Vampire Mine las-10

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  Connor snorted, although he wondered if she liked the Buchanan plaid.

  “Have ye heard the good news?” Ian asked. “Shanna woke up and she’s doing fine.”

  Marielle nodded. “I am greatly relieved.”

  “Me, too.” Ian hesitated, shifting his weight. “If it is no’ too forward of me, I would ask a boon from you. My wife is expecting our first child, and if ye could remember them in yer prayers, I would be eternally grateful.”

  When Marielle smiled, Connor’s breath hitched. It was the closest he’d come to seeing a ray of sunshine in hundreds of years.

  “That’s wonderful! Congratulations.” Marielle touched Ian on the shoulder. “God bless you and your family.”

  Ian bowed his head. “Thank you. If there’s anything I can do for you, I would be honored.” He stepped back. “But I shouldna take up any more of yer time. Ye have a great deal to do tonight.”

  “I do?” she asked.

  Ian looked surprised. “Connor dinna tell you?”

  “I was just about to,” Connor growled. “But we were interrupted.”

  Ian’s mouth twitched. “Try no’ to be such a grouch. She’s an angel, ye ken.”

  Connor arched an eyebrow.

  Ian’s eyes glittered with amusement as he turned to Brynley. “Do ye need a lift back to school?”

  “Yes.” She jumped off the couch and waved at Marielle. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Marielle waved back.

  Ian walked over to Brynley and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “ ’Twas an honor to meet you, angel.” He vanished, taking Brynley with him.

  Alone at last. Connor watched as Marielle shoved her long blond hair behind her shoulders. She seemed deep in thought and momentarily oblivious to him. He took advantage, letting his gaze wander slowly down her body. Her clothes, borrowed from Emma, were better suited to a slimmer, more athletic build.

  The T-shirt was a sky-blue like Marielle’s eyes and stretched tight across her chest. Those soft, full breasts had filled his hands to overflowing when he’d fallen on top of her on the couch. Doona think about it. He shifted his gaze lower. Her jeans hugged nicely rounded hips and, as she would say, a complete set of female private parts.

  Doona think about it! He lifted his gaze to her face, so lovely and angelic that surely his thoughts would become more chaste. She chewed on her bottom lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. Her words in the closet came rushing back. I’m not giving you a blow job.

  Bloody hell, he was pathetic. He grabbed another bottle of blood from the fridge and stuck it in the microwave. How could he lust so badly for such an innocent? He was unworthy to touch her toes, and yet he longed to take her in his arms and worship her with his mouth. He must have been out of his mind when he’d told Angus at the meeting last night that he would take charge of her safety and training. The poor angel was not safe around him.

  “Ian’s wife is pregnant.” She frowned, still deep in thought. “Then she must be mortal?”

  “Aye.”

  She turned toward him. “And their child will be another hybrid like Shanna’s children?”

  “Aye. And there are others on the way. Jean-Luc and his wife had twins.”

  “Do they have both human and vampire characteristics?”

  Connor nodded. “They appear like normal children, awake during the day and eating real food. But they have other . . . gifts, like levitation, teleportation, an ability to heal.”

  Her eyes widened. “How fascinating. I would love to meet some of these children.” She sighed. “But I’m afraid it would be too dangerous.”

  Connor shrugged as he removed his bottle from the microwave. “Our community is always dealing with some kind of danger. Casimir and his Malcontents would like to destroy us all. And if the mortal world ever learned of our existence, they would want to kill us, too.”

  She frowned. “Maybe humans would accept you once they learn you’ve been protecting them from the Malcontents.”

  He lifted his bottle. “Before Roman invented this stuff, we were feeding off humans. We dinna kill them, but I canna imagine they would be pleased. They’ll see us for what we are: bloodsucking parasites. Unholy creatures of the night.”

  She winced. “I won’t have you talking that way about yourself. You’re a good, noble man. And all of your friends seem perfectly lovely.”

  He snorted. “Ye’re still thinking like ye’re in heaven. This is Earth, and humans will believe it is their sacred duty to kill us. That’s why nothing is more important than keeping our existence a secret.”

  “Then we’re in the same boat. I need my existence kept secret, too.” She sighed. “Until I can get back to heaven. If I can get back.”

  “Ye will get back. We’ll make sure of it.”

  Her eyes softened and the tips of her mouth curled up. “Thank you.”

  His heart squeezed in his chest. Bugger, how would he survive being alone with her? He gulped down some blood, then headed toward the couch. “We need to talk.”

  He took a seat and set his bottle on the coffee table, noting the shotgun and sword that Brynley had left nearby. What would happen if Marielle touched the shotgun? He didn’t want to find out, so he quickly removed the shells.

  She sat at the other end of the couch.

  He stashed the empty shotgun under the coffee table. “You should stay away from weapons you doona know how to use.”

  “That won’t be problem.” She turned sideways on the couch to face him, curling her bare feet beneath her. “I don’t want anything to do with them.”

  He’d suspected she would feel this way. He’d even told Angus that, but it had only led to another argument. Whereas they both agreed that she needed to be kept safe, they had disagreed on how to go about it.

  He set the shells on the table and picked up his bottle. “As soon as we find Casimir, we’ll try to defeat him in battle. And since ye’ll be helping us locate him, ye could find yerself in the middle of a verra dangerous situation.”

  “I understand.”

  He sipped from his bottle. “Angus wanted me to train you in self-defense. I . . . said no.”

  He heard her quick intake of air, so he turned toward her. “Doona misunderstand. I do want you to be safe and protected. But I doona want you arriving at a battle scene with a sword in yer hand. The Malcontents have had years, some of them centuries, for their training. A few nights of training would no’ be enough. ’Twould be suicidal for ye to engage in battle.”

  She grimaced. “I don’t think I could, even if you wanted me to.”

  He swallowed down more blood. “Ye’re putting yerself at great risk in order to help us. Can I ask why?”

  “I think the world would be a much safer place without Casimir and his evil companions.” She sighed. “But I can’t pretend that I’m doing this only to protect humans. I’m hoping I’ll be able to prove my worthiness, so the Archangels will let me back into heaven.”

  “I see.” It seemed like a good plan, but he needed to keep her alive till she could accomplish her ultimate goal. “What do ye usually do if ye’re in danger?”

  “I’m not usually in danger.” She turned her head to gaze out the window. “Before I could always fly away.”

  “What about the way ye knocked me down with a blast of air?”

  Her gaze remained on the window, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m only allowed to do that in a case of extreme emergency.”

  “Staying alive counts as an emergency.”

  She looked at him and blinked away her tears. “You’re right. I used it to try to stop Zackriel. And again when I thought Darafer would kill you.”

  “So ye can control air?”

  “All angels can control the elements to a certain degree. And some are more skilled than others. For instance, water. I can make it boil or freeze. I can even make it rain. Some angels can cause the current in a river to flow backwards or—”

  “They can par
t the Red Sea?”

  She nodded with the hint of a smile. “Yes. Although something that big requires prior approval and a large coordinated effort. We don’t do that sort of thing very often since it tends to get noticed.”

  He snorted. “And fire? Can ye control that?”

  She shrugged. “A little. You should see the God Warriors. They’re magnificent. They can wield huge swords of fire and drive chariots of fire.”

  They did sound impressive. “Are they likely to help you if ye’re in danger?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Her shoulders slumped. “They would have before.”

  “The lightning I saw in the woods—that was Zackriel manipulating fire?”

  She made a face. “He’s very talented at throwing fireballs.”

  “He was throwing them at you! I saw the burn marks on yer back.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “He was trying to cut my wings off. I refused to stand still, so that’s how I ended up burned—”

  “Doona make excuses for him,” Connor growled. “If I ever get my hands on him, he’ll rue the day he was born . . . or created . . . or hatched from a damned egg, I doona know. I only know he’s a bastard.”

  Her mouth twitched.

  “ ’Tis no’ amusing.”

  She smiled. “I can’t help it. There’s something very appealing about you when you get all fierce and gruff.”

  He shrugged that off even though he felt some warmth in his face. “So can ye protect yerself with fire?”

  She winced. “I was never very good at that.”

  “Show me.”

  She hesitated.

  “Do we need to go outside? I suppose if ye start a forest fire, ye can make it rain to put it out?”

  She groaned. “That won’t be necessary.” She extended an arm, her hand reaching toward the fireplace.

  Connor felt a slight frisson of energy zip across the room. A small flame ignited on the log in the fireplace, then died away.

  He blinked. “Ye—ye were just warming up?”

  Her face reddened as she lowered her hand. “That was it.”

  He glanced back at the fireplace where only a tendril of smoke was curling over the log. “I’ve seen more fire on top of a birthday cake.”

  She sighed. “I never developed the skill. I didn’t want to. It seemed destructive, and all I’ve ever wanted to do was help people. I loved being a Healer.”

  She looked so dejected, he tried to think of something comforting to say. “I . . . like you the way ye are.”

  Her mouth curled up and her eyes softened again with that tender look that made his heart squeeze in his chest. He guzzled down the rest of the blood and set the bottle on the table. “Which elements are left? Earth?”

  “I could cause the earth to tremble. It might stop someone from attacking me.”

  He winced. “It would affect everyone. Just like the thing ye do with air. It would knock everyone down. Hard to win a battle that way . . . unless . . . Do ye think ye could learn to narrow yer focus?”

  “I suppose I could. I’ve seen God Warriors do it.”

  “Then that is how ye will defend yerself.” Connor stood and extended a hand. She accepted it, and he pulled her to her feet. He started to release her, but her fingers curled around his hand.

  “Thank you for helping me, Connor Buchanan.”

  He swallowed hard. Holy Christ Almighty, how he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Would she object? Or would she melt against him? Would she use some of those instructions the ladies had given her?

  He blinked and looked away. He couldn’t afford for his vision to turn red. She would know what it meant. And if he kissed her, she might see into his black soul. Right now, she labored under the false impression that he was good and noble, and God help him, he liked it. He couldn’t bear to lose her trust and respect.

  Besides, there was no point in getting too close to her. She wanted to go back to heaven. The last thing he needed in his life was more heartache.

  He released her and stepped back. “Do ye have any shoes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Put them on and meet me outside.” He headed for the front door. “We have work to do.”

  Chapter Twelve

  When Marielle stepped outside, the cool mountain air instantly lifted her spirits. A bird sang in the forest, and the scent of pine wafted toward her on a breeze. Glory to God in the Highest!

  There was no answer, but she refused to let that get her down. She had a plan now for getting back to heaven, and even though she was stuck on Earth for a short time, she had to admit she was enjoying it. Especially her time with Connor.

  The porch light was on, making it easier to see the clearing in front of the cabin. Connor was moving quickly back and forth from a woodpile to the clearing. The moon, over three-quarters full, gleamed off his red hair. His kilt swished about his knees as he stood cut logs on end in a large circle.

  While digging through the clothes from Emma, she’d found socks and shoes and a hooded jacket. She was glad now that she’d put them all on. The night air was chilly, and apparently, she was going to be outside for a while.

  “Come.” Connor motioned for her to join him.

  She descended the steps, mindful of the odd strings dangling off her shoes. She glanced at his shoes. “Oh, I need to tie myself up like you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She pointed at her shoes.

  “Och, yer laces are untied. Sit and I’ll show you.”

  She sat on the porch step. When he knelt in front of her, her heart rate quickened. His head was bowed so close to hers, she could see how fine and shiny his hair was. His gaze was focused downward at her shoes, and the thick fringe of his eyelashes cast shadows across his cheekbones. There was something about the shape of his face, his cheekbones and jawline that made her feel strange inside, as if her innards were quivering. It was hard to breathe, too, and she wondered if he could feel her shaky breaths against his face.

  “Watch carefully so ye’ll learn how.” He glanced up and his smoky blue eyes widened.

  Her heart lurched. She’d been caught admiring his face. Heat crept up to her cheeks.

  His jaw shifted. “I’ll start again. Watch.”

  She focused on her shoe as he tied the lace and described the act, but her heart kept pounding. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t exacerbate her situation by developing strong feelings toward Connor. She was hoping to return to heaven as soon as possible. She couldn’t fall prey to human desire and longing.

  “There.” He finished. “Ye want to try?”

  “Yes.” She leaned over to mimic his movements. Her hair fell forward obscuring her view. She pushed it back and was halfway through tying the second shoelace when her hair fell forward again. She made a small sound of frustration. She couldn’t see, and if she let go to shove her hair back, she’d have to start over.

  He gently gathered her hair and held it back. Her heart leaped up her throat. With trembling fingers, she completed the bow.

  He released her hair. “Ye did it. Ye learn quickly.”

  “You gave good instructions.”

  He jerked to a standing position. “Och, well, that was the sort of instruction ye were supposed to receive.” He walked stiffly away.

  She wondered what was bothering him as she joined him in the middle of the clearing. Maybe Brynley was right about men and the Three-Step Rule.

  “I’ve set twelve logs around us like the numbers on a clock,” he began.

  “It reminds me of a stone henge.” She pivoted in a circle. “I’ve always loved those.”

  “ ’Tis no’ like a henge.”

  “I think it is.”

  He gave her an impatient look. “Nay. I know what a henge looks like. I have one at home.”

  “You do? Can I see it?”

  A pained look flitted over his face before he turned cold as stone. “I never go there. Forget I said it.”

  Her mouth fell open. Why w
ould a man refuse to go home? It must have something to do with the black pit of pain in his soul. Now that she was alone with him, maybe she should ask him about the blond woman Darcy. Or she could discover more about him by embracing him. That strategy made her heart race.

  “Stand here in the center.” He clasped her shoulders from behind and moved her into position. He pointed over her shoulder at the large log straight in front of her. “That one represents twelve o’clock, yer target. Our goal is for ye to learn to knock down yer target and only yer target. Agreed?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, frowning. She would have to be careful to conserve her energy if she was going to do this over and over.

  “All right,” Connor said, standing behind her. “For yer first attempt, try to narrow yer blast to half the circle, nine o’clock to three o’clock. Can ye do that?”

  “I’ll try.” She looked from side to side, concentrating on the logs. Could she actually control the scope of the blast? And the intensity? “Maybe you shouldn’t stand right behind me.”

  “Why? Are ye planning to fail?”

  She glared at him over her shoulder. “I’ve never tried this before.” And if she didn’t manage to turn down the volume, she’d run out of energy in just a few attempts.

  “Verra well.” He moved back till he was standing between two logs. “Have a go then.”

  With a groan, she extended her hands. She wasn’t sure how to do this other than using her thoughts. Less power. Half the circle. She squeezed her eyes shut, and let loose what she hoped was a small spurt of energy.

  She heard some thudding noises and a muffled curse behind her. She opened her eyes. The logs in front of her had moved about twenty feet, crashing into the forest, but she usually averaged forty to fifty feet, so she had managed to decrease her energy output. Not bad, she thought with a grin. She turned and winced.

  The logs behind her had flown twenty feet, too. And so had Connor.

  She ran to where he had landed on a snowy patch beneath a tree. He was flat on his back with a stunned look on his face and his kilt blown up.

  She looked away, but the image was still seared into her mind. Somehow, he looked even larger tonight than he had last night. Brynley’s description of oral sex came rushing back, and her cheeks blazed with heat.