Soul Taker

by Nutt, Karen Michelle

  "You said taking the blood from my wrist was less intimate. You told me it would link you to my dreams, but tonight, I dreamt of your time with the Sidhe. I know I didn't enter your dreams, since you weren't sleeping. I somehow linked with one of your memories as if I had been there, too. And just now… I saw flashes of your life, other moments." Her gaze held his. "Is it the same for you?"

  "Something of the sort." This time he did let her go. "Come on, I'll drive ye home." He opened the door for her.

  "Why is this happening?"

  "I don't have an answer for ye," he said softly.

  "What do you mean, you don't know? Haven't you done this mind-link thingy before?"

  "Aye, but it was never like this."

  "No? So what went wrong with us?"

  Wrong? She made it sound like it was the worst thing ever to be bonded with him. "Get in the car, Miss Lucci." Calling her Miss Lucci seemed too formal, now that he'd kissed her in such a fashion. However, calling her by her given name would snip the last thread of decency he still held onto, stopping him from seducing her.

  For a second he thought she would refuse, but then she stepped forward, and with great exaggeration that included huffing with irritation, she slid into the passenger's seat. He shut the door and went around to the driver's side.

  She remained quiet all the way home as she huddled close to the door, crossing her arms over her chest.

  When he parked the car in front of her place, he turned toward her, but before he could speak she blurted out what had obviously been brewing inside her pretty little head.

  "Whatever this is…" She waved her hand in front of her. "Whatever this passion between us is, it can't be real." She met his gaze. "And I won't sleep with you. I saw what you wanted…" Her cheeks turned as pink as a rose petal.

  His brows rose in surprise. "Was that for my benefit or for yers, because I saw yer desires, also?"

  She sucked in a breath that resulted in a quick yelp of embarrassed panic. "Sure, make fun of the human. It's what you do best."

  "I wasn't makin' fun of ye." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't understand what's happenin' between us anymore than ye do. Let me assure ye, the blood bond was no' a plot to get ye into bed. Besides, it was whatever ye did tonight that amped the connection when I touched ye. It was the catalyst that set us over the edge. Yer essence was charged like a live wire, givin' me a direct link to who ye are. I see ye, all of ye and I, as ye hinted, ye experienced the same thing with me."

  For a moment, she lost her hostile stance, as if for the first time she considered he might be as confused as she was on what had happened. "You really don't know?"

  "I… No."

  "Ooh, you hesitated." She pointed an accusing finger at him.

  "I didn't hesitate."

  "Yes, you did. You know something and you aren't telling me."

  "Fine, Miss Know-It-All. I have an inklin', but I didn't want to frighten ye."

  "You didn't want to frighten me? If you haven't noticed, I'm already freaked out."

  He had a hunch his next words wouldn't put her at ease. "Ye might be…" he look skyward and chuckled.

  "I might be… what?"

  He looked at her again. "Ye might be my soul mate."

  She let out a small sound of distress, but no coherent words formed on her lips. Well, he finally found a way to shut her up.

  She shook her head and took a deep breath, meeting his gaze with narrowed eyes. "No. That can't be it. You must be wrong."

  "Don't be a dunderhead. I don't like this anymore than ye do, but what can I say?" He shrugged. "Fate isn't always what ye plan. Just my luck, to be mated to a human."

  "Hold on right there, Son-of-Dracula—"

  "Oh, lovely, we're back to name callin'."

  "I refuse to be mated to you. And who's doing the name calling here. Didn't you just call me a dunder… a dunder…"

  "A dunderhead," he offered.

  "Whatever." She waved him off.

  He pursed his lips together. "Ye realize, bein' mated to ye is no' a planned notion on my part. This is why I never become involved with humans. Ye're all so… so unreasonable."

  "You were a human, once. I saw you… before you were changed." She swallowed hard. "You were happier." Then her eyes narrowed. "Not like now. You're a walking dark cloud of misery. Why would I want to be strapped with that for the rest of my life? I'm Catholic, you know. I believe divorce is a sin. Besides, I love food."

  "What the hell are ye natterin' on about?"

  "I run a restaurant and I love to cook. I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and bake a cake or fix a three-cheese lasagna just for the heck of it."

  He shook his head. "Ye aren't makin' any sense."

  "Don't you see?" Her voice cracked. "A way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and you drink blood."

  For as long as he lived, he would not understand this woman's way of thinking. "Are ye hysterical?"

  "No, I'm saying we have nothing in common."

  He sat back against the seat and rubbed his hand over his face. "Let's recap, shall we. Just so I can understand." He held up his index finger. "One: Yer Catholic and believe divorce is a mortal sin or somethin' of the sort." He held up another finger. "Two: Ye don't want to be my mate, because I cannot eat the meals ye prepare."

  "You won't appreciate them." She nodded as if his recap made perfect sense.

  "Three." He held up another finger. "Ye believe a way to a man's heart is his stomach."

  She nodded again.

  "Dear lassie, I was once Catholic, so I suppose I am still, and there is somethin' more appealin' to a man than fillin' his stomach."

  She leaned against the door. "Oh my God, you're talking about drinking my blood."

  "Sweet Mother… I mean…" He leaned toward her, very close until her mouth was only a breath away. He shouldn't…really, he shouldn't, but she licked her lips and that was his undoing. He pressed his mouth to hers with a kiss. He softly took her under, savoring her taste, her scent, her every touch before he allowed her to come up for air. "I believe," his voice sounded rough and unused, "we have more in common than ye think."

  He'd never seen a human move so fast. She scrambled out the door, slamming it behind her.

  He flitted after her.

  Her steps halted at her front door. She patted her tool belt before she whirled around.

  He held up her keys, waving them in front of her face. "Lookin' for these?"

  She yanked them out of his hands and opened the door.

  "Miss Lucci?"

  She turned to look at him from the safety of her foyer.

  "Ye're worried about bein' mated to me, but ye must see some redeeming qualities I possess. Ye sent three seasoned Grim Siths' souls into the veil. At least that is what I assumed ye did. However, ye protected me. Don't deny it. I am no' a fool. I would have suffered the same fate as the others, if ye hadn't done somethin' to prevent it." He lifted his brow, challenging her to deny it.

  "I never claimed you weren't worthy." Her hand slipped into her shirt and fished out a rolled up piece of paper from what he could only assume was her bra. Interesting hiding place, but he said nothing, though teasing words itched to be spoken. He took the slip of paper from her hands.

  Curious, he unrolled the scroll. Then looked at her. "A protection spell?"

  She nodded. "In my mother's journal. She wrote not all vampires were evil. I tend to agree."

  He harrumphed. "So Louisa kept a journal," he said, more to himself, but Isabella caught the familiar use of her mother's name.

  "You knew my mother too. Harrison claims he did as well."

  "She worked with us on a few cases." He wouldn't deny it. "Harrison knew her better than I did, but what I remember, she was a powerful Necromancer. In that respect, ye're a lot like her."

  She sighed. "She was my mother and yet I knew nothing of her abilities. She died long before she could help me with mine."

  "Y
e're a natural then." But he knew she would still need guidance. Where was her family? Louisa could not have been the only one with the gift. Necromancers ran in families, one didn't just pop up randomly.

  She tilted her head as she looked at him and sighed as if she pitied him.

  "What's wrong now?" he asked.

  "Just in case our mind meld didn't warn you, none of my relationships have ever worked out."

  His lips curved. "Are ye tryin' to scare me off, Miss Lucci?"

  She gave him a ghost of a smile. "I'm just saying."

  "Well, then." He handed her back the scroll with the binding words to keep him safe. "I've been duly warned. I'll see ye tomorrow then at my place for another lesson in self-defense."

  Her brows furrowed. "I'll have to think about it. Good night… Garran," she added before she closed the door.

  She had to think about it? Did this mean she was done with working with him? A day ago, he would have been thrilled, but now… Then it dawned on him what her parting words had been. Not good night, Son of Dracula, no fang boy, or any other derogatory name… Garran. His name had touched her lips. He shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. "Good night, sweet Isabella."

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Isabella headed for her room. Glad her brother hadn't heard her return. Once changed into her nightclothes, she crawled into bed, pulling the covers near her chin. Glancing at the clock, she groaned. After four in the morning, meaning she only had a few hours before she had to shower and head into work.

  Luckily, sleep swooped down and took her under where dreams waited to plague her with more of Garran's memories.

  He was dressed in a kilt, the muted colors of clan MacLaurin. His hair was longer, the strands brushing his shoulders. He looked right at her, but she knew he didn't see her. She'd entered this realm as a bystander.

  Garran headed down the hill and toward the keep in the distance. Curiosity made her follow. She'd never been to Scotland, but she had no doubt this was where her dream had taken her. Hills, heather, a loch in the distance, and rowan trees stood guard behind the rugged stone castle.

  Garran entered the keep and two men strode toward him in welcome. A tall red-haired man she recognized as Rory. He had been changed the night Garran had been. And the other man was… Alexander, the Soul Taker. The blood in her veins froze at the sight of him until she realized he couldn't see her either.

  This was Garran's memory. She wasn't here.

  "Ye both are a sight for sore eyes. Is there a pint to be had?" Garran chuckled.

  His Scottish brogue was thicker and more pronounced. This had been how he was in his youth, centuries before she was born. A time when Garran didn't know the horrors that awaited him on the battlefield, or the day Alexander betrayed him.

  "Oh aye." The other man slapped Garran on the back. "Come with us then and tell us of yer adventures."

  "I will, Rory, but first I must speak to my father."

  "He's in the main hall," Alexander offered.

  How young Alexander looked. How innocent. His blue eyes were softer and not cold like they were now. Had he once been a decent man? Perhaps he'd grown up to be a weak-minded man who was easily swayed. He couldn't be more than sixteen or so. The hair on his chin was no more than peach fuzz. How old had he been when Fallon changed him? Not much older, she suspected.

  Garran walked with determined steps toward an older gentleman seated at a long table. Alexander followed, the adoration evident in his eyes.

  "Alexander looked up to Garran, admired him," Isabella murmured. "So what changed?"

  The buzzing sound in her head distracted her. She covered her ears. She looked at Garran and the others, but no one seemed to notice the noise.

  The scene blurred and she blinked her eyes, trying to focus. "No wait." She reached out as if she could stop the dream from fading, but it was of no use.

  She sat up bolt right, taking a ragged breath. She glanced around, realizing she was in her room. "Not Scotland," she whispered. She looked at her alarm clock on her nightstand and leaned over and hit the off button. The annoying beep silenced immediately.

  It was amazing what a few hours could do to one's view on a situation. She was never one to feel sorry for herself.

  So she was bonded with a vampire and she may or may not be his soul mate. She closed her eyes as that thought stirred a mixture of emotions in her. In truth, she was attracted to Garran, but the word soul mate, terrified her. She lashed out when she was scared.

  She slipped out of bed and headed for the shower. She would sit down with Garran and have a rational chat with him. No fighting and no kissing. "Yeah, definitely no kissing." She needed to keep a clear head.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Garran awoke to the sounds of voices downstairs. The smell of garlic, onions, and tomato sauce hit his nostrils next. "What in the bloody hell?" He threw off his blankets and grabbed for his jeans draped over his valet. He didn't bother with a shirt or shoes as he bounded down the stairs.

  His steps faltered at the door of his kitchen. Isabella stood at the stove, stirring what he could only guess was some sort of Italian cuisine. Her dark hair was twisted into a clip to keep the locks out of her eyes. She wore an olive green tank top with copper rhinestones decorating the collar.

  She made herself right at home in his kitchen – where he could count, on one hand, how many times he had used the stovetop. What was she doing here?

  Harrison's laughter drew his attention. The werewolf sat at the breakfast nook, waiting for a meal to be served. If Harrison wanted a home cooked meal, he should have let Isabella whip up a meal at his place.

  "What is all this?" he demanded.

  "Well, good to see you too, grumpy head," Isabella said cheerfully. "I'm cooking."

  He strode over to the stove. "It's bloody obvious ye're cookin'. I want to know why ye're doin' so in my kitchen."

  "It's dinner time and I'm starved." She met his gaze and smiled, which made him suspicious. What was she up to?

  Last night, she all but claimed she wanted nothing to do with him. She said she had to think about training with him, but here she stood as if their last conversation hadn't been overwrought.

  "You told me to meet you here at your house," she reminded him. "I work for a living, you know. As soon as I finished at the restaurant, I came over here. I haven't eaten dinner and I thought I'd fix Harrison a plate too."

  Harrison lounged comfortably on the bar stool, leaning his elbows on the countertop. "Isabella is a wonderful cook," he offered his opinion. "Sorry, old boy, that you can't appreciate it."

  Garran grumbled as he went over to the refrigerator to retrieve his nourishment of cold pig's blood, which was a far cry from a gourmet dinner. He may not indulge in having a lavish meal, but he still remembered them. At one time, he enjoyed the banquets where venison and sweet treats were served.

  He opened the refrigerator and stood back with a frown. His shelves were full of items he had no use for. Milk, cheese, and eggs were on one shelf. His hand opened one of the drawers and found fruits and vegetables. He looked over his shoulder at the woman who had invaded his fortress, humming as she cooked. Her petite figure moved to and fro, graceful and confident, as she performed her craft. "Witch," he said under his breath with affection that surprised him. He turned away and grabbed a bottle of blood. He opened his cupboard above the sink for a cup. "What is this?" His hand gripped the cup in question.

  "Isabella bought you a present," Harrison said with an amused chuckle.

  Garran stared at the words printed in bold black on white: Got Blood? A little red teardrop hung below the question mark.

  "I found it at the market and I couldn't pass it up," Isabella said. "It was a promo item for that new vampire movie that's coming out next month." "Isn't it cute?"

  "Cute is not the word I would use for it," he grumbled.

  "Oh, come on. You have to see the humor in it." Again, she threw him that disarming smile.

  He snorted
his protest at cute, but he used the cup anyway, placing it in the microwave to warm up his dinner or rather breakfast. As he waited for the timer, it sunk in that Isabella had bought him a gift. Sure, it was tasteless, but no one had bought him a gift in centuries. "Thank ye," he grumbled." He knew she stared after him and he could well imagine the smile that tilted her lips.

  "You're welcome."

  Harrison strode over to the cupboard and helped himself to two plates. Dinnerware had been Harrison's contribution since he was the only one who would need a plate or bowl, but his meals usually consisted of reheating whatever he purchased on the way over.

  The cooking pans were new and must be something Isabella had brought with her.

  Garran glanced at Harrison. The bugger wagged his eyebrows up and down with a nod toward the coffee cup he had taken out of the microwave. Then he gestured toward Isabella with the same sly display.

  Garran rolled his eyes. He sipped the warm substance from his cup, watching Isabella over the rim. The place reeked of garlic, a pungent scent if there ever was one, but Isabella's look of contentment made it tolerable. Again he wondered what had happened within the hours he slept to make Isabella appear… accepting of the bond between them, or was her complacent attitude an illusion?

  Isabella took a seat at the nook to eat. She twirled the noodles around her fork and lifted it to her mouth. The noodles slipped between her puckered lips. Somehow, the simple action proved erotic to watch.

  His gaze lingered on her lips with thoughts of kissing them again. He tore his gaze away from her and concentrated on Harrison. "We're to meet Sanya at Tony's at eleven."

  Isabella lifted a brow. "Is that the vampire who's working undercover for you?"

  Garran glanced at Harrison. "Did ye reveal all our secrets while I slept?"

  Harrison took a generous bite and talked with his mouth full. "Not all, I'm saving a few things for another night."

  Garran only halfheartedly grumbled.

  "After my lesson," Isabella glanced at him, "I want to stop by the hospital and check on Johanna." She looked at Harrison. "Do you want to join me?"