Tales of the Were: Magnus: Redstone Clan (3 page)

He tried not to move too fast for her abused limbs as he tugged her other arm free of the sweater and then lifted the ragged remnants of it over her head. He did his best not to let his shock show when he saw the gouges in her skin all over her breasts and neck. She still wore a lacy bra and panties, but it was clear the mage had hurt any inch of skin he could access with his evil magic.

“What made these marks, my love?” he asked gently, needing to know, but also dreading the answer.

“Magic. Blades.” She sighed heavily as he hit the button that would start the computerized shower at a low level. He adjusted the temperature to something
soothing and peaceful, regulating the flow of the jets to a steady, gentle spray. “Magic blades.”

“Did he touch you?”

Miranda smiled, but it was a deadly, cold thing. Then her eyes sparked and he saw a glimmer of his former lover in her gaze. “He tried, but he learned quickly not to get too near my cage.”

“How long were you there?” he asked, but she was losing strength again. Mag quickly lifted her into the soothing spray, washing away the blood and grime, not caring that he was getting soaked. He was fully clothed, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Miranda.

She didn’t answer his question. She was so weak, but he knew what she needed. She needed blood and he was the closest donor. She’d already taken some from him earlier, but he knew it wasn’t enough. He guided her head into the crook of his shoulder while the water sprayed gently around them. Running his hands over the undamaged places on her skin, he tried to wash away the evidence of what had been done to her.

“You need to drink, sweetheart,” he said gently, placing her on her feet. She was the perfect height for him. Her chin rested in the crook of his neck, giving her easy access to the blood she so desperately needed.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” she murmured, arguing without much heat.

“You won’t. I trust you.”

She found the strength to pull back and look into his eyes. “You shouldn’t,” she said very seriously. “I’m not in control right now. I’ve been starved for too long. I don’t trust my own mind. There were moments when…” she paused, swallowing hard, “…when I thought I was going mad. I still might be. I don’t trust myself.”

“Trust me then, Miranda,” he whispered, needing to help her, to give her back some of the self-confidence that had been stolen from her. “I believe in you. You won’t hurt me. You need strength
, and my blood is the most potent around here at the moment. Take some. Lean on me. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

He cupped the back of her head, guiding her toward his neck and even though he sensed she still wanted to protest, she eventually gave in to the thirst he knew had to be riding her. She bit, taking care to be gentle, as he knew she
would. She had always treated him gently, with what he hoped was caring, if not love.

He hated the thought that he might be the only one feeling the mating bond between them. He didn’t know what vamps felt for their mates—or if she felt it for him. He hoped, but she’d never said anything. He’d taken her flight from his bed after that one night they’d spent together as a sort of mute confirmation that their connection had scared her as much as it had him. But over the two years since that incredible night, he’d learned to respect the bond—to thirst for the closeness it promised. It had been a hard lesson. One full of frustration and anger at himself for being such a coward on that first and only night. He should’ve said something
right then and there, but he hadn’t dared. He’d thought he would have time to process the incredible changes meeting his mate had begun in his life, but when he woke up, she was gone.

She bit
into his neck and the blood began to flow, establishing the most basic of connections between them. He knew her vampire mojo was working on him as his body shivered in an echo of the ecstasy he’d felt in her arms. Bloodletters had a way of bringing pleasure even as they drained their prey of precious blood—the life force that sustained them.

His cock rubbed against her soft body, the layer of cloth between them the only barrier. He would remain clothed. He wouldn’t force himself on her. Not even with her magic making him hard. She’d walked away from him once. He wouldn’t do anything to make her do so again.

This time, he wanted to woo her into staying with him. For the moment, she was too weak to go anywhere, but he knew it wouldn’t be smart to press his advantage. If he made love to her again, it had to be by her choice. And he knew he had to move slowly. He didn’t want to scare her off again.

As near as he could figure, the intensity between them the last time they’d come together had scared her as much as it had him. While he’d been ready to embrace the change—given a little bit of time to think about it—she had fled. He wouldn’t let that happen again. Or, at least, he’d give it his best shot. He couldn’t make her stay if she didn’t want to. If he tried, he’d be as bad as the bastard who had kept her prisoner. He would never clip her wings. Never cage her emotionally or physically. If she stayed—and he was going to do everything in his power to make that happen—it would be because she loved him as much as he loved her.

He felt almost giddy as she drank more deeply this time. Her body gained strength even as he held her under the warm mist of the shower. And he knew she felt the same pleasure he did as her both writhed against him. He couldn’t help the slight pulse of his thighs that rubbed his hard cock up against her. It was impossible to stop the attraction, especially with the vampire magic doing a number on his libido.

Mag grit his teeth and tried to hold off the climax that built with every suck of her mouth against his neck, every rub of her nearly bare body against his fully clothed form. She rubbed her hips against him, their heights a perfect match for ultimate pleasure. And when he couldn’t hold back any longer, he came in his pants with a groan of surrender.

She squirmed a bit more and then shuddered as her teeth bit down even harder for a long moment, her body spasming against him as she found completion as well. He held her tight, anchoring her to him while the warm water encased them in a mist—the two of them together, with no one else in the entire world. Just them. And their mutual pleasure.

At length, as her body quieted, her teeth retracted from his skin and the pressure of her bit
e eased. She licked him gently as he felt a tiny bit of magic seal the wounds. He’d wear her mark for a while—that had been one hell of a love bite, and she had more strength than the average female—but he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he almost wished his shifter constitution wouldn’t make the mark of her possession disappear too fast. He healed quickly, but he wanted to be able to look in the mirror and see that this hadn’t been just another dream.

Having her in his arms, in his house, was every dream he’d ever had since that night they’d been together.
The pleasure he felt with Miranda was unlike any other. His heart had opened up that night more than two years ago, and she had taken up residence there, never to be ousted. For the first time in his life, Mag could say he was truly in love.

Only, for the past two years, the love had been tinged with heartbreak. She’d left him and his inner cat had barely survived the blow. He hadn’t spent much time in his fur since that night. The cat was too depressed. It didn’t understand the nuances the human side of him grasped. It didn’t understand that his mate was a vampire and was therefore off-limits. The cat only knew what it wanted. What it needed. Miranda. Always Miranda. Forever Miranda.

And the cat was downright depressed without her. When Mag shifted into his cat form, that depression was harder to bear. But now the cat was happy again. Mag could feel it as easily as he felt the man’s satisfaction of having Miranda in his home.

“Are you all right?” Her whisper caught him off guard. He’d been waxing philosophical, while they both recovered from an intense orgasm.

“Never better,” he quipped and meant it. He’d never felt better than when he had her in his arms.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He had to laugh. “Honey, that was about as far from hurting me as you can get. Thank you.”

She pulled away and looked up into his eyes. She seemed confused and he couldn’t resist leaning down and placing a playful kiss on the tip of her nose.

“You’re thanking me for biting you so hard, I left a mark? Her gaze leapt to his neck, her eyes widening as she took in the bruising he knew had to be around the wound. He didn’t mind it, but she seemed horrified.

“Sweetheart…” He used his finger under her chin to guide her gaze back up to his. “I loved every minute of it and I love even more that you’re not fainting on me and scaring me with your weakness. You have a little color in your cheeks, which gratifies me to no end, and in case you didn’t notice, I came right before you did, so I don’t mind one little bit. Bite me again.” His smile dared her and he was glad to see
he’d surprised her with his words.

The color in her cheeks deepened. Had he ever seen her blush before? It seemed this was a night of unusual moments. He hadn’t come in his pants since he’d been a teenager and then he’d been embarrassed. Tonight he felt kind of noble for not taking advantage of her. And sticky. Yeah, he was beginning to feel a little sticky.

“Do you mind if I get clean? I promise no funny business. I’m here to take care of you, not the other way around. At least not until you’re much, much healthier.” He smiled at her, shooting her a mischievous wink. “And even then, it’ll be your choice, Miranda. I want you to stay, but only if you want it too. For now, I just want you to focus on recovering from your ordeal. Consider my home a safe haven for you—for however long you need it.”

“Why?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this for me?”

She seemed so confused, he had to lay his heart on the line.

“Because I love you. Whether it’s right or wrong doesn’t matter. My cat knew its mate the moment I scented you. You’re the only woman I will ever love, Miranda.
For me, there is no other.”

Chapter Three

He would have said more, but she reached up and covered his lips with her fingers. Pain filled her eyes as she gazed up at him.

“Don’t say it. I can accept your hospitality. I don’t have much choice at the moment.” She looked pained to admit her weakness. “But I refuse to accept anything else. We are
not
mates. We can’t be.”

Her protestations sounded weak to him, as if she was trying to convince herself. For the first time
in more than two years, Mag had hope. She did feel something but, as he’d both hoped and feared, she was running from it.

He kissed her fingers, then took her hand from his lips, twining their fingers together. He held her gaze and decided cautio
n was the better part of valor.

“We don’t have to think about any of that now. All you have to do is get better. You were as close to death as I’ve ever heard a bloodletter being. You’ve been systematically wounded over a period of time. You won’t get healthy in a few hours or even a few days. This could take a while and I’ll be here for you as long as it takes. Whatever happens after…well…that’s in the hands of the Goddess. I’m leaving that up to Her for now.”

Miranda looked skeptical, but she slowly nodded and he let her go. She was strong enough to stand on her own and after a moment, she reached for the liquid soap he kept along the stone ledge of the giant shower stall. She moved away and began to clean herself.

He decided to do the same. He stripped off his wet clothes quickly and stepped toward the jets on his side of the long shower. There were spray jets all over the enclosure and rain heads above. He tinkered with the controls so that the jets nearest him were a little more forceful and started the rain falling over both of them in a gentle patter.

She looked up, seemingly enchanted by the rain head right above her. She looked over her shoulder to smile at him and he saw her eyes widen as she realized he was naked. He grinned and soaped up his chest, wishing her hands were rubbing over him, not his own. But they had time to work up to that. He would have to be patient.

She turned away and finished cleaning her body, though she still wore the lacy bra and panties. She stood directly under the rain head, facing away from him as she began to shampoo her hair. It was knotted in places and he knew she’d need some extra help with the tangles. He finished rinsing and stepped out of the shower to rummage under the sink on the other side of the room. He kept toiletries under there that he’d bought with her in mind a long time ago.

Finding what he wanted, he went back to the shower. She was just finishing rinsing the soap out of her hair when he reached around, putting the bottle he’d found into her hand.

“Conditioner might help,” he offered, wondering what she’d make of his preparedness.

“You had this on hand?” She turned enough to look up into his eyes. Suspicion marred her expression.

“I bought it when I finished building this bathroom. It’s never been used.”

She looked down, examining the seal on the bottle and then looked back at him. “Why would you buy this if you don’t use it?”

“I thought maybe…” How did he explain this without scaring her off? He had to tread carefully, but he also couldn’t lie to her. Lying wouldn’t help anything. “I hoped maybe one day, you’d be here to use it. The scent reminded me of you.”

She opened the bottle and lifted it to her nose. Vampires had senses that were almost as acute as shifter senses, so strong scents were out. All the toiletries and cleaning products in the house had gentle, natural scents and were usually made with organic products.

“Roses and cinnamon? It’s very subtle, but smells wonderful.”

“The ingredients include rose hips and an extract of cinnamon that is supposed to be good for your scalp,” he added, feeling the need to justify his purchase of the conditioner he never used. “You smell of roses and cinnamon to me,” he added, admitting the truth of why he’d really bought it.

“I do?” She seemed surprised. And pleased, if he was any judge. She even smiled before turning her back and opening the bottle. She put a handful of the conditioner on her wet hair and worked it through.

He wanted to help, but he figured he’d pushed her enough for one night. She was looking a little better thanks to his blood, but she was already beginning to lose some of that sparkle. She’d been tortured over a long period of time. She wouldn’t get better in a few hours. He had to remember to take things slowly with her. She needed time to heal—and time to get used to the fact that he was in her life and he wouldn’t be easily left behind this time.

He left her in the shower, keeping the door open as he went into the master suite to dress. He would be able to hear her if she needed him.
Meanwhile, he gathered some sweats that would be very loose on her and one of his oldest, softest T-shirts. She’d be comfortable, though not exactly a fashion plate. Tomorrow, he’d get clothes for her, but for tonight, this would do.

He threw on a similar outfit and reentered the bathroom. She spun around, her fangs dropping as if she sensed a threat. Immediately he went on guard, but he couldn’t sense anything. As far as he knew, his house was secure and neither his state of the art alarm system nor his heightened shifter senses reported anything amiss.

“Miranda?” he asked cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

Her gaze was confused as she clutched a towel to her breasts. She still wore the lacy underwear but she’d stepped out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around her hair in addition to the one she’d been using to dry herself.

Mag watched her eyes, noting the moment when the fear left them to be replaced by confusion. She looked at him, her fangs retracting as she appeared to come back to reality. He’d startled her and somehow sent her back to the months of captivity—or so he guessed. He could have kicked himself. Mag knew he had to be patient and here he was, barging into the bathroom as if he owned the place.

Well, he
did
own the place, but he knew what he’d meant. He should have knocked or at least said something before he just walked in. A bathroom wasn’t a place where you expected a lot of through traffic. He shouldn’t have scared her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Mag?” She sounded so lost, he couldn’t help himself.

He stepp
ed closer, moving slowly so as not to provoke another untoward response. When she didn’t react, he placed the clothes he’d brought for her on the vanity and reached forward, tugging her into his arms. She didn’t resist. In fact, she clung to him after only a moment’s hesitation.

“
It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. Nothing can harm you here. I’ve got you.” He murmured soothing words to her as he rocked them both back and forth. She was trembling with reaction and returning fatigue. She was in rough shape, and it was his duty—his honor—to protect her and care for her while she recovered.

When she felt a little steadier, he released her. Desert nights could get cold and he didn’t want to be selfish. He was fully clothed while she was still standing there in soggy undies and a towel. He had to let her dress and get more comfortable so she could rest.

“It’s getting late. Dawn will be here in a short while. Let’s get you settled and you can rest easy for the day.”

“Do you have a sealed room?” She rubbed her arm as he stepped back.

“Honey, the entire house has been light-proofed. Once the shades come down, they can’t be raised until nightfall. It’s all computer controlled and the moment we got here, I activated that mode for you. The bedroom is an interior room and is built with reinforced walls and doors. Once you go to sleep for the day, you’ll be safe. And should anything happen, there’s even a bolt hole accessible from the bedroom where you can hide. I’ll give you the grand tour as soon as you’re dressed.”

He saw the questions in her eyes, but he left without waiting for her to ask them. He’d made a lot
of admissions here tonight and they sat uncomfortably on his mind. So far, he’d been the one laying himself on the line. He shouldn’t expect more from her. Not now. Especially not after she’d been through so much and hadn’t had any time yet to heal from her ordeal, but something inside him wanted her to jump into his arms and admit her undying love all the same. It was unrealistic. Silly, even. But there it was.

Mag closed the bathroom door behind himself and waited on the other side. Eventually, he heard the soft swish of fabric from the other side of the door that told him she was getting dressed. Good. The sooner he showed her around and put her fears to rest, the sooner she could also rest. She’d need good, healing sleep—and a lot of it—before she’d be well again.

He moved away from the door toward the small wet bar he’d put in. It wasn’t anything fancy. Just a small, well-stocked wine refrigerator and some crystal glasses on a side table. He took out the corkscrew and selected a bottle of California red that had been recommended by his brother Matt.

Matt knew more about vampires than anyone else Mag knew. Well…more than any other shifter, at least. Mag was acquainted with the local Master vampire, but he hadn’t dared pose his questions about bloodletters to the Master.
He hadn’t wanted to raise suspicion.

It wasn’t common for a shifter to be so inquisitive about vampire habits. In fact, it could be downright dangerous to show that kind of interest. The relations between shifters and bloodletters were better in this city than most, but it still wasn’t done to be too nosey. And if Mag betrayed the real reason he was so interested, it could go badly
. Miranda was still subject to the Master’s rule and he could easily demand she leave Mag’s house. That was something Mag didn’t want to chance.

When the door to the bathroom clicked open, a waft of cinnamon and rose scent came toward him. It was followed a moment later by Miranda’s hesitant steps. She was barefoot and holding a small bundle of
damp fabric in her hands.

“Do you have a washer?” she asked tentatively.

“Yeah. I’ll take care of those. I’ll also get some new clothes for you today so you’ll have something fresh to wear tonight.”

“You’re going out?” She seemed afraid all of
a sudden and he realized he wouldn’t be going anywhere. He’d have to call in some favors.

“
I’m not going anywhere,” he was quick to reassure her. “I won’t leave the house. Not for one minute. I have some friends I can call on to help pick up a few things for you. Do you prefer any particular brands? I was thinking blue jeans. You look hot in jeans.” He offered her a smile, hoping a little flirtation would take the fear out of her eyes.

“Jeans are fine, but can you trust these people? They’re shifters, right? Won’t they object to me being here?” She seemed weary, but definitely more alert than she had been before—especially if she was thinking that far ahead.

“I have a brother who is on friendly terms with a few bloodletters. He’ll help, and he won’t tell anyone that you’re here. In fact…” Mag turned around to get the glasses of wine he’d poured from the table and held one out to her. “My little brother recommended this wine. He knows the vintner personally.”

She accepted the glass and took a tentative sip
, savoring the fine wine. “Maxwell Vineyards, right? Your brother knows Atticus Maxwell?”

“And his mate,” Mag
confirmed, taking a sip himself. The vintage was delicious. Maxwell really knew what he was doing. “They’re acquaintances, but he seems closest to a guy he says used to be a British lord or something.”

Silence stretched for a moment or two while they sipped their wine
. He was doing his best not to scowl at the many wounds and burns still visible on her forearms, which were left bare by the T-shirt. Finally, she spoke softly into the quiet.

“I didn’t know Maxwell had found his One.”
She seemed skeptical, but she sipped at the wine all the same.

“Apparently it happened a little while ago, but they’re still in the honeymoon phase according to my brother.” Mag reached behind himself to snag the bottle and refilled Miranda’s glass. “Matt told me how wine
affects bloodletters and why so many of the great vintners are vampires. He said something kind of poetic about how the fermented fruit of the vine was your last link to the sun and that it was a sort of distilled sunlight. He said also said it helped you heal.”

“He wasn’t wrong,” she admitted, drinking deeply. “I feel it bubble and pop inside my veins in a good way. Maxwell is
n’t one of the world’s top wine makers for nothing. He’s had centuries to perfect his craft. This is delicious as well as healing.”

Mag put his glass aside and refilled hers before sho
wing her around the master suite. “The controls for everything in the house are on the tablet on the bedside table. You can control everything from there and I’ve keyed in a code for you alone. The only other person with codes to this house is me. Nobody gets in or out without either you or I allowing it.” He walked with her to the small nightstand and lifted the tablet. The screen blinked to life the moment he touched it.

“I didn’t realize you were so high tech.” She seemed impressed as she continued to sip at her wine.

“My brother Steve is the security expert in the family, but I learned a lot from him. I installed all this myself and it’s top notch. I keep upgrading as new things come on the market.” He spent the next few minutes showing her how to access the cameras located all around the property and how to lock down the master suite and the entire house. “And then there’s this.” He put down the pad and showed her a hidden doorway that led to the bolt hole he’d had built especially for her. “Press here and here, and when you hear the click…” He put actions to words and a hidden panel popped open. “Voila. Safe room. It’s built like a vault. It’s not on the electronic systems and I built it myself so nobody knows about it but me…and now you.”