Matt: Tales of the Were (Redstone Clan Book 5) (10 page)

“I had two sisters. Belinda is the youngest. She’s just a teenager. But I also had an older sister named Jackie. I was still in school when she mated and moved to her mate’s Clan. We didn’t see her much after that, and we sure as hell didn’t know what was going on in her marriage.”

Matt ran a troubled hand through his golden hair, and Morgan frowned. What did this have to do with him having sex with Christy?

“Sometimes—very rarely—shifter matings are just…wrong. She hid it from everyone, but Jackie’s mate was abusing her. Just like Christy’s ex-husband was beating her. For years. Only Jackie didn’t have anyone to step in and save her life the way Sebastian did for Christy. Jackie died at her mate’s hands.”

“Sweet Goddess, Matt. I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she whispered, touched by the very real pain she saw in his expression.

“That’s why, when Sebastian asked if I’d let Christy have my blood as her first meal, I agreed. He didn’t know for sure that she was his One, yet. They hadn’t been intimate. I think he suspected, and that’s why he called me in before he knew for certain. Knowing the depth of their bond, I don’t think he could’ve let her snack on my blood—and yes, have sex with me—if their bond was fully formed. As it was, I got caught up a bit in the echoes of their bond, and for a while there, I couldn’t be too close to them. I went back to Las Vegas and stayed away for a good long time, waiting for the effect to fade.”

Shifter blood was like a super fuel for vampires. It gave them some of the strength and attributes of the shifter they drank from for a period of time. If it was a first meal, the effect would last long into the vampire’s formative years. By giving Christy his blood, Matt had given her the gift of his shifter strength, his cat agility, and even a bit of his ability to shapeshift.

Normally, shapeshifting was something that took many decades—even centuries—to master. But Christy was able to take other forms. Morgan had seen it herself, just once. She’d watched as Christy transformed from a small, white housecat, into her fully-clothed sexy vampiress form.

Morgan had been duly impressed at the time, but hadn’t really stopped to wonder how a newly-made vampiress had been able to call on such skills. Now it all made sense.

“It was strictly a one-time deal,” Matt went on. “Having felt just an echo of the bond between Christy and Sebastian…” He cleared his throat. “It’s something really special. And I know they will never need me in that—or any other—capacity, ever again. They’re it for each other, and that’s the way it should be. For the record, while I respect Christy and have deep affection for her, I never loved her. My heart is free, unencumbered. And her heart belongs solely to her One. Sebastian. As it should be.”

Was he protesting just a little too much? Morgan looked deep into his eyes when he turned his head to meet her gaze, and she realized that he was simply stating the truth. He was being a little emphatic—probably because he wanted her to understand what she hadn’t given him a chance to say before. That was on her.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that what happened between me and Christy is something that I can never change. I wouldn’t want to, even if I could. Because of my blood, she was able to face her past and find the courage inside her to confront her ex. She was able to fight back. Finally. And that’s something every woman should have. Especially one who would have died at the hands of a man who should have protected her.” His voice filled with emotion, and he looked away, breathing deeply before he spoke. “By the same token, it’ll never happen again. I love Sebastian like a brother, and Christy will always hold a special place in my heart, but it’s not the place a mate—or even a lover—would hold. It’s more like she’s my chance at redemption for not having been there to help Jackie.”

The ice wall Morgan had built around her heart fractured at his words. She looked at him—his strong, chiseled face outlined against the dappled sunlight. There were depths to him she hadn’t suspected. Pain and suffering had tempered him in ways she understood all too well. They had more in common than she’d thought. They’d both been through different kinds of hells with their families, only he’d come out mostly whole on the other side. Morgan knew there were large pieces of her soul missing, and nothing would ever fix that.

Still, she understood him so much better now. The ice wall began to fall away in chunks, first little ones and, then, really big ones, until nothing remained. She reached out to put her hand on his shoulder. A touch offering comfort.

“I’m sorry, Matt. I didn’t know,” she whispered.

But, then, she realized she was fibbing. She’d known about Christy and her ex. If she’d been a little more willing to see Matt as the hero he was rather than some sort of oversexed playboy, she could’ve pieced together most of the story herself. Her closed mind had refused to let her see.

Matt let out a breath and seemed to shake off his somber mood before he turned to meet her gaze. Then, he smiled that smile of his, and she fell a little under his spell, once more.

“So, what’s the verdict? Do you forgive me? Can we start fresh or do you still want me run out of town on a rail?” His grin brought out the hint of a dimple. Now, that just wasn’t playing fair.

She should really be asking for his forgiveness, but she had more than her fair share of pride. Instead, she just silently offered him her hand. He quirked his head at her gesture but took her hand, watching her closely.

“Hi, I’m Morgan, and I’d like to start over,” she said quietly, wondering if she was doing the right thing in encouraging him. Like it or not, though, there was little else she could do at this point. He wasn’t the villain she’d tried to make him out to be.

“Hi, Morgan. I’m Matt. Nice to meet you.”

CHAPTER SIX

Goddess above, he was glad that conversation was over. And it had gone just about as well as Matt could’ve hoped. He really liked Morgan. Liked her enough to be thinking about bringing her home to meet his family. About letting the world know he’d found his mate.

He’d never really thought the mated life would be for him—settling down was fine for his brothers and other shifters, but Matt was more of a free spirit. He hadn’t thought there’d be a match for him in the shifter world. Maybe a sexy vampire…

But no. He had suspected, almost from the moment they’d met, that Morgan was something special. He’d tried to ignore it. Had tried to run from it. Had allowed her to remain a mystery, so he wouldn’t go tracking her down and claiming her.

It didn’t work. Circumstance—or the Mother of All, if you believed in such things as fated mates—had thrown them together, again, and he was powerless to resist the pull of her, this time. Morgan made him want to leap out of bed, every morning, just so he could be near her. She made him want to be a better man, so he would be worthy of her. She made him want to claim her and be her mate, her friend, her lover, forevermore.

That was some heavy shit. Too heavy for a guy who usually liked to play it fast and loose, with few ties except the ones to his family.

“Well, this is about as exciting as watching grass grow,” Matt quipped, wanting to work off some of his energy. “How about we prowl around a bit in our fur? We can get closer that way and use our cat senses to sniff around more.” Plus, it would give him movement and the ability to shake off the emotions of the moment, which were running a little too high for his comfort.

Morgan looked skeptical but, then, relented. “Sounds good. I’ll go over there and shift.” She pointed to a cluster of bushes that would hide her from view. “No peeking,” she admonished him with a wagging finger as she crept away toward the bushes.

Matt stifled a laugh. Most shifters were comfortable with nudity, but he had to remember Morgan hadn’t spent much time with her own kind as an adult. From what he’d learned about her background—and it was spotty information, at best—she had been taken in by the Master vampire at a young age and raised away from shifters entirely. As a result, he had to cut her some slack if she wasn’t all that familiar, or comfortable, with their ways.

Matt stripped and let his cat form come. It felt really good to go furry. He’d been stuck on two legs for more than a week, and his cat wanted to run. He leaned back on his paws and arched his back this way and that, getting a good long stretch for his reassembled spine. Mmm. That felt good.

While he was stretching, a petite cougar stepped daintily out from behind the bushes. Morgan.

His cat wanted to yowl in triumph. Here was a woman of his own kind, and she was as gorgeous to him in her fur as when she was in her human form. Her sleek coat begged for his touch. He wanted to lick her all over. And he wanted to run with her across the landscape, free and fast…and together.

He quickly quashed that wild idea—this was a time for stealth—and promised himself that their time would come. When things were safe, he would take her out to the desert, and they would let their cat forms race across the wasteland. Later. After this problem was solved.

And to that end…

He waited for her to come up alongside him, and he bopped her cheek gently with his in greeting. She was smaller than him, but sleekly muscled. He’d bet she could really run, but it was their noses and stealth they needed to employ, right now. That and their silent paws.

Matt moved off through the low brush, heading on a circuitous route around the mine site. He knew of at least three different shafts that might allow entrance to the mine for someone his size, and a few dozen air shafts that would allow creatures smaller than a man inside. They could be useful listening posts if anyone was in the mine below. Their voices might carry up the sheer rock shafts.

They wove their way between trees, rocks and bushes, pausing here and there as they discovered scent trails and listened to what their senses could tell them about who had been this way recently. Matt paused when he picked up a scent he didn’t expect.

He pawed the ground and caught Morgan’s eye, asking her to double check his findings. She came over and sniffed delicately at the area he’d indicated and then sat back on her haunches, her quick motions indicating her surprise. She looked straight at him, blinking a few times before standing once more on all fours and bending to follow the trail of their unexpected visitor.

Matt tried to take note of the details of the scent. It was old, but there were layers to it…as if the person had come here several times over a period of days or even weeks. And there were other scents along with the one he recognized. These were strangers. Men. People Matt had never met or scented before.

But one thing was for sure. The primary scent they followed was female, and Matt had encountered it almost daily since coming to California to work on this project. There was little doubt in his mind that the scent trail they were following belonged to Irma, the ever-so-helpful receptionist at the winery’s office.

The question was, what the hell had she been doing here? And who had she brought with her? Was it some kind of innocent thing or was there criminal activity going on? Or worse—magical activity?

Matt caught up with Morgan, nudging her to a stop. They had to go slow and be cautious. There was no telling what they would find at the end of this trail. Best case was nature-loving sightseers. Worse case was gun-toting criminals. And the
very
worst case scenario involved evil magic users with
Venifucus
ties.

Morgan moderated her steps, allowing Matt to keep pace with her. He watched her nose twitch as she followed the scent. Her cat face didn’t allow a wide range of expression, but he knew how to read her eyes, which held both puzzlement and concern. He understood. If Irma was betraying them, how in the world had she gotten a job with Atticus in the first place?

Matt had to believe the vampire had precautions in place when he hired folks. Vampires—especially old ones like Atticus—had magical abilities that were unlike human mages or
were
skills. Atticus had to have put protective spells in place on his workplace and every area he owned. Matt had no doubt he vetted each and every employee with meticulous care.

So, how had Irma managed to fool him? How had she managed to fool Morgan and Matt? Shifters could tell a lot about a person by their scent. Lies had an odor all their own, but Matt hadn’t sensed anything
off
about Irma’s scent or her actions. She seemed more like a bubblehead than a master criminal or evil mage. Matt just didn’t understand how they all could’ve missed something like that.

Unless she was just as innocent as they’d thought. Or…she was even more deceitful than any of them could have imagined. That thought made him shiver, and he hoped against hope that it turned out to be the former and definitely not the latter.

They reached a spot in the scent trail where the trees and shrubs thinned out, and the land sloped gently upward. Matt and Morgan crouched low, skirting around the open area until they came out on the other side and reacquired the scent. They could move a little faster now as the shrubbery was thicker. Matt paused at one point, alerting Morgan to a scrap of cloth that had snagged on a low branch. Farther along, he found more fibers. The interlopers hadn’t come through this thicket unscathed.

He scented the coppery tang of blood ahead. More scratches by thorny branches? He slowed his pace, but Morgan sped up, and before he realized she’d gotten ahead of him, he heard her yowl in distress. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it was definitely an “oh, shit” sound in cat form. Matt leapt after her, only to find the blood scent had grown much stronger.

In fact, there was a small slick of the red stuff, and poor Morgan had lost her footing and tumbled into it. He went straight to her, carefully avoiding the bloody spot. She looked miserable. Covered in muck and blood, she huddled pitifully, her head downcast, her eyes looking up at him as if seeking his help.

Matt shifted shape, staying close to the ground. He had to talk to her, and his human hands might be useful in figuring out what had happened here, even if he was bare-assed naked.