Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7)

by Amber Kallyn

  Jezamine continued walking without answering.

  They passed beneath latticed arches with climbing dog rose, also native to her homeland. Petals in light and dark shades of pink and white added their heavy scent to the night.

  It was said that certain smells could bring memories close enough to touch. Anca shied away from them, instead.

  Jezamine stopped again, this time in front of a fountain containing a voluptuous mermaid. Carved scales shimmered in colored hues. Long locks of hair fell to hide generously abundant breasts. Stone benches sat around the fountain. Jezamine passed them to sit on the wide rim of the water.

  Staring into the rippling pool, she waved Anca to join her.

  Anca remained on her feet.

  Getting back to the stupidity of the fates, she said, "I'm telling you, I don't have time. Besides, Matt doesn't even know who I am. A Judge. The man barely tolerates me as is knowing I come from the Council."

  Jezamine didn't reply, just continued to watch the water as if a movie played across the surface, snaring all her attention.

  After a long moment, Anca sighed and sat beside the woman.

  The vrăjitoare finally looked at her. "Has five centuries of near solitude not been enough for ye?"

  "It's not that." A rush of conflicting feelings twisted Anca's stomach. "I..."

  "Aye, girl?"

  "I like being alone." She didn't have the courage to meet Jezamine's gaze after that statement, though it was mostly true. The ache in her heart reflected the more important reason. As if irresistibly drawn, Anca stared into the dark depths of the witch's gaze. The deepest of truths fell from her lips. "I don't want to lose anyone else. To go through such pain. Not ever again."

  Jezamine nodded softly. "Which be why they brought ye this one. He be powerful and strong, yet holds a softness ye need."

  Anca highly doubted Matt had any softness inside him.

  Or that she needed such a thing. "I'm here to do a job. Once it's done, I've promised to help the Keeper cleanse the area. Then I'll return to the Council, and home." Her voice was confident and sure.

  "Home?" Jezamine sat straighter, her gaze piercing. "Ye have a home?"

  Anca shrugged. No. She hadn't considered anywhere her true home, not since her family had been ripped from her, one by one. They had been her home.

  Since then, she'd allowed few into her heart enough to truly connect with them. The vampire who'd turned her. Elder Endulpias. A handful of others.

  But she didn't consider any of them home, not like her family had been.

  "It doesn't matter," Anca finally managed to reply. "I have somewhere I belong, and that's enough."

  "Is it? Truly, girl?" Jezamine's gaze pierced Anca.

  "It's enough for me."

  The old woman grinned, watching silently.

  Anca changed the subject. "Where are all my supplies? I'd like to double check everything while we have time."

  Jezamine chuckled. "Ye think me feeble in old age, or ye want away from me?"

  Ignoring the second part of the question, Anca replied, "Well, I don't know. How old are you?"

  The vrăjitoare's laugh turned to a cackle. "Never ye be minding about that." Jezamine directed her to the other side of the castle and a row of long, stone outbuildings.

  At the first one, she knocked twice as she'd been told to do.

  The door opened and a vampire peered out. A tall blond man looked her over. "You're the Council chick?"

  Biting back a snort, she replied, "I'm from the Magic Council, yes."

  He nodded and let her inside.

  Everything she needed sat on long metal tables, in containers labeled and ready for travel. Running down her mental list, Anca verified the ingredients for the spells and planned wards. Off to the side, away from the rest, were containers of additional herbs, along with some of the few toxins known to hurt a siren—including belladonna and foxglove, and a few other ancient plants only found in the gardens of a powerful witch.

  Like Jezamine.

  Combined in a complicated ratio of alcohol and mixed herbs, the concoction would be potent and powerful only for a short time.

  The sixteen extra men she'd asked MacDougal for would not only help power the magic needed for the trap, they'd have tranquilizer guns and darts filled with the mixture. After luring the Siren from the forest, the goal would be to hit the creature as many times as possible.

  It wouldn't kill her, but Anca's hope was that it might at least slow her down. Boxes with sixteen specially rigged guns lay on the last table, along with over a thousand darts.

  Well, the witch had said she'd brought extra supplies.

  Just in case.

  Somehow, Jezamine had even found a large chain created from special Council metal and magic. Dark gray, nearly black, with obsidian stones studded through thick links, the chain would make the perfect boundary for the containment circle they'd need.

  And so much better than the fourth ward Anca had thought to use.

  After sorting through everything a second time, she oversaw the packing. Soon, vampires inundated the building, carrying the supplies out to be loaded into vehicles and taken to the trap site.

  Once the room lay empty, Anca found herself meandering through the gardens again, continuing to run through all her preparations.

  This time of year, dawn came to the mountains right around six a.m. She'd need a few hours at the site to setup and prepare their trap. Create the wards. Mixing the tranquilizer for the dart guns had to be done last minute. They'd need every second they could steal in order to succeed.

  She drifted through flowers until finding herself back at the voluptuous fountain.

  Water glinted with sparks of moonlight. Anca sat on one of the benches, watching the flow of water and the endless sky above it.

  The spirits of the earth danced around her in a soft symphony of magical lights and auras. They stirred the air, and somehow, brought the fragrant scents of flowers from her homeland, the Romanian peonies, the dog roses. It soothed her in small ways she hadn't realized had been irritated and sore.

  After long moments, she settled. She'd prepared as well as she could.

  Still, to pull this off, they'd need quite a bit of luck.

  Matt's masculine mint scent tantalized her seconds before she heard his soft steps. He stopped behind her. "Jezamine leave?"

  "A while ago. She's probably around the castle somewhere if you need to talk to her."

  "I don't."

  He sat beside her. His arm brushed her skin, his leg pressed along hers.

  Anca's throat went dry. A thumping in her ears pounded out of nowhere.

  Her heartbeat.

  "It never ends, does it?" Matt's husky voice tripled the shivers racing up and down her spine.

  "What never ends?"

  "Darkness. Evil."

  There was no easy or simple answer to that question.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "We took care of Montgomery and a damned demon sorcerer showed up." Matt started at the fountain, fisted hands on his thighs. "We rid the world of that bastard and Montgomery's remaining Rogues take over."

  Sparks of moonlight highlighted the regret and despair darkening his honey brown eyes.

  Before Anca realized what she was doing, she laid a hand over one of his tight fists. "When I was little, my tată, my father, taught me that as long as there are those who fight for the light, who protect the good and the innocent, evil will never be able to win."

  Matt jerked his chin in negation. "Perhaps not. But how much does it really matter when faced with all those that we were unable to save?" Old pains tinged his voice.

  "You've lost many," she said.

  It wasn't a question, but Matt slowly nodded.

  Though Anca rarely shared such things, the words spilled from her lips. "You know the history of the Romani in the early and mid sixteenth century?"

  "Some. As you know, my sire brought his clan to the new world." Bitterness coated his
words.

  The weight of his curiosity settled on Anca.

  "I've heard more. Quite recently. Some of it pertaining to you, in fact."

  "Your Keeper of the Peace, I suppose?"

  "He only wanted to assure me you wouldn't..."

  "Go on a bloody rampage?" she supplied.

  Matt straightened, though his tension had lessened. "I know you better than that now."

  "Do you?" She didn't quite know what she'd meant to do, tease or goad.

  But he nodded. "However, I'd rather not distract you from the topic at hand. One I'd greatly enjoy hearing more about, especially from the source."

  He unclenched his fist and turned his hand over, to wrap his long fingers tightly around hers. "Tell me about you, Anca Fieraru."

  She did, speaking briefly of wonderful happy times. Of a huge family, always there with and for each other.

  Matt listened with rapt attention as if soaking in every word.

  She wanted it to last. But as in reality, her story could end only one way. She shook her head. "I was born into a world where Gypsies were welcomed, celebrated even. When I was twelve, the cleansing laws began—Romani were banned from entire countries. Those who didn't, or were unable to leave, were hunted down."

  Memories haunted her. The rush of fleeing. Her parents and grandparents assurances their caravan would be safe. Protected.

  The thickening scent of the Romanian peonies, swirling around her, nearly overtaking Matt's calming maleness, tried to break the locks holding the past in check. She couldn't afford to go that far. Not tonight.

  Right now, she had to push on. Finish what she needed to say.

  Taking a deep breath and ignoring the fragrant air, she met Matt's gaze. The power of his compassion and his strength washed through her, giving her courage. "In less than four years, my entire family had been slaughtered."

  With a gentle tug, he pulled her to his side. Deep into the warmth scented of minty male. She didn't understand how his presence, his touch, began to sooth the raggedness inside her. Sometimes I feel more than ready to finally join those I love."

  Shadows flitted through his gaze. He knew exactly how she felt.

  Beneath the heavy moon, she felt the startling depths of a strange connection to this man.

  Anca swallowed back a wave of emotion and returned to her original point. "For some reason I'm still here, though there have been times I've danced with death," she breathed deep and admitted one of her most closely held secrets, "perhaps sometimes I've wished for death. Sometimes I feel more than ready to rejoin those I loved."

  Shadows flitted through his gaze. He knew exactly how she felt.

  Beneath the heavy moon, held tight in Matt's embrace, she felt startling depths of a strange connection to this man.

  Backing away from it, she continued on. "But, even in the darkest, loneliest night where I'm faced with the question of good and evil, I always remember those I have been able to save." She squeezed his hand slightly. "If I had died five centuries ago, what would have happened to all those I've rescued?"

  He looked away. "Someone else might have saved them." After a long moment, he leaned close. His breath brushed over her ear, sending chills over her skin. "Your losses have been devastating. Such things... no one should ever suffer. I'm sorry you have had to."

  Her throat tightened. Her heart thrummed. She'd heard all her life how the passage of time made the pain fade. While for the most part it was true, there were always those instances when it rushed back, the agony as fresh as they day the heart was wounded.

  Matt looked up at the moon above them and said softly, "I had a happy childhood, as you. Mine lasted quite a bit longer. Times back then were different—well, you'd know that."

  "Yes."

  He spoke of his parents, and two brothers, both enemy and friend. "From the time I was born to the day I was turned, I never went more than fifty miles from where I was born."

  Anca tried to imagine staying in one place so long. He'd recreated the same thing here in Arizona with MacDougal's clan. The longevity was incomprehensible to her.

  The love in his voice when he spoke of his family, however, she understood perfectly.

  Hesitantly, he added, "And like you, I've felt the same losses. Those Rogue Judges... Well, you know the stories. My... wife, our children. Our entire village. Afterward, I was lost for a time. I couldn't understand why I'd survived." He sighed deeply, looking up at the sky. "Eventually, I returned to the tiny town I'd grown up in. Where the rest of my relatives still lived. A few years passed in peace, I reconnected with my brothers, my parents. Finally, I settled down to my mother's pleas." He took a shuddering breath. "Only months after my last child came into this world, Coronado swept through the region. And again... all who I loved were murdered."

  "I'm so sorry," she replied. "Like you said, no one should have to suffer such things."

  "No. No. They shouldn't." He took a deep breath, released it slowly.

  She looked up at him the same time Matt turned his head to her. His mouth was only inches from hers.

  And in an instant, the past fell away, leaving both of them with only the present.

  Heat rushed through Anca's veins. She licked her desert-dry lips. Each breath seemed lacking in oxygen, instead filled with his scent.

  Her thoughts compressed to one idea.

  Wanting to kiss him again.

  To feel more of the connection growing between them, however impossible it might be.

  And even with all the reminders, this man had held the worst of it back. He'd somehow broken down some of her barriers, loosened her into allowing herself to speak of the past—yet without the crippling pain that usually came.

  As if he were somehow, some kind of shield between her and the dark agonies raging, locked inside of her, just waiting to escape as they'd done before.

  How did he do it?

  Make her open up while keeping her secure in warm comfort? Matt danced his fingertips along her jaw, her neck, and cupped the back of her head. With a soft, rumbling groan, he brushed his lips over hers once, twice, then plundered her mouth.

  Lust tangled with the emotion of shared bonds rising between them, heavy on the air.

  Her heart galloped. Her hands trembled. Her mind spun from his scent, his taste, his heat caressing her from head to toe.

  Matt drew her closer. She pressed her hands to his hard chest, feeling the thumping beats of his racing pulse.

  He drew back, and stared at her, his eyes flaring with passion, overshadowed by emotion she didn't dare read. "Why did you chose to finally share part of yourself with me?"

  The question cooled her ardor enough to give her the will to look away. Not ready to dig for an answer to his question, she replied, "I don't know."

  He cupped her chin and nudged her to meet his beautiful gaze once more. Something in his expression held her frozen.

  A predator's intent, one ready to pounce.

  Matt kissed her with the lightest of touches. "Why?"

  "I don't know," she repeated. But then more words tumbled from her mouth. "I've been surrounded by reminders of the past and of home tonight. Perhaps that's why."

  "What reminders?" he asked huskily, a rare hint of an accent thickening his voice.

  She inhaled deeply. "Do you smell the flowers?"

  "Many."

  "I found a section earlier of flowers that grow only in my homeland." She sighed, shaking her head. "Then there's Jezamine herself. She's the only person still alive who also knew my family. The people who were my home and my heart."

  She pulled away.

  He dropped his hands, letting her go. "You make me burn, you know that?" he whispered hoarsely.

  Resting her hands on her knees to stop from reaching for him, she replied, "I think we should ignore it." She wanted to lean back into him. To continue their kiss, see where it might lead.

  His eyes widened. "Ignore it?"

  "Yes."

  With a hint of a Spani
sh accent thickening his words, he replied, "Lady, you figure out how to control who a person's attracted to, and you'll be rich."

  "Not control. Ignore."

  He reached out and traced a fingertip down her arm.

  With a small gasp, she pulled away. Goose bumps dotted her skin.

  Matt winked. "You don't seem to be ignoring it very well."

  "I'm certain we'll both manage to figure out how," she replied dryly.

  He looked her over with a heavy lidded gaze. "Yeah."

  Regret stung Anca harshly. But now wasn't the time. Here wasn't the place. And, she knew, this man could never be the one.

  She was the thing he despised above all else. Not just from the Magic Council, but a Judge. Even if he could ever deal with that, Anca was quite sure he'd never understand the pride she took in all she did. In all who she was.

  She had to focus on the differences between them. Not the startling similarities. Not the burning attraction.

  His enticing spell only slightly broken, Anca got up. "I'm going to head to the site and start preparing for dawn."

  Before she could walk away, Matt caught her hand. "What did the old witch's bones say the first time she cast them?"

  Startled, Anca met his honey gaze. "Why would you ask me?"

  "Because you could read them."

  "Says who?"

  He tugged her back to her seat on the concrete bench. "Says me. I'm not an idiot. It was rather obvious."

  "Obvious?" She grumbled, "No one else has ever noticed." Then again, she'd probably never had such a shocked reaction to them before.

  "So?"

  "So what?" she hedged.

  "What did they say?"

  Pushing as much scorn and sarcasm into her words that she could, Anca told him the truth. "They said fate has sent your destined mate."

  She expected him to laugh.

  He didn't.

  Ever so slowly, Matt looked her up and down, making her nerves hum. "Did they now?"

  The divide between them. A gaping divide. Uncrossable.

  She had to remember that, because the soft glint in Matt's eyes heated her to her core.