The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Marcus

by CC MacKenzie

  No response.

  She hadn't really expected any, but that didn't stop her continuing, "If you loved me, I wouldn't be a vampyre."

  "You kissed me back," he reminded her.

  Her brows rose over insolent eyes.

  "So? You have a pretty face. A good body. A big dick."

  The vivid blue eyes that held hers went flat and narrow as he stared at her.

  When he rolled off her, Anais felt the loss of the weight of his body so bad, that she nearly reached out a hand to haul him back.

  Now he rose to stand next to the bed, to give her a long, hard look.

  He was furious.

  "You're not going to meet me half-way, are you?"

  Anais pushed up to sitting, thrust back her hair.

  Her heart was racing too fast at the way the vampyre in her mind gave her a hiss of utter disgust. 'Little fool.'

  Maybe she was a fool.

  But she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

  "Nope. And I'm delighted to see you've finally received the message."

  Now Marcus nodded his head, narrowed his cold eyes, as he studied her carefully.

  "You know, not once in the past six months did I see this side of you. Self-denial. We might have found something very special between us, Anais. Something rare. Rare, not only for my kind, but for humans, too. The chance to find happiness. It's a pity you don't have the guts to take that chance."

  He left, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.

  Heart heavy, Anais sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the door.

  Why on earth did she feel like crying?

  Maybe because she'd seen a flash of something in those dark eyes?

  Hurt?

  She'd hurt him?

  Anais shook her head.

  It wasn't possible.

  The man was a monster.

  This was what she'd wanted, for him to leave her alone.

  To let her be.

  One day, she promised herself, she would be free of him.

  Anais Walker wanted her life back.

  And she didn't care what she had to do to get it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Another twenty-four hours limped passed without incident.

  It appeared that Anais and Marcus had reached a détente in their relationship.

  And that was fine with Anais.

  If Saira and James appeared somewhat at a loss by the viciously polite exchanges, that was their problem, not hers. Let Marcus explain to them why she was standing firm against him.

  Anais had asked James if there was any way she could still take up her position as a Junior Legal Partner, with the company, to live independently in her own apartment in New York as she had in the past.

  James Gillespie had simply shaken his handsome head.

  "You are a newborn, Anais. You survived the transition. And that makes you a very rare being. You are most precious to our kind. Honoured. Revered. It is our sacred duty to protect you. To keep you safe from harm. Perhaps, one day, Marcus will agree that you can return to work. The decision is up to him."

  No way!

  Marcus Gillespie was not going to make decisions about what she could or could not do with her life.

  No matter how long she'd ranted, raved, James would not be moved.

  In frustration, Anais had turned to Saira, woman to woman.

  "Will I ever be able to live my own life?" she'd asked Saira during yet another blood test.

  Chocolate brown eyes had met hers.

  "Eventually. Once the process from newborn to vampyre is complete. There are still things that can and do go wrong. You need to feed. If you refuse hemoglobin from Constantine's blood bank, then you will need to take it from Marcus. The wounds on your hand are not healing as they should, Anais. I understand how you must be feeling. I do. But there is no turning back the clock. What has been done to you cannot be undone. Therefore you must step forward and make the best of the very long life you have before you. I understand that you're scared, worried about the future, but believe me when I say that everything is going to be just fine. Please, feed."

  She might feel defeated, but Anais wasn't deterred.

  She might be down, but she certainly wasn't out.

  At last, logic and common sense prevailed.

  She wanted to survive.

  To survive, she needed nutrients.

  Nutrients found in blood products.

  So, she nodded.

  "All right. I'm not touching Marcus. But I will try one of your bags of blood."

  The wide smile that split Saira's face totally transformed her from a stunning woman to a beautiful one. Anais couldn't help but smile back.

  However, that smile slid from her face when Saira placed a bag, cold from the fridge, and a straw in her hand.

  "Some people prefer it nuked in the microwave to bring it up to body temperature."

  Anais shuddered.

  "Ugh. No thanks."

  She closed her eyes as she tentatively took a careful sip, ready for her gag reflex to kick in.

  Instead, the syrupy red fluid didn't taste utterly disgusting, it tasted like a tart, liquid... honey?

  Delicious.

  Delectable.

  Delightful.

  Her eyes flew open to find Saira grinning at her like a fool.

  "There you go. Well done. You'll start to feel a lot better. Less cranky. Your moods, your hormones, will stabilise. And you'll feel more like yourself. Later, we'll discuss how the ebb and flow and cycle of the moon impacts a female vampyre's hormones."

  Sounded... interesting.

  Anais finished feeding, took a very deep breath, and realised that she did, indeed, feel so much better.

  "I suppose I'd better have another, since I've missed meals for days."

  Saira nodded, but her eyes were watchful, careful.

  "Sure. But I'd leave it for another hour or so. See how we go."

  Anais rose, then sat down hard when the room spun.

  "Whoa, head rush."

  "That's what I mean. Why don't you lie down, take a nap, let your body rest and heal."

  Sounded like a good idea to Anais.

  Two minutes later, she lay on her bed.

  For the first time in days she closed her eyes, and dropped like a stone into sleep.

  Meanwhile, his mood bleak, Marcus was talking to James.

  "I've broken her trust." He slumped onto a couch, leaned back against silk cushions and rested his weary head on the back of the couch, to stare unseeing at the ceiling. "I deserve every black look, every snarl. All of it."

  To bring her into his world without a single thought for her feelings had been a vile act. Unworthy of who he was. He'd made the wrong choice. A costly mistake, and Anais was making very sure he paid. He was the lowest form of life that had ever crawled on his belly through a fetid swamp. Looking deep within himself, he had to admit she owned him, always would.

  "I've never wanted someone so much," he continued. "Someone who's so determined to keep me out. And I can't make a move without her. She's driving me nuts."

  "Love can do that to a man."

  "If this is love then..."

  "I'm not sure you know what love is, but it appears you've succumbed at last. It's a great pity you fell for her after the event, but it's also unlike you to brood like this."

  "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix it."

  James moved to a tall cupboard, poured a couple of shots of whisky. Vampyres didn't get drunk, but the buzz lasted for ten minutes and was better than nothing.

  He handed a glass to Marcus, who took it with a nod of thanks.

  "Regaining her trust isn't impossible. Actions speak a helluva lot louder than words."

  "Until she stabilizes, we are stuck here."

  James sat on the opposite couch, rested his elbows on his knees, deep in thought.

  "Anais is a woman who needs to keep her mind occupied," he said at last. "She also needs to feel
valued and have a purpose. Until now, her purpose and focus is law. Give her something to do."

  Of course!

  Why hadn't he thought of such a simple solution?

  Feeling a hell of a lot brighter, Marcus rose and moved towards her rooms.

  He knocked the door, no way was he going to just barge right in there, and received no response. Taking care, he turned the door handle, and popped his head around the door, to find the room in darkness.

  The sound of her steady breathing told him she was sound asleep.

  Bless her.

  She must be absolutely exhausted.

  Heart lighter, he closed the door and told himself he would do everything he could to make their relationship work.

  After all, what choice did he have?

  Later that evening Anais stretched in bed arching her back like a replete, contented kitten.

  Her bones, every single muscle in her body, felt fluid, strong, in a wonderful way.

  She opened her eyes. And gasped as the world seemed to appear brighter. From the penthouse suite, even through closed French doors, she could quite clearly hear the traffic far below. Even voices of people calling for a cab.

  Wow.

  Amazing.

  So this was what it felt like to be a vampyre?

  Whenever she thought of what had happened to her, a lump of ice appeared in her gut. And that lump threatened to destroy a very special moment.

  She was no longer human.

  But Anais was also a realist.

  Her hand slid between her breasts to fist the bloodstone and her rollercoaster emotions calmed.

  She knew it was going to take her a lifetime to come to terms with her situation. A part of her still found it difficult to accept that she may have plenty of lifetimes ahead of her.

  Who’d have thought it?

  But did she want potentially to live for hundreds of years?

  It wasn’t hard to see the downside to such an experience, not least of which was watching friends and loved ones grow old and die before her.

  Now Anais refused to let negativity impact her good mood.

  Sliding out of bed she pulled on a long robe of white silk and tied it tight around her tiny waist.

  She cocked her head, heard twenty-four hour news playing in the sitting room and listened to the faint sound of a shower coming from Marcus's bedroom.

  Taking a deep breath, she padded over to the French doors that opened out onto the long balcony that stretched the entire length of the luxury suite. Not once had she been permitted outside to inhale fresh, clean air. Now something, the night, seemed to lure, entice her. Reaching out her hand, her fingers hovered over the key in the lock. Instantly her vampyre took note. Reminding her that she'd given her word, promised Saira faithfully never to open the doors, the windows. But what harm would it do to stand outside for just a moment? She was in a penthouse high above the street below. She was desperate to breathe the air, to gaze at the stars. 'Give me a minute to just enjoy the night sky,' she whispered silently, telling her vampyre not to worry.

  Slowly she turned the lock, cautiously opened the door.

  It was freezing cold as she stepped out into the night. The moon illuminated the glittering City of Shanghai.

  Thrilled, Anais moved to the rail and leaned over to look down into the busy stream of humanity.

  She was sixty-six floors above the noise of traffic, soaring high above the smells and calls of food vendors.

  Lifting her face to the moon, she closed her eyes marvelling at the wondrous sensation the silver light had upon her flesh.

  A sudden gust of icy wind abruptly slapped her face and she loved it.

  Inhaling deeply, Anais relaxed properly for the first time in days.

  There wasn’t a chance to scream.

  Strong hands picked her up and tossed her over the balcony.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marcus stepped out of the shower wrapping a thick towel around his waist.

  Mind filled with the woman he loved, he continued to fret over Anais.

  Continued to worry over how he was going to make what he'd done up to her.

  Saira had told him Anais had fed, was in a better frame of mind, and that small positive step had lifted his spirits.

  Picking up a hand towel to rub it over his hair, he stopped dead.

  His world blinked out.

  Then blinked on again.

  With a heart-broken bellow his vampyre leapt.

  The sensation of utter terror gripped his heart.

  In his mind the impression of Anais screaming her lungs out flashed, before it was gone, replaced now by nothing but darkness.

  No, no, no.

  Marcus was through the door, sprinting through the sitting room and into her bedroom, running through the wide-open French doors to look over the balcony, to stare down in sheer horror.

  All he could hear was the roar of his heart.

  His enhanced eyesight could see no furore, or any sign of her body, in the street far below.

  What the fuck?

  Knuckles white on the guardrail, for a horrified moment his mind went blank.

  He didn’t know what to do.

  His brother and Saira were at his side, asking what the hell was the matter.

  Six Centuri landed on the balcony.

  Dressed from head to toe in black leather, their Commander, Ian Macpherson, bowed low from the waist.

  "My Lord. Two Legionnaires threw a woman from the balcony. We were too late to catch her."

  Praying like he’d never prayed before, Marcus wanted the answer to only one question.

  "Is she alive?" he whispered.

  "No body has been found. They used magic, sire. One moment she was in the air, the next they were gone."

  Just as he was about to demand they begin a search, Marcus heard the shrill of his cell phone ringing in his bedroom.

  As he stalked through the suite to pick up his cell, his vampyre intuition told him that the call was not a coincidence.

  Cursing the fact he was shaking like a fucking leaf, the voice at the other end made his belly ache as if a steel fist had been plunged in his gut.

  Dear Christ, the Witch had Anais.

  "Ezekiel," said Marcus through gritted teeth, fear and utter frustration making his hand fist. "I swear if you harm so much as a single hair on her head, I’ll..."

  The deep voice in his ear was too soft, too silky,

  "Calm yourself, Prince. She is unharmed. I’m texting co-ordinates. Be there in twenty minutes. Four Centuri only."

  Marcus’s growled response was a threat as well as a promise, "I’ll be there."

  Cursing loud and long, Marcus stalked into his bedroom with his brother and Saira hot on his heels.

  "You cannot meet with him, Marcus. We must alert your father, the council." Saira's voice was strident as she stood right in front of him. She had more reason than most to detest Ezekiel.

  "My father and the council are continents away. And I don't have time to waste on a debate with you. Get out of my face, Saira."

  James grabbed his arm, spun him around.

  "For God's sake, she's probably dead already," he said.

  Marcus shoved him back, hard.

  "She is my woman!" And he'd lost her. The reality of his situation hit him too hard. Marcus pressed fingertips into his eyes, took a deep breath, then stared at James. "I should never have touched her!"

  His brother's jaw dropped.

  "My God, you're in love with her."

  Saira's eyes went wide as she slapped a hand over her mouth.

  "Oh, Marcus, I'm so sorry for your loss. But you have to understand, she's gone. Ezekiel shows no mercy."

  Did they think he didn't know that?

  A despair so dark it nearly brought him to his knees overwhelmed Marcus.

  But he refused to give in to it.

  If there was a chance, just the smallest chance, that she was still alive, he'd take it. If she'd perished, then h
e wanted her body. To hold it in his arms and to bury her in accordance with the customs of his people. It was the very least he could do for her. And then he'd follow her into The Fade. After everything he'd done to her, he deserved nothing less.

  He ignored Saira and James as he entered his closet, thrust his legs into black combats.

  Tugging a muscle shirt over his head, he hunted through the closet for his shitkickers.

  He might be a lawyer to trade, but Marcus Gillespie could whup-ass with the best of them.

  An icy calm settled in his mind as it raced through possible scenarios.

  None of them good.

  "It's a trap," said James as he stripped, changed into his gear, too.

  Of course it was a fucking trap.

  Right there and then, Marcus vowed to destroy the men that had dared to touch her.

  Jaw tight, he opened the lid of a box of heavy steel. A box which held his weapons cache.

  "My Lord, ye will no meet that Abomination."

  Ian stood legs apart, muscular arms folded across his massive chest. With his shock of red hair and fierce green eyes, he looked every inch the Highland warrior he’d been over six hundred years ago. The Centuri blood feud with the Legion was a centuries old war of attrition and who could fault them for that? Since their wives had been raped, butchered and their offspring stolen. And that, Marcus knew, tended to make a Centuri trigger-happy. As far as the Centuri were concerned the only good Legionnaire was a dead Legionnaire.

  "She is bonded to me, Ian."

  "Your father..."

  "Is not here. There’s no time for a discussion, Ian. I want you and three others with me."

  Marcus knew nothing would have stopped the Centuri Commander from shadowing him, so he might as well have him on board.

  Ian bowed his head once. "As you wish."

  "I'm coming, too."

  Marcus turned to his younger brother, gripped both his arms.

  He shook his head.

  "No. You have Charlotte waiting for you at home. Contact father, the council, and tell them what's happened."

  Chapter Seventeen

  In theory, in the on-going vampyre war Christian churches were neutral ground.