Tales of the Were: Magnus Read online

  The mage probably hadn’t dared let her out of her cage unless his magical barriers were fully in place. Even the most powerful of magic users couldn’t maintain those circles of power indefinitely. Or so Mag had heard. He’d tried to learn all he could about vamps after his one night stand with Miranda, but he’d also gained a few tidbits about magic users while he’d been asking subtle questions of all and sundry.

  Her legs were as long and lean as Mag remembered from their one night together. He’d loved having her slim thighs wrapped around him, her pale skin a stark contrast against his tanned bronze. She was everything that was elegant and beautiful in his world. He almost wept at the pleasure of having her here, in the house he had so lovingly prepared for her.

  Her legs were a little scratched up, but otherwise sound, so he moved upward and tried to tug the ragged shirt off her arms. She fought him a little until her eyes opened and she recognized him. Her fight ceased and she seemed dazzled by the sight of him.

  “Mag?” She sounded confused and he grew more worried about her condition. Miranda was one of the strongest women he knew despite her fragile appearance.

  “I’m here, sweetheart. Just let me get these ruined things off you so you can get clean. Does it hurt anywhere?” He kept his tone gentle, even as he pried her clenched hands away from the ragged edges of her top.

  She had shifted back into her clothes as they had been when she’d assumed the form of the bear cub. Vampires who could shapeshift did it in a different way than most animal shapeshifters. Weres couldn’t take their clothing into the shift with them. Mag had to either get naked before he shifted or keep replacing his torn clothing. But Miranda had all that vampire magic at her disposal. She could shift from fully clothed human to fur-covered bear and back again.

  Whatever she’d been wearing when she went into the shift came back with her on the other side, as long as she willed it. Or so Matt had claimed when Mag had quizzed his younger brother on the topic. As it happened, Matt knew a young vampiress who was learning how to shapeshift from her mate, and Matt had a few funny stories to tell about her attempts to become a cat. According to Matt, her mate had suggested she try for a cat assuming she’d become a cougar like Matt. Instead, she’d opted for a tiny housecat, much to the amusement of all concerned. From then on, Matt said, her mate was careful to be a lot more specific when he made suggestions.

  Miranda moaned when he tugged her arm free of the ripped up sweater she had worn. When he straightened her arm and saw the sheer number of cuts, both old and new, she whimpered.

  “What did he do to you?” he whispered, unable to hide his dismay.

  Her arm was a mass of scars, burns, and open slices that were bleeding sluggishly. The burns were a sickly black and green—caused by silver, Mag thought. He’d seen what looked like a dully gleaming silver cage in that room of horrors and he’d smelled the sickening tang of the poisonous metal in the air. The cuts, on the other hand, looked as if she’d been tortured—sliced over and over by a sharp blade.

  The dark fabric of her sweater had hidden the dark flow of her blood. Normally, vampires could heal themselves with a thought, but it was clear now to Mag that Miranda had been systematically drained of her blood—and her magic—over what had to be months, or possibly years. His heart ached for her suffering. She didn’t have enough strength left to even close the cuts, much less eliminate the scars as he knew she could have done. His concern over her state of health grew.

  He tried not to move too fast for her abused limbs as he tugged her other arm free of the sweater and then lifted the ragged remnants of it over her head. He did his best not to let his shock show when he saw the gouges in her skin all over her breasts and neck. She still wore a lacy bra and panties, but it was clear the mage had hurt any inch of skin he could access with his evil magic.

  “What made these marks, my love?” he asked gently, needing to know, but also dreading the answer.

  “Magic. Blades.” She sighed heavily as he hit the button that would start the computerized shower at a low level. He adjusted the temperature to something soothing and peaceful, regulating the flow of the jets to a steady, gentle spray. “Magic blades.”

  “Did he touch you?”

  Miranda smiled, but it was a deadly, cold thing. Then her eyes sparked and he saw a glimmer of his former lover in her gaze. “He tried, but he learned quickly not to get too near my cage.”

  “How long were you there?” he asked, but she was losing strength again. Mag quickly lifted her into the soothing spray, washing away the blood and grime, not caring that he was getting soaked. He was fully clothed, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Miranda.

  She didn’t answer his question. She was so weak, but he knew what she needed. She needed blood and he was the closest donor. She’d already taken some from him earlier, but he knew it wasn’t enough. He guided her head into the crook of his shoulder while the water sprayed gently around them. Running his hands over the undamaged places on her skin, he tried to wash away the evidence of what had been done to her.

  “You need to drink, sweetheart,” he said gently, placing her on her feet. She was the perfect height for him. Her chin rested in the crook of his neck, giving her easy access to the blood she so desperately needed.

  “Don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured, arguing without much heat.

  “You won’t. I trust you.”

  She found the strength to pull back and look into his eyes. “You shouldn’t,” she said very seriously. “I’m not in control right now. I’ve been starved for too long. I don’t trust my own mind. There were moments when…” she paused, swallowing hard, “…when I thought I was going mad. I still might be. I don’t trust myself.”

  “Trust me then, Miranda,” he whispered, needing to help her, to give her back some of the self-confidence that had been stolen from her. “I believe in you. You won’t hurt me. You need strength, and my blood is the most potent around here at the moment. Take some. Lean on me. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

  He cupped the back of her head, guiding her toward his neck and even though he sensed she still wanted to protest, she eventually gave in to the thirst he knew had to be riding her. She bit, taking care to be gentle, as he knew she would. She had always treated him gently, with what he hoped was caring, if not love.

  He hated the thought that he might be the only one feeling the mating bond between them. He didn’t know what vamps felt for their mates—or if she felt it for him. He hoped, but she’d never said anything. He’d taken her flight from his bed after that one night they’d spent together as a sort of mute confirmation that their connection had scared her as much as it had him. But over the two years since that incredible night, he’d learned to respect the bond—to thirst for the closeness it promised. It had been a hard lesson. One full of frustration and anger at himself for being such a coward on that first and only night. He should’ve said something right then and there, but he hadn’t dared. He’d thought he would have time to process the incredible changes meeting his mate had begun in his life, but when he woke up, she was gone.

  She bit into his neck and the blood began to flow, establishing the most basic of connections between them. He knew her vampire mojo was working on him as his body shivered in an echo of the ecstasy he’d felt in her arms. Bloodletters had a way of bringing pleasure even as they drained their prey of precious blood—the life force that sustained them.

  His cock rubbed against her soft body, the layer of cloth between them the only barrier. He would remain clothed. He wouldn’t force himself on her. Not even with her magic making him hard. She’d walked away from him once. He wouldn’t do anything to make her do so again.

  This time, he wanted to woo her into staying with him. For the moment, she was too weak to go anywhere, but he knew it wouldn’t be smart to press his advantage. If he made love to her again, it had to be by her choice. And he knew he had to move slowly. He didn’t want to scare her off again.

 
As near as he could figure, the intensity between them the last time they’d come together had scared her as much as it had him. While he’d been ready to embrace the change—given a little bit of time to think about it—she had fled. He wouldn’t let that happen again. Or, at least, he’d give it his best shot. He couldn’t make her stay if she didn’t want to. If he tried, he’d be as bad as the bastard who had kept her prisoner. He would never clip her wings. Never cage her emotionally or physically. If she stayed—and he was going to do everything in his power to make that happen—it would be because she loved him as much as he loved her.

  He felt almost giddy as she drank more deeply this time. Her body gained strength even as he held her under the warm mist of the shower. And he knew she felt the same pleasure he did as her both writhed against him. He couldn’t help the slight pulse of his thighs that rubbed his hard cock up against her. It was impossible to stop the attraction, especially with the vampire magic doing a number on his libido.

  Mag grit his teeth and tried to hold off the climax that built with every suck of her mouth against his neck, every rub of her nearly bare body against his fully clothed form. She rubbed her hips against him, their heights a perfect match for ultimate pleasure. And when he couldn’t hold back any longer, he came in his pants with a groan of surrender.

  She squirmed a bit more and then shuddered as her teeth bit down even harder for a long moment, her body spasming against him as she found completion as well. He held her tight, anchoring her to him while the warm water encased them in a mist—the two of them together, with no one else in the entire world. Just them. And their mutual pleasure.

  At length, as her body quieted, her teeth retracted from his skin and the pressure of her bite eased. She licked him gently as he felt a tiny bit of magic seal the wounds. He’d wear her mark for a while—that had been one hell of a love bite, and she had more strength than the average female—but he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he almost wished his shifter constitution wouldn’t make the mark of her possession disappear too fast. He healed quickly, but he wanted to be able to look in the mirror and see that this hadn’t been just another dream.

  Having her in his arms, in his house, was every dream he’d ever had since that night they’d been together. The pleasure he felt with Miranda was unlike any other. His heart had opened up that night more than two years ago, and she had taken up residence there, never to be ousted. For the first time in his life, Mag could say he was truly in love.

  Only, for the past two years, the love had been tinged with heartbreak. She’d left him and his inner cat had barely survived the blow. He hadn’t spent much time in his fur since that night. The cat was too depressed. It didn’t understand the nuances the human side of him grasped. It didn’t understand that his mate was a vampire and was therefore off-limits. The cat only knew what it wanted. What it needed. Miranda. Always Miranda. Forever Miranda.

  And the cat was downright depressed without her. When Mag shifted into his cat form, that depression was harder to bear. But now the cat was happy again. Mag could feel it as easily as he felt the man’s satisfaction of having Miranda in his home.

  “Are you all right?” Her whisper caught him off guard. He’d been waxing philosophical, while they both recovered from an intense orgasm.

  “Never better,” he quipped and meant it. He’d never felt better than when he had her in his arms.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me?” He had to laugh. “Honey, that was about as far from hurting me as you can get. Thank you.”

  She pulled away and looked up into his eyes. She seemed confused and he couldn’t resist leaning down and placing a playful kiss on the tip of her nose.

  “You’re thanking me for biting you so hard, I left a mark? Her gaze leapt to his neck, her eyes widening as she took in the bruising he knew had to be around the wound. He didn’t mind it, but she seemed horrified.

  “Sweetheart…” He used his finger under her chin to guide her gaze back up to his. “I loved every minute of it and I love even more that you’re not fainting on me and scaring me with your weakness. You have a little color in your cheeks, which gratifies me to no end, and in case you didn’t notice, I came right before you did, so I don’t mind one little bit. Bite me again.” His smile dared her and he was glad to see he’d surprised her with his words.

  The color in her cheeks deepened. Had he ever seen her blush before? It seemed this was a night of unusual moments. He hadn’t come in his pants since he’d been a teenager and then he’d been embarrassed. Tonight he felt kind of noble for not taking advantage of her. And sticky. Yeah, he was beginning to feel a little sticky.

  “Do you mind if I get clean? I promise no funny business. I’m here to take care of you, not the other way around. At least not until you’re much, much healthier.” He smiled at her, shooting her a mischievous wink. “And even then, it’ll be your choice, Miranda. I want you to stay, but only if you want it too. For now, I just want you to focus on recovering from your ordeal. Consider my home a safe haven for you—for however long you need it.”

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this for me?”

  She seemed so confused, he had to lay his heart on the line.

  “Because I love you. Whether it’s right or wrong doesn’t matter. My cat knew its mate the moment I scented you. You’re the only woman I will ever love, Miranda. For me, there is no other.”

  Chapter Three

  He would have said more, but she reached up and covered his lips with her fingers. Pain filled her eyes as she gazed up at him.

  “Don’t say it. I can accept your hospitality. I don’t have much choice at the moment.” She looked pained to admit her weakness. “But I refuse to accept anything else. We are not mates. We can’t be.”

  Her protestations sounded weak to him, as if she was trying to convince herself. For the first time in more than two years, Mag had hope. She did feel something but, as he’d both hoped and feared, she was running from it.

  He kissed her fingers, then took her hand from his lips, twining their fingers together. He held her gaze and decided caution was the better part of valor.

  “We don’t have to think about any of that now. All you have to do is get better. You were as close to death as I’ve ever heard a bloodletter being. You’ve been systematically wounded over a period of time. You won’t get healthy in a few hours or even a few days. This could take a while and I’ll be here for you as long as it takes. Whatever happens after…well…that’s in the hands of the Goddess. I’m leaving that up to Her for now.”

  Miranda looked skeptical, but she slowly nodded and he let her go. She was strong enough to stand on her own and after a moment, she reached for the liquid soap he kept along the stone ledge of the giant shower stall. She moved away and began to clean herself.

  He decided to do the same. He stripped off his wet clothes quickly and stepped toward the jets on his side of the long shower. There were spray jets all over the enclosure and rain heads above. He tinkered with the controls so that the jets nearest him were a little more forceful and started the rain falling over both of them in a gentle patter.

  She looked up, seemingly enchanted by the rain head right above her. She looked over her shoulder to smile at him and he saw her eyes widen as she realized he was naked. He grinned and soaped up his chest, wishing her hands were rubbing over him, not his own. But they had time to work up to that. He would have to be patient.

  She turned away and finished cleaning her body, though she still wore the lacy bra and panties. She stood directly under the rain head, facing away from him as she began to shampoo her hair. It was knotted in places and he knew she’d need some extra help with the tangles. He finished rinsing and stepped out of the shower to rummage under the sink on the other side of the room. He kept toiletries under there that he’d bought with her in mind a long time ago.

  Finding what he wanted, he went back to the shower. She was just finishi
ng rinsing the soap out of her hair when he reached around, putting the bottle he’d found into her hand.

  “Conditioner might help,” he offered, wondering what she’d make of his preparedness.

  “You had this on hand?” She turned enough to look up into his eyes. Suspicion marred her expression.

  “I bought it when I finished building this bathroom. It’s never been used.”

  She looked down, examining the seal on the bottle and then looked back at him. “Why would you buy this if you don’t use it?”

  “I thought maybe…” How did he explain this without scaring her off? He had to tread carefully, but he also couldn’t lie to her. Lying wouldn’t help anything. “I hoped maybe one day, you’d be here to use it. The scent reminded me of you.”

  She opened the bottle and lifted it to her nose. Vampires had senses that were almost as acute as shifter senses, so strong scents were out. All the toiletries and cleaning products in the house had gentle, natural scents and were usually made with organic products.

  “Roses and cinnamon? It’s very subtle, but smells wonderful.”

  “The ingredients include rose hips and an extract of cinnamon that is supposed to be good for your scalp,” he added, feeling the need to justify his purchase of the conditioner he never used. “You smell of roses and cinnamon to me,” he added, admitting the truth of why he’d really bought it.

  “I do?” She seemed surprised. And pleased, if he was any judge. She even smiled before turning her back and opening the bottle. She put a handful of the conditioner on her wet hair and worked it through.

  He wanted to help, but he figured he’d pushed her enough for one night. She was looking a little better thanks to his blood, but she was already beginning to lose some of that sparkle. She’d been tortured over a long period of time. She wouldn’t get better in a few hours. He had to remember to take things slowly with her. She needed time to heal—and time to get used to the fact that he was in her life and he wouldn’t be easily left behind this time.