Soul Taker

by Nutt, Karen Michelle

  She whirled on them then. "Help? You failed to kill him the first time around." She waved her hand in dismissal at Garran when he tried to object. "Alexander told me all about your attempt."

  "Did he tell ye how he escaped the fire?"

  "His maker pulled him out of the flames before they could do their job. He suffered severe burns, but lived. Apparently it takes a lifetime to heal from such wounds, gave his hatred for you time to fester. You preternatural beings confound me. You want vengeance, but you take your sweet loving time going about it."

  Garran didn't bother pointing out they had centuries to take care of business. Time was not an issue.

  Harrison snorted. "And your part in all this? You might as well tell us. You know Garran won't leave until he has the answer."

  Her nostrils flared as if she held back a retort, but then her shoulders slumped and she let out a ragged breath. "He has my daughter."

  Garran hadn't known Monette had a daughter. Surprises never ceased. "He's holding her hostage?"

  She gave him a curt nod. "I'm to help him stay cloaked until he kills you and secures the territory. Then he'll let Frimrose go."

  "Alexander isn't big on keepin' his promises." Since the voodoo queen was forth coming with her information, Garran wouldn't mince words either. "Ye do realize yer daughter is dead, if we don't find her first."

  "Do you think I'm a fool? Of course, I'm aware. That's why I approached you. Alexander keeps Frimrose well guarded. I have no problem going up against one, maybe two vamps, but when there is more… I couldn't risk putting Frimrose in harm's way."

  Harrison glanced at Garran. "How do we know this isn't a trick and a part of Alexander's sick game?"

  Garran ignored Harrison's outburst and held Monette's gaze. She didn't shy away. Her heartbeat fluttered in her chest and sweat glistened on her brow. She reeked of fear, but not because she feared they would find out she lied to them. She was scared for other reasons, reasons he supposed only a mother would have. She wanted her daughter back. He could only presume preferably alive. "We'll help ye find Frimrose."

  "Bloody hell," Harrison cursed.

  "We'll find Frimrose," Garran repeated, holding the voodoo queen's gaze. "And in return, ye'll help us."

  "I shall stop you there on your promises if you believe I will defy Alexander and not cloak him. He'll know if I do not." The sneer she managed to hide from her face was evident in the tone of her voice, but Garran passed this off as fear for her daughter's safety and let it slide without mention.

  "Ye'll cloak us as well then. There's no reason Alexander should be able to locate us at will."

  She threw up her hands. "What will this accomplish?"

  "Just do it," Garran ordered. "Now, we'll need to know more about yer daughter. Does she possess any of yer lovely charms?"

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Isabella brewed a cup of chrysanthemum tea flavored with jasmine flower. The blend was supposedly an ancient longevity elixir. With her close call tonight, she may have lost a few years. It wouldn't hurt to try and tack on a few. The tea also calmed her nerves and sharpened her vision and hearing.

  Tonight she chose the fairy cup from the cupboard over the sink. She headed to the living room, taking a sip of the hot liquid. She took out her mother's journal from her purse and plopped down on the easy chair to read up on the undead. With Nicholas in Orlando for the culinary conference, she didn't have to worry about him stopping her.

  She rolled her stiff shoulders back, her tired limbs making themselves known. Her life had taken a different path than she expected it to. Her best friend was in the hospital and barely hung onto life, and she learned Dracula and the Wolfman were alive and well and living among the humans. Oh, and let's not forget the evil Soul Taker was sucking the souls out of women and he vowed to come after her.

  Her hand shook as she raised her cup to her lips. The herbal liquid went down smooth, but her nerves were still shot. She could have died—again. She didn't see a flash of her life pass by as some believed happened on the brink of death. Heck, she didn't see it the first go around, then again she hadn't truly lived yet. …And this time? All she saw was a whirl of color and warmth. Garran had saved her from the SUV slamming into her.

  The vampire confounded her. He spoke to her as if she were a nuisance he must put up with, but she'd seen his glances, his gray, storm-filled eyes assessed her with… curiosity. As if she were as much a mystery to him as he was to her. Sure, she knew he was a vampire, a Grim Sith, but that was what he was, not who he was.

  Alexander had called Garran, milaird—how medieval of him. Just how old was Garran MacLaurin? Had he once been a lord of a castle?

  She placed her cup on the end table and opened the book. Her mother had written about the undead and briefly mentioned they were different as any human when it came to personalities and behavior.

  Not all are evil.

  Garran and Alexander were both from the Grim Sith sept, but only one of them creeped her out. Garran with all his fluster and withering looks, she felt... "Safe," she whispered and nodded. Despite the rugged warrior persona he betrayed, and the fact he could suck her dry or even take her soul, she trusted him.

  Alexander may look like an angel, but underneath the perfect features, evil lurked ready to strike. His soul, his true soul was muddied with his sordid deeds, the glow only a hazy afterthought. "No wonder he steals souls." It was as if his being craved goodness, but his retched existence had forgotten how to embrace such a gift. His evilness blackened it, ate it away like a cancer until he fed again.

  She stifled a yawn behind her hand. Her mother gave her glimpses of Otherworldly beings, but Garran would be able to separate the truth from the conjectures. He had cleared up a few myths, but not nearly enough for her curious mind. She'd grill him again, but he probably wouldn't be so forthcoming with information the next time around—if there was a next time around. He seemed bent on leaving her behind.

  Her eyelids closed and her head nodded forward, jerking her awake. "Time for bed." She was surprised she could sleep after what happened tonight. The tea must be doing its job. She stood and turned off the light before heading upstairs to her bedroom with her cup of tea in hand and the journal tucked under her arm. She entered her room and flipped on the light switch. She took a step only to freeze as fear slid through her veins like ice.

  She blinked in hopes the vision would change, but it didn't. Alexander stood there in his dark polo shirt and blue jeans. He leaned lazily against her oak dresser. His arms were crossed against his chest. His chilling blue-eyed appraisal of her made her heart stop and restart.

  This isn't real, Isabella thought. However, her hallucination thought to prove her wrong.

  A slow smile curved Alexander's lips. "Hello, my sweet. I decided ye would do after all."

  Her book and cup slid from her grasps as she whirled around and dashed for the stairs, but before she could make her descent, she was yanked back by her hair.

  He was so strong, his hold paralyzing. "Don't run away so soon, my pet." His long thin fingers caressed her cheek. "We haven't begun to play."

  His breath tickled the inside of her ear, making her shudder. Fear slammed harder through her veins, making breathing difficult. How could he be here, when Garran and Harrison were tracking him? She had to fight him, break away before he added her to his growing victim's list.

  "Ask me in, sweet Isabella."

  Ask him in? What did he mean? He was in. He invaded her privacy and held her hostage.

  He caressed her face again and murmured Gaelic words in her ear. Her shoulders relaxed and she swayed against him. "Let me in," he repeated.

  She licked her lips, wondering why her tongue felt thick and why speech seemed to fail her.

  Alexander held her captive, yet he wanted her…

  Then she knew.

  He wasn't here. She must have fallen asleep and he'd somehow entered her dreams. With all the strength she could muster, she choked out the wor
d that would send him away. "NO!"

  He became angry then, squeezing her.

  She tried to scream, but only a choked cry for help came out as he shook her and shook her.

  "Wake up, Isabella. Wake up."

  Her eyes snapped open and she began to fight, plowing her fist into his face. She had to get away.

  "Stop it. It's Harrison, Isabella. You're safe."

  She stopped struggling and focused. Whiskey-colored eyes, not ice-blue, looked back at her with concern. "Oh, my God, Harrison." She threw her arms around his neck. "He was here," she sobbed the words in angry disbelief. "How could that be? Alexander was here."

  His arms came around her and he held her close, rubbing the back of her head as he tried to reassure her. "He wasn't. It was only a nightmare."

  She pushed away to look at him, shaking her head, still not convinced.

  "Look around," Harrison said as he stood. "No one is here but you, me, and Garran."

  Her gaze shifted to the door where Garran stood, leaning against the wall. She furrowed her brows in confusion. "But it seemed so real."

  "Possibly it was real," Garran commented, making them both look at him. "Alexander may have been in yer head."

  "How?" Her voice sounded small, vulnerable even to her own ears.

  "He touched ye," Garran told her. "He sampled yer blood, linkin' ye to him. What did he say to ye in yer dream?"

  "We haven't started to play, and… Ask me in. He wanted me to ask him in."

  "Did ye?" Garran's eyes were hard and inscrutable as if he was trying to shield his emotions from her, but Isabella could still read his aura. It flared with passion and anger, but she didn't believe it was toward her.

  "Did I— No, of course not, but I wanted to," she realized. "For a moment, oh God, I wanted to." She covered her face with her hands. "What happened?" She wanted to know. "I thought you were tailing this guy."

  Harrison sighed. "The trail ran cold, but we have a new lead. Monette Garlen, a powerful voodoo queen…" He filled her in on their meeting with Monette and Alexander's part in kidnapping the woman's daughter. "If we find Frimrose, we find Alexander." Garran met Harrison's gaze with an unspoken worry.

  "Sounds so easy when you say it like that," Isabella stated sarcastically, knowing it wasn't in the least. "If Alexander can get into my head, how long do I have before he'll succeed in wearing me down?"

  Garran studied Isabella for a moment, his gaze making her body respond in a wicked way. Why couldn't she be attracted to a normal guy and preferably one who didn't prefer blood for a snack? She squirmed in her seat and hoped to God her cheeks hadn't flamed red.

  "There's a way to counteract Alexander's bond to ye," Garran said as he pushed away from the wall and strode closer.

  Harrison let out a curse as if that cryptic statement revealed the plan.

  "And how is that?" Isabella asked, not liking the way Harrison and Garran exchanged looks, like some kind of secret handshake.

  Harrison crouched down beside her again and took her hand. "Alexander is connected to you."

  "Yes, I believe I got that part."

  "You're in danger and the only way to prevent it is… There is just no way of sugarcoating this, Izzie. Garran needs to drink some of your blood."

  "Could you repeat that?" Isabella chuckled, nervously. "Because it sounded a lot like you said Garran needed to drink my blood."

  "It would be for the best." Garran took a step toward her as if it was settled and she gave him her blessing.

  She pushed Harrison away and scrambled to her feet, taking refuge behind the chair. "Stop right there, Dracula."

  Surprisingly, Garran halted his steps.

  "I'm not letting you suck on my neck," she told him.

  "Then Alexander has won. He will wear ye down, and ye will let him in. I do no' need to tell ye what happens next." He shrugged as if it made no difference to him.

  She didn't need a good imagination to know what would happen next. She gulped down the bile that threatened to come up. "Well, don't try to sweet talk me into it."

  "I have no time, nor do I have patience to sweet talk ye, as ye so eloquently put it. I either bond with ye or ye die. Yer choice, naturally."

  "Naturally." She glared back at him. Had she only moments before thought him attractive?

  Harrison intervened again. "Listen, Izzie. I don't want anything to happen to you. Alexander has a stronghold on your mind. He won't stop with the one dream. He'll keep coming at you until you let your defenses down."

  She licked her lips, as the moisture evaporated right out of them. "So how is Garran drinking my blood going to stop Alexander?"

  "Garran will stay linked with you. If you're in trouble, he'll know it and he'll intervene. Rest assured, he'll stop Alexander from hurting you."

  "So, Garran will be in my head, too? Won't it get a little crowded in there?" Sarcasm dripped from her words, but she couldn't help it. Her thoughts were hers. Dammit! She wasn't particularly fond of one Grim Sith in her head, let alone two.

  Garran pinched the bridge of his nose as if this discussion was giving him a headache. "Would ye rather be alone with the Soul Taker instead?" He ground out as if her hesitation somehow offended him.

  She inhaled deeply and met Garran's gaze. She took in the colors, caressing his skin and haloing around him. She could detect no deceit. He truly believed this would work to keep her safe. "Okay. Fine. Do it already." She waved her hand at him as she came around the chair and plopped back down in it. "You know when I was young, like many girls, I dreamt about a knight in shining armor coming to rescue me from the monsters that hid in my closet." Garran's brows rose and she shook her head. "I didn't expect the knight to sport fangs." She moved her hair to the side, leaving her neck bare.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Garran hadn't had an offering like this for two centuries. Too bad it wasn't by choice. He knelt down beside her and gently caressed her neck with his fingertips. He could hear her heart thumping wildly against her chest and the small throb of her carotid artery called to his inner beast, calling to his hunger, his need to touch her... taste her. She should be afraid, but he didn't smell fear. Damn, even with all her blustering to the contrary, the infernal lass trusted him.

  His hand fell away, and he sighed with regret. He wouldn't take her intimate offer, not when it had been given under duress. He reached for her hand instead. She looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed and her lovely hazel eyes rimmed with gold peered at him in question.

  "The inside of the wrist will be safer," he told her. "It's less… personal." He didn't wait for her to question him on what he meant. The woman had so many questions churning in her head; he was surprised Alexander could enter her subconscious mind without being devoured and meshed into the onslaught of her thoughts.

  With his incisors lengthened, he lowered his head and nipped the tender flesh at her wrist. She inhaled sharply when he pressed his mouth hard over the pulsing vein. The taste of her blood flooded his system… sweet and smooth, like silk. The taste he had half expected, but not the other sensation that followed.

  He sometimes caught glimpses of the person's life when he'd taken their blood, but not like this. He connected fully with Isabella. Flashes of her life hit him like a fast playing movie: Isabella hugging a puppy. Another, of her doing gymnastics. Her first kiss. The accident that cost her, her life… and her brother… He was there when it happened, and after… Her waking up in the hospital. Despair at losing her parents. Then a man, who had broken her heart flashed into view. He had the urge to kill the man for hurting her. Before he could decipher why he'd have such a thought, her moan of pleasure distracted him.

  Her body flooded with desire as he took her close to the edge. He eased back. He couldn't take her too far over, just enough to make the experience satisfying for her.

  She tasted so good. He couldn't remember the last time he tasted human blood. Fifty years ago? A hundred? Nothing he had tasted in the past had been this fine, th
is sweet…this intoxicating. God, he wanted her, all of her and he knew the desire wasn't one sided. Her soft murmurs purred in his ear and her spiked scent washed over him in waves.

  When Harrison cleared his throat, Garran's body tensed. For a moment, he'd forgotten where he was and why he was doing this. A growl vibrated in his throat in protest, but he gave Isabella's wrist a healing kiss, to close the wound, before he dragged his mouth away. He stood and took a step back as he wiped his lips with the back of his shaking hand. He quickly shoved his hand into his pocket.

  He stared at Isabella, her eyes glazed over with passion. He bloody well knew by the way Harrison grinned at him that he must look the besotted fool too.

  "Don't say it, ye wee dunderhead." His Scottish burr thickened, infuriating him further. He cleared his throat. "I should have never—"

  "You had to." Harrison shrugged and looked away, giving him a moment to compose himself.

  Aye, he had to, but it didn't explain the connection he felt when he had linked with her—strong and binding when he had only meant to link to sense her distress.

  Isabella blinked as her wits returned, and she didn't quite meet his gaze. Her cheeks blazed crimson under her olive skin and she hugged her arms around her.

  "I'll stay with her," Harrison offered. "It's almost sunup."

  "No…" she tried to object but Garran spoke up.

  "It's for the best. Until we're sure we're linked—" He really had no doubt they were. Flashes of her life were still fresh in his mind, as if he'd experienced them too. He cleared his throat. "Harrison should stay with ye."

  "But I thought…" she touched her wrist where only two small pinpoints marred her once perfect skin, the only evidence of his vampire kiss.

  "I'll be in yer dreams." His voice sounded rough and unused. He cleared his throat again and hoped Isabella didn't hear the longing behind those words.

  Isabella's brows furrowed. She shook her head at the disturbing thought of Garran being in her dreams. Not because she feared Garran, but because she feared her dreams would be about him. She worried her lower lip. How could he irritate her so, and on the other hand make her want to... touch him…kiss him?