The Warrior Vampire (13 page)

Jenner wasn't the only one suffering from control issues right now.

*   *   *

A cool breeze kicked up the damp ocean air and the tangy brine was just what Naya needed to clear away the remnants of lust and want that once again fogged her brain. Over the course of the past week, centering her focus was becoming more difficult the longer she was in Ronan's company. They'd fallen into an easy rhythm, hunting after sundown, sleeping for most of the day—her in the bedroom and him on the couch—and then they'd start all over again. The search for his sister was proving as fruitless as Naya's search for the mapinguari. Either the magic that had infected Crescent City had moved on, using El Sendero to find a new home, or this current lull was simply the calm before the storm.

Likewise, the malicious magic that infected Ronan's body hadn't surfaced since the episode in her dining room a week ago. The music she heard in his presence was soft and melodious, a comfort to Naya's own soul. And though she'd exercised tremendous self-control over the past days, Naya felt that control slowly slipping. She didn't know how much longer she'd be able to keep herself from Ronan. And for that matter, she wasn't even sure she wanted to anymore.

Ronan had managed to awaken something within her that pulled the reins of her control taut. She'd never felt power in such a raw, visceral way before.

Naya was no novice. Not in magic or in sex. Tracking and repossessions were her specialties. She'd studied blood magic because it was part of her craft. Her heritage. Magic could corrupt a person through the blood. Spreading like a virus through the cells. Sex didn't usually enter the equation. And though she'd had a few romantic entanglements in her past, none of them had ever triggered that aspect of her power. It was a heady thing. Dangerous. And it made keeping Ronan at arm's length a damn near insurmountable task.

She could easily become addicted to the power he'd awakened in her.

Magic corrupted. Period. And it could damage those who inherently wielded it as easily as it did those who couldn't. Naya needed to be very careful in her dealings with the vampire. Their contact so far had been relatively innocent. She could only imagine what magic it might manifest if she gave herself fully to him or the emotional connection that it might forge. The elders had pledged her life to another male. And no matter the spark that ignited when Ronan touched her, Naya knew that there could never be anything between them. Tethered or not.

“This is where I found you.” Naya put the car in park and turned off the headlights. They'd come full circle, hunting throughout the town and the forested areas surrounding Crescent City for any sign of demon or dhampir. “You were standing there”—she pointed to one of the broken floodlights—“and magic bled out of you.”

“I don't remember any of it.” Ronan gave a slow shake of his head. “I must have been looking for Chelle, but you'd think I'd remember
something
.”

“Rogue magic takes a physical toll on its bearer. It could be the equivalent of an ethereal concussion.”

“Vampires don't get concussions.”

He'd gone from zero to broody in the space of a few minutes, and from his dark tone Naya suspected that his mood wasn't going to improve anytime soon. “Vampires might not suffer from head trauma,” she remarked. “But a supernatural creature can definitely sustain a supernatural injury.”

“Maybe.”

His profile stood out as a finely cut shadow in the dark interior of the car. Naya's body warmed as she recalled the sensation of his strong hands on her. The way his mouth moved over hers. A week holed up with any female's living, breathing sexual fantasy was starting to take its toll. How much longer could she go on like this? Keeping him at arm's length when all she wanted to do was draw him closer. Her breath hitched as she recalled the intense pleasure of his bite and the heat that raced through her veins as—

“If you don't want to be stripped naked and fucked in the front seat of your car, I'd advise you to curb your thoughts, Naya.”

She started at Ronan's words that ended on a warning growl. The sound cut through the silence, penetrated her skin, and left a flush in their wake. “You can hear my thoughts?” She had no idea what the parameters of Ronan's abilities might be. Gods, what else had he eavesdropped on?

“I can't read your thoughts.” He kept his gaze straight ahead, but Naya didn't miss that his irises were rimmed with silver. “But through our tether, I can sense your emotions. And…” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I can smell your arousal.”

Naya resisted the urge to bang her forehead on the steering wheel. Smell her arousal? It would have been less embarrassing had she binged on chili dogs with extra onions and farted in the car! But like the aforementioned stench, pretending it hadn't happened wouldn't make it go away. “It's a residual effect of the magic that manifested when we were … uh … after you.…”
Nearly gave me an orgasm from biting my wrist before we dry humped on my dining room floor last week.
“I didn't realize your senses were so fine-tuned. I'm sorry.”

Ronan, in turn, didn't seem to be any happier about it. A rumble grew in his chest as he turned to face her. His eyes had completely shed their green for vibrant quicksilver. “There's no need to keep apologizing.”

Wasn't there? She was sending some pretty damned mixed signals. “Shifters can scent things I can't.” As though babbling were going to help with the awkwardness that had settled like a heavy fog. “They can smell lies. Fear. Anxiety. Anything that changes someone's body chemistry.”

“How is it that you keep company with shifters?”

They hadn't really talked about her life much up to this point and Naya had liked it that way. The Bororo were a complicated people, their ways rigid and set in stone over millennia. She didn't want to admit to Ronan that she felt trapped. A prisoner of her pod with no worth beyond the magic in her veins and reproductive organs. She didn't want to appear weak and there was nothing weaker than living a life you weren't strong enough to escape.

Ronan studied her with an intensity that stole her breath. If he could sense her arousal and other emotions through their supposed bond, she'd have to be either very honest or very careful in her responses to him. So far, he hadn't given her a reason to be distrustful of him. In fact, with each passing day she found herself trusting him more and more. And it was rare that Naya had the opportunity to form relationships outside of their pod.

“Only Bororo males can shift. Our females are the bearers of magic. Well, some of us are, anyway.”

Ronan quirked a tawny brow. “Bororo?”

“My tribe.”

His eyes narrowed as he continued to study her. “How old are you?”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's not polite to ask a woman her age? I'm probably older than you think, though I'd be willing to bet that you've got centuries on me.”

“You're immortal?” Curiosity laced his tone. It was a far cry better than his previous sourness.

“More or less. Though really, Ronan, is there anything on this earth that is truly immortal?”

Like all supernatural beings, the Bororo were long-lived. They had an evolutionary advantage over humans in that they had more refined senses, could heal quickly, and were immune to most human diseases. But they were not infallible. Nothing in this world was.

“I suppose not,” Ronan answered. “My own people were nearly extinct.”

The conversation turned right down the road Naya had hoped it would. If he wanted information about her life, then it was only fair he reciprocate. “I've been wondering about that. I've never met a vampire before. I didn't think there were any left.” The Bororo had hidden their existence well. Modern anthropologists had declared her people extinct decades ago.

“One,” Ronan said. “For two hundred years a single vampire populated the earth.” His tone dropped to a murmur. “Until recently, that is. Now there are four.”

Wow.
And she thought her own tribe was small, with little more than a thousand Bororo scattered across the world. “It must have been lonely for you,” she replied. “Did you turn the others?” She had no idea how a vampire was made or born. Ronan's presence opened a door of information Naya couldn't wait to step through.

Ronan chuckled. “I am newly turned, Naya. Soulless for less than a month before you tethered me.”

The words were spoken with such raw emotion that it caused a deep ache to settle in her chest. They hadn't talked about the tether for a week. Turning back down this road would only further weaken her resolve to keep Ronan at a distance. “What does that mean, you were soulless?” They should've been out hunting, but Naya's curiosity got the better of her. She found herself wanting to know more about Ronan. And sitting in the quiet car, talking like this, distracted her from the erotic thoughts that scratched at the back of her subconscious, as well as the need to experience the rush of magic his touch coaxed to the surface of her skin.

“When dhampirs are turned into vampires, we forfeit our souls to oblivion. When we find the one we're meant to be with, our souls become tethered to our mate's soul. You returned my soul to me, Naya. We are forever bound to one another.”

She'd heard it before from him, but somehow it was different now. Her own body's response to him was unusual. The power that crested in heady waves when he touched her unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Still, whether she was starting to consider his claims or not, it didn't change the fact that the elders had already set her on a path that took her far from Ronan. Naya wasn't interested in tying herself to anyone. She wanted to be allowed the freedom to be—and belong to—herself.

She sensed that what she wanted didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Paul would still insist that she be mated to Joaquin, and Ronan would continue to insist that she was already mated to him. Things were going to come to a head too soon, and when they did all hell would break loose. Either Ronan would have to get used to the idea of polygamy or they were all in for one hell of a fight.

Of course, none of it would matter if Naya couldn't first control the rogue magic that was infecting people throughout town. “We'd better get to hunting,” she said as she opened her door. “The sun will be up soon.”

 

CHAPTER

11

Ronan's mood slipped further into darkness with each passing hour. He hoped that they'd find some malicious beastie hell-bent on death and destruction so he could kill the fucking thing and hit the release valve on his pent-up aggravation.

The invisible tether that bound his soul to Naya's gave a tug and Ronan responded, closing the distance between them until he was mere inches behind her. The town was too small. Too quiet. The sights, sounds, and scents too unfamiliar. And Naya was much too exposed for his peace of mind.

“Do you recognize any of this?”

They'd been walking for miles, tracking residual magic that Ronan couldn't see or scent, which only furthered his frustration. How could he possibly protect her from something that eluded his senses?

“What?” His mind was wandering and he needed to get his shit straight.

Naya raised her hand and swirled it around. “Is any of this familiar? Anything triggering a memory?”

“No.” So far tonight they'd canvassed the area of the town proper and the residential areas that skimmed the beach. Now, facing the crescent-shaped harbor, Ronan's gaze scanned through the darkness for any potential threats. Gods,
none
of this was familiar. It was like he'd just popped out of thin air and landed chained to Naya's bed.

“The residual magic is stronger here,” Naya said as they continued to walk. The sound of waves lapping at the shore helped to lull his temper. He loved the ocean. Had never lived far from it. He wondered, did Naya love the ocean, too?

“How do you know?”

Naya cut him a look, her brow furrowed.

“I can't smell it. Can't see it. How do you know it's there?”

“I can hear it, remember?” Her quick smile punched straight through his gut. “Magic sings to me.”

He'd stayed away from the subject of magic over the past week, opting to keep their interactions light. But after the night that he'd taken her vein, curiosity burned through him. His kisses, his touch had awakened a power in her and he was dying to know why. “Like actual music?”

Naya negotiated a wide pool of water that gathered in a low spot on the sand while Ronan crossed in a single graceful leap. Her mouth quirked in a reluctant smile. “I wish I could do that. You move like Joaquin. Graceful and powerful.”

Joaquin
. The male who was supposed to be her mate? Ronan swallowed down the predatory growl that rose in his chest.

“Anyway, yes, it's like actual music. Music in my head. My ears. My soul. I can feel it pounding in my chest. And the song is always different depending on who's using it and for what.”

“That's how you know when it's corrupt?”

Naya jumped to reach the wood planks of the pier above them and missed. Ronan stepped up beside her and wrapped his hands around her waist. Gods, she was so slight that his palms almost completely encircled her and she was nothing more than a feather in his grasp as he lifted her up. As she began to climb, his touch lingered. He didn't want to let her go. Didn't want to sever the physical contact that he'd yearned for over the past days. “How did the music sound when you found me?”

“Chaotic,” she responded without looking at him. “Out of tune.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, “And then so perfect and beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes.”