Vampire Mine

Chapter Eleven

Connor reeled back. “What the—” Had he actually heard those words come from the mouth of his innocent angel?

He stared at Marielle, so stunned that he forgot for a moment how hungry he was. Or how much the sight of her had instantly incited a hunger for her body as well as her sweet-smelling blood. “Ye dinna— What did ye—?”

“There’s no need to act so surprised. Vanda told me what the glowing red eyes mean.” Marielle scrambled to her feet and gave him an indignant look. “You’re thinking about sex. Again!”

Bloody hell. He jumped to his feet. “And what were ye thinking? Ye never close yerself up with a waking vampire! I could have bitten you!”

She crossed her arms. “I don’t think it was food that was on your mind. I know about the Three-Step Rule now.”

“The what?” His stomach twinged as a hunger pain jabbed at him, demanding blood. “Never mind. I have to eat.” He threw the door open and rushed straight to the fridge.

He shot her an annoyed look as she exited the closet. “Doona ever do that again.” He grabbed a bottle of blood, wrenched the top off, and stuffed the bottle into the microwave. His gums ached with the strain of keeping his fangs from springing out.

“Why are you fussing at me?” she asked. “You were the one with the glowing eyes who shoved me onto the floor.”

He heard a gasp from the couch. Bugger. Now Phil’s sister knew what was happening. He seized the bottle from the microwave and guzzled down some blood.

Relief poured through him. The pain in his gums melted away, and his vision returned to normal.

Marielle stepped closer, peering at him. “Your eyes stopped glowing.”

He groaned inwardly. “Lass, a Vamp’s hunger is verra powerful when he first awakens. It has a way of triggering lust.” And thanks to Vanda’s interference, Marielle now knew that he’d lusted for her last night. There was no point in denying it. “I find you verra tempting and . . . beautiful.”

When she smiled, he gritted his teeth. “ ’Twas no’ meant as a compliment, lass. I’m giving you a serious warning. Ye must stay away from me until I’ve had my first bottle of blood. I could be dangerous.”

Her smile lingered. “I’ve never thought of you as dangerous.”

“Vampire.” He gave her a wry look and drank some more.

She shrugged. “I don’t believe you would harm me. Even in the closet, with all your hunger and lust, you didn’t bite me or demand sex.”

He choked on the last swallow of blood. He glanced toward the couch where he could hear some smothered giggles. Bugger. Had he made a big mistake asking Vanda to bring along a few women so they could give Marielle some female guidance?

He set the bottle in the sink. “What did ye talk about with the ladies?”

“Lots of things,” she replied. “The Three-Step Rule, oral sex—”

“Holy Christ Almighty.” He pressed a hand to his brow. “They were supposed to teach you how to shampoo yer hair, no’ give you instructions on oral sex!” His heart lurched at the thought. “Did they?”

“Did they what?” she asked.

Laughter erupted from the couch, and he shot an angry look at Brynley. He turned to Marielle, and as usual, her beauty took his breath away. He lowered his voice, hoping the female shifter couldn’t hear. “Did they give you . . . instructions?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

His groin tightened. “Really?” He blinked, trying to keep his eyes from turning red.

“Yes. I learned how to shower and brush my teeth. All sorts of useful things.” She smiled at Brynley. “And I was well guarded all day. Thank you.”

Brynley grinned back, her eyes twinkling. “You’re welcome.”

“Excuse me.” Connor slipped into the bathroom to relieve himself and get a grip. He needed to stop thinking about sex and focus on business. After he washed his hands and face and brushed his teeth, he returned to the kitchen.

Marielle was still there, drinking a glass of water.

“The demon dinna return?” he asked. Just as she shook her head, the phone in his sporran rang. He quickly answered it. “Aye?”

“Good news,” Emma reported. “Shanna woke up and she’s drinking her first bottle of blood.”

He exhaled in relief. “Thank God.”

“You’ll start with the training today as planned?” Emma asked.

“Yes.” Connor looked at Marielle. He’d have to explain what was decided at the strategy meeting last night.

“I’ll let you get to work then,” Emma said. “I just wanted you to know that Shanna’s doing well, and she’s eager to see the children.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“She expressed a desire to meet the angel, but Roman said no, not with the children about. I’ll call back if she manages to change Roman’s mind.” Emma chuckled. “She usually can.”

“Aye.” Connor rang off and dropped the phone into his sporran.

Marielle was watching with a hopeful expression. “Shanna’s all right?”

“Aye, if ye call being a vampire all right.”

“I’m sure her husband and children are happy she’s still with them.” Marielle sighed. “I would have felt awful if I’d killed her.”

“It wasna yer fault,” he insisted. “I was the one who took you there.”

She gave him a wistful smile. “I missed you during the day.”

He wished he could say the same, but he didn’t feel anything in his death-sleep. That had always been a blessing before, but he suspected nothing would ever be the same now that he’d met Marielle. “Ye look well. Ye rested?”

She nodded. “I slept for the first time.”

“Good. Ye need yer strength tonight.” He was just about to explain when a form materialized close by.

Ian MacPhie set two tote bags on the kitchen counter. “Vanda thought ye could use some more supplies,” he told Connor, though his attention quickly shifted to Marielle.

“Greetings.” She inclined her head at Ian.

His eyes widened. He looked at Connor, then back at Marielle. He opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind and bowed.

“This is Ian,” Connor explained. “He’s no’ usually speechless. Or so well dressed.” He hid a smile. Ian had worn his dress kilt, black jacket with brass buttons, and white shirt with ruffled cuffs and cravat.

Ian gave him an annoyed look. “I shouldna wear my best clothes to meet an angel from heaven?”

“You look very nice,” Marielle said. “I love your shirt.”

Ian blushed. “Thank you.”

Connor crossed his arms and muttered, “I have a shirt like that, too.”

Marielle ignored him and continued to talk to Ian. “The colors on your kilt are lovely.”

Ian shot a triumphant look at Connor. “Aye, I’ve always thought the MacPhie tartan was one of the best.”

Connor snorted, although he wondered if she liked the Buchanan plaid.

“Have ye heard the good news?” Ian asked. “Shanna woke up and she’s doing fine.”

Marielle nodded. “I am greatly relieved.”

“Me, too.” Ian hesitated, shifting his weight. “If it is no’ too forward of me, I would ask a boon from you. My wife is expecting our first child, and if ye could remember them in yer prayers, I would be eternally grateful.”

When Marielle smiled, Connor’s breath hitched. It was the closest he’d come to seeing a ray of sunshine in hundreds of years.

“That’s wonderful! Congratulations.” Marielle touched Ian on the shoulder. “God bless you and your family.”

Ian bowed his head. “Thank you. If there’s anything I can do for you, I would be honored.” He stepped back. “But I shouldna take up any more of yer time. Ye have a great deal to do tonight.”

“I do?” she asked.

Ian looked surprised. “Connor dinna tell you?”

“I was just about to,” Connor growled. “But we were interrupted.”

Ian’s mouth twitched. “Try no’ to be such a grouch. She’s an angel, ye ken.”

Connor arched an eyebrow.

Ian’s eyes glittered with amusement as he turned to Brynley. “Do ye need a lift back to school?”

“Yes.” She jumped off the couch and waved at Marielle. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, thank you.” Marielle waved back.

Ian walked over to Brynley and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “ ’Twas an honor to meet you, angel.” He vanished, taking Brynley with him.

Alone at last. Connor watched as Marielle shoved her long blond hair behind her shoulders. She seemed deep in thought and momentarily oblivious to him. He took advantage, letting his gaze wander slowly down her body. Her clothes, borrowed from Emma, were better suited to a slimmer, more athletic build.

The T-shirt was a sky-blue like Marielle’s eyes and stretched tight across her chest. Those soft, full breasts had filled his hands to overflowing when he’d fallen on top of her on the couch. Doona think about it. He shifted his gaze lower. Her jeans hugged nicely rounded hips and, as she would say, a complete set of female private parts.

Doona think about it! He lifted his gaze to her face, so lovely and angelic that surely his thoughts would become more chaste. She chewed on her bottom lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. Her words in the closet came rushing back. I’m not giving you a blow job.

Bloody hell, he was pathetic. He grabbed another bottle of blood from the fridge and stuck it in the microwave. How could he lust so badly for such an innocent? He was unworthy to touch her toes, and yet he longed to take her in his arms and worship her with his mouth. He must have been out of his mind when he’d told Angus at the meeting last night that he would take charge of her safety and training. The poor angel was not safe around him.

“Ian’s wife is pregnant.” She frowned, still deep in thought. “Then she must be mortal?”

“Aye.”

She turned toward him. “And their child will be another hybrid like Shanna’s children?”

“Aye. And there are others on the way. Jean-Luc and his wife had twins.”

“Do they have both human and vampire characteristics?”

Connor nodded. “They appear like normal children, awake during the day and eating real food. But they have other . . . gifts, like levitation, teleportation, an ability to heal.”

Her eyes widened. “How fascinating. I would love to meet some of these children.” She sighed. “But I’m afraid it would be too dangerous.”

Connor shrugged as he removed his bottle from the microwave. “Our community is always dealing with some kind of danger. Casimir and his Malcontents would like to destroy us all. And if the mortal world ever learned of our existence, they would want to kill us, too.”

She frowned. “Maybe humans would accept you once they learn you’ve been protecting them from the Malcontents.”

He lifted his bottle. “Before Roman invented this stuff, we were feeding off humans. We dinna kill them, but I canna imagine they would be pleased. They’ll see us for what we are: bloodsucking parasites. Unholy creatures of the night.”

She winced. “I won’t have you talking that way about yourself. You’re a good, noble man. And all of your friends seem perfectly lovely.”

He snorted. “Ye’re still thinking like ye’re in heaven. This is Earth, and humans will believe it is their sacred duty to kill us. That’s why nothing is more important than keeping our existence a secret.”

“Then we’re in the same boat. I need my existence kept secret, too.” She sighed. “Until I can get back to heaven. If I can get back.”

“Ye will get back. We’ll make sure of it.”

Her eyes softened and the tips of her mouth curled up. “Thank you.”

His heart squeezed in his chest. Bugger, how would he survive being alone with her? He gulped down some blood, then headed toward the couch. “We need to talk.”

He took a seat and set his bottle on the coffee table, noting the shotgun and sword that Brynley had left nearby. What would happen if Marielle touched the shotgun? He didn’t want to find out, so he quickly removed the shells.

She sat at the other end of the couch.

He stashed the empty shotgun under the coffee table. “You should stay away from weapons you doona know how to use.”

“That won’t be problem.” She turned sideways on the couch to face him, curling her bare feet beneath her. “I don’t want anything to do with them.”

He’d suspected she would feel this way. He’d even told Angus that, but it had only led to another argument. Whereas they both agreed that she needed to be kept safe, they had disagreed on how to go about it.

He set the shells on the table and picked up his bottle. “As soon as we find Casimir, we’ll try to defeat him in battle. And since ye’ll be helping us locate him, ye could find yerself in the middle of a verra dangerous situation.”

“I understand.”

He sipped from his bottle. “Angus wanted me to train you in self-defense. I . . . said no.”

He heard her quick intake of air, so he turned toward her. “Doona misunderstand. I do want you to be safe and protected. But I doona want you arriving at a battle scene with a sword in yer hand. The Malcontents have had years, some of them centuries, for their training. A few nights of training would no’ be enough. ’Twould be suicidal for ye to engage in battle.”

She grimaced. “I don’t think I could, even if you wanted me to.”

He swallowed down more blood. “Ye’re putting yerself at great risk in order to help us. Can I ask why?”

“I think the world would be a much safer place without Casimir and his evil companions.” She sighed. “But I can’t pretend that I’m doing this only to protect humans. I’m hoping I’ll be able to prove my worthiness, so the Archangels will let me back into heaven.”

“I see.” It seemed like a good plan, but he needed to keep her alive till she could accomplish her ultimate goal. “What do ye usually do if ye’re in danger?”

“I’m not usually in danger.” She turned her head to gaze out the window. “Before I could always fly away.”

“What about the way ye knocked me down with a blast of air?”

Her gaze remained on the window, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m only allowed to do that in a case of extreme emergency.”

“Staying alive counts as an emergency.”

She looked at him and blinked away her tears. “You’re right. I used it to try to stop Zackriel. And again when I thought Darafer would kill you.”

“So ye can control air?”

“All angels can control the elements to a certain degree. And some are more skilled than others. For instance, water. I can make it boil or freeze. I can even make it rain. Some angels can cause the current in a river to flow backwards or—”

“They can part the Red Sea?”

She nodded with the hint of a smile. “Yes. Although something that big requires prior approval and a large coordinated effort. We don’t do that sort of thing very often since it tends to get noticed.”

He snorted. “And fire? Can ye control that?”

She shrugged. “A little. You should see the God Warriors. They’re magnificent. They can wield huge swords of fire and drive chariots of fire.”

They did sound impressive. “Are they likely to help you if ye’re in danger?”

“I—I don’t know.” Her shoulders slumped. “They would have before.”

“The lightning I saw in the woods—that was Zackriel manipulating fire?”

She made a face. “He’s very talented at throwing fireballs.”

“He was throwing them at you! I saw the burn marks on yer back.”

She rubbed her forehead. “He was trying to cut my wings off. I refused to stand still, so that’s how I ended up burned—”

“Doona make excuses for him,” Connor growled. “If I ever get my hands on him, he’ll rue the day he was born . . . or created . . . or hatched from a damned egg, I doona know. I only know he’s a bastard.”

Her mouth twitched.

“ ’Tis no’ amusing.”

She smiled. “I can’t help it. There’s something very appealing about you when you get all fierce and gruff.”

He shrugged that off even though he felt some warmth in his face. “So can ye protect yerself with fire?”

She winced. “I was never very good at that.”

“Show me.”

She hesitated.

“Do we need to go outside? I suppose if ye start a forest fire, ye can make it rain to put it out?”

She groaned. “That won’t be necessary.” She extended an arm, her hand reaching toward the fireplace.

Connor felt a slight frisson of energy zip across the room. A small flame ignited on the log in the fireplace, then died away.

He blinked. “Ye—ye were just warming up?”

Her face reddened as she lowered her hand. “That was it.”

He glanced back at the fireplace where only a tendril of smoke was curling over the log. “I’ve seen more fire on top of a birthday cake.”

She sighed. “I never developed the skill. I didn’t want to. It seemed destructive, and all I’ve ever wanted to do was help people. I loved being a Healer.”

She looked so dejected, he tried to think of something comforting to say. “I . . . like you the way ye are.”

Her mouth curled up and her eyes softened again with that tender look that made his heart squeeze in his chest. He guzzled down the rest of the blood and set the bottle on the table. “Which elements are left? Earth?”

“I could cause the earth to tremble. It might stop someone from attacking me.”

He winced. “It would affect everyone. Just like the thing ye do with air. It would knock everyone down. Hard to win a battle that way . . . unless . . . Do ye think ye could learn to narrow yer focus?”

“I suppose I could. I’ve seen God Warriors do it.”

“Then that is how ye will defend yerself.” Connor stood and extended a hand. She accepted it, and he pulled her to her feet. He started to release her, but her fingers curled around his hand.

“Thank you for helping me, Connor Buchanan.”

He swallowed hard. Holy Christ Almighty, how he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Would she object? Or would she melt against him? Would she use some of those instructions the ladies had given her?

He blinked and looked away. He couldn’t afford for his vision to turn red. She would know what it meant. And if he kissed her, she might see into his black soul. Right now, she labored under the false impression that he was good and noble, and God help him, he liked it. He couldn’t bear to lose her trust and respect.

Besides, there was no point in getting too close to her. She wanted to go back to heaven. The last thing he needed in his life was more heartache.

He released her and stepped back. “Do ye have any shoes?”

“Yes.”

“Put them on and meet me outside.” He headed for the front door. “We have work to do.”