She shivered in spite of the curling steam surrounding her. That was her greatest fear. To be utterly alone. Her irrational fear most likely stemmed from having lost both her parents before she ever knew them, but that knowledge did nothing to alleviate her worry. She didn’t even know her father’s name; her mother, according to Sissy, had never explained the situation. She had her Sissy. She had Brooke and Lara. But more than anything Paige wanted her own family. She wanted to belong.
Wrapped in a terry robe Paige padded to her bedroom, slipping beneath the covers after dimming the lights. Want of sleep prompted her to down a whiskey laced cup of hot tea, not her usual fare, and within fifteen minutes she was fast asleep.
Outside, from the second story window ledge Cael watched with undeniable and growing hunger. Daylight had prevented earlier arrival, but as the blanket of night draped over the city, the lure of her, her scent, her blood, her body, slowly consumed every wakeful thought. He had sworn not go to her, fearing his desire after his mind had linked to hers in their shared dreams. Yet he found himself outside her bedroom window, awaiting her slip into the unconsciousness of sleep to gain his entry. He had entered her home before, but tonight she was already within, and he must have an invitation.
The call of her blood allowed no respite, no relief. He needed her as the mortals needed air, tasting her thick blood spilling over his tongue while she was wrapped around his cock, her body drawing his seed from him in mimicry of his drawing of her life-blood. Damn the Council and their rules. Cael could offer no sound reason to explain his reaction to this woman; in time he would. Cael Maccinnis hadn’t played by the Council’s rules in a very long time.
Call me to yerself, lass.
His silent command was heard only in her mind.
Remember writhing against me in the night…the pleasure of my bite…yer want for more. I’ve come to ye again. Welcome me.
She stirred beneath the bed covering, arching toward the phantom presence in her memory, the sight elongating Cael’s fangs in anticipation. The power of his desire had the saner half of him desperate for her to admit him quickly, before the call to possess her flesh in dual indulgence consumed him completely. He was losing ground by the second.
Eyes open, Paige Kinnell whispered the words aloud, loosing the fetters which kept him from her.
“Come to me.”
The window unlatched by his order, and he stood over her bedside. Beholding her delicate beauty Cael Maccinnis fought to maintain some measure of control, her fragile humanity a foreign entity to him. He was eternal. She, like chaff, would fade in the blink of an eye. He could change that.
She sat up, parting the robe and baring her neck in the moonlight, offering the graceful column in silent invitation. Cael hesitated, his mind registering the improbability. He had not enthralled her. Oddly, she feared not.
Take.
Hungrily he captured her mouth, his hand firm upon her nape pulling her closer. He tasted, probing until her lips parted slowly, softly, while fingers trailed to the pulse throbbing beneath the creamy flesh of her neck, touching reverently, feather light. A timid sigh escaped her, and Cael raised his head to gaze upon her, fascinated. Eyes of softest green held him captive, his fangs lengthening as he readied to dip his head. A strange sensation washed through him, prompting a careful tracing of her face, memorizing curve of cheek, slope of forehead, arch of eyebrow before lowering his mouth to her neck. Her small cry of pained surprise elicited his soothing embrace, the cry morphing to one of sensual pleasure as he drew from her vein.
In overwhelming onslaught her thoughts came rushing into his consciousness, the unexpected shock momentarily incapacitating him.
This canna be happening! This is the psychic connection of bonded mates. Vampire mates.
The stream of her past and present played in his mind’s eye, filling him with her collective experience. An experience he now knew to be a mere twenty-seven years. Paige. Paige Kinnell. Smart, funny, shy, self-conscious. Sexy. Beautiful.
And now his.
The words burned in his thoughts, drowning all else with their absolute truth. Easing from her, Cael closed the puncture wounds and kissed his way to her mouth slow and sweet. He caressed her warm flesh with long fingers, drawing lazy circles in random swirls, wanting so much more before dawn forced him to abandon her.
“If only you could be more than a dream,” she murmured, sparking an eerie sensation in Cael’s gut.
The lass thought she was dreaming.
Shadows of her memories sifted through his thoughts, the psychic link he now shared with her growing with each drink of her blood he stole. But her origins remained hazy, cloudy, unreadable. Curiosity piqued, Cael probed her mind more deeply. She was not blocking him, of that he was certain. Still, something prevented him from seeing clearly into her past. Whatever was happening, he knew he could not fight. He was bound to her, would not give her up. Paige Kinnell was not a mere mortal; Cael was convinced. But that fact was hidden even from her. He had to discover what was going on before revealing the truth to her of his nature – and the nature of her very self.
At the first hint of gold streaking the eastern sky he reluctantly abandoned her side, weaving an enchantment that ensured his presence – and the nature of what he was – would remain in her dreams. Deception was not an art he practiced, and he had no desire to start now; however, her waking to find windows blanketed and an ancient vampire in her home was not how he wanted to make his introduction, nor the way to impart his tentative discovery about her. With hunger sated, he would find a way to infix himself into her life, slowly awakening her to the realm of the undead in preparation for her changing.
Cael also masked her strange scent with his own. No vampire would dare touch her with the sign of his protection. Too many questions swam in his mind to leave her exposed. Finishing his cloaking verse he reached down, stroking her blond hair before departing.
Loss of the comforting presence wakened Paige, an inexplicable sense of grief overcoming her. Turning, she half expected to find herself staring into the blue eyes of her dreamworld love, but of course, she was alone.
You were dreaming again, Paige.
It did not feel like a dream. Her eyes flashed open, recollection of the vivid dreams warming her. Alarm sounded within her and she shot from the bed, unable to discern reality from dream at the moment. Her neck throbbed deliciously as did the place between her thighs, and her breasts were full and heavy with arousal. Memories of dreams skirted the edges of her mind, clouded pictures playing tricks on her senses. Strong hands touching her, sensual lips sucking at her flesh, these imaginings too real in the light of morning.
Standing before the bathroom mirror, the shower heating the small room, Paige undressed. She stared, studying her reflection intently until steam fogged the last corner. She felt different, aware, ridiculous. Yet, still…
Her eyes stopped abruptly on the red marks on her neck.
Love bites?
She laughed at herself.
You are cracking up, Paige Kinnell. That’s impossible…
An odd sensation passed through her, chilling her to the bone. The words of her night-time phantom played in her thoughts, poetic, enchanting.
Who? Who are you? And why am I conjuring you in my dreams?
Chapter Three
Brooke examined each flower for sign of wilting.
“Paige, will you double check the stems before placing these? I want everything to be perfect.”
“Stop worrying! Everything is going to be beautiful!” Paige smiled.
Shooting her a sheepish grin, Brooke smiled back.
“I know I’m acting like a loon. It’s my first wedding of this stature. I’m nervous is all.”
They worked in silence side by side a few minutes longer.
“Thanks, Paige, for being here. You’ve got your own career to keep you busy, and I’m begging your help just about every weekend.”
“What else would I be doing?” Paige
snorted in sisterly teasing. “Besides, when you make it big you can finally afford to pay me for all these hours!”
“Oh, yeah! Won’t that be a check! What will you do with the money?”
Paige considered, leaving an opening for Lara to jump in.
“I’ll be traveling. Hopefully to a white sand beach in Greece where I’ll meet the man of my dreams! That is if – and I say if mind you – Brooke and I ever land it big! I’ll have to hire help to cover my absences, I’ll be running off so often to see my Greek lover…”
“Lies! It’s all lies, Lara Kinnell!” Brooke balked, smiling devilishly. “You wouldn’t be able to stay away from this shop if your life depended on it!”
A quiet pause spanned the seconds preceding peals of laughter that erupted, the trio filling Triad with sounds of their mirth.
“All right, chickies,” Lara admonished. “We’d better finish up. Sissy will be here at half past eleven. We’ve got a wedding reception to stage!”
Three hours later, tired but satisfied with the lovely reception hall, Paige bid her cousins farewell and stole away to indulge in her Saturday afternoon reading binge. One medium latte later, she sought her favorite nook in the library armed with notebook and pen and opened the tome, Caesar’s Gallic Wars Book VI, eager with hope of gleaning new information on Druid ritual and tradition. Sadly, not much had been recorded but for what the biased Romans wrote. Druid sages remained convinced that writing down beliefs lessened their power, and instead committed vast amounts of information to memory. Unfortunately those memories died with the priests as the practice of Druidism waned. Still, Paige had gained much to fill her journals on the subject and derived countless hours of pleasure in her discoveries.
The scratch of pen against paper, the smell of old pages settled and soothed inexplicably, the words humming through her mind as eyes scanned the pages. Basking in the light which flooded down through the skylights Paige wiled away the hours, lost in a history that fascinated her. Sissy had warned her to leave these things alone, insisting that the Druids and their magic had died out for a reason, but her dire faces and warnings continued to fall on deaf ears.
In familiar habit she reached up to fiddle with the Celtic cross around her neck as she read on, fumbling at not finding it. Twice she checked her neck in hope of finding what she now knew to be missing. Frustration birthed tears that shimmered in her green eyes. It had been a gift from Sissy on her thirteenth birthday, a keepsake more than a thing of monetary value, a memento from a happy time in life. Now it was gone.
Jotting the final page number in her tan journal, Paige closed the volume and gathered her belongings. Dinnertime approached, her stomach announced rather loudly, gaining glances from the nearby table.
“Excuse me. Does this happen to belong to ye?”
Paige looked up into gorgeous blue eyes. Downright mesmerizing they were, and she gaped a moment before laying claim to her senses. A large, roughened hand was stretched before her, her silver cross in the palm.
“My necklace!” she exclaimed, realizing quickly that her voice carried much too far. “Oh! Thank you! Where did you find it?”
“Right here,” he pointed to the floor behind where she had been sitting.
Those hands. Paige believed one could tell a great deal about a man from his hands, and these hands told their own story. Calloused and large, these hands were strong from work. Nails short and neat, palms wide, knuckles large-ish, and fingers long proclaimed a manly sort. She liked him at once.
“I just noticed it was gone a few minutes ago and have been searching all around me. You can’t know how grateful I am. Thank you again!”
She made to take the charm, but he motioned for her to turn around, clasping the necklace around her neck.
“Grateful enough to have dinner with me?” he asked playfully, holding her gaze when she turned to face him in astonishment.
“You… want to have dinner with me?” she asked incredulously.
Close your mouth, Paige. You’re gaping like an idiot.
“Aye. And I wouldn’t mind if ye told me yer name, lass,” he grinned, his thick burr telling.
“Oh, excuse me,” she blushed. “Paige. Paige Kinnell. And what are you called, Teuchter?” she inquired curiously, slipping absently into the local dialect of Scots often referred to as Glasgow Patter.
He chuckled softly.
“I haven’t heard that term for some time. You’re so confident in your assessment, then, that I’m a Highlander?”
Her blush deepened, cheeks now a deep rosy shade.
“I…I…went by your accent. I meant no offense.”
His chuckle continued.
“None taken, lass. It’s Cael.”
“Cael?”
Her blank look prompted him to clarify.
“Cael Maccinnis,” he stuck out his hand, which she shook once the flash of comprehension crossed her face.
“You’ll have to excuse me. I seem to be slow on the take today,” she explained ruefully. “I’m not usually this dense. Honest.”
Shared laughter lightened the mood.
“So, lass, how about that dinner?”
Her soft smile and lowered lashes hinted at her discomfiture.
“Eating dinner would be nice…”
“Then it’s settled. We’ll eat together.”
Ending up at a West End eatery the pair talked of their shared love of history, especially pertaining to the Druid religion and culture prior to Rome’s invasion. Their partiality for preserved texts on the subject, discussions on Pliny the Elder’s writings, Tacitus, and the Medieval Tales of Ireland passed the hours far too quickly, and Paige was struck at how chance had intervened to introduce them.
“It’s like the Fates have brought us together,” she joked.
The instant and serious expression that darkened his handsome face unnerved her.
“Maybe they did, indeed, Paige Kinnell.”
The look was replaced with a smile, and Paige had all but forgotten about it when he touched her hand. The flash in her mind – the knowing - startled her, and she jerked her hand away. With an embarrassed whisper she apologized, not sure how to explain – or even what to say.
“I…I’m sorry. I…I got a pain in my arm all of a sudden,” she lied.
His gaze held hers steady, and she almost convinced herself that he knew exactly what had happened. In spite of the ridiculousness of the thought, Paige half wondered if she had conjured her dream lover. He was too perfect, too like the man in her dreams of the last nights.
Maybe it was a premonition!
Tamping down her overactive imagination, she chided herself for indulging childish notions that she was different, in touch with another world somehow.
“It’s all right, lass. I don’t bite.”
For now…
He added silently. Her eyes widened further, and Cael realized that he would need to guard his thoughts carefully. She had heard him. Of course she didn’t know that it was him projecting the thought, probably believing it to be intuition.
Their connection continued to puzzle him, as did her past. As their psychic bond strengthened he should be able to see her life unfolding from beginning to end – as well as know those associated with her as she knew them. Oddly, he could not. Her early years were a murky jumble of shadow and haze, and those closest to her were distant, distorted. Almost as if someone had…
“I’m not sure I believe you entirely, Cael Maccinnis,” she answered half in jest after a minute’s pause.
He knew she told true.
Trust in me, lass. I’d never harm ye.
Again he sensed the moment she heard him. Bewildered, the lovely lass shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the sight amusing him. Coming to know this woman proved thoroughly enjoyable. The faint freckling splashed on her high cheeks hinted at youthful vigor, the long straight line of nose, delicate womanhood. Pale green eyes kept him riveted to their startling beauty, and that luscious mouth – he had plan
s for that mouth later. The more he discovered the greater his desire became, and by the end of their leisurely dinner his hunger began to crack the well constructed facade.
Drink and…
He had a handle on his thirst – his lust - just hours ago. He cloaked his thoughts.
Bluidy hell! Ye canna be needin’ her again already.
But he did need her.
Leaving her what he knew to be a few blocks from her home, Cael laughed as she disappeared around the corner. Following at a distance, he was pleased that she had been wise enough to keep her residence a secret from a stranger. After ensuring she arrived home safely he would await the curtain of sleep to aid his deceit. He would go to her again this night.
*
Brooke slid the coffee mug in front of Paige, their laughter lighthearted. Anna joined their smiles, but inside tendrils of fear threatened menacingly. Her enchantments were unraveling, the reason now becoming clear. Hairs on the back of Anna’s arms stood on end, her flesh tightening in dread. Anna was cold on the inside.
Paige chattered in excited glee with her cousin about the man she had met, supposedly by chance. Anna doubted chance had anything to do with it.
“Brooke!” Paige whispered.
It did not escape Anna’s ears.
“He looks so like the man in my dream the other night. It’s bizarre.”
Brooke giggled.
“Did you tell him about what the two of you were doing in those dreams?”
She winked, which sent Paige’s eyes rolling.
“He’d think I was a nutter!”
“Or a …”
Anna had heard enough, cutting in. She needed to know more about this man. Much more.
“What dreams?”
Paige blushed to the roots of her hair, and Brooke cackled in conspiratorial glee.
“Sissy! You know our Paige is practically virginal. You’re embarrassing her. She dreamed of a handsome man a few nights ago is all. Then she met one!”
The Third Fate Page 3