Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  He pounded both fists on the doorjamb, expression twisted in frustration. "Invite me in, Grace. You look like you're about to pass out." His eyes were red-rimmed again.

  "You're right." I looked at him and shook my head at my own stupidity. Cutting myself to prove a point ranked as one of my all-time worst decisions, even though it had answered my biggest question about Stellan. I'd fallen in love with a vampire. Unfortunately, I now needed medical help, my cell phone was somewhere on the floor out of reach, and there was no one else within calling distance.

  "Come in, Stellan." I was totally counting on the fact that if he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it months ago.

  He shot through the door, kicking it closed behind him and swooping me up in his arms. I'm not sure how he knew the way, but he took me straight to the kitchen. Hissing in disgust at the bloody pile of gauze on the cutting board, he set me on the cabinet next to the sink.

  "You should have called me right away when this happened." His voice was different than usual. Rougher. Almost like a snarl.

  "I didn't want you thinking I was trying to cancel."

  He carefully unrolled the bloody bandage around my fingers and held them under warm water. "You know what? You're a bad liar." He shot me a bloodshot glare that made me recoil. Man, but his eyes were feral!

  How did he know I was lying? Oh, wait a sec. Right before his flowers had arrived, I'd opened my laptop again. It was resting on the opposite cabinet with a website about vampires pulled up.

  "Takes one to know one," I shot back between gritted teeth. "Did you really think I was that stupid? That I would never figure it out? After all our late night dates? The way you never eat food? And the way you caught me when I fell down the stairs during graduation?"

  He whirled on me, baring his fangs. Clamping a dry wad of gauze over my still-bleeding fingers, he pressed my hand to the cabinet above me and ducked his head to bring us nose to nose. "How many people have you told about me?"

  I glared back. "I think the better question is . . . why did I invite you in?"

  His shoulders relaxed a fraction, though he didn't retract his fangs. "Why did you?"

  "Someone recently asked me if I loved him. I wasn't lying when I said yes."

  "Grace!" He turned his face away and seemed to be fighting an inner war.

  "What about you?" I pressed. "Were you lying when you said you'd fallen for me first?"

  He emitted a low, strangled sound. "Of course not!"

  "Then let's make this work." I very slowly, very gingerly raised my uninjured hand to cup his cheek.

  He flinched and kept his face turned away.

  "Don't shut me out," I said softly. "Please, Stellan?"

  "I'm not." He tipped his head back and slowly retracted his fangs. It looked like he was in pain. The veins in his neck stood out and another one throbbed in his temple. "I'm just trying not to hurt you. There's so much of your blood in the room. You have no idea how hard it is to resist . . ."

  He stopped but I mentally finished the sentence for him.

  The temptation to bite me. I let my breath out slowly and lowered my hand from his face. "How about you go wait in the great room while I clean up in here? Then we'll talk."

  "No. You need stitches, and I'm studying to be a—"

  "Not at Heidelberg University, you're not."

  He shook his head and chuckled ruefully. "No. Not at Heidelberg, love. I can see we have a lot to talk about."

  Then truth hit me. "You're not studying to be surgeon, because you already are one."

  "Right again, love."

  "And a ship captain. And heaven only knows what else."

  He shrugged. "Airline pilot, stock broker, five star chef, and dragon whisperer, to name a few of my other hobbies."

  "There. See how easy it is to be honest with each other?" I teased shakily. "Wait. You were kidding about the dragon whisperer thing, right?"

  He gazed at the heavens. "I admit to being a vampire and you're worried about my other talents. You are one extraordinary young woman, Miss Livingston."

  "But dragon whisperer? Seriously?"

  "Huh-uh. No more secrets revealed in the next five minutes. Otherwise, you might grow bored with me and toss me aside for a more exciting creature."

  As if. "Ah . . . hang on while I go grab my father's spare first aide kit."

  "No. Tell me where it is. I'll get it."

  I rolled my eyes at his high-handedness. "Hall bathroom. Around the corner, to the left, lower cabinet."

  Stellan stitched me up so swiftly and so skillfully it barely hurt. In no time, my fingers were packed in disinfectant ointment, snugly wrapped in clean gauze, and taped in place. This time, the blood did not seep through the wrapping. "Success at last." He lifted my hand and kissed the bandaged fingertips.

  "Thank you, Dr. Magic."

  We cleaned up the kitchen together. Then Stellan laced his fingers through my uninjured ones and together we strolled to the great room. It was a fascinating room, crammed full of my parent's souvenirs from their world travels. It was an eclectic mix of the Old World and the New with a modern dark leather sectional anchoring the room. The silk area rug it rested on, however, was nearly a century old and cost a fortune. An antique pianoforte rested in one corner of the room, and an ancient china cabinet in the other. It was brimming with treasures — everything from crystal dragons to an uncut ruby to a pair of ivory music boxes.

  Instead of sitting on the couch as I expected, Stellan walked to the fireplace and ignited it. It was late May but the recent rain showers had kept the temperatures cool.

  Once the flames were leaping high enough to keep burning, he turned and held out his arms to me. I didn't hesitate. Walking into his arms felt like coming home.

  "Stellan," I sighed, tipping my face up to his. "Kiss me."

  He lowered his head but kept his lips hovering over mine for several long moments.

  "What's wrong?" I whispered.

  "Be patient with me, Grace. The scent of your blood still lingers in the house. It brings out. . .the worst in me."

  I stood on my tiptoes to brush my lips against his jaw. "It's okay. I trust you."

  "I'm not sure why," he muttered. "I've given you plenty enough reasons not to."

  "True, but I'm the girl who foolishly cut herself tonight to make you . . . er . . . vamp out, so to speak, so I guess that makes us even."

  He snorted. "Hardly."

  "Fine. Then you can make it up to me."

  He chuckled, rocking back and forth with me on the rug. "What do you have in mind, love?"

  "How about some wine? I'm feeling a little dizzy, so I'm going to sit down and let you serve if that's okay with you. Wine is over there." I pointed to the quaint wine barrel cabinet in the back of the room. It contained my mother's prized wine collection from five continents. I didn't think she'd begrudge us a bottle tonight.

  "Nice labels," Stellan noted, selecting a well-aged Riscato. He poured two glasses and handed one to me. For a split second, he disappeared. Then he reappeared with my vase of roses and set them carefully on the coffee table in front of us. He lit the pair of votives on each end table with the long handled fire starter from the mantle and finally took a seat beside me.

  He gazed at me over his wine glass, kissing me with his eyes. The stain of red was gone from them, and the crystal blue was back.

  "Stellan," I began.

  He patted his leg with his free hand.

  I climbed into his lap and settled against his chest. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to hold him and be held by him.

  He reached for my glass and set it on the end table. Then he took a sip of wine and set his glass down beside mine. Snaking an arm around my waist, he drew me closer.

  It was like the first time all over again for us as he brushed his mouth lightly against mine. Then he ran his tongue over the seam of my lips, coaxing them open. He tasted of wine and wonder and desire for me.

  I gripped his shoulders,
glorying in the bands of strength bunching beneath my fingers. He took another sip of wine and flipped me back against his arm. Then he lowered his head and dribbled wine down the side of my neck.

  I trembled, knowing it was a risky move, but I arched my body and exposed my neck more fully to him.

  "Grace," he groaned, licking greedily at the wine.

  I heard two tiny snapping sounds as his fangs extended. Then I felt the scrape of them against my throat, but he made no attempt to bite down.

  "I love you, Stellan," I whispered.

  "I know, love," he returned hoarsely. He pulled me back to a sitting position and gazed at me with longing while he forced his fangs to retract. "And that makes me the luckiest creature on the planet."

  "Speaking of planets . . ." I traced a finger down his nose and across his upper lip. "How long have you been living on this one?"

  He kissed and nuzzled my open palm. "You sure you're ready to hear my story?"

  "Very." I leaned in to nip at his earlobe.

  He made an animalistic sound low in his throat, and his arms tightened around my waist.

  "Russian Revolution. 1917. My family served the Russian Imperial family, which meant we were hunted down and slaughtered when the Bolsheviks took over."

  "Were you the only survivor?"

  "Yes."

  "When did you become a vampire?"

  "I was twenty-five when I was taken into custody. The Bolsheviks tortured me for days, trying to determine the whereabouts of a few missing distant cousins. Then the night of my execution rolled around, and everything changed. I was hustled out of the castle in the dead of night with an empty sack over my head. I expected to be hung or beheaded. Instead, I was given over to an ancient vampire coven and turned into one of them."

  I stared at him in curiosity and wonder. "So you're over a hundred years old?"

  He nodded. "One hundred and twenty-five. Technically speaking, though, I'll be forever twenty-five."

  "And I'll be eighteen next week." I stabbed a finger against his chest. "In case you missed my earlier hint, this is your chance to make it up to me for missing my graduation."

  "Anything you want, love."

  I would never tire of hearing him call me his love in that beautiful northern accent. "Let's go somewhere together."

  I could tell by the arch of his brows, he was surprised by my request and a little wary. "You sure your father would approve?" He actually sounded anxious. I almost laughed.

  "I don't know," I answered honestly. "But he can be pretty open-minded about some things, and he trusts me."

  He snorted in disgust. "Not with a vampire he wouldn't."

  "Nobody knows about what you really are."

  "Not even your best friend, Antjie?"

  "Not even her, but as my partner in crime, I assure you she would cover for us if we wanted to escape somewhere for a few days."

  Stellan grinned in delight. "Where do you want to go?"

  "Ireland. I've never been before. I'd love to visit a few touristy traps like the Uragh Stone Circle. Then I want to go stay in a drafty old castle overlooking some craggy coastline buried beneath layers of creepy fog."

  "Sounds like a perfect getaway for a vampire and his girlfriend." He chuckled and cradled my face in both hands. "You're one of a kind, you know that?"

  "I have my moments."

  He kissed me again, as tenderly as if I were made of glass. "As much as I don't want to, I better get going, love. Before some military dad on your street reports to your military dad how long my bike's been parked outside your house."

  "Omigod. Omigod. Omigod!" Antjie was beside herself when I told her about my upcoming birthday trip to Ireland. "I so-o-o- need a boyfriend of my own to send on a guilt trip, so I can wheedle makeup gifts like this out of him. Girl, but I'm all slimy green with envy!"

  "Gross! So you'll cover for us if anyone asks where I am?"

  She waved a hand in derision. "They didn't call me Antjie Make-It-Happen Graf for nothing on the student council, sweetie."

  "I owe you big time."

  "Yes, you do." She winked at me. "I fully plan to snag me an exotic friend-boy soon, at which point I too will be in need of a decent wing woman."

  Grace

  Tuosist, Ireland

  Ireland was a hundred times more romantic than I'd dreamed it would be, since Stellan was with me. We kept our normal habit of venturing out in the evenings for his sake, though Ireland boasted so much fog and cloud cover it hardly mattered. We spent the first two days walking and biking to ancient monuments. On the evening of the second day, Stellan surprised me with a small decadent chocolate birthday cake shimmering with candles. On the third day, we found a castle not far from Tuosist to cozy up in the final few days of our trip. We explored every inch of the castle and its vast grounds, sampled all sorts of new and old cuisines, and he stubbornly insisted on paying for everything.

  "I have money," I protested. My father had been giving me a generous allowance for years, and I'd managed it wisely.

  "It's your birthday," he returned firmly. "This is my treat."

  He wouldn't let me pay for so much as a meal, so I tried to make up for it in well-selected, clever gifts. The first one was a stone cross. A wizened old fella who resembled Rumpelstiltskin offered to sell it to me for a steep discount from the castle's gift shop. He'd been casting strange glances at us the entire time we shopped. "Give it to yer man, miss," he instructed with another baleful glance in Stellan's direction. Despite the man's offbeat behavior, I decided I adored the cross and the old Irish blessing etched on it. I shrugged and made the purchase. He watched me closely when I handed it to Stellan and seemed disappointed when he proceeded to hold it up and read it aloud to me.

  May you live a long life

  Full of gladness and health,

  With a pocket full of gold

  As the least of your wealth.

  May the dreams you hold dearest,

  Be those which come true,

  The kindness you spread

  Keep returning to you.

  Stellan turned it over thoughtfully when he finished reading. "Some would say I'm no longer living."

  "Yeah, well, I'm more of a glass-half-full kind of girl. I say immortality is the exact same thing as living forever."

  He continued to stare at the cross. "I didn't always spread kindness either, love. My family served Imperial Russia before I was turned. It was a dark time in history. Then after I was turned, it took years to get my vampire lust for blood under control."

  "We've all done things we're not proud of," I said softly.

  He rejoined in fierce undertones. "I've done unforgivable things, Grace. Before and after I was turned."

  It made my heart ache to know he blamed himself for things outside his control. He hadn't chosen to be born into Imperial service any more than he'd chosen the life of a vampire. All of it had been forced on him.

  I carefully chose my words before I answered. "People change, Stellan. You certainly have, and I love the man you've become. You're the man who makes me happy, the man who caught me when I fell, the man who stitched me when I bled. Besides, you can't be all that bad or the cross would have burnt your hands." I shot him a teasing smile. "So accept the blasted gift in the spirit it was meant, and pretend to like it."

  He shook his head at me, lips twisting in a half smile. "In that case, thank you for my blasted gift, love." He claimed my mouth in a thorough kiss that left my knees weak.

  When he raised his head, Rumpelstiltskin, the clerk, was glaring at us again. Stellan offered him a friendly nod, and the man hastily bent his head to resume his task of rearranging items in the display case beneath his cash register.

  "By the way." Stellen leaned over to kiss my cheek. "All that stuff about crosses burning a vampire is pure fiction. The only things that hurt us are silver, a wooden stake to the heart, fire, or decapitation."

  Foreboding shivered through me at his words. "That's so grisly I don't want to
even think about it."

  "Sometimes life is grisly." He studied me seriously.

  Formerly in service to the Imperial family of Russia. Check. Hunted like a dog by the Bolsheviks. Check. Sometimes I had to remind myself Stellan was no ordinary twenty-five-year-old.

  He tucked his souvenir cross back in its gift box and led me from the shop. "You belong to me now, so you need to know about these things — my weaknesses as well as my strengths."

  I adored the part about belonging to him. The rest of his sentence made me shiver.

  My second gift to him was an old Irish mug from a street vendor. It was engraved with shamrocks and another Irish blessing. I could tell he liked it better than the cross by the way his expression lit.

  "Every drinking man should add a good sturdy mug to his collection now and then." I slung my arms around him from behind and stood on tiptoe to drop a playful kiss on the back of his neck.

  He raised one of my hands to his lips and nuzzled the inside of my wrist. "I'll treasure it. Always." When we returned to our castle suite, he tucked it carefully in his suitcase between two wool sweaters.

  The last night of our trip, Stellan received a call from his Uncle Anatoly. It was a lengthy conversation that he ended up taking outside to the courtyard below our suite. He was gone for more than an hour. When he returned, he said the words I dreaded most.

  "I'm leaving town again." He palmed my cheek and gazed into my eyes with an expression that scared me.

  "How long?" I held my breath.

  His jaw clenched. "My uncle is having heart surgery. He asked me to run his business for awhile. I'm thinking six to eight weeks this time."

  "I see." I swallowed hard.

  He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine. "I'll be sailing from the Hamburg Harbor over the weekend. First line of business will involve sorting out a contract dispute up north."

  Dread continued to rise in my throat. Next weekend was only five days away. "That sounds ominous. What kind of dispute?"

  He frowned. "Let's just say my uncle made a few poor business decisions in recent years, and I'm working to correct them. It's a delicate process with lots of moving pieces, but I'm making progress."