by Bianca D'Arc
“Miranda is with me. She’s in pretty bad shape. I’m going to help her.” Mag laid it out there and let the chips fall where they may.
“Where are you? You’re not in the Clan neighborhood. I checked.” Steve sounded suspicious.
“I’m at my place in the desert. Don’t track me down, bro. I need time.”
“With the vamp? Why? What is she to you?”
Oh, man, now Steve sounded peeved. Mag didn’t like dealing with Steve when he got pissy. Ex-Special Forces, Steve usually tried to beat the shit out of Mag when he was in this kind of mood and though Mag held his own, he usually ended up bruised and equally pissed off by the end of it.
“She’s everything,” Mag whispered, unable to lie.
“Shit.” Steve’s curse held no heat and remarkably, he backed off. “All right. Take your time. Get your head on straight,” he advised. “Don’t do anything hasty and call me if you need me. Anytime. Day or night. I’ve got your back, bro.”
Mag was impressed and a little shocked, though he knew his brothers were always behind him. They were family. But he’d expected more of an argument. Instead, Steve was giving him room…and compassion. Who’da thunk it?
“Thanks, man.”
“No sweat. And Mag? Be careful.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
Mag knew Steve meant for him to be careful of the vampire—and Mag would. He’d be so careful of her, she would never leave him again. He wanted her for keeps and he was going to do everything in his power to convince her that they were meant to be together. For always.
The hard part over, Mag placed his next call to Matt. He had to get his little brother to play delivery boy and he also had to find out more about Matt’s vamp connections. Mag needed advice from an expert on how best to help Miranda recover.
Chapter Four
At dusk, Miranda woke in a strange place. Was she dreaming again? Would the soft bed and spacious room turn back into the filthy cage she’d been kept in for more days than she could count? That had happened too many times. Each time, more heartbreaking than the last.
But something was different. There was something warm in the dream bed with her. Scratch that. It was someone warm. She could hear his heart beating and the blood flowing through his veins. She could smell the fascinating scent that she associated with only one person—Magnus.
Miranda slowly turned her head, not daring to breathe lest she ruin the amazing dream she was having.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Her dream spoke.
Magnus Redstone—the only man to ever stir her cold heart—was leaning on one elbow, his long legs stretched out on the other side of the wide bed. He was fully dressed, which seemed odd for a dream. Whenever she’d dreamed of him in the past, he’d been decidedly naked. His golden skin had gleamed in candlelight in her favorite fantasy.
But he was wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt. He looked comfortable…and good enough to eat. Immediately her hunger rose and her fangs descended. She turned more fully toward him and he held up a hand. Between them was a wine glass full of red liquid.
Suddenly she remembered the night before and the Maxwell Vineyards vintage she’d consumed that had tasted so amazingly delicious. This wasn’t a dream. She really was in Mag’s bedroom at his place out in the desert, in his bed.
She sat up so fast, her head spun. Miranda took a moment to just breathe and take it all in.
She felt the bed move behind her as Mag’s heat surrounded her from the back. He brought his arm around her, his hand still holding the glass.
“Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”
Miranda took the glass and held it up toward her mouth, inhaling. It wasn’t just wine.
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Blood?”
“I made a few calls. My little brother’s friends were very helpful.”
“You said your brother Matt knew Atticus Maxwell.”
“You remember that from last night. Good.” He seemed pleased and she realized he had indeed studied up on what blood deprivation did to her kind.
Memory loss was one of the symptoms, as were killing rage and insanity. She didn’t feel crazy, but she definitely had gaps in her memory. Big, huge gaps that, on reflection, she was probably better off not remembering. She didn’t really want to remember all those endless nights spent as a captive of the evil mage.
“Matt is acquainted with Maxwell, but he’s on much more friendly terms with a guy named Sebastian. After some convincing and a little bit of arm-twisting, Matt put me in touch with him. Sebastian gave me some advice on how to help you. He also told me how to get hold of human blood supplies without raising too many eyebrows. Very helpful guy, is Sebastian. Drink up. There’s more and it’s as fresh as I could manage. It might not taste as good as right out of the vein, but my source says that mixing it with wine helps it taste better and it’ll help you heal.”
Still holding his gaze, she took a sip. He was right. It wasn’t as good as when she drank from a live being, but after having been mostly starved for who knew how long, it tasted fantastic. And it didn’t have the magical zing of shifter blood that was hard for her to process in her weakened state. Mag’s blood had saved her life last night, but she was too worn down to accept such richness as a steady diet right now.
Besides, it was an unwritten rule that vamps didn’t dine on weres. For one thing, shifters didn’t usually volunteer, and older vampires didn’t like it when one of the younger generation jumped up in power quickly. A young vamp with a magical blood supply might possibly overpower an older, more experienced bloodletter and that wasn’t to be tolerated. Their society relied on the hierarchy, and the hierarchy was decided by individual strength.
Since strength usually came with age, the older and more powerful vamps tended to rule over the younger and less experienced. If a youngster gained what was considered an unfair advantage by drinking magical blood on a constant basis, it was viewed as a cheat—though the cheater could be too strong to challenge outright. Such situations caused chaos, and chaos was to be avoided.
“Much as I would’ve liked to let you snack on me…” Mag continued as she sipped at the blood-laced wine, “…Sebastian said it would be better for you in the long run if you paced your recovery. I described your situation to him and he theorized that you were drained both physically and magically. You not only weren’t fed the blood you need to survive, but you were bled as well. And along with your blood, the mage likely accessed your magic. All three things combined are some of the most serious problems a bloodletter can face. It didn’t happen overnight, and you’re not going to be back to one hundred percent health overnight either, I’m sorry to say. So we’re starting you off with blood-laced wine. If you tolerate that well, in a month or so we can switch you to all blood and then when you’re strong enough, you can go out and hunt some fresh human blood. I’ll be with you through all of it, Miranda.” His arms came around her from behind as his mouth nuzzled under her ear. She felt the scrape of his teeth—sharper than a human’s. The feel of it sent a little thrill down her spine. “I’m not letting you go again, sweetheart.”
That sounded serious and it made her worry. Nothing had changed. A relationship between them was doomed. Both their peoples had prohibitions against such unions. They’d face condemnation from every side.
“Mag, I—”
He cut off her objection by turning her head and kissing her. It was a sweet kiss edged with passion. A little preview of the naughty pleasure she knew only he could bring her. She was about to surrender to him when he moved back.
He licked her lips as he raised his head, his gaze holding hers as he put a little bit of space between them. She knew the taste of the wine—and the blood—wouldn’t bother him. He was a predator, after all. In his cougar form he hunted and ate raw meat. Blood was nothing new to a shifter.
“Let’s take this one step at a time. We have time yet to figure out where this road leads. For now, just concentrate on heal
ing. Sebastian warned me that you’ll be sleeping a lot more than usual. He said once you get set on the wine-blood diet, you might only be awake a couple of hours each night as your body takes the time to rest and heal. So let’s make the most of our time together each night, okay? I haven’t seen you in two years. We have a lot of catching up to do.” He smiled that golden-boy, charming smile of his. “And I can show you around my home and the desert, if you like. We’re way out in the middle of nowhere, but it’s really beautiful out there.”
He made it sound so simple. Live for the moment. She’d never been very good at that, but she knew she had no choice. All she had with Mag was the moment. They would never be allowed to make a go of it as a couple. Their people would pull them apart. Either his or hers. It didn’t matter. Neither group would be happy about their union. So unhappy, they’d never let it happen.
But for now, he was right. She was as weak as she’d ever been—even when she’d been fully human. She needed to heal and she had nowhere else to go. Nowhere safe, at any rate. She knew Mag would watch over her while she recuperated and she trusted him like no other. She trusted him with her life. He’d take care of her and somehow, someday, she’d make it up to him. She couldn’t be his mate, but she could owe him a debt of honor. A life debt.
In fact, she owed such a debt to his whole family and a few others in their Clan. For it was his brothers and the Clan’s trackers who had found her. Sure, they’d probably been there to stop the mage, but the effect was to save her life as well. Even after she’d attacked one of them.
No question about it, she owed every person who’d been there last night.
“I’d like to see the desert with you,” she finally agreed. She could take this one night at a time. At the moment, she really didn’t have much other choice.
But she’d be on her guard against any hint of permanency with Mag. Her heart was already broken by the impossibility of their mating. She wouldn’t allow it to hurt any deeper, which meant she’d have to remain a little distant. She had to protect what little was left of her heart.
Mag showed her around his impressive home, but that was about all she could handle. As he’d predicted, she was only able to stay awake for a little over an hour that night. Just enough time to drink a few glasses of blood-laced wine and take hot bath before being given the nickel tour of the rest of the luxurious house.
By the time he’d filled her in on the remainder of the security measures he’d installed, her eyes were beginning to drift closed. He noticed and cut short the tour, lifting her into his arms and carrying her back to the bedroom. Like the night before, he tucked her in with a chaste kiss and she didn’t know anything more until the next sunset.
The nights passed like this for more than a month, at Miranda’s best guess. She seemed to lose track of time again, but this time it wasn’t in fear of death, but due to the comfort of knowing she was safe. Mag would take care of her. She trusted him.
The fear ebbed and she was able to sleep. Really sleep, without the constant worry that she’d be tortured and vulnerable. It was deep, healing sleep that took both her days and most of her nights, but each night she was awake a little longer and felt a tiny bit better.
She felt the intrinsic magic in her soul returning a little at a time. Mag was great. He didn’t push her into anything that made her uncomfortable. He didn’t press her to take their relationship—such as it was—to the next level. In short, he was her friend.
Since that first night, he’d stayed by her side during her waking hours. A few times, she knew, he’d left the house to do things with and for his family. He’d told her when they’d found the evil woman who’d murdered his mother. She’d hugged him while he mourned for his mother, offering the support of a friend, the embrace and touch that shifters seemed to need more than other people.
The next day he told her he’d had to leave just after she’d fallen asleep to attend the shifter memorial service they’d finally been able to hold for his mother. The matriarch’s body had been sent to the earth and stars by the Clan’s priestess, letting his beloved mother finally move on to the next world. Miranda had seen the tears in his eyes as he talked about the ceremony, and she had reached out to hug him. It was the least she could do to comfort a man who was clearly in pain.
He’d confessed his deep grief over the loss of his mother and had told her about the woman she’d never met. They’d really talked that night, for the few hours she was able to stay awake. She’d gotten to know the caring soul that lived deep inside him in a much more intimate way, through his words and the emotion he could not hide at such a vulnerable moment.
The next night, after an initial caution on his part, they both seemed to realize they were closer than they had been before. They’d both seen each other at vulnerable times now and they’d shared the burden, drawing them closer.
It was in that new intimacy, a few nights later, that he seemed to feel able to ask the questions she had known were coming, but still wasn’t sure she could answer. He sat with her on the couch in the spacious living room of his house, before a lovely, dancing fire in the hearth. He had one arm around her shoulders and they both held glasses of wine. Hers had that little extra ingredient—the blood that was helping her heal, slowly but surely.
“The last thing I really remember that gives me some reference to time was delivering Christmas presents to Melissa and the crew at the bar. I’ve done that every year since we opened. It’s a good excuse for a party that allows me to spend a little time with at least one member of my mortal family, though she doesn’t have a clue, of course.” Miranda paused to take a sip of the blood and wine mixture that helped her heal. “I think that was a few weeks before I was captured. I remember feeling very down. Cassie was being a bitch, as usual, and I hadn’t been really on my game since…well…since meeting you, if you must know.” She made the admission in as casual a voice as she could manage.
Mag stroked her hair with a light touch. “It’s okay. I know what you mean. I felt the same.” His whispered words touched her, but she still refused to admit to the connection between them.
“Well…it made me sloppy. I continued to hunt, because I must, but I wasn’t as careful as I should be and one night, I picked the wrong place, and the wrong mortal. I should’ve stuck to places like Raintree’s club where there is some protection, but I went to a mortal bar. A dangerous place. I think I was seeking out the danger because I had no real care left for my personal safety. I was drifting. A loose ends. And very unhappy.” She sipped her wine. “Childish, I know. Self-destructive behavior that got me captured.”
“What happened, sweetheart? How did you get caught?” His gentle voice urged her to remember, and to reveal the depths of her stupidity.
“There’s a biker bar out on the edge of town, near the interstate. JR’s Roadhouse.” She paused.
“I’ve heard of it. I’ve even been there once or twice,” he admitted. “It’s not the kind of place I’d expect to find a lady.”
She laughed, but the sound held no mirth. “Yeah. Well. Do you know about the effect certain kinds of tainted blood has on bloodletters?” She was loathe to admit the vulnerabilities of her race to anyone, but she trusted Mag. Filling him in on these vampire secrets would help him understand.
“Tainted? You mean like diseased?” He seemed kind of appalled at the idea.
“No,” she was quick to correct his assumption. “Tainted as in laced with foreign substances.”
“Like alcohol? Drugs?” The concept seemed to click for him.
“As you see, I can drink alcohol straight up. Wine is preferred, but anything with alcohol in it is pretty well tolerated by most bloodletters. That’s about all we can ingest without paying a penalty of severe discomfort. “But when we drink human blood that has been tainted with certain drugs, well, the effect can carry over sometimes.”
“Let me guess. We’re not talking about synthetic compounds here, right? So…opiates, pot, things derived from pl
ants?”
“You’re quick.” She raised her glass to him, nodding. “That bar is a distribution point. More than a few of those bikers were high. I was targeting them.”
Mag’s arm tightened around her shoulders as he squeezed her to his side. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” She turned a little to look at him. “Why should you be sorry?”
“Because in a way, I did that to you. If you hadn’t met me and been in such a state—”
She placed one finger across his lips, stopping his words. “Things happen as the Lady wills it. I’ve had enough time to contemplate my capture while I was being held and in the weeks since. I don’t think there’s anything anyone could’ve done to change what happened. As it turns out, while I was stalking the druggies, that mage was stalking me. He’d been on my trail for some time, apparently. Months. Years, maybe. He was just waiting for me to make a mistake, and boy did I make a mistake that night.” She turned away from him, unable to finish her story while maintaining eye contact. “I chose a biker and took him outside. The parking area is dark and not safe at all. I thought I’d be okay with my immortal strength and speed and all, but after I drank from the guy, I was almost as impaired as he was. The drugs hit me along with the bloodrush and I staggered away…right into the trap the mage had set.”
She stopped talking and swallowed hard, remembering those panic-inducing few minutes. She’d been unsteady on her feet, a little stoned, and oh-so-vulnerable. And then the mage had pounced.
“He had a silver net and silver cuffs. His magic negated my own in a way I’d never experienced before. He had been preparing his spells for a long time and when he sprang his trap, I was a goner. He knocked me out and I woke up in the cage.” She was breathing hard, trying to hold back the sobs. She was afraid if she started to cry, she might never stop.
Mag turned her in his arms and hugged her close. She let herself lean on him for just a little while. He was so strong. So good and true. She’d been alone and adrift for so very long. He was her safe harbor. The light that led her home, to safe shores.