Heart and Soul

by Shiloh Walker

  It didn’t matter that she’d known the shot wouldn’t kill him. Leandra had used the hollowed-out bullets with ease and familiarity. She’d pegged him as strong enough to survive the bullet and the poison before she’d pulled the trigger.

  She’d known he wouldn’t die. But it didn’t matter. She’d made him suffer . . .

  Swallowing, she backed away from him, staring at the scar with tears burning her eyes. “Mike, this is insane,” she choked out.

  The tears blinded her, and she couldn’t evade his hands in time.

  She was strung too tight, from the nightmare, from how he handled her afterward . . . from him. Leandra could practically hear the threads of her control snap as he tried to pull her against him, and she struck out. “Damn it, let me go! I put that on you!” she hissed.

  “Yes, you did. And I don’t give a damn!” he said, struggling to catch her hands.

  She tried to squirm away, but he was too damned fast, and he had her pinned under his body on the unyielding mattress, staring down into her face. “You don’t give a damn,” she repeated, shaking her head. “You could have died—one of your friends did. Have you forgotten that?”

  “I never forget friends, Leandra,” he whispered gently, lowering his head, trying to kiss her.

  She turned her head away as tears burned their way down her cheeks.

  “Then how can you do this? Because of me, because of what I was, your friend is dead.”

  “Not because of you—because of them,” he said flatly. “Damn it, I know what they did to you. You were just a kid, a terrified girl all alone. They brainwashed you. Had you convinced you were something you’re not. I can’t blame you for what they did to that terrified girl.”

  Clenching her jaw, she waited until she knew she wouldn’t sob, and then she said, “I haven’t been a child for a long time, Mike.”

  He laughed, lowering his head to nuzzle the valley between her breasts. She shivered as he murmured against her flesh, “Oh, believe me. I know that. But you made every choice based on every lie they told you as a kid, baby. Once you saw past the lies, you stopped being what they wanted. No, I don’t blame you.”

  “They died because of me, Mike. Whether I was a foolish kid or not, people are dead because of me. A friend of yours.”

  “And what of your friends? How many did you lose?”

  Turning her head, she stared into his eyes. Starkly, she said, “I had no friends. You cannot lose what you do not have.”

  A tight smile curved his lips, and he cupped her cheek in his hand. “No friends—there is so much sadness inside you, so much loneliness, it breaks my heart. All I want to do is make it all go away.”

  When he lowered his mouth to hers, Leandra held still. As he kissed her gently, she whispered forlornly, “I don’t deserve this.”

  Mike sighed, the touch of his breath warm on her face. “How long will you punish yourself, kitten? Just stop thinking; let me love you.”

  Those soft, gently uttered words made something hot, shaky, and sweet move through her. The black knot of despair that always seemed to lurk deep inside her seemed to fade just a little as Mike ran his hands over her, staring at her with something akin to worship.

  This was more than just desire he felt.

  “I’ve dreamed of touching you,” Mike whispered as he eased her back on the pillows. His hands came up, working through her braids and fanning her hair out on the pillow. “Every time I see you, every time I smell the sweet scent of your skin.”

  He trailed his fingers down the curve of her cheek, down her neck, sliding down the center of her chest. As he circled his fingers around her belly, she shifted a little, squirming. He glanced up at her, a grin curving his lips upward. “You’re ticklish,” he mused.

  “No, I am not.” But she couldn’t even lie without giggling as he started to stroke the sensitive area of her sides. He watched with amusement as she tried to squirm away.

  Mike chuckled. Lowering his head, he pressed a kiss to her belly. “I wouldn’t have guessed—although I should have.” His breath teased her skin as he moved upward, pressing a kiss to her chest, just above her heart. “You hide so much behind that tough mask of yours.”

  Now she blushed, turning her head aside and closing her eyes as he leaned over her, staring down at her. He laughed softly, pressing his lips to her cheek. “Don’t worry . . . I won’t tell.”

  He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, cupping her cheek and turning her face to his. He licked along the seam of her lips, and Leandra opened her mouth to his. As he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, he covered her body. His cock cuddled into her belly, and she moaned weakly.

  How can I still ache like this? she wondered. He’d taken her time after time throughout the night. She was sore, but she still wanted him again.

  Again.

  And again. Sliding her hands along his arms, she dug her fingers into his muscles before sliding up his shoulders and curving over his neck. She could feel the pulse of life throbbing just under the surface of his skin, and her mouth watered, her fangs pulsing.

  Curling her hands into fists, she moved away from his neck. The hair at the nape of his neck was silky soft, and as she ran her hands through it, the golden brown strands curled around her fingers.

  He shifted away, pushing onto his elbows and staring down at her. He held her gaze as he settled between her thighs, pressing against her.

  Heat and need rolled through her, and she closed her eyes and arched her back, trying to raise her hips and take him inside her. As he slid just a little inside, she forced her lashes to lift, staring up at him.

  “You’re tight,” he groaned, lowering his brow and pressing it to hers.

  The warm gray of his eyes shifted, swirling and pinwheeling from gray to near black. “Are you sore?”

  She didn’t answer, instead lifting her legs and wrapping her thighs around his hips, hooking her heels just above the hard, powerful curve of his ass.

  “Hell.” Mike gave into her demanding body and sank completely inside her.

  Leandra shuddered, gasping for air.

  Mike slid his forearm under her neck, arching her head just a bit. With his other hand, he brushed his thumb across her lip. Leandra turned her head a little, catching his thumb in her mouth and biting gently.

  “Not there,” Mike said gruffly, lowering his head as he lifted her up, pressing her face to his neck. “Here.”

  Leandra shook her head even as the hunger reared its head. Her fangs extended fully, but she resisted. “No.”

  “Yes—don’t deny either of us.”

  Deny us . . . deny us what? she thought desperately as she battled both him and the hunger. She took a deep breath, hoping the familiar gesture would soothe the ache just a little, but instead, as his scent flooded her system, it got worse. Her control snapped as he urged her back to his neck, and she struck at the same time he sank his cock back inside her.

  As the hot, rich taste of his blood flooded her mouth, she arched against him. He slid one hand down, palming her ass and angling her up, riding against her clit with every stroke.

  She would have screamed if she could have, but the scream was locked inside her, echoing behind her eyes as hot, vicious bursts of color exploded inside her mind. Mike bucked against her and started to come, and hot pulsating jets of seed flooded her womb. The sensation of his cock jerking inside her, the fat head of his cock stroking deep inside, was too much. Tearing her mouth from his neck, she keened as the orgasm tore through her.

  His mouth covered hers, drinking down the scream. Winding her arms around his neck, Leandra clutched him to her, desperate.

  She never, ever wanted to let go.

  “YOU’D BETTER GO,” MIKE SIGHED AS HE SLID HIS EYES to the window. Although the room was still dark, he could see the warm glow of early morning that was just visible around the edges of the curtain. “Sunrise.”

  Leandra nodded, her head still cuddled on his shoulder. A powerful sense of la
ssitude had taken over, and Mike didn’t want to move, didn’t want to let her go.

  If her safety wasn’t an issue, he would have been content to stay there in that small cabin with her for quite a while, maybe even forever.

  Mike shifted, turning so he could bury his face in her hair. There was a faint tropical scent that clung to her braids. Reaching up, he bunched a fistful of them in his hands as he murmured, “I love your hair.”

  She snorted a little, reaching up and flicking one braid. “It’s hair.”

  Mike laughed. “It’s sexy, exotic, beautiful hair.”

  This time she laughed, shaking her head. “It’s hair,” she muttered. Then she pushed lightly against his chest, and he followed her gaze as she lifted her head to stare at the window.

  “Go on,” he said. Smoothing his hand down her thigh, he smiled up at her. “You’re tired.”

  She slid him a narrow glance and drawled sardonically, “I have no idea why I’d be tired.”

  Smiling easily at her, he shrugged. “Don’t suppose you’d leave your door unlocked, would you?”

  One ebony brow arched, her mouth curving in a slight smile. “I might.”

  She surprised him a little when she lowered her head and kissed him, a quick, almost shy kiss. Then she stood up and gathered her clothes. Mike sat there and watched as she closed her eyes. Like a flash, she disappeared.

  Flying—that was what that eerie ability had been tagged, although there was no actual flying. Just disappearing from one place and reappearing in another. It was a talent some of the more powerful witches had. Witches like Leandra.

  And now the small cabin felt too large, too empty. With a sigh, Mike rolled from the bed and gathered up his own clothes.

  Eli’s was only twenty miles away. If he hurried, he might be able to join her as she slid into sleep. He’d make sure he sent one of the others after her bike. She’d lose that hot temper of hers if something happened to the Harley they’d left downtown last night.

  LEANDRA BLITHELY IGNORED THE APPRAISING LOOKS Mal kept sending her way. The nosy old bastard knew what had happened; there was no way to hide it from him, not when she could still smell Mike all over her. But she didn’t care if he knew, so long as he kept his mouth shut.

  Hell, the entire Enclave probably knew at this point. She’d left her door unlocked.

  Mike had slid inside her room, joining her on the bed just as she fell into an exhausted sleep. She’d woken up to the hot, silken caress of his tongue pushing in and out of her sex.

  She should have known better, Leandra thought morosely as Mal followed her out on patrol. The old bastard lived to annoy her.

  Giving him a mild look, she said, “I think I can handle patrol alone.”

  Mal just smiled. “I didn’t realize you had outgrown the need for a trainer already.”

  That was a sore point with her. She hadn’t wanted one at all. But she wasn’t going to let him get her worked up. “So you plan on becoming my shadow again?”

  Mal shrugged. “Gets a bit tiresome just sitting around Eli’s all night and day. Might as well do something fun.”

  “As in pestering me.”

  Mal looked a bit affronted. “Only you would call my presence pestering.”

  With a wicked grin, Leandra said, “Only me? I’d say Kelsey would agree with me.”

  He glared daggers at her. Leandra chuckled, quite satisfied to have gotten to him before he got to her. Kelsey was his sore spot. The witch was completely oblivious to him. Even Leandra had to learn how to handle Mal’s rather overwhelming presence. With Kelsey, though, Mal only existed when she chose to pay him any attention.

  They were silent for nearly an hour as they roamed through the hills, making their way closer to town on foot. Small houses dotted the hillside, but none of them called to her. Leandra didn’t have any destination in mind, couldn’t feel anything in the night that called to her.

  It figures. Last night had been her night off, and she’d gotten jumped. Tonight when she was supposed to be working, she would find nothing.

  “If anybody takes a good look at you, they will see that something has changed.” Mal’s voice was flat, completely unaccented. That only happened when he was trying very hard not to let anybody read him. “That is, those who didn’t hear you carrying on earlier.”

  Leandra wasn’t sure what to think. Did he have a problem with what happened between her and Mike? That made no sense. Of all the Hunters she had met, he seemed to be one of the first inclined to forgive. Not just forgive, but welcome her. Slowing her steps, she turned and stared at him. Although little moonlight filtered its way through the dense growth of trees, she could see him clearly.

  His face was a smooth, blank mask. Propping her hands on her hips, she said levelly, “You know as well as I that very few of them truly see me. And what do I care if they heard us or not? It’s just sex.”

  Malachi ignored everything but her first comment. “Mike cares.”

  Turning away from Mal, she closed her eyes. She had a sinking sensation low in her belly that Mike saw her more clearly than anybody. “We had sex. That is all.”

  Mal just laughed. “When two people watch each other the way you two do, it never comes down to just sex.”

  “He doesn’t watch me.” Leandra tried to forget the look in his eyes as he made love to her throughout the night. Not just the gentleness, not just the need. But the awe—almost as if he couldn’t believe he was touching her. Almost as if he felt the same way she did.

  No. She wasn’t going to think about it.

  She cast Malachi a cool glance over her shoulder. “Do you really see it being any more than that? Mike and me.” She laughed cynically and shook her head. There was no more for her. And oddly, the thought made her feel even more hollow now than it had before.

  “Yes.”

  Startled, she stared at him as the ancient one circled around to stand in front of her. Leaning against a massive oak, Mal stared at her. “You canna see what I see, can you?” he asked quietly. “You see the same woman you saw five years ago, and you hate her. But that woman is gone; she died the day you fought back.”

  Grimly, she shook her head. “You can think what you want.” Turning on her heel, she stalked into the trees.

  THE REMAINDER OF THE NIGHT PASSED WITHOUT ENCOUNTERING anything. Leandra was strung tight, and she would have loved the chance to loose her pent-up energy on something, but no such luck.

  Mal had remained silent the rest of the night, and when they entered the house, he moved away, retreating to his rooms.

  Leandra stomped into the library, seeking out the liquor cabinet and staring moodily at its contents. The burn of whiskey wouldn’t help, nor the smooth taste of vodka.

  She kept hearing that bastard’s voice. Which is likely exactly what he wanted.

  “She died the day you fought back . . .”

  Could it really be that simple? Turning away from the cabinet, she walked over to the window, crossing her arms over her chest. It was still dark out.

  Sunset was hours away, and she was trapped inside here, alone with her thoughts. Never a good thing, Leandra thought with a humorless smile.

  Where was Mike?

  And did he see what Malachi saw when he looked at her? A slow, wry smile curved her lips as she silently acknowledged that there were a few things that Mike probably saw that Mal was unaware of.

  Thank God.

  But . . . the rest. Did Mike see a witch of the Scythe or something else?

  She touched her hand to the pane of glass, to the faint reflection she saw there. Leandra had no idea what to see when she saw herself. The bitter self-hatred she had felt for years had faded a little.

  But acceptance? That was farther off.

  It wasn’t the Change, though. Leandra hadn’t ever been normal. Suffering from a vampire’s bite, having another vampire feed her and guide her through the Change, while a bit odd to some, for a girl who had run away at the age of twelve and found herself
living with a bunch of vamps, shifters, and witches, it wasn’t even what she could call strange.

  Even before Leandra had been bitten, she had suffered these same dark thoughts, asked herself the same questions.

  Who am I?

  And lately, there had been a voice whispering back, Who do you want to be?

  She leaned her brow against the glass and closed her eyes.

  There were answers somewhere but she didn’t even know where to look. Part of her was deathly afraid to even try.

  Pushing back from the window, she shook her head. It was too late for such dark thoughts. If she kept thinking like this, she wouldn’t sleep and unlike some of the vampires in this Enclave, she was still young enough that she needed to.

  Her room was in the basement of the western wing. Most young vampires felt more secure when they were farthest from the sunrise, and Leandra was no different. Heading down the hall, she tried to clear her mind. If she slept, maybe she could start trying to make sense of all the noise in her head.

  It was about to get added to, though.

  “Hello, Leandra.”

  Leandra hadn’t heard her, hadn’t scented her, hadn’t sensed her in any way. There were many reasons Agnes Milcher had been alive as long as she had; muffling her presence around any sort of predator was just one of them.

  Not that the crazy old witch was any sort of prey—at least not to any predator with sense in his head.

  As Leandra turned and faced the old woman behind her, she steeled herself. Looking into those faded blue eyes was the most disconcerting thing. It was like Agnes could see clear through a person, all the way through to their soul.

  “Agnes. I thought you were staying in England,” Leandra said quietly.

  Agnes beamed at Leandra. “I was, yes. But I left a few months ago.”

  “Weren’t you sort of . . . uh . . .”

  “Retired? Yes, yes, leastways I am supposed to be. But things have pulled me here. So here I am. But I do miss my home. Have you ever been to England, love?”