Vampire Mine las-10

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  “Did ye take those people to hell?” Connor asked quietly.

  She shook her head. “It was not my place to make that sort of judgment. But I have witnessed enough life stories to recognize the huge difference between a person who chooses evil because he revels in it, or the person who struggles against an evil that has been thrust upon him.”

  She leaned forward on her elbows, watching him intently. “I may appear innocent in some ways—well, I suppose I am.” Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “But when it comes to good versus evil, I have millennia of experience. I know evil when I see it. So do you want to know what disgusts me?”

  He stepped back, reluctant to hear her answer. “Evil, I suppose.”

  “There’s no evil here.”

  He blinked. What was she saying?

  She frowned at him. “I’m disgusted by your failure to defend yourself.”

  What the hell? “I was ready to defend myself in battle with Darafer.”

  “I’m not talking about a physical battle. I accused you of sorely abusing me, and you took it! How could you?”

  “I’m a vampire, Marielle. A Cheater. A parasite. I had no right to touch you. And doona tell me otherwise. I saw yer reaction when ye realized the truth. I saw the horror on yer face, the tear that rolled down yer cheek.”

  “I was shocked, that is true. But it only took me a few minutes to realize you had to be one of the good vampires.”

  “Ye know—”

  “Of course we know.” She waved a dismissive hand. “How could we miss the fact that during the Great Vampire War of 1710, thousands of mortals were murdered, drained dry by Casimir and his army, while the opposing vampires managed to feed without killing a single person?”

  He stared blankly at her.

  She scooted off the barstool and circled the counter. “You’re acting like you’re no better than Casimir.” She motioned toward the empty bottle in the sink. “He would never drink blood that way. He would have attacked and killed me just like he did those other victims at the campground.”

  Connor’s heart pounded in his chest. “Ye canna make me out to be good.”

  “No?” She stepped closer. “You saved my life tonight. You were willing to fight a demon to protect me. Do you expect me to forget all the brave and noble acts you’ve committed simply because you’re a vampire?”

  Could an angel actually consider him good? “Ye doona know the darkness within me.”

  “Remember what I said about touching the dying and witnessing their lives?” She laid a hand on his cheek. “It doesn’t work as well with you, but I can see—”

  He moved back out of her reach. “Ye see into my soul?”

  “A little. The more I touch you, the more I see.”

  Bloody hell. That’s why she’d wanted to heal him earlier. She’d seen the black torment deep inside him. Bugger. The whole time he’d spent kissing her, he’d been opening his soul.

  “I know you’re a good man, Connor. I saw your strong sense of honor and integrity. I saw a human soul in all its imperfection and glory. That’s why it didn’t occur to me that you were anything but human. An evil vampire would not have such a black pit of pain and remorse hidden in his heart. He wouldn’t know the meaning of remorse.”

  The pain swelled in his chest, begging to be released. Here was a beautiful woman, an angel, who believed he was still good. Did he dare hope there was anything other than hell awaiting him? “Marielle,” he whispered.

  “Yes.” She placed her hands on his face.

  He wanted her so much. He wanted to grab her and never let go. She was everything good and beautiful that he’d ever dreamed of. She was a beacon of light in the darkness where he dwelled. And by some holy miracle, she believed in him. That alone made him want to fall to his knees and lay his heart at her feet.

  She gazed intently into his eyes. “Show me what’s hurting you.”

  Let her see what he had done? She would hate him if she knew. He would lose her respect, her belief in him. How could he bear that?

  “Nay.” He stepped back, breaking contact with her. Dammit to hell. No, damn him to hell. He could never confess, never let her know.

  She regarded him silently, disappointment causing the corners of her beautiful mouth to tilt downward. He wanted to kiss her again and coax those lips into a sigh of pleasure. But no matter how much he wanted to hold her in his arms, he could never risk touching her and exposing his dark sins.

  “You stood by me in my time of need,” she told him solemnly. “I hope to return to heaven soon, but in the meantime, if there is anything I can do for you, I will do it gladly.”

  He didn’t dare tell her the first thing that came to mind. Once he pushed aside those lustful thoughts, he recalled her ability to sense death. “There may be something ye can do to help us, but I’ll need to discuss it first with my friends.”

  “You mean other good vampires?”

  “We call ourselves Vamps. Together with some shifters and mortals, we’re trying to protect mankind and defeat the bad vampires. We call them Malcontents.”

  She nodded. “I have always been grateful that there are good vampires determined to fight the bad ones, especially since the angels are not allowed to interfere. Whenever Zack complained about the Malcontents, as you call them, we were told to trust in the Lord, that He had already sown the seeds to resolve the matter. I believe He was referring to you and your friends.”

  Connor swallowed hard. He’d heard Father Andrew say much the same thing over the last few years, that the Vamps were actually fulfilling some kind of divine purpose in their attempt to protect humanity and destroy the Malcontents. Roman, the former monk, believed it, but Connor had rejected it as a load of psychobabble designed to make them feel good about being Undead. As if it made any sense at all for them to feel warm and fuzzy about being cold and stiff.

  “I apologize for the way I reacted to your . . . condition,” Marielle continued. “I was upset about those who died at the campground, especially the children, so when I realized you were a vampire, I—for a little while, I feared the worst.”

  “ ’Tis all right.”

  She took a deep breath and extended a hand. “Then I would be honored to call you friend, Connor Buchanan.”

  “Aye.” His heart expanded at the miracle of an angel wanting to befriend him, but he hesitated to take her hand.

  She sighed. “I will try to restrain myself from peering past the black wall surrounding your heart.”

  He reached out, slowly enveloping her delicate hand with his larger, rougher one. The instant his palm pressed against hers, he felt a frisson of awareness sizzle through him. He reacted, folding his calloused fingers over her hand and holding tight.

  He looked into her eyes, and he knew then, with a sinking sensation of doom, that he would not be able to resist touching her again. His heart, his soul, his mind, his body—all were screaming at him to pull her close into his arms. Kiss her, cherish her, make love to her, and never let her go.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. She glanced down at their hands, then back to his face. “Interesting,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize handshakes were so—”

  A growl emanated from her stomach.

  With a gasp, she dropped his hand. “Was that me?” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “Is it normal for a body to make noises?”

  Connor smiled. “Ye’re probably hungry, that’s all.”

  “Oh.” She rubbed her belly. “I was experiencing a curious sensation, as if I were terribly empty and needed something deep inside me. I suppose that is hunger.”

  Or desire. His smile faded. Had a simple handshake caused her to feel the same pull that he had? Could she possibly long for him? She had moaned with pleasure earlier in his arms. Did he dare hope—

  “I don’t suppose you have any manna here?” she interrupted his thoughts.

  “Manna?”

  “It’s always been my main source of nourishment.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I could stomach any of your bottles of blood.”

  “Nay, they would probably make you ill.” He opened some cabinet doors, searching for mortal food. “Howard and Phil come here often to hunt. There should be something— Here, ye might like this.” He handed her a candy bar, then fetched a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

  “The food is inside?” She turned the packaged bar over in her hands.

  “Aye.” He took the bar, ripped open the wrapper, then handed it back. He unscrewed the top off the water bottle, then froze when she let out a startled sound.

  She had a bite of the candy bar in her mouth. She chewed slowly, her eyes widening. “Oh my,” she mumbled.

  She swallowed, then gazed at the bar in wonder. “This is incredible. I’ve never tasted anything like this.” She took another bite and moaned, tilting her head back and closing her eyes.

  Bugger. She looked like she was going to climax. He instantly grew hard.

  “So good!” She took another bite and her eyes glazed over with pleasure.

  He shifted his sporran to hide the expanding problem beneath his kilt. “ ’Tis better than manna, then?”

  She nodded as she swallowed. “Oh yes. Manna is fairly tasteless, not that it matters, for when we’re in our usual spiritual form, we don’t experience taste.” She stuffed the last of the bar into her mouth, then pressed a hand to her chest and groaned.

  He shifted his weight. The lass was certainly attuned to the sensibilities of her new human body. His heart rate sped up at the thought of introducing her to all sorts of sensual pleasure. If she could react this strongly over food, what would she do if he caressed her breasts or kissed the sweet flesh between her thighs? Her soft arms and thighs would hold him tight, her moans would sound like music, and she would shatter in his arms. He could practically hear her scream her release.

  She licked her lips. “What is that called?”

  Sex. He stopped himself just in time. “Chocolate.”

  “I love it! Thank you.” She smiled. “Do you have anything else I can eat?”

  Doona say it. “I’ll look.” Under my kilt. He handed her the bottle of water and turned away to rummage through the cabinets. Holy Christ Almighty, she was going to drive him to ruin. But he was already doomed, so seducing an angel could hardly damage his immortal soul any further.

  But he might damage her. She wanted to go back home to heaven. And she believed he was a good, honorable man. If he were, he would do nothing to lessen her chances. He would make sure she remained chaste and pure so she could take her rightful place with the angels.

  Besides, touching her could cause her to see why his soul was damned. He could never let that happen. So, it was settled, he decided with a sinking heart. He would not kiss her again. Nor hold her in his arms. Love was always beyond his reach.

  His cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his sporran. The leather pouch was hanging at an odd angle due to the problem beneath his kilt.

  “Connor,” Angus said. “Ye dinna call back. Are ye done at the doctor’s?”

  “We dinna have to go to Houston,” he answered, glancing at Marielle. “We’re still at the cabin, and she’s completely healed.”

  She sipped from the water bottle, watching him curiously.

  “How did ye— Never mind,” Angus continued. “I’m sending Robby so he can get a full report and ascertain whether she’s a threat.”

  “She’s no’—”

  “Roman believes she is,” Angus interrupted. “I want more information before I decide how to proceed.”

  Connor gritted his teeth to keep from arguing with his boss. Marielle was not Angus’s employee, so her future was not for him to decide.

  “Robby will be bringing some clothes that Emma put together,” Angus said. “Father Andrew insists on going, and Gregori has offered to teleport him. They should arrive shortly.”

  “Verra well.”

  “Do I need to remind you no’ to let her anywhere near the Father?”

  “Nay.” Connor rang off and dropped the phone back into his sporran.

  “Your friends are coming,” Marielle said quietly.

  “Aye. Two Vamps and a mortal priest who is eager to meet you.”

  She nodded. “It will be good to have someone to pray with. I feel so alone with my own thoughts.”

  “Ye’re no’ alone, Marielle.”

  Her eyes softened and she smiled. He curled his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her.

  She shifted her weight back and forth. “I have a strange, urgent feeling like I might . . . leak.”

  He blinked. Christ, was she really this naïve? “Do ye need to use the restroom?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I need to rest.”

  “I meant the loo. The W.C.?” When she continued to look at him blankly, he motioned toward the bathroom. “Come, I’ll show you.”

  She followed him into the small room and looked curiously about.

  He couldn’t believe he was having to do this. “Ye’ve been watching humans for centuries. Ye’ve never seen one . . . take a piss?” Or make love?

  She shook her head. “We never pay attention to bodily functions. As spiritual beings, it’s not something we can relate to.”

  “Well.” He felt his cheeks grow warm. “Ye sit there.” He motioned to the toilet. “And . . . let it go.”

  She nodded. “Interesting.”

  “Then ye dry yerself off and flush it all down.” He pointed at the toilet paper and the flushing lever.

  “This?” She lightly touched the lever, and the toilet flushed. She jumped back, then laughed. “Look at that! Humans are so clever.”

  He blinked. He could have sworn she hadn’t pushed the lever. He motioned to the sink. “Then ye wash yer hands.”

  She touched the faucet and water gushed out. “Brilliant!” With a grin, she dangled her fingers in the water.

  She hadn’t turned the knob. Connor backed out of the room, stunned. “I’ll leave you alone, then.”

  He closed the door and could hear her humming inside, happy with her new toys. The toilet flushed again.

  Holy Christ Almighty! What would happen if she accidentally touched a gun or a crossbow? Angus might decide she was indeed a threat.

  He grabbed another bottle of blood from the refrigerator and warmed it up in the microwave. He needed to keep up his strength with Marielle around. He never knew what to expect next. How could an angel of death cause things to work? Was there something magical about her touch? He’d certainly enjoyed it whenever she touched him.

  He heard another flush, then the sound of water. He retrieved his bottle from the microwave. No matter what, he had to hold to his decision. No kissing. No hugging. He wouldn’t even think about sex. Or how wonderfully well her plump breasts had filled his hands.

  He glanced ruefully at his bottle of synthetic blood. What he really needed was some Blissky. The added whisky might numb his desire.

  The bathroom door creaked open, and he remained by the sink, purposely not looking at her.

  “I believe I did it correctly,” she announced proudly.

  “That’s good.” He guzzled down some blood. Doona think about making love.

  “And I discovered something amazing. I have an entire set of female private parts.”

  He spewed blood into the sink.

  “Connor!” She rushed up to him and placed a hand on his back. “Are you all right?”

  God help him, she was going to drive him to despair. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Lass, ye canna say whatever pops into yer mind. There are things we doona talk about.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “Personal things.” Like an entire set of female private parts. How could he possibly keep that out of his mind?

  “I’m accustomed to sharing all my thoughts with the Heavenly Host, and they with me.”

  “Well, humans doona share everything. We like to keep so
me things . . . private.” Female private parts. Doona think about it!

  She frowned. “Like the dark secrets you keep hidden in your heart?”

  His mouth thinned. “That and other things.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure keeping secrets is a healthy way to live.”

  “ ’Tis the way we are. My friends will be here soon.” He changed the subject and rummaged through some kitchen drawers till he found something he could use. “We need to make you more presentable. Lift yer right arm.”

  She did, and he used a chip clip to fasten the loose sides of the sheet together at her hip. There, that would keep the other guys from seeing more of Marielle than he wanted. Like her entire set of female private parts.

  Mine. Finders keepers. But could he really claim Marielle for himself? She didn’t want him; she wanted to go back to heaven where it was all beautiful music and perfect angels sharing lovely thoughts. No secrets and sinful creatures like himself.

  Three forms wavered close to the couch, then solidified.

  He took a deep breath. “We have company.”

  Chapter Eight

  This is Robby MacKay.” Connor introduced Angus’s great-grandson, who strode toward them, carrying a tote bag. “Robby, this is Marielle.”

  “How do ye do?” Robby set the bag on the kitchen counter. “We brought you some clothes.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled and extended a hand. “So you’re a vampire, too?”

  “Aye.” Robby eyed her hand. “I hear ye’re an angel of death.”

  “She willna harm you,” Connor muttered.

  Robby gave her a quick handshake, then slapped Connor on the shoulder. “What happened to yer claymore?”

  “ ’Tis on top of Mount Rushmore. I’ll fetch it later.” He noticed Marielle was studying her hand with a perplexed look.

  “Wow!” Gregori approached her, smiling. “You are such a babe!”

  She glanced over her shoulder.