Be Still My Vampire (6 page)

She stiffened. He’d read her personnel file. He knew she’d been a history major at theUniversity ofSt. Andrew inEdinburgh . She’d been totally immersed in the mysteries of the past until that cold night when her parents’ murder had snapped her into harsh reality. She’d put away the books and her dreams, and had changed her studies to law, martial arts, and firearms.

“Damn you.” She lunged forward, kicking and spinning to kick again.

He blocked each move. She danced back and assumed another pose. He waited. And that’s when it struck her. He was only defending himself. Not that she should complain. If he did attack, she’d be sore pressed to stay conscious. Still, he was so arrogant, she couldn’t help but goad him. “Why don’t you attack, vampire? Haven’t you worked up an appetite?”

He planted his hands on his hips, looking annoyed. “I havena fed off a mortal in eighteen years. I take my meals from a bottle.”

“Well, isn’t that noble of you? I believe that leaves about five hundred years unaccounted for.”

“Aye, I fed when I needed to, but I never killed for food.” His gaze wandered down her body, then back to her face. “In fact, I left the lassies feeling… verra satisfied.”

Her skin tingled. She could almost believe him. “It was a false feeling for your victims. You used mind control on them.”

“To give them pleasure, aye.” He stepped toward her. “A great deal of pleasure.”

“Stop right there.” She yanked the third stake from her belt. “Are you controlling the queen’s mind? Is that why the British government thinks you’re some kind of hero?”

“Och, ye’ve done some research on me. I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.” She raised the stake.

He sighed. “Sweetheart, can we no’ talk without ye threatening me with yer wee stick?”

“Stop calling mesweetheart and answer my question. Are you controlling the queen’s mind?”

“Nay. I have always been a loyal subject.” He shrugged slightly. “Except for the time I was a Jacobite. But I have always served whomever I believed was the rightful king.”

Did he actually know Bonnie Prince Charlie? Good heavens, the questions she would love to ask. But he was tempting her on purpose, luring her in, no doubt, to make her easier prey.

“I read that yer parents were murdered,” he whispered.

Her hand squeezed tight around the stake. “It’s none of your business.” She was wrong about him using temptation. That was too gentle a word. This was an outright psychological attack. The bastard.

“And ye lost yer brother. And yer aunt.” His gaze was full of sympathy. “I know how it feels to lose loved ones.”

Rage boiled within her. Pity from a vampire? He was the same kind of monster as the fiends who had murdered her parents.

“Shut up!” She charged at him. One way or another, she’d take him down and use her stake. She kicked at his groin.

He jumped back into a crouch and spun, knocking her legs out from beneath her. She fell back.

“Bugger.” He dove for her with amazing speed. Her rump hit the ground as he landed beside her, reaching a hand behind her head.

“What?” She stared at him, dazed. For some reason, he was lying beside her, cradling her head a few inches above ground.

He leaned over her, so close she could see the reddish glint of whiskers along his jaw. His massive chest pressed against her. What was he doing? Examining her neck?

“Stop!” She swung the stake toward his back.

“Enough!” He yanked the stake from her hand and tossed it into the woods.

She had only one stake left in her belt. She’d have to be careful. Catch him by surprise. For now, she’d act calm, subservient.

He leaned over her again, fiddling with something behind her head. His breath wafted across her face, surprisingly sweet. In fact, his whole body smelled surprisingly good. Clean and masculine. How could that be?

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

Slowly he lowered her head to the ground, but kept his hand on the back of her neck while he rested on his elbow. “I dinna want ye to fall on this.” He showed her a sharp rock in his other hand. “’Twas on the ground where yer head was about to hit.” He tossed the rock into the woods.

“You—you were trying to protect me?”

“I apologize for making ye fall, but I was a wee angry after ye tried to kick me below the belt.” He frowned at her. “Whatever happened to yer fair fight?”

“You’re faster and stronger. I had to do something to even the odds.”

“Ye’re a fierce fighter.” His gaze wandered to her mouth and lingered there. “We’re more evenly matched than ye think.”

A shiver coursed through her. Had he actually tried to protect her? But there was no such thing as anice vampire. This had to be part of his psychological warfare. “What do you want from me?”

His gaze lowered to her neck.

“If you bite me, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Ye have so much rage trapped inside.” His gaze drifted downward. He placed a hand lightly on her thigh and dragged it up to her hip. “There are other ways to find release.”

Her heart thudded. She was wrong again. He was using more than psychological warfare. He meant to seduce both her mind and her body. And it didn’t help that his gentle touch was igniting a trail of sparks along her thigh and hip. She sucked in a shaky breath. Okay. She could play this game, too. And once he was thoroughly distracted, she’d use her one remaining stake.

She placed her palms on his forearms and glided up and over his bulging biceps. Good heavens, no wonder he wielded that heavy sword so easily. “I suppose you’re just the man to help me.” She slid her hands onto his shoulders and gave him what she hoped was a seductive look.

She gasped. His eyes were red. And glowing. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Shit, this had to mean he was hungry. She needed to act fast. Remain calm. She forced her fingers to relax and slid her hands down his chest.

“Ye’re so beautiful,” he whispered, brushing her shoulder-length hair away from her neck.

Oh God, he was preparing her neck. But she was ready. Her hands had reached his waist. She fisted one hand and punched him in the gut while she whipped the final stake from her belt and aimed for his godforsaken heart.

“The devil take it, woman.” He yanked the stake from her hand and slammed it into the ground beside her head.

With a gasp, she turned her head to look. Only an inch of the stake showed above ground. She’d be dead if he’d impaled her with it.

He placed a thumb on the rounded end of the stake, and with a growl, he pushed it so far into the ground, it made a hole. He glowered at her, his eyes still red but less luminous. “I was a fool to think ye could like me.”

For some strange reason, she actually felt bad about disappointing him. “I had to defend myself. You were going to bite me.”

“Nay, I only wanted to kiss you.”

She snorted. “Right. A kiss with teeth. You were looking at my neck. And your eyes were red and glowing. You were hungry.”

“Ah, lass.” He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they were turning back to their usual forest green. “’Tis a hunger of another sort.”

What did a vampire need besides blood? Her question was answered when he shoved his sporran aside and lay close beside her. She gasped. He was pressed against her in a big way. Very big. Very swollen. Very hard. How could a cold, dead creature be so turned on?

And why did her hands itch to touch him? He had to be playing with her head. “You—you must be controlling my mind.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Are ye having naughty thoughts?”

“No! I… ” She didn’t know what to say. Or think. She was supposed to be killing vampires, not lying next to one with a hard-on. She glanced over at the rhododendron bush where her bag of stakes was hidden. She’d never reach it in time if he attacked her. “If you try to rape me, I’ll hunt you to the—”

“Emma.” He sat up with a jerk. “I would never harm you.”

“You wouldn’t have to. You would take control of my mind to make me willing. That’s how you turn a woman into a victim.”

“I have no desire to make ye a victim. I admire yer strength and fiery spirit.”

Did he really? No. Emma rejected the warm, fuzzy feeling. Nothing was warm and fuzzy when it came to the Undead. “You’re trying to confuse me. I won’t have you playing games with my head.”

His mouth twitched. “Can I play with yer body then?”

“No! I want you to leave me alone.”

He nodded, his face growing sad. “Ye’re right. Nothing good could come of this.” He hefted himself to his feet.

She felt suddenly cold without him next to her. She sat up slowly and hugged herself for warmth.

He wandered to the tree where his knife was embedded. “I’ll leave ye alone if ye agree to one thing.” He yanked the knife loose. “Ye’ll give up slaying.”

“Never.” She scrambled to her feet. “Your fellow vampires are murdering people. I have to protect the innocent.”

“I know about evil vampires, lass. I’ve been fighting them for centuries.”

“Yeah, right.” She scoffed. “Then how come there are so many of them? You haven’t been doing a very good job.” As if she believed him in the first place.

“They have us outnumbered, that is true.” He slid his knife into the sheath beneath his knee sock.

“Then I’m helping to even the score. I know what I’m doing.”

“Nay, ye do not.” He straightened, scowling at her. “Ye’d never survive a real fight. I lost count of how many times I could have killed ye tonight.”

She raised her chin. “You can’t make me stop.”

“Then I’ll need to be more persuasive.” The look he gave her made her heart pound. “I’ll see ye tomorrow.” He picked up the stake she’d dropped by the trap. Then he strode over to the rhododendron and grabbed her bag of stakes. “Face the facts, Miss Wallace. Ye’re out of business.”

“You can’t stop me. I have more stakes at home.”

His wide mouth curled up in a smile. “Then perhaps I should drop in for a wee visit. Ye live inSoHo , aye?”

She swallowed hard. Her and her big mouth.

“Be sure to wear something sexy,” he whispered, then vanished right before her eyes.

She glanced around to see if he had reappeared behind her. Or somewhere in the woods. No, he was gone. He knew she couldn’t hunt without her stakes.Wear something sexy. Was he going to appear in her apartment tonight? Maybe she shouldn’t go home.

Maybe she should.

Damn him. He was messing with her mind. It was supposed to be so simple. Vampires were evil and deserved to die.

But he had refused to hurt her during the fight. In fact, he’d tried to protect her. Was it all a game to get her into his bed? And then what? Would he drain her dry like the bastards who’d killed her parents?

Slowly she wound up the rope she’d used to trap Angus MacKay. This much was clear. He meant to keep interfering. He meant to seduce her. The safest thing to do was a preemptive strike. Kill him. After all, it was self-defense.

Last night, that decision would have felt good. Now, she felt hesitant. Even sad. Damn him. His psychological warfare was already working.

On the fifth floor of Roman’s townhouse, Angus dropped the sack of stakes on the desk with a noisy clatter. He’d teleported to Roman’sUpper East Side home so many times over the years, he no longer needed a sensory beacon. The journey was embedded in his psychic memory. He had merely closed his eyes, concentrated, and he was there. Even so, he lifted his kilt to make sure he’d arrived intact.

Bugger. He was still swollen. What the hell was wrong with him? It was one thing to lust after a mortal, but to desire one who wanted tokill him? Roman would have a field day analyzing that. Over the centuries, Angus had come to rely on the former monk for advice and counseling. Roman would probably announce that good ole Angus was suffering from some sort of middle-aged crisis, trying to prove his youth and vigor by seducing a beautiful mortal young enough to be his great, great, great, great granddaughter. Come to think of it, that was probably not enoughgreats.

He was being a fool. All he had to do was talk to her. Convince her to quit slaying. Getting her to like him wasn’t on the agenda. She would never like him. Why torture himself by longing for the impossible?

“Och, ’tis you.” Ian spoke behind him.

Angus quickly dropped his kilt and turned to greet Ian. “I’ve just returned.”

Ian nodded, his gaze dropping to Angus’s lopsided sporran. “I thought I heard some noise up here.” His gaze shifted to the sack of stakes on the desk.

Angus removed his pewter flask from his sporran, using the opportunity to straighten the leather bag. “I was just about to refill my flask. Would ye like a wee dram?”

“Aye. Thank ye for offering. Most Vamps would not.”

Angus headed toward the mini-bar. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Ian snorted. “Roman’s ex-harem opened a racy vampire club, and the damned bouncer there says I’m too young to go in.”

“Ridiculous.” Angus located his bottle of Blissky and unscrewed the top. “Ye’re almost as old as I am.”

“No one believes it.”

Angus glanced at his old friend with the smooth, youthful face. He’d found Ian fatally wounded on the battlefield of Solway Moss in 1542, and he’d transformed him there in the dark, amidst the groans of dying soldiers. What else could he have done? Leave a fifteen-year-old to die? At the time, it had seemed a terrible, tragic waste of youth, and Angus had thought he was doing the young soldier a great favor. But he had trapped Ian for all eternity with the face of a boy.

Angus sighed as he poured himself and Ian a glass. It just went to show him. Interfering with mortals was always messy and tainted with regret. He should never allow himself any sort of feelings for Emma Wallace.

“So, I take it ye found the slayer?” Ian peeked into the sack on the desk. “Are these her stakes?”

“Aye.” Angus refilled his flask with Blissky. Bugger. His bottle was almost empty. “She tried to use a few of them on me.”

“Really?” Ian’s eyes widened. “Are ye all right?”

“Aye, I’m fine.” Angus carried the two glasses back to the desk and offered one to Ian. “But I’m having trouble convincing her I’m a nice guy.”

Ian laughed. “Why am I no’ surprised? Ye do have a fierce look about ye. Maybe I should talk to her.” His grin faded. “No one ever thinks I’m scary.”

Angus patted him on the back. “They fear ye on the battlefield.” He downed his glass and winced. Bloody strong stuff. But it would take the edge off his hunger for blood. And his lust for Emma Wallace.

He upended the bag and dumped some of Emma’s stakes on the desk. He picked one up and read the wordMum .

Ian grimaced. “Nasty things. They look verra sharp.”

“Aye, they can kill us.” Angus picked up another stake.Dad . Bugger. No wonder she hated vampires so much.

Ian motioned to the computer. “There are some e-mails waiting for ye in the inbox. From Mikhail inMoscow .”

“Och, good.” Angus circled the desk and sat in front of the computer. He’d downloaded Emma’s personnel file the night before. He’d learned a lot of interesting information, most importantly that her parents had been murdered inMoscow six years earlier. He had e-mailed his Russian operative for more information.

Given the time difference, Mikhail would now be in his death-sleep, but he’d e-mailed earlier to report on his findings. He had teleported into the police station in the middle of the night and copied the report on file. He’d attached the report. The first attachment was the report in Russian; the second one, Mikhail’s translation of it into English.

Mikhail had done a thorough job. He’d sent a second e-mail an hour later that included a translation of the coroner’s report and a copy of the crime scene photo. According to the coroner, both victims had suffered slashed throats and all their blood was missing.

Angus studied the photo. No pools of blood under the victims, so they hadn’t bled out where they were found. The police must have assumed the bodies had been moved.

It was a typical vampire cover-up. Cut a throat so the fang marks no longer showed. The police had concluded the mafia was responsible, and that’s what they would have told Emma.

Somehow, she knew the truth. The fierce love she’d felt for her parents had transformed into a fierce hatred of vampires. Like himself. Angus sighed.

“This is strange.” Ian sipped from his drink as he rummaged through the pile of stakes. “They’re all labeledMum orDad .”

“Her parents were murdered by vampires.”

“Och, that explains her slaying.”

“Aye, but I doona know how she figured it out. The Russians told her the mafia was responsible. Why would she suspect vampires? How would she even know we existed?”

Ian shrugged. “Maybe she witnessed the attack.”

Angus shook his head. “They would have never let her survive.” He double clicked on her personnel file to open it, then skimmed through it. “She was inEdinburgh when the attack took place.”

Ian leaned against the desk. “But she’s psychic, no?”

Angus glanced up from the report. “Ye may be on to something.” Had she somehow witnessed her parents’ murder in her mind? It would certainly explain her rage and need for revenge.

“Did ye convince her to stop?” Ian asked.

“No’ yet. She’s verra stubborn.”

“Well, sheis Scottish.”

Angus smiled. “Aye. She’s a fierce fighter, too.”

“Gregori says she’s hot.”

His smile faded. “Gregori will be lucky if he lives another week.”

Ian’s mouth twitched. “He complained to Roman about you.”

Angus shrugged and started typing an e-mail to Mikhail.

Your next assignment: Locate the vampires who murdered Emma Wallace’s parents.

It might be an impossible request, but Mikhail would give it his best shot. Angus clicked onSend , then noticed Ian was still hovering by the desk. “Anything else?”

“Aye. Roman wants to see you. Shanna, too. She says it’s been six months since yer last checkup.”

Angus shook his head, smiling. Was there anything Roman wouldn’t do for his wife? The man was so besotted, he’d actually opened a dental clinic at Romatech so Shanna could continue her profession in a safe place. Most Vamps had been a bit wary of having a mortal poking around their mouths, so Angus had been the first in line to show his support. Then he’d quietly suggested all his employees get a checkup. Anything to help Roman. The monk had saved Angus’s life and given him a reason to live. Angus wanted his old friend to be happy, but he couldn’t understand how marriage to a mortal could ever work.

Mortals were so short-lived. So emotional. Their wounds were all recent and raw, whereas a Vamp had the luxury of centuries to cushion the blows.

Emma Wallace was the perfect example. Her whole life was focused on a passionate quest for revenge. But her life was so short. She should be enjoying it, not squandering it away on some creatures that would still be here a hundred years from now. He really needed to get through to her. And take away the rest of her stakes. He located her profile sheet from the Stake-Out folder and found her address and phone number.

“Hello?” Ian waved a hand to get Angus’s attention. “Roman is waiting for you. He’s at Romatech with Shanna.”

“No’ tonight.” The fastest way to Emma’s apartment would be to call her and use her voice to teleport. But would she be there after his silly remark about wearing something sexy?

“All right,” Ian conceded. “I’ll tell him ye’re joining us tomorrow night forMass. ”

“For what?” Angus scowled at having his attention drawn away from the problem at hand. “Mass?”

“Aye. Father Andrew does a Mass for us Sunday nights at eleven. Roman had a room made into a chapel at Romatech. Then Shanna had the bright idea of offering free Fusion Cuisine afterward. We have about thirty Vamps showing up now.”

Angus scoffed. “I doona need a priest praying for me. Unlike Roman, I’m verra happy being a vampire.”

“So ye have no regrets?”

Angus shrugged. Every life had regrets, and his life had been longer than most. “I’ve always done what I thought was right at the time.” And prayed that others didn’t suffer for it. He glanced at Ian’s permantly youthful face and winced inwardly. “I have made… mistakes.”

“Then we’ll see ye tomorrow.”

Angus sighed. “Tell Roman I’ll see him sometime tomorrow. I canna say when. I need to see Emma every night until I can convince her to stop her slaying.”

“Connor thinks we should help, that ye shouldna handle this on yer own.”

“He’s wrong,” Angus gritted the words out between clenched teeth while he glared at Ian.

“Right.” Ian’s innocent blue eyes widened. “Ye’re the boss.” He backed away toward the door. “Roman’s going to want to know why ye canna come tonight.”

Angus scowled at Emma’s address on the profile sheet. “She has more stakes in her apartment.”

“Ye’re invading her home? Alone? She’ll put up a hell of a fight, for certain. Let me come with you.”

“Nay. I can handle her.”

“She’s murdered four vampires that we know of.”

Angus stood. “I said I can handle her.”

Ian hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. “Ye’re no’ immortal, Angus. None of us are.”

Angus softened the scowl on his face. “I know. I’ll be fine, lad. I’ll see you when I get back.”

Ian nodded. “All right.” He left the room, calling back over his shoulder. “At least ye’ll have the element of surprise.”

Angus winced. No, he didn’t. What a fool he was. And what a clever and feisty lass she was. She would probably have another trap ready for him. Blood rushed to his groin in anticipation. God help him, he was out of his mind.

Katya Miniskaya smiled politely as one of her Russian coven members entered her office. It was Boris, one of the whiners. Alek had informed her two months ago that Boris was complaining about her behind her back. Apparently he was upset that two of his whiny friends had suffered unfortunate, fatal accidents in her office.

She motioned to the chair in front of her desk. “How may I help you?”

His eyes lingered on her lace camisole too long before he sat. “Alek says you’re offering a reward to whoever killed those mortals inCentral Park .”

“I am.” She had suspected Boris was responsible. She’d also suspected he was stupid enough to fall for this bait. “Are you saying you killed one of those mortals?”

“Maybe.” He lifted his chin with a challenging glare. “Maybe I killed all three. What’s the reward?”

Katya stood slowly. She still had on her hunting clothes—a black lace camisole and a clingy skirt sliced up to her right hip. She wore nothing underneath. Dressed like this, she could usually scrounge up dinner in less than five minutes. Mortal men practically lined up to donate blood. She would feed from several, play with one or two if they were pretty enough, then send them away with their memories erased and an erection they couldn’t explain.

She perched on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs so her right leg was exposed up to the hip. “What kind of reward would you like?”

He licked his lips. “I was thinking money or a bigger coffin. Or maybe—” His gaze feasted on her body, then lifted to her eyes. “You.”

Her grip tightened on the edge of the desk, but she kept her smile even. “Are you admitting to the murders then?”

“Hell yes, I killed the women. Fucked them first, then drained them dry and slit their throats.”

“How sporting of you.” Katya pushed away from the desk and returned to her chair.

Boris shrugged. “There’s plenty more where they came from. It’s not like we’re going to suffer from a food shortage.” He grinned. “So are you giving over?”

She sat. “I am your master, not your whore.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, and he stood. “Galina does it. She’s upstairs right now, entertaining Miroslav and Burien.”

“Then get in line. Galina enjoys boosting morale with her revolving door policy. I’m the one running this coven, and I have real business to attend to.”

He snorted. “You’re only master because you killed Ivan.”

“Something you didn’t have the balls to do.” Katya opened her top drawer and inserted a dart into a blowpipe. “No, you attack defenseless women and call yourself a man.”

He stiffened. “It is no crime to kill mortals. It is our right.” His eyes narrowed. “There’s no reward, is there? I should have known you were a lying bitch.”

“Oh, thereis a reward.” Katya lifted the blowpipe to her mouth, and with a puff of air, she sent the dart flying straight to Boris’s neck.

“I—” He stumbled back with a stunned look. He yanked the dart from his neck. “Nightshade?” He crumpled to the floor.

“It works fast, don’t you think?” Katya strolled over to his paralyzed body, then placed a foot on his chest. She pressed down on the stiletto heel. “How do you like your reward?”

Boris’s eyes clouded with pain and fear.

“You see, normally I wouldn’t object to a mortal dying. I’ve killed quite a few myself. It’s your motivation I object to. You’re trying to cause a war between my coven and Draganesti’s. You think if a war erupts, I’ll be replaced. And you thought I was too stupid to figure that out.” She leaned over. “I’m not going anywhere. You, on the other hand—”

The phone rang, interrupting her speech.