Tales of the Were: Magnus: Redstone Clan (4 page)

He led the way down the small staircase to the room he’d designed as a last defense should the house be breached. There was a bed, a bank of
monitors that allowed anyone down here to see what was happening upstairs as long as the cameras had power, and a few medical supplies, but not much else. He’d built it with Miranda in mind and she didn’t need food. He’d put a few cases of wine down here for storage, which she could also use. Basically the place was a hideout she could stay in until the sun set if she was attacked in the house during the day.

She looked it over and seemed impressed. “You’ve thought of pretty much everything.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to plan,” he admitted.

“When did you start building all of this?”

“I started planning the day you left. The actual building commenced about a week later.” Silence greeted his admission and he counseled himself to be patient. Rome wasn’t built in a day. He had to ease up and give her a little time and space to heal, but he couldn’t avoid direct questions.

He ushered her
up the stairs and motioned her toward the bed. “You need to rest, sweetheart. The sun will be up shortly and I want you to feel safe. You’re in control of the locks here.” He moved in to place a kiss on her forehead. “You’ll never be caged again, Miranda. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

She
felt so right in his arms. He stood, just holding her for a long, long moment. If the world ended right now, it would be all right. He had the woman he loved in his arms and all was right with his world. For just this one moment out of time.

E
ventually though, he had to let her go. She swayed in his arms as the wine relaxed her. At least bloodletters had that much in common with other beings.

“Let’s put you to bed. I’ll take care of everything today and then tonight, when you wake, you’ll have
new clothes to put on and we can see about getting you well. Do you need another hit of blood before you go to sleep?” He held her away from him and watched her eyes closely. They were at half-mast as the wine took effect, but her color was good and she smiled slightly.

“No. I’m good for now. Mag, I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done to help me. I’m so glad you were there.
I’m thankful it was you who got me out of that hellhole. If you hadn’t been there, I know I’d probably be gone by now. I wasn’t rational. I’m very much afraid that I’m still not completely rational, so for your own safety, lock down the suite and be careful when I wake tonight. I don’t trust myself not to attack first and ask questions later.”

He
smiled at her, knowing that she was showing every sign of recovery if she was worried about those around her. The Miranda he knew cared more for others than she did herself. It was a good sign.

“I’ll announce myself before I come in. I’m sorry about before with the bathroom. I should’ve knocked.” He smoothed his palms down from her shoulders as he stepped back. He
then leaned down to lower the blanket so she could slide into the bed.

She smiled at his actions. “Are you going to tuck me in? For real?”

He nodded solemnly, though his smile joined hers. “For real. You’re in my care now, and I’m going to see to your every comfort.”

Shaking her head, she nonetheless climbed into
the bed, a bemused smile on her lips.

He tucked the blankets around her, enjoying the simple
, caring act. This time, he knew she’d be there all day. And he would make sure he was with her when she woke. He wanted his to be the first face she saw upon waking this night and every night to come—if he could swing it.

It all started here and now.

He kissed her soundly as she settled back on the bed, her eyes closing as the sun rose outside the sun-proofed house. When he drew back, she was already asleep, in the deep sleep of her people. Weakened as she was from her ordeal, she wouldn’t wake until the sun left the sky that night.

Mag looked at her for long moments, brushing her hair back from her lovely face. She really was here, in his house. Wonder of wonders. He sent a little prayer
up to the Mother of All, thanking Her for interceding for them. For allowing Mag to be there, just when Miranda needed him most. For letting him be there to save her life. Mag didn’t think he was too far off the mark believing that the Goddess had something to do with that amazing timing. He didn’t believe in coincidences. Everything happened for a reason and he had to believe that the Lady was smiling on them.

He finally made himself leave the room, being certain to lock everything down so Miranda would be safe during the day. He’d installed the best and most technologically advanced in secur
ity measures with just this duty in mind. She would come to no harm during the day while she rested. He was as certain as he could be of it.

Closing and arming the door behind himself, Mag set out to start
his day. He hadn’t had any sleep, but shifters didn’t need much. He had a lot of work to do today before he could rest. He’d grab a few hours of sleep this afternoon, after he’d set the wheels in motion.

For one thing, he
had to order up some clothes in Miranda’s size and he didn’t want to leave that task to someone else. Silly as it was, he wanted to pick out the fabric she would wear next to her skin and the colors that would best compliment her rare beauty. He had to go shopping—online, of course.

He also needed to eat. A few steaks ought to do it. He needed to keep himself in top shape if he was going to be donating blood on a regular basis—and he really hoped he was. He also needed to arrange time off from the family business.

Redstone Construction could get along without him for a little while. Luckily, he’d just completed a project in the city and he wasn’t due to start another for a few weeks. He could easily turn over that project to someone else without affecting the schedule. He had a few favors to call in. And lastly, he had to at least tell his eldest brother, Grif, that he would be out of touch for a while.

He knew Grif wouldn’t approve of Miranda being anywhere near the Clan or even near Mag, but while Mag respected Grif’s right to decide what was best for the Clan, Mag had long been his own man. He wouldn’t give up Miranda again—even if it caused a rift with his family and his people. She was more important to him than any of those things, which was really saying something. Until he’d met her, Mag would’ve said there was nothing and no one who could come between him and his brothers. And then Miranda
happened.

In one night, she’d become his world.

He went through the house and into his office, which was filled with high-tech computer equipment. From here, he could monitor the house and the surrounding desert as well as do any sort of work he needed to accomplish. He wouldn’t leave the house. He refused to leave Miranda alone while she was so vulnerable. But he was going shopping.

The internet was his store and he’d have everything delivered to
Matt. His little brother could be trusted to help and not pass judgment. Matt liked vamps. He might not go so far as to approve of Mag mating with one, but Matt had always had a good heart, and he’d definitely help Mag take care of Miranda. Mag fired up the computers and settled in to select only the best for his girl.

Silks, cashmere for the chilly desert night and some good, old fashioned jeans were the first order of business. He knew Miranda liked denim and she looked amazing in it. When he’d first seen her, she’d been wearing a pair of tight blue jeans that nearly made him choke. She was hot and he wanted to see her looking that good once again.

For comfort, he also threw in some super soft lounge pants in a silk blend that would stretch and move with her. Matching tops and some little sweaters so she wouldn’t catch a chill. Mag had never liked shopping before, but he found he enjoyed picturing Miranda in the different outfits he selected from an exclusive boutique downtown that catered to the jet set. Nothing was too expensive for his mate.

Before he knew it, a couple of hours had passed and it was a decent time to start making calls. He first arranged for all the stuff he’d ordered online to be delivered to
Matt. Then he called in a few favors with members of his construction team. He got one of the other guys to cover for him and arranged for time off. Then he had to call Grif.

He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the censure he was more or less certain he’d hear in his older brother’s voice. But when he rang the house, it was Steve who picked up the phone, his second eldest brother and the second in command of the Clan. If Steve was answering Grif’s phone, it meant Grif was busy. Mag almost breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey Steve.” Mag started off slow, wanting to gauge his brother’s mood before he launched into anything. He didn’t want to fight with his family, though he sensed it was going to be inevitable at some point, if Miranda stayed.

“Mag! Where the hell have you been? What happened with the vamp?” Steve sounded
both angry and anxious. Not a good combination.

“Miranda is with me. She’s in pretty bad shape. I’m going to help her.”
Mag laid it out there and let the chips fall where they may.

“Where are you? You’re not in the Clan neighborhood. I checked.” Steve sounded suspicious.

“I’m at my place in the desert. Don’t track me down, bro. I need time.”

“With the vamp? Why? What is she to you?”

Oh, man, now Steve sounded peeved. Mag didn’t like dealing with Steve when he got pissy. Ex-Special Forces, Steve usually tried to beat the shit out of Mag when he was in this kind of mood and though Mag held his own, he usually ended up bruised and equally pissed off by the end of it.

“She’s everything,” Mag whispered, unable to lie.

“Shit.” Steve’s curse held no heat and remarkably, he backed off. “All right. Take your time. Get your head on straight,” he advised. “Don’t do anything hasty and call me if you need me. Anytime. Day or night. I’ve got your back, bro.”

Mag was impressed and a little shocked, though he knew his brothers were always behind him. They were family. But he’d expected more of an argument. Instead, Steve was giving him room…and compassion. Who’d
a thunk it?

“Thanks, man.”

“No sweat. And Mag? Be careful.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Mag knew Steve meant for him to be careful of the vampire—and Mag would. He’d be so careful of her, she would never leave him again. He wanted her for keeps and he was going to do everything in his power to convince her that they were meant to be together. For always.

The hard part over, Mag placed his next call to Matt. He had to get his little brother to play delivery boy and he also had to find out more about Matt’s vamp connections. Mag needed advice from an expert on how best to help Miranda recover.

Chapter Four

At dusk, Miranda woke in a strange place. Was she dreaming again? Would the soft bed and spacious room turn back into the filthy cage she’d been kept in for more days than she could count? That had happened too many times. Each time, more heartbreaking than the last.

But something was different. There was something warm in the dream bed with her. Scratch that. It was some
one
warm. She could hear his heart beating and the blood flowing through his veins. She could smell the fascinating scent that she associated with only one person—Magnus.

Miranda slowly turned her head, not daring to breathe lest she ruin the amazing dream she was having.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Her dream spoke.

Magnus Redstone—the only man to ever stir her cold heart—was leaning on one elbow, his long legs stretched out on the other side of the wide bed.
He was fully dressed, which seemed odd for a dream. Whenever she’d dreamed of him in the past, he’d been decidedly naked. His golden skin had gleamed in candlelight in her favorite fantasy.

But he was wearing faded jeans and a white T-shirt. He looked comfortable…and good enough to eat. Immediately her hunger rose and her fangs descended. She turned more fully toward him and he held up a hand. Between them was a wine glass full of red liquid.

Suddenly she remembered the night before and the Maxwell Vineyards vintage she’d consumed that had tasted so amazingly delicious. This wasn’t a dream. She really was in Mag’s bedroom at his place out in the desert, in his bed.

She sat up so fast, her head spun. Miranda took a moment to just breathe and take it all in.

She felt the bed move behind her as Mag’s heat surrounded her from the back. He brought his arm around her, his hand still holding the glass.

“Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

Miranda took the glass and held it up toward her mouth, inhaling. It wasn’t just wine.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “
Blood?”

“I made a few calls. My little brother
’s friends were very helpful.”

“You said
your brother Matt knew Atticus Maxwell.”

“You remember that from last night. Good.” He seemed pleased and she realized he had indeed studied up on what blood deprivation did to her kind.

Memory loss was one of the symptoms, as were killing rage and insanity. She didn’t feel crazy, but she definitely had gaps in her memory. Big, huge gaps that, on reflection, she was probably better off not remembering. She didn’t really want to remember all those endless nights spent as a captive of the evil mage.

“
Matt is acquainted with Maxwell, but he’s on much more friendly terms with a guy named Sebastian. After some convincing and a little bit of arm-twisting, Matt put me in touch with him. Sebastian gave me some advice on how to help you. He also told me how to get hold of human blood supplies without raising too many eyebrows. Very helpful guy, is Sebastian. Drink up. There’s more and it’s as fresh as I could manage. It might not taste as good as right out of the vein, but my source says that mixing it with wine helps it taste better and it’ll help you heal.”

Still holding his gaze, she took a sip. He was right. It wasn’t as good as when she drank from a live being, but after having been mostly starv
ed for who knew how long, it tasted fantastic. And it didn’t have the magical zing of shifter blood that was hard for her to process in her weakened state. Mag’s blood had saved her life last night, but she was too worn down to accept such richness as a steady diet right now.

Besides, it was an unwritten rule that vamps didn’t dine on
weres
. For one thing, shifters didn’t usually volunteer, and older vampires didn’t like it when one of the younger generation jumped up in power quickly. A young vamp with a magical blood supply might possibly overpower an older, more experienced bloodletter and that wasn’t to be tolerated. Their society relied on the hierarchy, and the hierarchy was decided by individual strength.

Since strength usually came with age, the older and more powerful vamps tended to rule over the younger and less experienced. If a youngster gained what was considered an unfair advantage by drinking magical blood on a constant basis, it was viewed as a cheat—though the cheater could be too strong to challenge outright. Such situations caused chaos, and chaos wa
s to be avoided.

“Much as I would’ve liked to let you snack on me…” Mag continued as she sipped at the blood-laced wine, “…Sebastian said it would be better for you in the long run if you paced your recovery.
I described your situation to him and he theorized that you were drained both physically and magically. You not only weren’t fed the blood you need to survive, but you were bled as well. And along with your blood, the mage likely accessed your magic. All three things combined are some of the most serious problems a bloodletter can face. It didn’t happen overnight, and you’re not going to be back to one hundred percent health overnight either, I’m sorry to say. So we’re starting you off with blood-laced wine. If you tolerate that well, in a month or so we can switch you to all blood and then when you’re strong enough, you can go out and hunt some fresh human blood. I’ll be with you through all of it, Miranda.” His arms came around her from behind as his mouth nuzzled under her ear. She felt the scrape of his teeth—sharper than a human’s. The feel of it sent a little thrill down her spine. “I’m not letting you go again, sweetheart.”

That sounded serious and it made her worry. Nothing had changed. A relationship between them was doomed. Both their peoples had prohibitions against such unions. They’d face condemnation from every side.

“Mag, I—”

He cut off her objection by turning her head and kissing her. It was a sweet kiss edged with passion. A little preview of the naughty pleasure she knew only he could bring her. She was about to surrender to him when he moved back.

He licked her lips as he raised his head, his gaze holding hers as he put a little bit of space between them. She knew the taste of the wine—and the blood—wouldn’t bother him. He was a predator, after all. In his cougar form he hunted and ate raw meat. Blood was nothing new to a shifter.

“Let’s take this one step at a time. We have time yet to figure out where this road leads. For now, just concentrate on healing. Sebastian warned me that you’ll be sleeping a lot more than usual. He said once you get set on the wine-blood diet, you might only be awake a couple of hours each night as your body takes the time to rest and heal. So let’s make the most of our time together each night, okay? I haven’t seen you in two years. We have a lot of catching up to do.” He smiled that golden-boy, charming smile of his. “And I can show you around my home and the desert, if you like. We’re way out in the middle of nowhere, but it’s really beautiful out there.”

He made it sound so simple. Live for the moment. She’d never been very good at that, but she knew she had no choice. All she had with Mag was the moment. They would never be allowed to make a go of it as a couple. Their people would pull them apart. Either his or hers. It didn’t matter. Neither group would be happy about their union. So unhappy, they’d never let it happen.

But for now, he was right. She was as weak as she’d ever been—even when she’d been fully human. She needed to heal and she had nowhere
else to go. Nowhere safe, at any rate. She knew Mag would watch over her while she recuperated and she trusted him like no other. She trusted him with her life. He’d take care of her and somehow, someday, she’d make it up to him. She couldn’t be his mate, but she could owe him a debt of honor. A life debt.

In fact, she owed such a debt to his whole family and a few others in their Clan. For it was his brothers and the C
lan’s trackers who had found her. Sure, they’d probably been there to stop the mage, but the effect was to save her life as well. Even after she’d attacked one of them.

No question about it, she owed every person who’d been there last night.

“I’d like to see the desert with you,” she finally agreed. She could take this one night at a time. At the moment, she really didn’t have much other choice.

But she’d
be on her guard against any hint of permanency with Mag. Her heart was already broken by the impossibility of their mating. She wouldn’t allow it to hurt any deeper, which meant she’d have to remain a little distant. She had to protect what little was left of her heart.

Mag showed her around his impressive home, but that was about all she could handle. As he’d predicted, she was only able to stay awake for a little
over an hour that night. Just enough time to drink a few glasses of blood-laced wine and take hot bath before being given the nickel tour of the rest of the luxurious house.

By the time he’d filled her in on the r
emainder of the security measures he’d installed, her eyes were beginning to drift closed. He noticed and cut short the tour, lifting her into his arms and carrying her back to the bedroom. Like the night before, he tucked her in with a chaste kiss and she didn’t know anything more until the next sunset.

The nights passed like this for more than a month, at Miranda’s best guess. She seemed to lose track of time again, but this time it wasn’t in fear of death, but due to the comfort of knowing she was safe. Mag would take care of her. She trusted him.

The fear ebbed and she was able to sleep. Really sleep, without the constant worry that she’d be tortured and vulnerable. It was deep, healing sleep that took both her days and most of her nights, but e
ach night she was awake a little longer and felt a tiny bit better.

She felt the intrinsic magic in her soul returning a little at a time.
Mag was great. He didn’t push her into anything that made her uncomfortable. He didn’t press her to take their relationship—such as it was—to the next level. In short, he was her friend.

Since that first night, he’d stayed by her side during her waking hours. A few times, she knew, he’d left the house to do things with and for his family.
He’d told her when they’d found the evil woman who’d murdered his mother. She’d hugged him while he mourned for his mother, offering the support of a friend, the embrace and touch that shifters seemed to need more than other people.

The next day he told her he’d had to leave just after she’d fallen asleep to attend the shifter memorial service they’d finally been able to hold for his mother. The matriarch’s body had been sent to the earth and stars by the Clan’s priestess, letting his beloved mother finally move on to the next world. Miranda had seen the tears in his eyes as he talked about the ceremony, and she had reached out to hug him. It was the least she could do to comfort a man who was clearly in pain.

He’d confessed his deep grief over the loss of his mother and had told her about the woman she’d never met. They’d really talked that night, for the few hours she was able to stay awake. She’d gotten to know the caring soul that lived deep inside him in a much more intimate way, through his words and the emotion he could not hide at such a vulnerable moment.

The next night, after an initial caution on his part, they both seemed to realize they were closer than they had been before. They’d both seen each other at vulnerable times now and they’d shared the burden, drawing them closer.

It was in that new intimacy, a few nights later, that he seemed to feel able to ask the questions she had known were coming, but still wasn’t sure she could answer. He sat with her on the couch in the spacious living room of his house, before a lovely, dancing fire in the hearth. He had one arm around her shoulders and they both held glasses of wine. Hers had that little extra ingredient—the blood that was helping her heal, slowly but surely.

“The last thing I really remember that gives me some reference to time was delivering Christmas presents to Melissa and the crew at the bar. I’ve done that every year since we opened. It’s a good excuse for a party that allows me to spend a little time with at least one member of my mortal family, though she doesn’t have a clue, of course.” Miranda paused to take a sip of the blood and wine mixture that helped her heal. “I think that was a few weeks before I was captured. I remember feeling very down. Cassie was being a bitch, as usual, and I hadn’t been really on my game since…well…since meeting you, if you must know.” She made the admission in as casual a voice as she could manage.

Mag stroked her hair with a light touch. “It’s okay. I know what you mean. I felt the same.” His whispered words touched her, but she still refused to admit to the connection between them.

“Well…it made me sloppy. I continued to hunt, because I must, but I wasn’t as careful as I should be and one night, I picked the wrong place, and the wrong mortal. I should’ve stuck to places like Raintree’s club where there is some protection, but I went to a mortal bar. A dangerous place. I think I was seeking out the danger because I had no real care left for my personal safety. I was drifting. A loose ends. And very unhappy.” She sipped her wine. “Childish, I know. Self-destructive behavior that got me captured.”

“What happened, sweetheart? How did you get caught?” His gentle voice urged her to remember, and to reveal the depths of her stupidity.

“There’s a biker bar out on the edge of town, near the interstate. JR’s Roadhouse.” She paused.