orders. Colin he sent to the chapel. Rafe to search out the Chovihano , anticipating that the Gypsy elder might have stayed behind, too lame to travel. He directed the twins to the tinker’s hut, hoping the only Umgeben Gypsy allowed to travel outside the boundaries of Valoren had heard about the mercenaries and had warned the Romani before Aiden had stumbled across some of his former cavalry mates on his journey home.
    Without question, his brothers obeyed. Aiden froze when Damon placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find her,” he said.
    “I’ll seek out Rogan,” Aiden insisted.
    Damon’s eyes hardened. “I brought that viper into our midst. It is my right to slay him. But only after Sarina is back in our care.”
    Straightening tall in his saddle, Damon looked more like a general than Aiden would ever have dreamed. His eldest brother had once wanted nothing more than to inherit his title, serve in the House of Lords and continue to bring honor to the Forsyth name. He’d had no interest in dueling, for sport or insult, preferring more solitary pursuits and reasoned resolution of conflict. Aiden, on the other hand, had once relished a good fight. Settling scores with the aid of his sword or the occasional pistol was as natural to him as breathing. Yet each and every one of his brothers, even pious Colin and studious Paxton, had the capability to draw blood on behalf of their sister. But Damon blamed himself for this turn of events. He deserved the first chance to call Rogan out.
    “Check the armory,” Damon said. “See if the Gypsies armed themselves before they disappeared.”
    Aiden started to tell his brother to take care, but changed his mind. The time for care had passed. Aiden rode west, concentrating solely on his aims: Find his sister. Find the Gypsies. Organize an escape from King George’s mercenaries. Spit on Rogan’s corpse. After that, Aiden had no plans except living without the constant barrage of violence from rebellion and war.
    Though he’d lived in Valoren the least of all his brothers, he knew his way around the village as expertly as the rest. Barren at first glance, the land possessed a powerful magic, strong enough to keep the itinerant wanderers rooted to one place. Though they refused to build more than rickety homes, preferring their wheeled vardos , the Romani had otherwise created a thriving village, funded by the sale of crafts and natural remedies to nearby hamlets. They existed in peace, healthy and safe, begrudgingly content with their lot.
    And then Rogan had come to Valoren.
    With a quick tug on his horse’s reins, Aiden headed toward the dark cavern where Rogan had trained the Gypsies to forge weapons even the king’s master blacksmiths would have coveted. He’d hoped to find the gated cave empty of the armaments, but he was quickly disappointed. Torchlight flickered over a full containment of swords, battle-axes and bayonets, all glowing red-silver in the light from the untended yet smoldering forge.
    “Hello?”
    His voice echoed through the warm, dry space. The dirt showed a single set of footprints, and the indentations did not indicate that the person they belonged to had been in any hurry. In fact, as he approached the weapons, Aiden noticed a thin layer of dust on the table, likely blown in by the storm.
    Disheartened, he turned to leave. Damn Rogan . Not only had the sorcerer enticed Sarina into a romance despite the disparity in their ages, but he’d challenged the king’s authority over Valoren. George II had no choice but to act swiftly. Images of torn and bloodied bodies flashed in Aiden’s brain. He’d seen incredible carnage in Scotland. He had no desire to see such human wreckage again.
    With a bitter taste in his mouth, he took one last look at the weaponry, then turned to leave.
    A light flashed, and inside his head he heard