Heart and Soul

by Shiloh Walker

  He shoved his jeans out of the way and levered his body back over her. She reached down, closing her hand around his cock. The tips of her fingers didn’t quite meet. Unable to keep from watching, she looked down, enthralled by the sight of her hands on him.

  Finally . . . It was the weirdest feeling that passed through her. It was like she had been waiting far too long to touch him. Lifetimes.

  She tightened her hand and stroked him from the base to the tip. He felt hard and smooth, like satin stretched over steel. The thick vein running along the underside of his sex throbbed as she caressed him. The heavy length jerked in her hand, and Kelsey lifted her eyes to his as she explored him. With one hand, she pressed against his chest. He acquiesced, pushing away from her and settling back on his heels.

  As his hard length moved back, Kelsey sat up. Continuing to stroke him with one hand, she traced the tips of her fingers over his chest, down over the iron muscles in his belly. His chest was smooth, nearly hairless save for a thin little ribbon of russet red that started just below his pecs. It ran down his belly and thickened around his sex.

  When she reached the heavy weight of his sac, she closed her fingers over him and squeezed lightly.

  Above her, his body tensed. Kelsey lifted her gaze and stared up at him. A hot shiver ran through her, and fire danced through her veins at the look on his face.

  The deep blue of his eyes glowed. His fangs were extended, bared and pushing down past his lower lip as he stared at her. He pumped into her hand, once, twice, and then he reached down, closing his hand over her wrist. Reluctantly, Kelsey released him, but Malachi didn’t let go.

  Once more, he took her down to her back, this time crushing his body into hers, pinning her hands over her head.

  She groaned harshly as he used his knee to spread her legs. Her lashes fluttered down at the feel of him brushing against the slick folds between her thighs. “Look at me,” Malachi muttered. His voice was hoarse, his accent so thick she barely understood him.

  It felt like her lids were weighted down, but she forced them open. She’d been dreaming of this for such a long time, and Kelsey wanted to imprint every last detail on her memory.

  Their gazes locked as Malachi pushed inside her. The slick, wet glove of her sex was tight around him, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from driving deep and hard. Instead, he sank inside her slowly. But he was halfway inside her when she winced, a harsh gasp escaping her. Her back arched as she tried to pull away.

  “No,” he muttered, releasing his grip on her wrists. Malachi slid his arms under hers, cradling her head in his hands. “’Tis too late to stop now, pet. Just relax . . .”

  Instead of trying to push inside more, though, he just took her mouth, kissing her slow and deep. As her body relaxed under his, Malachi started to pump against her, slow, shallow thrusts. The tight clench of her pussy eased a little, and he pushed deeper. Her legs came up, her knees hugging his hips. Kelsey wrapped her arms around him, her nails biting into his back.

  He slid a hand down her side, over her hip, down the smooth length of her thigh until he could grasp her behind the knee. Breaking away from her mouth, he propped his weight up on his elbow so he could stare down into her face.

  Her eyes, normally so sharp and clear, were fogged and unfocused. As he pulled out and sank back in, completely this time, her pupils flared. Her head arched back, exposing the long line of her throat. Hunger tore through him, and he lowered his head, scraping his fangs down the skin.

  Kelsey cupped a hand over the back of his head, holding him closer when he tried to draw away. It was tempting, the need to break through that fragile shield of skin and feed from her vein. Instead, he just traced her skin with his tongue, settling for that warm, female taste.

  “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this?” he murmured against her neck. In the cradle of her hips, he swiveled against her, smiling as she cried out, bucking under him.

  Her sex tightened around him, a convulsive little caress that made his eyes cross from the pleasure of it. He pulled away until just the tip of his cock was inside her. When he drove back in, Kelsey shrieked out his name. He did it again—again—until she started to come around him.

  Malachi wanted to wait, planned on riding her through the orgasm. He wanted to take his time and make her come, over and over, until she was too exhausted to take any more. Then he wanted to lay her on a soft, thick mattress and start all over again, slower, exploring her long, lovely pale body and commit it to memory.

  But then the scent of her blood filled the air. Lifting his head from her neck, he saw that she had bitten her lower lip. A deep crimson drop of blood welled, and he groaned, lowering his head to lick it away.

  As the taste of her flooded his system, Malachi’s control snapped. He almost heard the crack. Fisting a hand in her hair, he jerked her head to the side and struck. His fangs pierced her skin.

  At his first full taste of her, two things happened.

  His orgasm exploded through him, nearly blowing his cock off as he flooded her depths.

  And he lost his mind. Reality seemed to fade away, and it was almost like he went from full wakefulness to the misty realm of dreams. She was there. The dream lady.

  But for the first time, she had a face. As he rode her hard and rough, her pussy convulsed around him, milking his orgasm, drawing it out, draining him. She moaned out his name, and it was like the dream lady and Kelsey merged into one.

  Still feeling like he was trapped in between dreams and wakefulness, Malachi pulled away and stared into Kelsey’s eyes. The taste of her blood lingered on his tongue, as rich and sweet as the finest of wines. It was an addictive taste.

  It was also one he had had before, a thousand times. More.

  “Bloody hell,” Malachi rasped.

  Her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders, but Malachi tore away from her. Shaken, he stared at her face while he backed away.

  “You . . .” he whispered.

  • •

  MALACHI PULLED AWAY FROM HER WITH A SUDDENNESS that left her floundering. Her body felt cold, and her head was spinning. Reaching out for him, she murmured his name.

  A cold wind whipped through the air, ripe with the scent of angry vampire. It cleared her head, a little too much. He was staring at her with wide eyes that were nearly black.

  “You . . .”

  His voice sounded odd. Like he was confused or pissed off—or both. Kelsey couldn’t make any sense of it and he wasn’t going to give her a chance to either. Just like that, Malachi was gone.

  It was like a knife in the heart, that sudden leaving. Confused and hurt, Kelsey shoved to her feet. Her knees wobbled, and the muscles in her thighs pulled. She felt sore all over. She would have reveled in the sweet aches if she hadn’t been trying not to cry.

  Kelsey didn’t know what in the hell had happened. Her legs wobbled under her, and she collapsed weakly against the wall, pressing her brow against the cool, flat surface. She stayed there until her breathing leveled out a little, and the quick, erratic beat of her heart slowed.

  “I won’t cry over him,” she muttered and turned, bracing her back against the wall. She rubbed the back of her hand over her damp eyes, and she stared at the room, her gaze lingering on the tangle of their clothes scattered across the room.

  “You knew he was a jackass.”

  But he wasn’t—not really. Lonely and tired, full of bitterness. She had to admit, part of that darkness was why she felt so drawn to him. Part, but not all. If he was really a jackass, her life would be a lot easier; she wouldn’t feel so attracted to him, and she wouldn’t have ended up naked on the floor under him less than ten minutes after she’d stepped inside.

  Why had he pulled away like that?

  It took a while to get dressed. Her hands didn’t want to work, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. All of it.

  But finally, she got most of her clothes on. Her jeans and panties were t
rashed. After dumping them in the empty garbage can, she searched for a pair of pants. Instinct had her searching the basement, and she found where he slept.

  There was a bare mattress, naked of sheets and blankets. The windows were covered with curtains, but they weren’t opaque, and she knew sunlight would filter in.

  Not that Malachi would be worried by a little bit of sun. The sun wouldn’t bother him.

  The room as a whole was dim and dank, and Kelsey had the oddest feeling she’d been here before.

  On the other side of the room there was an iron rod hung from the ceiling. Judging by the hookups on the wall, it was where a washer and dryer should go. A slight smile appeared as she imagined him doing laundry. She couldn’t quite make the picture gel.

  But whether or not she could see the big vampire doing laundry didn’t matter.

  What did matter was that she was standing there naked from the waist down, and on that iron rod, she saw a couple of dark pairs of pants. She found one that had a drawstring waistband, and she tugged them on, drawing the cord tight. Kneeling down, she rolled up the legs. Glancing down at herself, she muttered, “I look like a damn clown.”

  Worse, she felt like one.

  She’d come here to try to convince Malachi to return to the Council and had ended up screwing him.

  “Idiot.”

  KELSEY WAS LONG GONE BY THE TIME MALACHI RETURNED to the house.

  He didn’t know whether he was glad he wouldn’t have face her just yet or pissed because she wasn’t there.

  In the hour he’d been gone, he hadn’t figured out anything.

  Maybe he was losing his mind.

  Dreaming of one woman for centuries, craving a flesh-and-blood woman for the past ten years, maybe he’d subconsciously replaced his dream woman with Kelsey and just never realized it.

  He almost went after her.

  Almost—but he didn’t.

  She’d gone back to Brendain. Malachi had no idea what any of the other Council members wanted from him. He didn’t know, and he didn’t much care, either. He wasn’t going back to Brendain and letting them use responsibility and obligation to rope him into staying.

  Not yet. Not until he got his head on straight.

  Hell, maybe never.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Thousands of miles and an ocean separated them, but Kelsey could still feel Leandra’s amber, angry gaze boring a hole into her back as she led the Select out of Elijah Crawford’s house.

  Most of the Enclave had watched in silence, but only Leandra had told Kelsey, “You are making a mistake.”

  Kelsey had looked at Eli for help, but he was silent. Either he agreed with Leandra for some reason, or he had no opinion on the issue at hand.

  The issue being one witch known as Morgan Wakefield. Or that’s who the false ID claimed she was. Up until a few weeks ago, she’d been in a deep coma. A month earlier, she had been showing signs of waking, movement, restlessness, even muttering a little in her sleep.

  Then the day came when she opened her eyes.

  Kelsey had no choice. She was under orders from the Council. She’d told Leandra, “We all have people we have to answer to. Including me. I cannot leave here without her.”

  “This is a mistake,” the pretty black witch had said, shaking her head. “Before you let them do something that cannot be undone, you need to talk to her.”

  That was one thing Kelsey didn’t want to do. Kelsey hadn’t even seen Morgan since the day she’d stopped Mal from killing the comatose witch. She didn’t want to change it now. Duty might force her to oversee Morgan’s transportation to England but she didn’t think she’d have to actually speak to the bitch. Leandra had other plans and Kelsey couldn’t figure out what good it would do to talk to the bloodthirsty little killer witch. Morgan was responsible for the death of one of the Council’s most valued members. Nearly two months had passed since they had lowered Agnes Milcher’s lifeless body into the ground, and Kelsey had yet to come to grips with it.

  Morgan was the one responsible; she’d been summoned before the Council for her crimes. There was little question of her guilt. Kelsey knew that the punishment would be death.

  There would be some justice for Nessa, for the unknown others that this young woman had killed.

  How could that be a mistake?

  “Talk to her.”

  The whisper of Leandra’s voice echoed through her head once more, and Kelsey blocked it out. She had a duty to perform. The Council was waiting on her.

  ONCE, MALACHI HAD OCCUPIED THE HEAD OF THE Council. Just walking into the Chamber was enough to stir up the memories of how many times she’d seen him sprawled in the chair with that lazy feline grace, that devil-may-care smile on his mouth.

  A rush of heat spread through her, and she cursed softly as she crossed the room and took up the chair that Tobias had once claimed.

  Tobias, as Elder, headed the group of six that would determine whether this woman lived or died . . . well, four. There were no longer six of them, for the first time in centuries. Agnes’s seat had yet to be claimed, and none of them had really even discussed what to do about Malachi.

  This wasn’t going to be a normal Council meeting. They had come to pass sentence on a woman most of the world would still consider a child. Morgan was young. Only sixteen.

  It had happened before, executing somebody this young. Just a few times, though. The last had been before Kelsey had been born. The Council didn’t like having to pass sentence on people so young, but sometimes a person was simply born evil. And when that person had the powers that Morgan commanded, death was the only option.

  Her age was definitely part of the reason she was here. Handling killers that were little more than kids was a heavy burden, and it was one the Council had long since decided was their responsibility, not the Hunters who served the Council.

  The other reason why Morgan was here: her power. She had a power that was rare in somebody so young. Such intense power required specialized handling.

  “The Council knows your crimes, Morgan Wakefield. Have you anything to say for yourself?” Tobias asked softly. His deep voice carried easily through the chamber.

  The Council didn’t bother with formalities. There were no lawyers to debate innocence and no jury of peers to pass judgment. Only the guilty were brought before the Council.

  But guilty or not, this was leaving a bad taste in her mouth. And she wasn’t the only one. Kelsey wondered if any of the others knew how badly it disturbed Tobias to have to sit in judgment of one who was little more than a child. Nearly as bad as it bothered her.

  The young blonde witch said nothing, staring at the floor. She was too thin, her skin as pale as milk. Looked like little more than a ghost.

  “No words, Morgan?” Kelsey queried gently. “You will die at sunset tomorrow. Have you nothing to say?”

  The only reaction was a soft, shuddering sigh.

  Kelsey looked toward Tobias. His black eyes met hers, and she just shook her head. After glancing at the rest of the Council, Tobias sighed. Leaning back in his chair, he said, “So be it. You have until sunset tomorrow to prepare yourself. God have mercy.”

  Mercy . . . The word echoed in Kelsey’s head as she watched the Select escort Morgan away.

  As soon as they had left the room, Tobias scrubbed his hands over his face and muttered, “A kid. A damned kid. Sixteen years old.”

  Nikolas said bitterly, “It wouldn’t matter if she was twelve. We all know what she has done, what she is capable of. She is evil, through and through. You cannot rehabilitate evil.”

  Seated in the chair on the far side of Tobias, the other werewolf, Andreas, made a soft murmur of assent. Little surprise. Whatever Niko thought, Andreas thought a second later.

  Andreas and Niko were twins, and like many twins, they shared a bond that ran soul deep. They often seemed to be thinking the same thing at the same time. But Niko was the stronger of the two; Andreas relied on Niko in a manner that struck Kelsey as un
healthy. Especially for a Council member.

  But they had been on the Council for longer than she’d been alive. Not a damn thing she could do about it.

  Kelsey reached out and laid a hand on Tobias’s shoulder, squeezing gently. The twins headed out, and she waited until they were gone before she said softly, “It doesn’t sit very well with me, either. But what choice do we have? She’s never had any sort of training, but look at how powerful she is. And she’s just in the beginning of her power. In another ten years, would any of us be able to handle her?”

  Tobias stared broodingly at the wall. “Had to be blood magick,” he muttered obscurely.

  Kelsey understood, though. Blood magick let a witch basically stockpile power. Usually, power built up over a witch’s life, but when the witch practiced her magicks by ending the lives of others, she cut through those long periods of waiting.

  Kelsey said quietly, “We have no other choice, Tobias. You really can’t rehabilitate evil.”

  The shifter paced away, walking over to the huge window that took up most of the western wall. Bracing his hands on the windowsill, he leaned forward, his head bent. “I know what we must do, Kelsey. And I know the consequences if we let that pretty, young face intrude with our duty. She’s just so young.”

  “We were all young, once. And none of us chose to become killers.” It was the truth; Kelsey knew that.

  So why did she feel like she was simply quoting some company line?

  Unable to explain the ambivalent feelings crowding her head, she turned away and left Tobias in silence. She was just glad it was him sitting at the head of the Council, and not her.

  NIGHT WAS COMING AS KELSEY HEADED FOR THE lower levels of Brendain. The huge stone monolith had six floors, four wings, and more rooms than Kelsey could count. While every major country had a school for Hunters, Brendain was still their true home. It had been the first school. Started before the first millennia, Brendain had seen thousands of Hunters pass through her doors.