Tales of the Were: Magnus: Redstone Clan (5 page)

“I’ve heard of it. I’ve even been there once or twice,” he admitted. “It’s not the kind of place I’d expect to find a lady.”

She laughed, but the sound held no mirth. “Yeah. Well. Do you know about the effect certain kinds of tainted blood has on bloodletters?” She was loathe to admit the vulnerabilities of her race to anyone, but she trusted Mag. Filling him in on these vampire secrets would help him understand.

“Tainted? You mean like diseased?” He seemed kind of appalled at the idea.

“No,” she was quick to correct his assumption. “Tainted as in laced with foreign substances.”

“Like alcohol? Drugs?” The concept seemed to click for him.

“As you see, I can drink alcohol straight up. Wine is preferred, but anything with alcohol in it is pretty well tolerated by most bloodletters. That’s about all we can ingest without paying a penalty of severe discomfort. “But when we drink human blood that has been tainted with certain drugs, well, the effect can carry over sometimes.”

“Let me guess. We’re not talking about synthetic compounds here, right? So…opiates, pot, things derived from plants?”

“You’re quick.” She raised her glass to him, nodding. “
That bar is a distribution point. More than a few of those bikers were high. I was targeting them.”

Mag’s arm tightened around her shoulders as he squeezed her to his side. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She turned a little to look at him. “Why should you be sorry?”

“Because in a way, I did that to you. If you hadn’t met me and been in such a state—”

She placed one finger across his lips, stopping his words. “Things happen as the Lady wills it. I’ve had enough time to contemplate my capture while I was being held and in the weeks since. I don’t think there’s anything anyone could’ve done to change what happened. As it turns out, while I was stalking the druggies, that mage was stalking me. He’d been on my trail for some time, apparently. Months. Years, maybe. He was just waiting for me to make a mistake, and boy did I make a mistake that night.” She turned away from him, unable to finish her story while maintaining eye contact. “I chose a biker and took him outside. The parking area is dark and not safe at all. I thought I’d be okay with my immortal strength and speed and all, but after I drank from the guy, I was almost as impaired as he was. The drugs hit me along with the bloodrush and I staggered away…right into the trap the mage had set.”

She stopped talking and swallowed hard, remembering those panic-inducing few minutes. She’d been unsteady on her feet, a little stoned
, and oh-so-vulnerable. And then the mage had pounced.

“He had a silver net and silver cuffs. His magic negated my own in a way I’d never experienced before. He had been preparing his spells for a long time and when he sprang his trap, I was a goner. He knocked me out and I woke up in the cage.” She was breathing hard, trying to hold back the sobs. She was afraid if she started to cry, she might never stop.

Mag turned her in his arms and hugged her close. She let herself lean on him for just a little while. He was so strong. So good and true. She’d been alone and adrift for so very long. He was her safe harbor. The light that led her home, to safe shores.

“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.

T
hen 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 never 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 wingchair. There were two comfy, old leather wingchairs 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.