Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7) (17 page)

"Did I?" Shane watched him enigmatically.

"Yes. You did."

The sheriff sat back stiffly. "I've heard of her."

"Will you tell me?" Matt asked.

"Why?"

Taken aback by the question, he could only stare mutely.

Niki tapped Shane on the thigh. "Why not?"

"Council investigators require privacy. For more reasons than one, but safety is a top priority. Secrets can be harmful—from undermining their authority to getting them killed." His steady gaze pierced Matt. "So I will ask again, why do you want to know?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you?" the man asked so softly it could have been a whisper.

"Do not mojo me."

Shane blinked in bear-eyed innocence. "I do not
mojo
people."

Looking away, Matt considered all the reasons he wanted to know. Why he needed something, anything, in the search of answers when it came to Anca Fieraru.

Because he couldn't get her off his mind. Even now, he remembered clearly the feel of her against him, the way her mouth fit perfectly to his.

Unable to say any of these racing thoughts out loud, he raised his head to look at Shane.

The man flinched, as if hit by the intensity of Matt's confusion. "All right."

Tight tension released. Relief made Matt's shoulders sag. "Thank you."

"Mind you, what I tell you is partly rumor. How much I don't know, but all came from Connor Gregory."

"Jordan's cousin?" Matt didn't know the surly Judge well. Had never wanted to.

"I've heard other things, but what I'm willing to share—and it's not all I know—came from him. I trust the source." Shane shot him a look full of knowing—both why and how badly—Matt distrusted the Council. And by association, Connor.

But the man's golden gaze also declared that Matt should know well that he could trust Shane, at the very least.

Matt nodded in acknowledgement.

After a long deep sigh, Shane said, "She was born in the early sixteenth century. As a Romani in England, she grew up knowing peace, only to have it shattered by sudden sweeping persecution. One by one, her family was taken from her."

Matt swallowed hard. She'd spoken of those times. Of her family, and genocide. Her voice had rang with love, and loss. The same love and loss he'd suffered.

Such agony it seemed they both knew far too well.

Shane continued softly, "A vampire in the Romanian mountains found Anca and her one remaining sibling, a younger sister. They had been brutalized and left in the cold, snowy night, along with others already dead."

The man paused, closing his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was harder, his words quicker, wanting to be done. "The Master tried to change them both. The sister was only fourteen. She survived—just long enough to rampage through the nearest towns, killing everyone in a surge of bloodlust."

Matt stared in disbelief. "Fourteen is too young, the Laws—"

Shane cut him off. "They were forced to deal with her. The Master healed Anca, and when her powers matured, sent her to the Magic Council. Only seventy-eight years after she'd turned."

Unheard of. The youngest vampire Matt had heard of the council accepting had been nearly two hundred. "She's worked for the Council for over four centuries?"

It was a wonder she wasn't a Judge by now with her power.

Something niggled in the back of Matt's skull.

Before he could catch the thought, Shane replied, "Where else would she go? She's never belonged to a clan, has never had a home. She's a true Gypsy, no matter how much time has passed since she traveled with her family across Europe." Shane paused a moment. "My point is, I want you to understand how much she's lost. Just as you have. But I also want to share a story Connor told me, one I believe sums up who she is as a person."

Matt sat back, uncomfortably eager to hear anything Shane was willing to tell him.

"A couple hundred years ago, Connor was assigned to hunt a beast up in eastern Canada, along with Anca. It turned out to be a ravaging pack of rabid shifters. I think you're familiar with the event?"

Matt's breath stuttered. He could only nod.

Fate whispered around him once more.

Matt had been there. He'd even spoken with Connor.

He'd been that close to Anca?

Shane continued, "The group from the council found the pack just before they were about to descend on a small village. Connor gave me a near blow-by-blow account, at least on his part, but what is important for you to hear is this. When they were faltering, when it looked like the beasts would sweep the defenses away and flow over the village, it was Anca who drove the fight.

"Connor said she reminded him of a dark highland priestess that night, screaming out commands, forcing their handful of warriors to stand, even if they died." Shane paused, looking Matt over. "Her cry was to save the people of that place. That they had to defend, even if they were struck down, because there were innocent lives below."

Matt swallowed tightly. He could almost picture it.

"Her battle cry that night," Shane said, "Was to stop the tide of evil before it could devour the souls they sought to protect. I know your feelings about the Magic Council. I even know why. But you don't think I'm evil."

"No," Matt said, though he didn't need to speak the word out loud for either of them.

Shane stood, drawing Niki to her feet. Matt jumped up as well.

The sheriff headed toward the door, holding it open and ushering Niki inside. He glanced back before going in. "No matter what your thoughts on the Council, you've judged me on the person you know. Doing the same with her is only fair."

Matt's thoughts stirred in confusion, his thoughts conflicting, as he got back in his car. He drove out of town along the dark deserted highway.

To the lake.

And to the woman he couldn't get off his mind.

Parking near her tiny compact car, it struck him they still had a few hours before meeting with Jordan.

Matt should have stopped somewhere. He could have gone to the hospital, gotten some work done. Killed some time.

He certainly didn't relish the prospect of sitting in his car for hours.

Then there was the additional fact his King had asked Matt to take care of her. Perhaps they should pick up some food before the meeting.

His mind continued to spin as he strode through the trees, occasionally feeling small random breezes that seemed to push him faster.

Matt reached the warded camp and called Anca's name.

Only the natural sounds of the forest greeted him. He didn't sense her. However that might mean she was gone, or only cloaking herself further.

The air brushed at his sleeve, pulling at it. He scratched his arm, concentrating on the tent wavering in and out of sight, until it stayed solidly in view.

"Anca?" he called again.

Still nothing. The air jerked at his sleeve harder.

He didn't see any ghosts. Not surprising, since he rarely came across them out in the middle of nowhere, especially within this protected forest.

The wind stirred some leaves in the distance, dancing them along the ground towards him, then suddenly back to the trees in the direction of the lake. A memory flickered in his mind—of the leaves stirring in the forest near the cave of the wolves. And other flashes, of strange stirrings of wind lately.

The tug came at his sleeve once more.

Never one to ignore signs, even from something he couldn't see, Matt followed.

Short minutes later, he emerged into deep shadows at the edge of the forest. The lake sprawled ahead for miles, its waters a glassy blue-black, flickering with reflected starlight from the clear night sky.

Twenty feet from the bank, directly in front of him, the surface stirred. Anca rose from beneath the water. Long inky hair wetly clung to her naked shoulders.

She took a few steps toward the shore, the water dropping to reveal glistening skin. Then she froze, tensing. Her gaze found him. Her eyes lit for the briefest second. Her lips quirked up at the corners. Then her expression turned pleasantly neutral.

She continued to slowly walk toward him, the water falling millimeter by millimeter. "I thought we were meeting at your clan castle in a few hours." She stopped with the water lapping mid thigh, unabashed about her nakedness.

Something primitive inside him surged. A fiery rush blanketing all thought.

He could only stare, his body growing hard.

Water droplets glinted on her dusky skin. Dotted her bountiful pert breasts like glittering crystals. Her dark nipples puckered from a sudden cool breeze.

His palms itched to touch. He fisted his hands at his sides.

Uncontrolled, his gaze dipped down her small waist and the wider flare of her hips, to the dark curls nestled at the juncture of her thighs.

"Like what you see?" she asked with a heavy sarcasm, settling a hand on her hip.

He jerked his gaze to the enticing blue smoke of her eyes. "My apologies, I didn't mean to..." To what? Stare at her beauty?

"Then I guess you came to talk." She took another step forward. The water dropped from mid-thighs to her knees.

Light danced in her eyes.

Something inside him clenched tightly.

"Question is," she asked, her voice lilting, "Do you want me dressed or not while we chat?"

"Dressed." His hurried answer came out partly strangled. Ignoring the heat in his blood, he spun around, giving her his back, and privacy.

If far too late for his peace of mind. Every inch of her stunning glory was now imprinted on his mind.

He vibrated from the need to slake his desire. His instincts screamed with things he didn't understand. Whispers came on the wind, words he couldn't accept.

Especially not with this woman.

She was practically the enemy.

His body didn't seem to care.

Nor did an inner flicker, which ordered him to pay closer attention to everything rioting inside him.

He refused it all. He didn't want them.

Not here. Not now. Not her.

Even if she did seem different from most Council people he'd known.

She left the lake accompanied to soft splashes of water. Her lilting voice softened. "So you didn't come to spy on me?"

"Of course not."

"I mean, I know you'll be spying on me for your lord and Master and all, but while I'm bathing is a bit much, don't the two of you think?"

The sudden idea of anyone else seeing her naked, even his King, sent anger coursing through his veins. His fangs lengthened. His mouth watered for violence. As if part of him considered her
his
.

The thought struck him cold. His blood moved sluggishly, the ice suddenly in the air slipping inside him.

The wind played at his sleeve, urging Matt to turn back around.

Instead, he stared into the shadows of the forest and listened intently to the rustle of clothes.

He breathed deep and thanked the heavens that she was getting dressed.

A part of him yearned to listen, and obey, whatever was trying to communicate, whatever had led him here.

That part of him wanted to stare at her a little longer.

Explore her in much more depth. To touch and taste every last glorious inch he'd seen.

"I'm dressed." Her voice was a musical laughing caress.

As soon as he turned, he realized that this time her amusement was genuine.

Mirth sparked in her eyes, along with the grin curving her mouth. She tapped a finger on her chin, looking at him from only a few feet away. "I do believe you were blushing."

"I'm not used to coming upon women openly naked in public," he spoke thoughtlessly

Her amusement fled.

Disappointment in himself rose.

Anca shot him a tight, neutral smile and strode into the trees, toward her campsite. "How'd you find me?"

He didn't answer the question.

She glanced up at the sky. "You're a bit early, don't you think?"

Uncomfortable, he jumped to his earlier thoughts. "I figured you could probably use a meal."

"Dinner?"

"There's a bar and grill on the edge of town that'll still be open."

She watched him a long moment. "All right," she finally replied.

A surge of satisfaction welled within him that he refused to acknowledge. It was food, not a dinner date.

When they reached her camp, Anca released the wards and bid him enter. "I need to grab a few things before we go." She ducked into her tent.

Matt had the urge to follow, if only to be near her snappy energy. He shook his head violently, staring out at the forest. At the path where the guiding leaves remained strewn in a line.

And he wondered who or what wanted him to find her as he had.

***

T
he man was amusing, Anca would give him that. He'd actually blushed when she'd emerged naked from the lake.

She'd known with one look at his disturbed aura that he was embarrassed. The light gray had flickered with a deep ruby, a darker shade than the wash of crimson that was his immense vampiric power.

As far as she'd been able to tell, he hadn't felt the immediate blaze of lust rampaging through her. The thoughts—no, more, insistent wants—revolving around a fantasy of Matt approaching. Being overcome by the desire flaring in her blood, and taking her then and there.

Troubling thoughts.

Accompanied by frightening feelings.

Anca hurried to pull on a pair of socks and her hiking boots, then tied her sword to her waist and left the tent.

Matt stood near the opening to her wards, staring out at the trees.

For a moment, she was struck mute.

Moonlight shadowed his face, making him appear harsh and cold.

Yet, she was coming to realize there was far more beneath his icy façade than he seemed to want others to know.

More bothersome was that deep inside of her, something kept stirring. Something she didn't want to acknowledge, much less examine.

When they reached the parking lot, Matt opened the SUV's passenger door for her, then rounded the vehicle and jumped in the driver's seat.

As he headed to town, he too-casually commanded, "I heard what happened earlier."