Tales of the Were: Magnus: Redstone Clan (6 page)

When she didn’t reply, Mag sighed and reached for the bottle of wine he’d left on the floor near her chair earlier. It was already open. All he had to do was pull out the cork and pour the wine into the crystal bowl he’d brought. There was a small sea sponge already in the bowl and it quickly absorbed the costly vintage.

She let him do as he liked, allowing him to place the wide bowl on her lap and stretch her forearm across it. He used gentle strokes with the saturated sea sponge, tracing the path of every scar and burn mark on her arm. She watched, wondering if it really would work. She’d never tried such a thing before, though she was well aware of the benefits of drinking wine, she hadn’t tried it externally.

To her amazement, the wine began to bubble and tingle against her skin. When the sensation stopped and
Mag retraced the area with the sponge, the marks looked visibly lessened. For the first time in a long time, Miranda smiled.

“I think it’s working.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely working,” he agreed. “Not as fast as I’d like, but it looks better already. If we do this each night for a while, you might be back to your unblemished state in no time.”

The very next night, Mag took her out of the house in a sedate, very expensive, silver Mercedes. The luxury car rode like a dream through the desert night. Dusk was gone and true night had fallen before they’d left the house way out in the desert. He’d driven for a little over an hour before the lights of Las Vegas came into view.

He’d been pointing out landmarks along their route so she’d know how to get back to t
he house. She’d also been watching the roads they’d taken and had committed them to memory. She was confident she could find his oasis in the desert now from wherever she ended up.

“Do you have a preference of hunting grounds?” Mag surprised her by asking. Or at least, the way he phrased the question surprised her. Then again, he was also a predator. He understood the hunt. That was just another reason she felt so comfortable with him, she supposed.

“Have you heard of Raintree’s? It’s a dance club and bar downtown. Do you know it?”

Mag nodded
, a slight growl in his voice when he answered in the affirmative. It was almost as if he was angry, but repressing his instincts to scratch and claw. She didn’t really understand where that reaction was coming from, but she was instinctively cautious.

“Are you sure about this?” Mag asked her as they drove through the outskirts of the city.

“I know my duty.” If she was going to feed from human prey, she had to follow certain procedures. Her choice of destination was part of that. She was taking a bit of a chance, but she had to be brave. Defying the Master’s will wasn’t something she could get away with. She wasn’t nearly strong enough or highly-placed enough in the bloodletter hierarchy to even think about it.

As they neared their destination and she began to pick up on the energy and scent of the
mortals all around them, her instincts went on high alert. Her hunger was driving her now and she needed desperately to feed. She didn’t entirely trust herself to stop at just a sip, so in a way, she was grateful for Mag’s presence. She knew he could handle whatever she could dish out, and he’d stop her from hurting anyone in her bloodlust. It was reassuring to know—for the first time in years—that someone truly had her back.

He pulled up in front of the somewhat exclusive club and let the valet take his car while he ushered her into the intimate grip of the dance and drinking establishment that catered to a higher class of visitor to the Las Vegas scene. High rollers had made this place their hangout. After a big win, many rich tourists could be found here, drinking expensive champagne and throwing about their winnings like so much play money. The wait staff was top notch and often went home with ridiculous tips for good service. Hundred dollar bills were just the tip of the iceberg and the owner of this place could pick and choose the best and most beautiful workers to populate his domain.

The owner, of course, was immortal.

Chapter Five

Raintree was the Master’s right-hand man. Checking in with him before hunting in his domain was considered a courtesy and would be almost as good as going straight to the Master. By seeking out Raintree with Mag in tow, she was taking a bit of a cha
nce, but Miranda had to let the Master’s people know what had happened to her.

Entering the dark atmosphere of the
busy club, Miranda didn’t even pause by the bar area. Instead, she went straight to the rear of the building and up a flight of well-concealed stairs. Mag followed her every move. A vampire waited at the top, blocking her way.

She knew who he was, even though she had never had direct dealings with him. His name was Boris and he was only a few years older than her. He was reputed to have been a  Chicago gangster in the 1920’s before he’d been transformed, but his character hadn’t changed much. He worked for Raintree as a bully boy. A thug.

“Why did you bring the dog?” Boris’s tone was insulting.

“I’m a cat, actually.” Mag’s flippant
observation wasn’t helping the situation.

Miranda stepped in.
“I owe him a life-debt.”

That should have been enough to grant them passage, but the guard seemed unimpressed. She tried again.

“I have been held captive by a
Venifucus
mage for almost a year and not one of my own kind even thought to look for me.” She knew her voice held more than a bit of her contempt and hurt, and that seemed to get through to Boris at last. His façade slipped a bit. “This man saved me. He found me, nursed me back to the state I am in now and has done more for me than any of the Brotherhood ever has. I will not be parted from him, but I will follow rules and report my presence to Raintree. Either summon him or get out of my way.”

Where she found the backbone to stand up to
big, bad Boris, she didn’t know. Although she had to admit, the two-hundred pound shifter at her back seemed to lend her strength. The low growl he kept trying to suppress as his anger rose fed her own indignation as well. They were both pissed and now Boris knew it.

“Wait here.”
Boris stepped away, leaving two of the regular—mortal—security team in his place.

The guards effectively
blocked the way to the upper floor, leaving Mag and Miranda exposed on the upper steps. She watched Boris go down the hall, into a room she knew from prior experience was Raintree’s front office. A moment later he stepped back out again and crooked his finger. The mortal guards stepped back, allowing Miranda and Mag to finish the climb to the second floor.

Mag was right behind her as Miranda walked toward the office door.
Boris stood back, allowing them to enter, then closed the door behind them. They were in the outer sanctum—Raintree’s public office. She knew his inner sanctum had to be much better hidden, and he didn’t allow anyone but the most trusted of his associates into that area. Miranda had never been there and didn’t care to vie for that dubious honor. She had always been happier being her own woman, and hadn’t ever sought the protection of an older companion among the other immortals. Maybe that was why she’d been such easy pickings for the evil mage, but Miranda wouldn’t change her core principles. Not now. Not ever.

“Ah. Little Miranda. I’d wondered what happened to you.” Raintree didn’t bother to stand from behind his enormous desk. He merely smiled a toothy smile, allowing his fangs to show, and motioned for them to sit in the antique chairs set up in front of the mahogany desk. Like children being called before a very elegant principle.

“Apparently you didn’t wonder enough to bother looking for me,” she muttered. She would not be cowed by this man. She’d been timid before, but after her ordeal, she would never cowtow to anyone ever again.

Raintree seemed taken aback for an instant, but he hid his response almost immediately. Good, she thought. Let him realize I’m different now. Experience tempers a person.

“What brings you to my door? Aside from the obvious, of course.” Raintree was smooth. She’d give him that. “And who is your very interesting companion?” He turned his head just fractionally toward Mag.

“Magnus Redstone, this
is Aramis Raintree, second only to the Master of Las Vegas.”

“Redstone?” Finally, Raintree deemed Mag worthy of his attention. “One of the five brothers, I
presume. The Master speaks well of the eldest, Griffon.”

“I’m the middle brother,” Mag answered politely, but said nothing more. Good, Miranda thought. Let Raintree work for whatever information he
got.

“And how do you know our Miranda?” Raintree asked, looking only slightly pained at having to make small talk with a shifter.

“We are old acquaintances,” Mag replied with a somewhat vague wave of one hand. Miranda loved the byplay. Much was being said here, without words. It was the power struggle between shifter and vamp that really held everyone’s attention.

“She claims you saved her from a mage? Tell me, Miranda,” Raintree shifted gears, seeming to realize that he would have to work harder for information from the cat. “What exactly happened to you?”

She’d known she would have to report the incident, but now that the moment was upon her, she was just tired of it all. Tired of the game playing. Tired of the posturing. Tired of the hierarchy and all their insidious rules. She sighed heavily before abbreviating her answer.

“I hunted
in the wrong place and got caught in a trap. The mage caged me in silver and starved me for a long time, cutting me and taking my power. Mag and his family were hunting the mages that murdered their matriarch. The man who caged me was one of them. Mag found me, freed me, and he’s been taking care of me while I regained enough strength to try hunting for myself. This is the first time I’ve been back to the city since I was captured. I came here to report in and do my duty. Apart from that, I wish only to feed and then leave once again. I request right of passage and license to hunt in your domain.”

Raintree seemed nonplussed, as if he had expected a lot more detail and less backbone from someone her age. By vampire standards, she was very young and the elders always seemed to want to rub in how much she had yet to learn. But Raintree’s gaze held nothing of the indulgent contempt she was used to from him. Rather, he seemed almost impressed. A new respect seemed to gleam from his dark eyes. It quickly turned to suspicion when he shifted his gaze to Mag.

“Are you feeding from him?” Raintree demanded bluntly. You know it cannot be allowed on a continuous basis. One hit might be overlooked. I mean, who hasn’t wanted to walk on the wild side if given a chance? But the elders will not be pleased if you have reached some kind of arrangement between yourselves to try to enhance each other’s power. That would be seen as cheating and could get you both sanctioned.”

“Look at my neck, dickhead,” Mag said quietly, stretching his chin upward and scratching with his middle finger. Crude, but funny. Miranda had to hold back a laugh. How Mag could be so calm while challenging one of the most powerful vampires in the city, she had no idea. The cat had balls. Big ones. “I gave her what she needed to live the night we rescued her, but it’s been a strict diet of wine and small amounts of donated human blood ever since, just to get her strong enough to leave the house. She’s been following all your stupid rules.”

“How did you know what to give her?” Raintree’s mask slipped yet again. He seemed both astonished and intrigued.

“My little brother has friends among the Napa Valley bloodletters. There’s a guy named Sebastian who gave me some pointers. He said your Master was welcome to check with him
, and he offered to vouch for my family. So did the Napa Master, Marc LaTour. Call them if you want confirmation.”

“Rest assured, I shall.” Raintree’s speech slipped back into the patterns of days long past
—a sure sign of stress. He seemed to catch himself and took a deep breath before continuing in a more businesslike tone. “I think the Master will want to talk with you both. Expect a summons. In the meantime, you have leave to hunt, Miranda, but all the usual rules apply. And under no circumstances are you to drink from your shifter host or offer him the benefit of your fluids. It is not allowed. You’re lucky I can’t demand you separate, but that is up to the Master.”

Mag stood before she did. “Good,” he said with a hearty smile that had to grate on Raintree’s already stressed nerves. “Then we’re done here?” Miranda had to stifle a giggle at the way Mag tempted the powerful vampire. The cat was pushing the big, bad Rottweiler, bopping him on the nose with a quick, furry paw.

“We’re done. For now. Watch your step, cat. This is my domain and I don’t really care who your brother is when you’re in my establishment.” Raintree stood as well, which was a clear sign Mag had rattled him. His pose of indulgent, almost insulting repose was well and truly shattered. Miranda rose gracefully from her chair and took Mag’s arm.

“Thank you for your kindness, Aramis,” Miranda said in a deceptively calm voice. She’d never dared call Raintree by his first name before, but it was her little way of standing in unity with Mag and confirming that she had changed. The other vamps had better watch out. She was about to move up in the hierarchy—whether they liked it or not.

One didn’t survive the ordeal she had gone through without changing on a fundamental level. She had grown. She had come through it stronger. Mostly thanks to Mag. She owed him her allegiance. By contrast she owed her fellow immortals nothing. They would have let her die when Mag had done all he could to save her. That was something she would never forget. Not as long as she lived, which could be a very long time indeed.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Mag growled an hour later.

He’d watched while Miranda had selected a young
, human male. She’d chatted him up at the bar and used her vamp mojo to get him out onto the dance floor. Then she’d taken him toward the back of the room where there were a few private alcoves in which the vamps could do their business with the mortals they preyed on.

Mag had bristled all the while, watching closely should Miranda need backup. The other bloodletters in the room gave him a wide berth and the bartender served him like he did all the humans. Apparently the barman didn’t recognize a shifter when he saw one, though he was careful to give the vamps only the best wine, held in a separate cooler just for them.

Mag nursed his beer, sidling over to the back of the room so he could watch over Miranda and her mark. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Not in a place like this. No matter what the bloodsucking twerp upstairs had said, Mag didn’t trust any of the vamps here.

His inner cougar was clawing at him as he watched Miranda lead the
young man to one of the dark alcoves. Humans couldn’t see well in the dark. Not like vamps and shifters. To Mag, the darkened area was as clear as day. He moved closer. He would remain within leaping distance in case anything went wrong. Miranda was far from full strength. Even a human could overpower her in her current state.

But she needed fresh blood to continue healing. It irked him to no end. And it drove his cat to the point of insanity. His wild side didn’t understand how he could just stand there and watch his mate making time with another guy. Touching a human. Leading him into a dark corner and…yes…she struck, biting him cleanly.

Mag wanted to growl and screech and drag the guy away from her, preferably breaking every bone in his miserable body along the way. But the rational side of him knew this was what she needed. He tried to be analytical as he watched her suck and swallow. Once. Twice. A third time. Mustn’t be greedy. Don’t leave the prey too weak to explain.

She looked up, her red-rimmed eyes meeting his and he watched her regain control. She moved back, licking the wounds on her mark’s neck closed with a little zap of her vamp magic. Already she was stronger for having fresh, pure, human blood.

She dropped her prey to the chair behind them, setting him up with a fruity energy drink the vamps kept back there for exactly that purpose. He had a dreamy look in his eyes as he drank without even realizing what he was doing. No doubt, she’d left him with a pleasant memory of fucking some nameless, faceless girl in the back of the club. As far as the guy knew, he’d gotten lucky that night.

It was neatly done and Mag had to admire her skill as she walked toward him, a little more spring in her step than there had been since he’d rescued her. He’d hated every moment of watching her feed from some other guy, but seeing her returning strength made it all worth it.

She strode right up to his side and slid under his outstretched arm. He dropped his beer bottle on an empty table as they walked together out of the noisy club.

“This would be so much easier if you could just drink from me,” Mag observed in a soft tone meant only for her to hear.

She drew back, her eyes widening in alarm as she looked over at him. “You know I can’t. You heard Raintree. And he’s just the tip of the iceberg. Your people wouldn’t like it either.”

Mag sighed as they exited the club and the valet ran to get his car. “I know, but my beast doesn’t understand.”

“You don’t have to come with me. I’m strong enough now to do this on my own.”

“No way, baby. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.
” He was stopped from saying anything more by the arrival of the car.