Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) (21 page)

"Go on a bloody rampage?" she supplied.

Matt straightened, though his tension had lessened. "I know you better than that now."

"Do you?" She didn't quite know what she'd meant to do, tease or goad.

But he nodded. "However, I'd rather not distract you from the topic at hand. One I'd greatly enjoy hearing more about, especially from the source."

He unclenched his fist and turned his hand over, to wrap his long fingers tightly around hers. "Tell me about you, Anca Fieraru."

She did, speaking briefly of wonderful happy times. Of a huge family, always there with and for each other.

Matt listened with rapt attention as if soaking in every word.

She wanted it to last. But as in reality, her story could end only one way. She shook her head. "I was born into a world where
Gypsies
were welcomed, celebrated even. When I was twelve, the cleansing laws began—Romani were banned from entire countries. Those who didn't, or were unable to leave, were hunted down."

Memories haunted her. The rush of fleeing. Her parents and grandparents assurances their caravan would be safe. Protected.

The thickening scent of the Romanian peonies, swirling around her, nearly overtaking Matt's calming maleness, tried to break the locks holding the past in check. She couldn't afford to go that far. Not tonight.

Right now, she had to push on. Finish what she needed to say.

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the fragrant air, she met Matt's gaze. The power of his compassion and his strength washed through her, giving her courage. "In less than four years, my entire family had been slaughtered."

With a gentle tug, he pulled her to his side. Deep into the warmth scented of minty male. She didn't understand how his presence, his touch, began to sooth the raggedness inside her. Sometimes I feel more than ready to finally join those I love."

Shadows flitted through his gaze. He knew exactly how she felt.

Beneath the heavy moon, she felt the startling depths of a strange connection to this man.

Anca swallowed back a wave of emotion and returned to her original point. "For some reason I'm still here, though there have been times I've danced with death," she breathed deep and admitted one of her most closely held secrets, "perhaps sometimes I've wished for death. Sometimes I feel more than ready to rejoin those I loved."

Shadows flitted through his gaze. He knew exactly how she felt.

Beneath the heavy moon, held tight in Matt's embrace, she felt startling depths of a strange connection to this man.

Backing away from it, she continued on. "But, even in the darkest, loneliest night where I'm faced with the question of good and evil, I always remember those I
have
been able to save." She squeezed his hand slightly. "If I had died five centuries ago, what would have happened to all those I've rescued?"

He looked away. "Someone else might have saved them." After a long moment, he leaned close. His breath brushed over her ear, sending chills over her skin. "Your losses have been devastating. Such things... no one should ever suffer. I'm sorry you have had to."

Her throat tightened. Her heart thrummed. She'd heard all her life how the passage of time made the pain fade. While for the most part it was true, there were always those instances when it rushed back, the agony as fresh as they day the heart was wounded.

Matt looked up at the moon above them and said softly, "I had a happy childhood, as you. Mine lasted quite a bit longer. Times back then were different—well, you'd know that."

"Yes."

He spoke of his parents, and two brothers, both enemy and friend. "From the time I was born to the day I was turned, I never went more than fifty miles from where I was born."

Anca tried to imagine staying in one place so long. He'd recreated the same thing here in Arizona with MacDougal's clan. The longevity was incomprehensible to her.

The love in his voice when he spoke of his family, however, she understood perfectly.

Hesitantly, he added, "And like you, I've felt the same losses. Those Rogue Judges... Well, you know the stories. My... wife, our children. Our entire village. Afterward, I was lost for a time. I couldn't understand why I'd survived." He sighed deeply, looking up at the sky. "Eventually, I returned to the tiny town I'd grown up in. Where the rest of my relatives still lived. A few years passed in peace, I reconnected with my brothers, my parents. Finally, I settled down to my mother's pleas." He took a shuddering breath. "Only months after my last child came into this world, Coronado swept through the region. And again... all who I loved were murdered."

"I'm so sorry," she replied. "Like you said, no one should have to suffer such things."

"No. No. They shouldn't." He took a deep breath, released it slowly.

She looked up at him the same time Matt turned his head to her. His mouth was only inches from hers.

And in an instant, the past fell away, leaving both of them with only the present.

Heat rushed through Anca's veins. She licked her desert-dry lips. Each breath seemed lacking in oxygen, instead filled with his scent.

Her thoughts compressed to one idea.

Wanting to kiss him again.

To feel more of the connection growing between them, however impossible it might be.

And even with all the reminders, this man had held the worst of it back. He'd somehow broken down some of her barriers, loosened her into allowing herself to speak of the past—yet without the crippling pain that usually came.

As if he were somehow, some kind of shield between her and the dark agonies raging, locked inside of her, just waiting to escape as they'd done before.

How did he do it?

Make her open up while keeping her secure in warm comfort? Matt danced his fingertips along her jaw, her neck, and cupped the back of her head. With a soft, rumbling groan, he brushed his lips over hers once, twice, then plundered her mouth.

Lust tangled with the emotion of shared bonds rising between them, heavy on the air.

Her heart galloped. Her hands trembled. Her mind spun from his scent, his taste, his heat caressing her from head to toe.

Matt drew her closer. She pressed her hands to his hard chest, feeling the thumping beats of his racing pulse.

He drew back, and stared at her, his eyes flaring with passion, overshadowed by emotion she didn't dare read. "Why did you chose to finally share part of yourself with me?"

The question cooled her ardor enough to give her the will to look away. Not ready to dig for an answer to his question, she replied, "I don't know."

He cupped her chin and nudged her to meet his beautiful gaze once more. Something in his expression held her frozen.

A predator's intent, one ready to pounce.

Matt kissed her with the lightest of touches. "Why?"

"I don't know," she repeated. But then more words tumbled from her mouth. "I've been surrounded by reminders of the past and of home tonight. Perhaps that's why."

"What reminders?" he asked huskily, a rare hint of an accent thickening his voice.

She inhaled deeply. "Do you smell the flowers?"

"Many."

"I found a section earlier of flowers that grow only in my homeland." She sighed, shaking her head. "Then there's Jezamine herself. She's the only person still alive who also knew my family. The people who were my home and my heart."

She pulled away.

He dropped his hands, letting her go. "You make me burn, you know that?" he whispered hoarsely.

Resting her hands on her knees to stop from reaching for him, she replied, "I think we should ignore it." She wanted to lean back into him. To continue their kiss, see where it might lead.

His eyes widened. "Ignore it?"

"Yes."

With a hint of a Spanish accent thickening his words, he replied, "Lady, you figure out how to control who a person's attracted to, and you'll be rich."

"Not control. Ignore."

He reached out and traced a fingertip down her arm.

With a small gasp, she pulled away. Goose bumps dotted her skin.

Matt winked. "You don't seem to be ignoring it very well."

"I'm certain we'll both manage to figure out how," she replied dryly.

He looked her over with a heavy lidded gaze. "Yeah."

Regret stung Anca harshly. But now wasn't the time. Here wasn't the place. And, she knew, this man could never be the one.

She was the thing he despised above all else. Not just from the Magic Council, but a Judge. Even if he could ever deal with that, Anca was quite sure he'd never understand the pride she took in all she did. In all who she was.

She had to focus on the differences between them. Not the startling similarities. Not the burning attraction.

His enticing spell only slightly broken, Anca got up. "I'm going to head to the site and start preparing for dawn."

Before she could walk away, Matt caught her hand. "What did the old witch's bones say the first time she cast them?"

Startled, Anca met his honey gaze. "Why would you ask me?"

"Because you could read them."

"Says who?"

He tugged her back to her seat on the concrete bench. "Says me. I'm not an idiot. It was rather obvious."

"Obvious?" She grumbled, "No one else has ever noticed." Then again, she'd probably never had such a shocked reaction to them before.

"So?"

"So what?" she hedged.

"What did they say?"

Pushing as much scorn and sarcasm into her words that she could, Anca told him the truth. "They said fate has sent your destined mate."

She expected him to laugh.

He didn't.

Ever so slowly, Matt looked her up and down, making her nerves hum. "Did they now?"

The divide between them. A gaping divide. Uncrossable.

She had to remember that, because the soft glint in Matt's eyes heated her to her core.

"And who do you suppose this destined mate might be?" He drawled the question, his voice silkily smooth.

A storm churned inside Anca's stomach. The sudden, immediate urge to stand and claim the title struck her hard.

She shoved it far, far away.

Not now. Not here. Not him.

The struggle to remember, to keep herself from falling once more into the intriguing trap of his kisses, left her feeling tired and a bit weak. But she won.

Anca pulled her hand from his, though it was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. She raised a brow. "Perhaps it's Jezamine. They were her runes, after all."

At Matt's shocked look, she slipped away, hurrying back to the castle. She needed to focus on all that must be done before dawn, not the way he made her feel.

Made her want.

Yet his presence clung to her like an infusion of calm strength. One that wouldn't let her force thoughts of the man from her mind.

***

M
att couldn't help but admire the sway of Anca's hips, the way her long dark braid swung at her back, as she rushed away.

Her taste lingered on his lips.

Intoxicating. Addicting.

His hands fisted, skin still warm, as if he touched her even now.

The woman might act distant and cold most of the time, but inside, she held a fire that roared through his blood. His body pulsed with the need to slake the desires this woman awakened within him.

He hurried after her out of concern. There was no damned way he'd let her go off to the forest. Not without his protection.

He chewed over the fact that, for a man who usually prided himself on his level headedness and level emotions, he certainly found himself on a back and forth swing lately. Anca drove him from anger to pain, then lifted him up with tenderness, only to cap it off with the rush of lust.

He should be running as fast as he could the opposite direction, rather than following Anca with the drive/need(WC) to protect. Perhaps eventually ravish.

It startled Matt to his core when he realized the ideas no longer made him want to flee.

They came to an area of the gardens filled with flowers from the old world. Anca's step slowed as she passed rows of large, blood red blooms sporting many bright yellow stamens.

They reminded Matt of an undertone in Anca's cherry blossom and springtime scent, and how she'd spoken of the flowers she'd found in this garden, flowers from her childhood home.

He made a mental note to ask Jordan about them when he got the chance.

The moment they entered the castle, Anca's step picked up and she hurried ahead of him. He caught up at the front doors. Resting a hand on her lower back, he ignored her slight tensing, refused to let her run away again, and guided her out to his SUV.

She muttered, "I need my bag from your car."

"Where are we going exactly? It's hours before dawn."

She looked at the ground a long moment, then met his gaze. "
I'm
going to the site at the edge of the forest. All the supplies should be out there by now. We'll need those few hours to prepare properly."

With a nod, he opened the passenger door before pushing her up into the vehicle. It took every last ounce of willpower not to show any reaction when he accidentally grasped her wonderful ass. Clearing his throat, he stated, "
We're
going out to the site." His tone dared her to try arguing, and assured her she wouldn't win. "Together."

She stared at him stiffly but slid into the passenger seat.

Once they'd pulled away from the castle, Matt ignored the strong vibes of her discomfort—and her lust, still thickening the atmosphere the same as his own undampened desires—and asked another of the questions he wanted answered. "How dangerous is this going to be for you?"

She stiffened. "I'll be fine."

If he had anything to do with it, she damned well would be.

When they reached the far outskirts of town, Matt turned down one of the many fire service roads along the edge of the forest. This one led near the site of their proposed trap.

Only one other vehicle was parked at the assigned area. The sheriff's truck. Matt and Anca hiked into the forest.

The large clearing chosen for the trap lay about six miles into the forest, and a good five or so miles from the majority of caverns and tunnel entrances outside of town. Shane and the old witch were already busily unpacking supplies.