Magicstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 4) (17 page)

The redheaded sorceress, making him kneel
next to his brother. Letting her animals rip and tear at Eric’s
flesh until Brandon gave up, gave in.

And in the dark corner of the throne room,
the ever present little boy he’d always tried to be friendly
to.

“Kyle?” Brandon whispered.

The man laughed, the sound echoing in both
the past and the present.

“So you do remember me.”

Blinking, Brandon shoved the past away and
stared at the boy, now grown.

No wonder he was so powerful. The sorceress
had only been a few hundred years old when she’d died. But this boy
was as old as Brandon.

A thousand years to accumulate power.

And yet, he himself was older now too. More
powerful.

“Let her go. Your issue is with me.”

Kyle grinned. “You mean for murdering my
mother? Yes, I’ll take payment for that. But first, you’ll know
just how much it hurts to lose someone you love.”

He tipped Celeste’s head to the side and slid
a fang over her neck. “I’ve been waiting for a long time to see you
find someone you could open your heart to. I started the dark magic
here, to draw you in. It was a bonus to watch you find her as I
readied to take it all away from you. Just as you took my love, my
mother.”

Brandon fisted his hands, not daring to move
while Celeste was so close to death. A quick snap of his teeth,
Kyle could rip out her throat. A twist of the arm, he could break
her neck.

He looked into her eyes, not surprised to see
anger burning in them, brighter than the shadow of fear.

“I don’t love her,” he forced himself to spit
out. “She’s just someone to share a bed with while I tracked you
down.”

Celeste blinked, fury hiding the surging pain
at Brandon’s words. Someone to shack up with?

The arm pressing to her throat tightened,
cutting off more air. She squirmed, struggling to breathe.

Kyle chuckled, his body vibrating against her
back. “Oh, don’t be modest now. I’ve gathered reports about you
through the years. This is the first woman you’ve dared be with in
centuries. I can see into your heart, old friend.”

Brandon took a small step forward, fists at
his sides. “Nay. You can’t. You never could see anything clearly,
not even when you were a slimy little runt, afraid of your
mommy.”

The world began to gray. She needed air.

Clawing desperately, her nails sliced through
cloth, then skin.

The sorcerer twitched, his arm loosening the
slightest bit. She gulped in a breath.

Celeste slowed her struggles as the sorcerer
spun, glaring at the crowd around them. “Why do you hesitate? Kill
him.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Shana
twitch. Her sister glanced up, met her gaze, then jerked her chin
towards the dais.

A glint of metal shone from the edge of the
table.

She hesitated as the arm clamped tighter.

“Kill him, I said,” Kyle screamed.

But no one moved. They watched, glancing from
the sorcerer to Brandon.

“That’s the stench of fear, of cowardice you
smell,” Brandon said. “It happens when you surround yourself with
people like you.”

Kyle spun once more, dragging her around with
him. “I’m no coward,” he spat.

Brandon’s eyes glowed, pure red, yet she only
took comfort in the sight. “And yet you cower, hiding behind a
mortal woman.”

The arm loosened around her throat and
Celeste leapt at her chance. She slammed her booted foot on the
sorcerer’s instep. He howled as she clawed his arm, breaking from
his hold.

She ducked as he tried to grab her once more,
spinning and stumbling for the dais.

“I’ll kill you both. I’m no coward,” he
cried.

Celeste grabbed the glinting metal and raised
Brandon’s heavy sword. Adrenaline surged through her blood, giving
her the strength to raise it above her head.

The sorcerer stopped coming for her and began
to back away, raising his hands and mumbling that strange language
again.

She didn’t give him the chance to do anything
magical. With a quick look at her bloody, beaten sister, she let
her fury have free rein.

The sword swished through the air, the sound
like a shrill, bloodthirsty scream of triumph.

Metal bit into Kyle’s neck, smooth as if it
was butter.

His eyes widened. He opened his mouth, as if
to deny what was happening. A thin line of blood dripped from
between his lips, sliding down his chin, as Celeste cut through his
throat.

Brandon was suddenly by her side, taking the
sword from her hand. She stared blankly at the sorcerer as he
toppled to the concrete floor.

Around them, the figures melted back into
shadows. Silence reigned as the other creatures fled.

The door to the night-club crashed open.
Footsteps thumped down the hall. The sheriff ran into the large
room, stopping as he took in the sights. Then he grinned and the
image of the bear over him began to fade.

“Done?” he asked.

“Done,” Brandon replied. He grasped her hand,
raising it to his lips and pressing a light kiss to the back of her
knuckles. “My brave one,” he whispered.

His comment of merely shacking up with her
flitted through her mind, but she was mostly sure he’d only said it
to try to save her.

Mostly.

Some place deep in her chest still ached from
hearing such a thing.

Without a word, she turned to Shana, helping
her sister to her feet.

“There’s another guy downstairs. We gotta
save him,” Shana said.

“Where?” Shane asked, alert and watching the
now empty shadows.

“He was in the basement room where they held
me. The poor guy tried to help me, but they beat him really bad.”
Her eyes shone with tears.

“Come,” Brandon said.

Together they headed to the hidden staircase
and descended once more.

With the lights turned on, Celeste could see
the entirety of the basement. It looked more like a dungeon. Three
doors were spaced along each side of the brick hallway.

Shana tugged her to the last door on the
right, then struggled to open the thick metal.

Brandon touched her shoulder lightly, moving
her aside, and ripped it open with a screech.

Shana rushed inside, crossing the room to the
far wall where the night-club owner, Sebastian, was chained to the
wall. Naked but for tight boxers, the man’s tanned skin was drowned
by bloody whip marks.

Shana reached him, grasping his chin. “It’s
all right. We’ve been saved now.”

He opened the one eye he could and blinked,
then grinned, though it ripped open a scab and blood dripped from
his split bottom lip. “Damn. I hate being rescued.”

But his eyes were serious as he stared at
Brandon and Shane, gratitude leaking from his gaze.

Shane reached the man and unchained him,
letting Sebastian slump against his side. Shana grabbed his other
arm, pulling it across her shoulders and helping him walk toward
the door.

Celeste moved to follow, but Brandon grasped
her hand, holding her there.

She stiffened, but met his gaze. “What?”

He leaned closer, until his breath tickled
her lips. “I love you.”

Her heart stopped beating for a long moment,
then resumed with a galloping
thump-thump-thump
.

Her throat tightened, her mouth dried. She
couldn’t speak.

Brandon winked. “Just thought I’d let you
know.”

He pressed his lips to hers. Fire blazed
within her and she could’ve sworn she heard bells ring.

Then he turned and walked away.

Frustrated, still unable to speak, she slowly
followed the others, her mind a confused mass of
contradictions.

Chapter
nineteen

Brandon struggled to hold back his
frustration as they all headed back upstairs. She’d not said a word
to his momentous declaration.

He’d never spoken those words to another
woman before, but weren’t they supposed to do something, like
smile, or say it back?

Unless she didn’t feel the same way.

He remembered his words to Kyle, but shook
his head. She wasn’t some simpering miss that she’d believe such an
obvious lie.

Would she?

He snuck a glance back, but her head was
bowed as she watched the floor.

Perhaps he owed her an apology?

He snorted as they reached the dance
floor.

Shane let go of Sebastian and headed to the
body lying next to the dais. “It will take me a while to deal with
this,” he said. “To make sure the dark magic is truly done.”

Brandon nodded, and led the others outside,
into sweet fresh air. The parking lot was empty but for his Harley
and a flashy red sports car.

“Can I give anyone a ride?” Sebastian
called.

Shana helped him to the car.

Brandon stared at Celeste, waiting for her to
decide. His heart fell as she followed her sister.

Brandon slowly turned, heading for his
bike.

Across the lot, he heard Celeste whispering
to Shana. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Sebastian replied, “I’ll keep her safe. I
promise.”

“Humph. Much good you did in there,” she
answered.

With a groan, Sebastian said, “I was
unprepared for treachery. I swear on my own--perhaps blemished but
still willing--soul to keep her safe.”

After a long moment of silence, Celeste
stated, “Call me in the morning.”

Shana agreed.

When Brandon looked up, to his great relief,
Celeste was walking towards him. He couldn’t read her
expression--part exhaustion, part worry, part many other
things.

Settling on the seat, he started the bike. It
roared to life. “O’Grady’s or the station?” he asked, relishing her
arms tight around his middle.

“O’Grady’s,” she said wearily. “I’ll take
care of the paperwork... somehow, tomorrow.”

As Brandon raced the motorcycle towards the
Irish pub, she held him tightly, her mind a swirl of thoughts.

She’d never thought about falling in
love.

But she couldn’t deny she’d gone and done
so.

And with a Viking vampire, no less.

How did that work anyway? She was mortal.
She’d age, then die.

Unless she asked him to turn her into a
vampire, too.

Regardless of all the stories, she knew to
the depths of her soul that Brandon wasn’t evil just because he was
a vampire.

But she couldn’t stand the thought of losing
her family. Her job. Her sense of self.

It didn’t matter. The idea of never seeing
him again made her want to curl into a ball and weep.

Who she was, cop, sister, daughter, had
always been the definition of her life.

The motorcycle rumbled to a stop in
front.

She got off and led the way inside. Upstairs,
in Brandon’s bedroom, Hercules meowed pitifully and twined around
her feet. She picked him up, worried he’d been traumatized.

He licked her chin with his rough tongue,
then closed his eyes and purred contentedly in her arms.

Though she could admit the fact she was using
her innocent kitten as a shield, she assured herself she wasn’t
putting him down because he needed human contact.

At last she summoned the courage to face
Brandon.

His eyes, the blue ringed with vampire red,
nearly glowed with strong emotion. There was love, she saw it
clearly now. But there was also fear.

And it dawned on her that she had the power
to break this man’s heart, for all he was a big, strong
warrior.

Something inside her melted and she couldn’t
stop herself. She settled Hercules on the couch, then moved to
Brandon’s side. When he started to speak, she kissed him. Taking
his hand, she led him to the bed.

In the dark room, lit only by a hint of
moonlight, they undressed each other in silence. Brandon kissed her
softly, as if savoring her taste.

His hands roamed her skin, gently,
reverently.

She delighted in the feel of all his strength
beneath her fingertips. Kissing him back, the gentleness grew into
urgency.

She pushed him down, then crawled on top of
him, straddling his thighs. The heat between them wasn’t just lust.
It was infused with a softer, compelling emotion.

And the need to touch him, taste him, pushed
her into a frenzy.

She licked his neck, savoring his salty
taste. He groaned, cupping her ass and sliding one hand between her
legs to stroke her. Already she was wet, throbbing with desire.

Nibbling along his chest, she took one dark
nipple between her teeth.

His body jerked beneath her.

Urgency filled her, demanding and in
control.

She rose, reaching for him. Her fingers eased
around his velvety hardness as she slid him inside her. With a moan
of delight, she rode him. His fingers dug into her hips as she
shuddered from the sensations of him inside her, hers to do with as
she wished.

She wasn’t certain, but thought he whispered,
“I love you, damn it.”

With a cry of ecstasy, she came, her body
shuddering around his thickness deep within her.

He grabbed her, rolling them until he was on
top. Then he stared into her eyes, jerking his hips as her body
slowly rose once more.

His gaze flickered to her neck and she
glimpsed his fangs.

“Do you want to bite me?” she asked, barely
coherent from the pleasure of his movements.

“Very much so,” he growled, his eyes
flashing.

She turned her head, baring her neck.

He lowered his face to the crook of her neck
and inhaled. The warmth of his lips, of his breath, branded
her.

He sank his fangs into her skin and fire
exploded in her blood.

As he drank, he impaled her with his
hardness, lifting her to the edge. The feel of his mouth on her
skin, of her blood leaving her and entering him, the connection
between them she could not deny overwhelmed her.