Tales of the Were: Magnus Page 6

  “Ssh. It’s okay. You’re safe now and he can never hurt you again.” Mag rocked her in his arms.

  “Thanks to you, Mag,” she whispered. “I can never thank you enough for saving me. I was so near the edge. I don’t think anybody else could have kept me from going over,” she admitted. It was a hard admission to make, but she needed to speak the truth to him, of all people. “I can’t even really say for sure how long he held me captive.” She tried to shake off the threatening tears by pulling back, away from Mag, and changing the subject. “I remember Christmas, but that was a while before I was captured. And then, while he had me, as I started to fade, time took on a sort of hazy quality. I know it had to be at least eight-to-twelve months, maybe more, but I can’t say for sure. After the first few weeks, I was too weak to really differentiate one night from the next.”

  Admitting that was painful. Even before she’d been captured, her use of drugged mortal blood had grown more frequent to the point where she didn’t even know how long it had been since that Christmas party at the bar to the time she’d been captured. She’d been floating along, mortally wounded by finding, then losing, her One. She hadn’t cared about much of anything and had been merely surviving from one night to the next. She hadn’t really been living. Not since she’d left Mag’s bed an hour before dawn after that single night they’d spent together.

  Since then, her life had been empty. Almost not worth living. And then she’d been captured and it had only gotten worse. She shuddered, thinking about it, and Mag’s arm came back around her shoulders.

  “I’m so sorry, Miranda,” he whispered. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”

  She nodded, not looking at him. The dancing flames in the fireplace helped her focus. She watched them.

  “It’s okay. Maybe my mother was right, and things really do happen for a reason. If that particular mage hadn’t caught me then I probably would never have seen you again. And with the way I was going, I probably would have died already. I wasn’t really thinking all that clearly right before I was captured. If it hadn’t been that mage, it could just as easily have been one of my rivals, or even those mortal bikers I preyed on. One of them might’ve gotten lucky and hurt me enough to end my existence. Who knows? I was playing Russian roulette with the way I was behaving. Something would’ve gotten me if the mage hadn’t.”

  It was only the truth, but she felt really bad admitting it. Still, perhaps coming clean with her troubles was a first step to overcoming them. Mag had been more like a psychotherapist than a potential lover lately, and he’d already proven himself to be a good friend.

  Mag cared for her in the truest sense of the word, and his gentle actions meant the world to her. She was so weak. She couldn’t have handled any pressure from him to commit to a romantic relationship. If he’d pressured her, she would have left—no matter how weak she was. She would have walked out into the desert and done her best to find shelter before the sun rose…but if she hadn’t been able to, she would have met her fate.

  She would have died the final death.

  It had been so close to her now for so long. Each night she had woken in the mage’s cursed silver cage, she’d thought the final death would be her reward. But the bastard had kept her on the very edge of life for months, maybe longer. He had seemed to enjoy her misery. It had felt as if he wanted to push her over the edge into insanity. She remembered how he’d rejoiced when she ranted and pushed herself against the silver bars that were corrosive to her flesh, trying to get her hands on him. He’d enjoyed watching her suffer.

  But thanks to Mag and his family, that was all over. Mag watched over her recovery with an intensity that made her feel cherished and special. And he never asked for anything in return. All he seemed to want was her welfare.

  Though she knew, in both of their hearts, they wanted more. Mag was just more open about it. He touched her with affection when he held her hand or steadied her trembling body. He kissed her at least once each night, sometimes more. She allowed it because she was powerless to resist his gentleness. He was such a good man. A brave soul, who had stepped in during her darkest moment to save her, when everyone else saw her for the ravening beast who could have easily killed them all.

  She would never forget that. Never be able to thank him enough—for saving her that night, and for his gentleness on all the nights since as he watched over her recovery. Little by little, the amount of blood mixed with Maxwell’s healing vintages increased until she was able to drink human blood almost straight.

  She had lost track of time again. When she’d been a prisoner, she’d wandered into a hazy world where she had no real knowledge of the passage of time. Now, in her recovery, she was doing the same. Only before, it had been a way of protecting herself from the knowledge that she had been a captive for far too long. Now, it was due to comfort.

  Mag kept her so comfortable, she didn’t really worry when one night blended into the next. It was all good, and her every need was met by Mag’s quiet, thoughtful ways. He’d given her beautiful, soft, expensive clothing—every piece a perfect fit. He’d gone to the trouble of finding the best way to help her heal. He’d been nothing but kind to her and each night they sat talking for longer and longer every time.

  He helped her mind heal until she was no longer worried she might snap at any moment and savage him. No, the only real fear she had now was that she’d jump his bones.

  Vampires fed on sex and blood. She was working her way up to fresh human blood again—in fact she was almost ready to go out and hunt. And when she did, she’d make her prey come. The blood was always sweeter and more potent at the moment of climax. She’d feed on her prey’s blood and the intoxicating energy of their orgasm.

  She hadn’t had actual sex with anyone since Mag. In truth, she hadn’t had sex with anyone for a long time before him either. He was special. Tempting. Addictive.

  Forbidden.

  She wouldn’t have sex with her human prey, but she’d make them come. It was the least she could do to leave her victims with a pleasant, if hazy, memory of getting off with a pretty girl. That way they both benefitted, and it made her feel better about taking their blood without their conscious knowledge.

  She’d been able to manipulate mortal memories since almost the very beginning. It was a basic skill all vamps acquired and used to maintain secrecy. Most mortal minds were incredibly susceptible to her magic, but not shifters. And especially not Magnus Redstone.

  He’d impressed her from the very beginning. The moment she’d spotted him—or rather, that he had spotted her working her magic on a mortal and made his presence known—she’d known he was different. He’d come over and subtly warned her off the prey she’d chosen that night in a random bar in Las Vegas. The mortal had been a friend of Mag’s and he had made it clear in unspoken ways that the man was under his protection.

  Then later that night, after they’d gotten to know each other a bit, Mag had made it clear that he’d allow her a taste of his powerful shifter blood in return for a night in her bed. She’d been sorely tempted. An offer of shifter blood was too good to turn down. She’d gone with him to a luxury hotel room on the Las Vegas Strip and spent the night having the best sex of her life and a delicious taste of forbidden shifter blood. The combination had sent her into orbit.

  Then she’d heard his thoughts as if they were her own and for a split second, the universe opened up before her. She knew she had found her One.

  But it couldn’t be. He was a shifter.

  She’d ruthlessly slammed the barriers down between her mind and his, and though he’d looked at her quizzically, she’d quickly realized he hadn’t really understood what had happened. Shifters didn’t normally share their minds with anyone. That wasn’t the way they mated. But for bloodletters, the sharing of thoughts, of memories, of souls…that was what every vampire dreamed of finding, just once in their immortal lifetimes.

  And she’d found that with Mag. A shifter. Someone she could nev
er have.

  “Maybe tomorrow we can go into town and try a little hunting,” Mag said conversationally as he sat down next to her in the library. It had become her favorite room in the house. It was filled with a rather impressive antique book collection and the fireplace was cozy during the cool desert nights. “But before we do, there’s something we need to take care of.”

  She looked up at him when he knelt beside her wing chair. There were two comfy, old leather wing chairs placed in front of the fire—one on either side. She’d claimed the one on the right and he always sat on the left when they shared quiet hours and bottles of wine in this room. But he’d changed things up, kneeling before her, a basin and cloth in one hand.

  “What’s that?” She was intrigued by the serious look on his face.

  “An experiment of sorts, though Matt’s vampire friend swears it should work now that your strength is returning. You see…” he took her left arm in his hands and gently tugged it toward him. “It pains me to see these scars on your skin. The cuts sealed and stopped bleeding that first night, but they’ve left marks. And the burns are still discolored. Without treatment, Sebastian says they could take months to fade. So he suggested this.”

  “What did he suggest exactly?” She didn’t like him drawing attention to the visible reminders of her ordeal. She hated looking at them and spent as little time examining her damaged skin as possible. Vampires didn’t have scars. At least, they shouldn’t, in the normal course of business.

  “A wine bath. Apparently, the wine should react with your skin to help decrease the visibility of the marks.”

  “You’re going to waste a perfectly acceptable—and expensive—bottle of wine on my skin?”

  “Absolutely. If it restores you to health, I will do just about anything. Haven’t you realized that by now, sweetheart?”

  The look in his eyes nearly melted her heart, but she couldn’t let it affect her. They were not meant to be. There were too many prohibitions against a union like theirs, especially considering she was very young for a vampire. The older ones would be furious if they ever realized she’d fed from a shifter even once. The boost in power just from a few sips was an unacceptable jump up for someone so young and new to immortality.

  When she didn’t reply, Mag sighed and reached for the bottle of wine he’d left on the floor near her chair earlier. It was already open. All he had to do was pull out the cork and pour the wine into the crystal bowl he’d brought. There was a small sea sponge already in the bowl and it quickly absorbed the costly vintage.

  She let him do as he liked, allowing him to place the wide bowl on her lap and stretch her forearm across it. He used gentle strokes with the saturated sea sponge, tracing the path of every scar and burn mark on her arm. She watched, wondering if it really would work. She’d never tried such a thing before, though she was well aware of the benefits of drinking wine, she hadn’t tried it externally.

  To her amazement, the wine began to bubble and tingle against her skin. When the sensation stopped and Mag retraced the area with the sponge, the marks looked visibly lessened. For the first time in a long time, Miranda smiled.

  “I think it’s working.”

  “Yeah, it’s definitely working,” he agreed. “Not as fast as I’d like, but it looks better already. If we do this each night for a while, you might be back to your unblemished state in no time.”

  The very next night, Mag took her out of the house in a sedate, very expensive, silver Mercedes. The luxury car rode like a dream through the desert night. Dusk was gone and true night had fallen before they’d left the house way out in the desert. He’d driven for a little over an hour before the lights of Las Vegas came into view.

  He’d been pointing out landmarks along their route so she’d know how to get back to the house. She’d also been watching the roads they’d taken and had committed them to memory. She was confident she could find his oasis in the desert now from wherever she ended up.

  “Do you have a preference of hunting grounds?” Mag surprised her by asking. Or at least, the way he phrased the question surprised her. Then again, he was also a predator. He understood the hunt. That was just another reason she felt so comfortable with him, she supposed.

  “Have you heard of Raintree’s? It’s a dance club and bar downtown. Do you know it?”

  Mag nodded, a slight growl in his voice when he answered in the affirmative. It was almost as if he was angry, but repressing his instincts to scratch and claw. She didn’t really understand where that reaction was coming from, but she was instinctively cautious.

  “Are you sure about this?” Mag asked her as they drove through the outskirts of the city.

  “I know my duty.” If she was going to feed from human prey, she had to follow certain procedures. Her choice of destination was part of that. She was taking a bit of a chance, but she had to be brave. Defying the Master’s will wasn’t something she could get away with. She wasn’t nearly strong enough or highly-placed enough in the bloodletter hierarchy to even think about it.

  As they neared their destination and she began to pick up on the energy and scent of the mortals all around them, her instincts went on high alert. Her hunger was driving her now and she needed desperately to feed. She didn’t entirely trust herself to stop at just a sip, so in a way, she was grateful for Mag’s presence. She knew he could handle whatever she could dish out, and he’d stop her from hurting anyone in her bloodlust. It was reassuring to know—for the first time in years—that someone truly had her back.

  He pulled up in front of the somewhat exclusive club and let the valet take his car while he ushered her into the intimate grip of the dance and drinking establishment that catered to a higher class of visitor to the Las Vegas scene. High rollers had made this place their hangout. After a big win, many rich tourists could be found here, drinking expensive champagne and throwing about their winnings like so much play money. The wait staff was top notch and often went home with ridiculous tips for good service. Hundred dollar bills were just the tip of the iceberg and the owner of this place could pick and choose the best and most beautiful workers to populate his domain.

  The owner, of course, was immortal.

  Chapter Five

  Raintree was the Master’s right-hand man. Checking in with him before hunting in his domain was considered a courtesy and would be almost as good as going straight to the Master. By seeking out Raintree with Mag in tow, she was taking a bit of a chance, but Miranda had to let the Master’s people know what had happened to her.

  Entering the dark atmosphere of the busy club, Miranda didn’t even pause by the bar area. Instead, she went straight to the rear of the building and up a flight of well-concealed stairs. Mag followed her every move. A vampire waited at the top, blocking her way.

  She knew who he was, even though she had never had direct dealings with him. His name was Boris and he was only a few years older than her. He was reputed to have been a Chicago gangster in the 1920’s before he’d been transformed, but his character hadn’t changed much. He worked for Raintree as a bully boy. A thug.

  “Why did you bring the dog?” Boris’s tone was insulting.

  “I’m a cat, actually.” Mag’s flippant observation wasn’t helping the situation.

  Miranda stepped in. “I owe him a life-debt.”

  That should have been enough to grant them passage, but the guard seemed unimpressed. She tried again.

  “I have been held captive by a Venifucus mage for almost a year and not one of my own kind even thought to look for me.” She knew her voice held more than a bit of her contempt and hurt, and that seemed to get through to Boris at last. His façade slipped a bit. “This man saved me. He found me, nursed me back to the state I am in now and has done more for me than any of the Brotherhood ever has. I will not be parted from him, but I will follow rules and report my presence to Raintree. Either summon him or get out of my way.”

  Where she found the backbone to stand up to big, bad Boris, she
didn’t know. Although she had to admit, the two-hundred pound shifter at her back seemed to lend her strength. The low growl he kept trying to suppress as his anger rose fed her own indignation as well. They were both pissed and now Boris knew it.

  “Wait here.” Boris stepped away, leaving two of the regular—mortal—security team in his place.

  The guards effectively blocked the way to the upper floor, leaving Mag and Miranda exposed on the upper steps. She watched Boris go down the hall, into a room she knew from prior experience was Raintree’s front office. A moment later he stepped back out again and crooked his finger. The mortal guards stepped back, allowing Miranda and Mag to finish the climb to the second floor.

  Mag was right behind her as Miranda walked toward the office door. Boris stood back, allowing them to enter, then closed the door behind them. They were in the outer sanctum—Raintree’s public office. She knew his inner sanctum had to be much better hidden, and he didn’t allow anyone but the most trusted of his associates into that area. Miranda had never been there and didn’t care to vie for that dubious honor. She had always been happier being her own woman, and hadn’t ever sought the protection of an older companion among the other immortals. Maybe that was why she’d been such easy pickings for the evil mage, but Miranda wouldn’t change her core principles. Not now. Not ever.

  “Ah. Little Miranda. I’d wondered what happened to you.” Raintree didn’t bother to stand from behind his enormous desk. He merely smiled a toothy smile, allowing his fangs to show, and motioned for them to sit in the antique chairs set up in front of the mahogany desk. Like children being called before a very elegant principle.

  “Apparently you didn’t wonder enough to bother looking for me,” she muttered. She would not be cowed by this man. She’d been timid before, but after her ordeal, she would never kowtow to anyone ever again.