Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7)

by Amber Kallyn

  Then again, this prominent, welcoming pit of darkness might be rigged with any number of traps to catch those unwary enough to enter. Perhaps a decoy.

  He continued searching for any other openings along the cavern wall until he reached the entrance.

  Anca was there, waiting, her sword resheathed at her hip. "Guess we'll meet here instead," she said grumpily. "Find anything?"

  By her tone, he figured she hadn't. "I found a tunnel."

  It warmed him when she grinned. "Show me." She reached his side, her arm brushing against his.

  A primal magic hummed between them.

  She scrambled to step back, then shot him a coldly neutral look. "Lead the way."

  Keeping silent, Matt took her through the cavern by the quickest route. Together, they approached the tunnel.

  "It's not hidden. Why?" She stepped as close as she could without actually entering. "I don't see any wards. There's no apparent magic whatsoever."

  She glanced around, cocked her head, paying attention to something only she could sense. Then Anca stepped into the tunnel. She cautiously walked a few yards. With a shrug, she waved him inside.

  He entered. The shadows seemed to suck most of the light away. They held a malevolence the brighter cavern behind them had lacked. There was also a distinct lack of ghosts. The many wandering the cavern behind them didn't even get close.

  Wondering why they weren't in the tunnel distracted Matt. He bumped into Anca when she abruptly stopped.

  He froze at the touch.

  Her eyes widened.

  Lust and hunger and need pounded through Matt's blood, sending him instantly into a frenzy.

  Her smoky blue irises flushed ruby. His blood pumped. He was hard as steel, and eager to find relief in her embrace once more.

  She gasped, her fangs descending.

  Lowering his head, he took her lips in a bruising kiss. He nipped her tongue. They both cried out at the blast of magic and blood hotly flavoring the kiss.

  She sank one of her fangs into his lower lip and sucked sweetly.

  Matt grew impossibly harder. He ached with the urgent need to slake himself deep within her. He yanked at her billowy blouse. It slipped down her arms a few inches. The front caught on her tightly puckered nipples.

  He dragged it down and bared her lovely breasts. With a heavy groan, he bent and sampled them greedily, sucking and nipping, barely restraining himself from drawing blood, but oh how he hungered.

  It consumed him.

  Anca consumed him.

  Then she roughly rubbed his cock through his too tight jeans.

  Matt nearly lost it.

  He grabbed her arms and spun her back against the nearest vertical surface. She gasped when she touched the rough rock wall, but he barely heard her. He shoved forward, grinding his hips between her thighs.

  She delved her hands under his shirt. Her nails scraped roughly over his back. Breathing heavy with soft gasping cries, she jerked him closer, begging huskily for more.

  A blaze of need nearly burned him alive.

  Gusts of icy air blew between them. Shoved them a few feet apart. The frigid blast cooled his desires enough for Matt to clamp down on some self control.

  He inhaled gulping breaths as his mind began to work once more. A few feet away, Anca's chest rose and fell from her own heavy breathing.

  She pulled her shirt up, then hugged her arms around her stomach, as if fighting the same need to return to one another.

  The swirling air chilled his blood. Brought back a semblance of rationality.

  But he couldn't look away from her stunned gaze.

  Emotions and desire swirled in her reddened eyes. Another long moment passed in silence before her gaze cleared. She stiffened.

  Though Matt wanted her still, it was finally no longer some driven need. Rubbing his jaw at the thought, he wondered if there wasn't some sort of trap here after all. Because he'd never before acted like he was in rut. And that was the only thing he could call it. He hadn't given a damn about anything except coming inside her.

  Anca blinked, breathing deep. "Well, that was..."

  His ability to speak wasn't functioning quite yet. It didn't help that his gaze was drawn again and again to her swollen, reddened lips.

  Desire rushed to rise between them once more.

  The chilled air returned, flushing a little more of the bone-deep need from his veins.

  He could deal with the intense lust that remained. A common condition since he'd met Anca. While not completely ignorable, Matt could control himself, at the least.

  "The earth spirits warn there's a magic in the tunnel they're not familiar with." Anca shook her head slightly. "Nor am I, to be honest. The results are obvious. Making us feel..." Her voice caught and she glanced down the tunnel. "The spirits are helping to shield us now, but be careful."

  Every other second or so, the air around him compressed against him, making every inch of his bare skin prickle from tiny sharp nailed fingers of ice.

  Matt said softly, "I think it might be best if we don't touch each other in here." The very idea sounded a bit ridiculous. Until his memory reminded him how fast and hard it had hit them both.

  Anca nodded in serious agreement, but she approached, lips moving silently.

  A hum filled Matt's ears before receding into the back of his head.

  Her soft voice thickened with a hint of old world lilt. "You're warded by my stronger magic now, too. I've put protective barriers and some additional backup wards around us both. Won't stop a physical attack, but it should help against anything magical."

  "Good. How long will they last?"

  "Until my concentration breaks, or I stop feeding them my magic."

  His gut stirred a bit at that. "You have to actively power the protection with your magic?"

  "Yeah. Don't worry about it." Staring into the deepening darkness of the tunnel, Anca said, "Time's wasting."

  The growing urgency in her voice brought Robby straight to mind. There was no time for distracting musings, or getting caught up in additional traps.

  "The earth spirits offer to go first. I'll follow. You take the rear." She watched him, and he wondered if she expected him to argue.

  Her plan was sound. He waved her forward.

  With a slight nod, she headed down the tunnel. Anca studied the shadows, staring intently at nothing that he could see. Every now and then, she muttered a few phrases in a mix of Latin and what he assumed was a Romani dialect.

  Matt's senses were better than most animals, but when the tunnel made an abrupt turn, all light disappeared. He slowed a step, disoriented by the abrupt, absolute pitch black.

  Anca hesitantly took his hand. After a few long moments without the craziness from earlier returning, she held on tighter. "The earth spirits are sharing their light with me. I'll guide you."

  It was a strange experience, being blind and led through blackness by this woman.

  The air caressed his neck, his face. Whispered words came at his ear. "Hope. Fate. Love."

  Anca's fingers tightened around his.

  Did she hear the whispers too?

  Left with nothing but the sensation of her guiding touches and occasional whispered directions, Matt's other senses heightened.

  Her flowery cherry scent wrapped around him, infiltrating his mind and reminding him of things he shouldn't be thinking of here and now.

  But, as had been the case since she'd stormed into his life, he couldn't completely stop.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Though it felt much longer, only a few minutes passed before Matt realized he could make out some of the rocky edges of the tunnel walls. Light came from somewhere ahead.

  Moments later, Anca stopped, pulling him close. She wrapped her free hand around his neck and tugged.

  Deciphering the hint, he bent down, letting her guide him, until her lips pressed warm and soft against his ear. He fought against the automatic instinct to stiffen, but could do nothing to stop his blo
od from heating, his body from hardening.

  Her words were almost inaudible, "There's strong magic nearby. Be ready for anything."

  He nodded. Without thought, he brushed his mouth over hers. "Stay safe."

  Her expression remained in shadow, but Matt caught a hint of amusement and pleasure in the curve of her lips, the tilt of her head.

  "You as well," she replied.

  Then she kissed him back.

  His heart thumped low and heavy. Sure. He'd be safe. If only to ensure she remained so.

  They continued on, Anca's hand in his, though she must know he could see perfectly fine in the growing light.

  Matt didn't want to lose the small connection to her. Not just yet.

  And Anca didn't seem to mind.

  The tunnel made another gentle turn. Just ahead, it opened up into another, much larger, cavern. They stopped, scooting into deeper shadows near the wall. This place had been cleared of the thornish stalactites and stalagmites. Past an open, empty area about twenty-five feet deep, varying lengths of gold wires dangled from the ceiling, holding colorful silken curtains. The cloth undulated as if stirred by the air, but didn't flutter. Golden metal bars secured them to the leveled stone floor.

  Undecipherable voices surrounded them. Matt nudged Anca and raised a brow, asking if she could understand them.

  She shook her head no.

  Tapping her shoulder, he motioned her to stay there, and slowly, silently, crept closer to the cavern. When he reached the end of the tunnel, he cautiously looked inside.

  The open area between them and the sheets of cloth stretched to both sides. It was completely empty of anyone, anything, leaving him no clues. About twenty feet lay to the left, a good fifty feet to the right. The brightly colored silk curtains blocked the way except for a narrow isle in the center leading further inside.

  And so deep he couldn't see the back.

  Light came from overhead. Someone had rigged electricity in this place. Strings of white Christmas lights hung suspended across the ceiling further inside, leaving the front where he stood in muted tones.

  Returning to Anca's side, he quietly explained what he'd seen.

  After a moment's thought, she said, "I'll stay on point. You keep watching our backs."

  They cautiously headed for the isle between the hanging cloths. At their approach, the colorful silk on both sides undulated, as if someone behind it sensed, and reacted to them. The metal bars attached to the rock floor didn't move at all.

  A roiling in Matt's gut screamed to get them both out of there.

  Immediately.

  There was so much wrong here.

  So very, very wrong.

  Even he, with his limited, mundane magical senses, could feel it.

  What must the darkness around them be doing to Anca, who's senses were so much stronger?

  But retreat wasn't an option.

  He eased closer to her.

  Voices rose and fell around them. Talking, arguing. But there were no words clear enough to understand, like it was much more than merely thin silk between them.

  As they slipped further along the narrow isle, the sounds changed.

  Soft sighs. Heavy moans.

  The smack of damp, naked skin slapping skin. The beat of bodies thudding against bodies. The curtains undulated in larger ripples, matching the rhythm of frantic couples hidden behind the silk.

  Memories of Anca pressed against him, the taste of her sweet essence, how she'd taken him inside her so sweetly, drowned Matt until he could think of nothing except her.

  Of holding her.

  And most of all, of loving her completely once again.

  A woman cried out in ecstasy.

  A man groaned roughly, then shouted his release.

  The air stirred around them protectively.

  Weak. Soft. Barely cold at all.

  Enough for Matt to gather his control and shove forward.

  Anca glanced at him, her teeth worrying her lower lip. Her flushed face told him she'd been remembering the same exact things that continued to lay so heavy on his mind.

  They hurried on.

  Time seemed fluid—nearly stopping one moment, slipping through Matt's fingers the next. Sometime later the sounds of sex faded.

  Replaced by the crack of a whip hitting flesh. Agonized moans. Short, punctuated screams so bone deep they chilled Matt's soul.

  Were they now passing torture chambers?

  Anca started toward the silk to their right. Before Matt could stop her, she froze as if halted by an invisible, impassable wall.

  Shaking her head, she turned back to him and whispered against his ear, "The spirits warn of danger from the silk cloths. Don't get too close. Let's keep going."

  Finally, the isle ended, spilling them out into a large open area at the back of the cavern.

  Directly across from them, against the far wall, sat a throne made out of bones—both mortal and Arcaine by the look—decorating a raised wooden dais. To their right was a picturesque scene straight out of some medieval castle's dining hall, with wooden and stone tables and benches.

  The left side was more gruesome.

  Metal twisted into devices of torture and blackened by layers of blood were spotlighted. Dangling lights clustered above each staged tableau. Beside every torture device sat a table with bloodied instruments ready to inflict pain.

  Anca quietly pointed out four tunnels exiting the cavern. One to the right, behind the dining tables. Logic dictated it led to kitchens of some sort. Another to the far left, the ground darkened with a wide trail of blood. Probably to wherever they kept their prisoners.

  And two at the back, behind the dais and its terrible throne.

  Those were the ones. Those two tunnels would most likely lead them to where the Rogues spent their time hiding. Cowering and plotting more murders.

  Matt jerked the reins in on his rage, heightened by the lust still simmering in his blood. He had to pull himself together. He normally wasn't this emotional. The mark of a good doctor—and warrior—was being able to shut down the parts of his mind and heart he needed, in order to concentrate on the job, whatever it might be, in front of him.

  Was it Anca who made it so hard to ignore, or a lingering spell in this dark place?

  He didn't know.

  Wasn't sure an answer would help much in any case.

  Matt leaned in and whispered, "You think Robby is locked up, or with the Rogues?"

  "With the bastards."

  "Then I'd bet on the tunnels at the back."

  "I agree." But she didn't move. Instead, Anca continued to study the room intently.

  A moment later her eyes widened. She took a couple steps back, jerking him with her.

  Before Matt could react, Anca let go of his hand. Jumped in front of him, as if to block him from a threat he couldn't see.

  Matt stepped back up to her side.

  A tingle spread over his skin. Lights flickered in front of his face. He felt Anca's spirits brush over him, but distantly. They were so weak, less substantial than a soft wind unable to stir a tree's leaves.

  The sparks in his eyes flashed brighter, becoming blinding strobe lights. Pain pierced his temples. The buzzing on his skin turned to fire, flames licking over him, burning him alive.

  From head to feet, Matt's body tightened, his muscles strung taut. He started to turn to Anca, only to realize he couldn't move.

  Anca? he tried to say.

  He couldn't speak.

  After a seemingly endless, useless struggle, Matt wrangled a few shreds of calmness. He breathed deep. Centered his mind.

  Then he dug deep for the core of strength inside him. Though he couldn't see her, see anything, Anca's image weighed heavily on his mind. Matt couldn't, damn well wouldn't, let her down.

  He grasped at anything inside of himself that he could find and hold onto. Finally, finally, his head turned. His vision cleared. He stared at Anca.

  The fire burning against his skin faded
at a deep rush of emotion. Heady primal instincts.

  Protect. Mate.

  Matt managed to raise a hand. To reach for her.

  The strobe light flashed again. This time it became a struggle to even think. A soft, soothing lullaby drifted around him. Enthralling sounds that encased him completely. Beneath the song, a voice called to him. It almost sounded like Anca.

  Almost.

  But something about it struck him as off. As not truly the one who was his to protect.

  Then that thought too became hard to hold. The voice commanded him, telling him exactly what he must do.

  ***

  Anca strained against the powerful magic. It ignored her barriers, continually surging and swelling in an attempt to drown her beneath a ferocious onslaught.

  Vibrations pummeled her, shocking her senses. Left her reeling and confused. She tried to call her power, to throw up a shield, any kind, willing to attempt anything in the hopes it would work.

  Except nothing inside her responded.

  Her magic was mostly blocked. Impossibly so.

  Beside her, Matt groaned. His muscles tensed, relaxed, tensed. He fought hard against the power trying to take them, to control them.

  The few earth spirits who'd stayed with them zoomed to Anca, splashing themselves over her in waves of magical light. The world around her shimmered, then refocused. This time, she saw clearly the aura remnants of the creature attacking them.

  But how?

  How could these Rogues possibly have gotten two sirens? Because there was no doubt the one they'd faced earlier was well and truly dead.

  A deep strangled cry jerked her focus to Matt.

  His body continued to tense and flex, even as he took a step away from her, toward the torture devices laid out and displayed like grizzly works of art.

  She struggled to call to him.

  Only a hoarse whisper emerged.

  She reached for Matt. Though her thoughts remained her own, her body did not. The zapping prickle of magic washing harder over her held her limbs.

  As it must be controlling Matt.

  He took another step away.

  Only the earth spirits stopped the siren song from taking Anca completely. Their dimming flashes said the strain was taking its toll. They were at the limits of their strength. Knowing they were the only reason she hadn't yet been swallowed completely, Anca still asked them, "Go to him. Help Matt."