Free Midnight's Kiss by Donna Grant

turning off her lamp and walking out of the tent.
    “Arran?” Andy called.
    But he couldn’t answer. He needed a run. Anything to calm the need consuming him.
    Instead of running off as he wanted, Arran went into his tent and pretended to sleep.

 
    CHAPTER
    SEVEN
     
    The box was small. The wood was smooth and dark, unblemished and seamless except for the line around the top where the curved lid opened.
    Veronica.
    Her name was whispered in the musical notes that sounded whenever her abilities were used. She could feel the box beneath the ground, sense it inciting her to find it.
    If her name hadn’t been whispered, it would have been as every other artifact she’d gone looking for. Yet she felt fear now.
    Every instinct she had cautioned her, but she couldn’t listen. The box wanted her.
    She was driven to find it. She’d known when she reached Muirkirk there was something special waiting to be found. Soon she would move aside the dirt separating her from the relic. She would hold the box in her hands. And she would open it.
    Ronnie smiled. She placed her hands over the ground and felt the box below her. Its song was so loud, there were times it was all she could hear. It was begging her to release it, to let the sun shine upon it once more.
    It was meant to be out in the world, not hidden away and forgotten. Its beauty was simple, its artwork meant to be marveled. She, along with all the others, would do just that. But first, she would be the one to hold it and drink in its beauty.
    Ronnie could hardly contain her excitement. Her hands itched to open the lid and see what was inside. The box, and whatever was inside, was hers. It wouldn’t go to a museum. This one she would keep for herself.
    Excitement coursed through Ronnie. The box’s music grew louder, her name more insistent.
    “Soon,” she whispered. “I’m coming for you soon.”
    She began to move away the dirt with her bare hands when something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Ronnie shifted her gaze and found Arran staring. He was shaking his head, his golden eyes full of apprehension.
    And then his eyes shifted to white.
    *   *   *
    Ronnie gasped and sat up, her breathing harsh and loud. She looked around the tent as her mind realized she was no longer dreaming.
    She lifted her hands and saw they were coated with dirt as if she had been digging. With her bare hands. Ronnie worked the dirt from beneath her fingernails and tried to calm her racing heart.
    It was true the song of the box was stronger than any she had ever encountered. And up until that dream, she hadn’t even known it was a box that called to her.
    Then again, she’d never had a dream about an artifact she was digging up either.
    She ran a hand through her hair and closed her eyes. Her lips parted so she could breathe through her mouth while she tried to remember that dreams weren’t real.
    It was a surprise that she’d had such a vivid dream of the box and the relentless need she had to find it. But what caused her stomach to fall to her feet was that Arran had been in her dream.
    Was the desire she tried desperately to ignore spilling over into her dreams? It had to be. Her body wanted Arran with an intensity that shook her to her very core. That had to be the reason.
    The only reason.
    “Please let it be the only reason,” she prayed.
    Ronnie threw back the covers and rose from the bed. She stared down at herself still fully dressed and tried to remember the night before.
    She’d been beyond exhausted. She recalled that part. Past that was all a blur.
    “Oh, good. You’re awake.”
    She turned at Andy’s voice as he came into her tent. Her stomach let out a loud growl at the smell of biscuits, which Andy promptly handed to her.
    “I figured you’d be hungry since you passed out last night,” he said with a smile.
    Ronnie sighed and sank into her chair to eat the biscuits and drink the large mug of coffee. “Again? I knew I was tired, but I