Immortally Theirs [Legends & Myths] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (6 page)

Claire shuddered and tried to put the memories behind her. Those memories were the reason she had been so stunned and grateful when Christian had given her carte blanche to paint whatever she wanted. Her own husband would not allow her to use her talents in their home, yet a complete stranger was willing to allow her to paint whatever she wanted.

Relief flooded through her, as it had so many times since she’d left Denver. That life was over and there was no way in hell she would be dragged back to it. She would rather die than spend another day under the brutal control of her husband. Granted, dying was what she knew with absolute certainty would happen when Mark found her. But at least she’d had the opportunity to meet Christian and Mark and learn that she could still experience kindness and happiness. It was worth the trade-off.

“That’s going to be beautiful, dear.” Claire spun at the woman’s voice behind her. The older woman who was staying at the casa with her husband gazed up at Claire’s outline.

Claire felt heat flood her cheeks. She wasn’t used to compliments. “Thank you. I hope Christian likes it.”

The woman walked closer to the wall to get a better look at Claire’s work. “Oh, I think he will.” She focused her keen gaze on Claire and her lips turned up in a knowing smile. “My Henry and I have been coming down here for…oh, must be nine or ten years now. Whenever it gets too cold for our old bones up north. And I can tell you, there’s been more life in Christian’s eyes in the last day than I’ve ever seen in them.”

“Good evening, ladies.” Christian had rounded the corner and walked toward them. “Beth, I see you’ve met Claire. She’ll be adding some artwork to our blank walls.”

The woman studied Christian and then winked at Claire. “Oh, I think she’ll be adding more than that to the old place.” She chuckled and turned to walk back toward the staircase.

Claire stared after her in confusion, not quite sure she knew what the last comment meant. She glanced at Christian and realized he was staring at her with an odd look on his face. Her skin pricked with self-consciousness.

“Well, um…I better get back to work.” She turned back to her sketch.

“Claire,” Christian’s voice made her turn back to him. He nodded to the mural with an intense and complicated look in his eyes. “Good choice.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” She turned back to the wall and resumed outlining with her art pencil, not paying much attention to what she drew. She felt Christian’s stare on her for a few more minutes. She struggled to control her breathing and the fast skip of her heart, unsure as to why she was reacting this way. When she heard his footsteps recede down the hall, she turned and stared at his back as he walked away.

Yes, Claire had to admit there was something about him that pulled at her. The question was, how long could she resist that pull?

Stefan opened the door of the coffee shop and waited for Claire to walk out onto the crowded sidewalk before following her. This was the second day that he had escorted her around town to see some of the historic sites. They had broken the news to Claire about her “stolen” car and promised to accompany her to all of the sites she wished to visit while the authorities worked to locate her vehicle. Stefan knew they might have a difficult time with that, considering it now sat at the bottom of a lake near Orlando. And besides, Stefan was enjoying himself far more than he knew he should.

Christian had told him Atticus was in town. Stefan had run into him on a few occasions over the last couple of centuries during the course of his travels. Atticus had even been the one who carried off the souls of some of Stefan’s victims back during his vengeful days. It had never bothered him before. Stefan knew Atticus wasn’t evil. Granted, he served an evil master, but that was a choice Atticus had made long ago. Stefan had once gotten the impression that Atticus wished he could undo that decision, but once he had committed himself there was no turning back. Atticus had given up whatever illusion he had once held of escaping the bonds of his master and now seemed to accept his job without complaint.

Stefan understood the bonds Atticus was under, but the idea of the dark reaper taking Claire’s soul annoyed the hell out of him. Stefan was having a difficult time reconciling the notion that the young woman standing in the afternoon sun next to him was destined to die soon. From what he had seen, Christian wasn’t warming up to the idea, either.

For the last two nights, Stefan had watched Claire work on the mural outside Christian’s bedroom. She didn’t seem to sleep much and she worked into the early morning hours. Stefan could sleep if he wanted to, but it wasn’t a necessity. He found watching Claire paint to be a much more fascinating activity. She seemed to lose her meekness and uncertainty with every brush stroke, as though the act of putting color to blank walls was reviving the spirit inside her. Christian had joined them in the corridor during most of the previous two nights. Sometimes they talked, but mostly they just sat on the floor and watched her work in comfortable silence.

Based on the things he and Christian knew, or suspected, about Claire’s husband, Stefan wasn’t surprised that she had been timid and nervous when she first arrived in St. Augustine. Both he and his brother would relish treating the bastard who had abused Claire to some of his own medicine, if ever given the opportunity. Stefan was even willing to go to Denver and make his own opportunity. It wouldn’t be the first time he had hunted someone down and made them answer for their crimes.

But their first priority was Claire. Christian had made contacts within the supernatural community to attempt to find a light reaper who wasn’t already occupied. It wasn’t easy. Dark reapers seemed to outnumber the light by a larger and larger margin with each passing century. If they couldn’t find a light reaper in time, Claire’s soul would be left to Atticus for the taking.

Stefan didn’t consider that to be an acceptable outcome. He and Christian had already argued over another option available to them. But they both knew the type of future, or lack of one, that Claire would have if they used it. If Atticus took her soul, it would be in the hands of his master for just a while, until the time of Claire’s judgment when her eternal fate would be determined. But if Stefan and Christian took her mortality, it would be forever.

“So where to now?” Claire smiled up at Stefan.

It warmed Stefan’s heart to see her happy. In fact, he had been feeling more than a warm heart over the last couple of days. He’d found himself wanting to spend more time with her. More time than she had.

“Where would you like to go?”

It was obvious to Stefan that Claire’s true nature was not one of cowering in a corner. It seemed to him as though she was rediscovering herself since her arrival in St. Augustine. He wondered why so many mortals didn’t learn how to live until it was too late. Stefan reminded himself that Claire had not chosen to lock herself away and become a shadow of her true self. She had been forced into a cage, beaten and battered into submission. But she was a fighter and she seemed determined to live life to the fullest, now that she had escaped her cage. Stefan decided he would do whatever he could to make sure she enjoyed the time she had left.

“How about that little winery I read about?” Claire beamed up at him, her eyebrows raised in anticipation. How could Stefan even attempt to resist when she looked at him as though there was no one else in the world she would rather spend the afternoon with?

“Out for an afternoon stroll?” Stefan looked up at the unwelcome intrusion. Atticus leaned against the front window of the coffee shop they had just exited.

Stefan scowled. “Don’t you have something else you could be doing?”

Atticus chuckled. “Nope.” He focused his hungry eyes on Claire. “I’m right where I need to be.”

Stefan took Claire’s hand in his and pulled her behind him. He didn’t like the look Atticus directed at her. Claire stood mere inches behind him and she gripped his upper arm as she peeked around him. The closeness of her body and the feel of her hand on his arm sent an unexpected shudder though Stefan.

Atticus narrowed his eyes and stared at Stefan, his gaze flicking down to Claire’s hand. He shook his head and let out a long sigh. “You know better than to involve yourself, Stefan. You can’t change fate any more than I can.”

Stefan pressed his lips together, not wanting to say anything that might alarm Claire. But he had some things he wished he could say to Atticus. None of which would be appropriate in front of a lady.

Atticus continued to stare at him. Then his lips turned up in a half smile. Stefan almost thought there might have been a hint of sadness there. “Enjoy your time, Stefan.”

Atticus pushed off from the window and strolled away. Claire’s hand dropped from Stefan’s arm and the loss of contact felt as though a cold wind blew across his body.

“Who is he?” Claire looked up at Stefan and he could see the fear in her eyes. Her instincts were good. She knew a predator when she saw one.

“No one you need to concern yourself with. He’s just very good at making a pest of himself.” Stefan offered his arm to her and she looped hers through it without hesitation. Her touch sent warmth back through him again. Stefan recognized all too well that he was beginning to crave Claire’s touch. He knew he should put distance between them, but his body refused to listen to his better judgment.

They boarded one of the tourist trolleys that crisscrossed their way through the Historic District, picking up passengers and dropping them off at strategic locations. Christian had given them passes so they could travel from place to place without their own vehicle and so that Claire wouldn’t have to walk long distances. Though they hadn’t heard one complaint from her, they could tell her injured leg bothered her most of the time.

As the trolley wove through the narrow streets, the driver used a microphone and pointed out some of the historic sites and more notable events that had happened in the city’s long history. Stefan whispered additional details into Claire’s ear, since he knew some of these stories much better than the driver did, having lived through some of them. Claire seemed to hang on his every word and her eyes lit up whenever something new caught her attention.

Her enthusiasm was contagious and he knew he was letting himself get caught up in it. He was already becoming too fond of her, far more than he should, but he couldn’t stop himself from spending time with her. How could he spend the last two centuries keeping his emotional distance from every mortal he met, just to become attached to one being stalked by death?

The trolley dropped them off at the winery and they managed to join the last tour of the day. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and Stefan couldn’t help but notice the way Claire’s white shorts accentuated her hips as she climbed in front of him. He chided himself, knowing he should smack himself in the head for his wayward thoughts. He
so
did not need to be looking at her that way. He wasn’t supposed to be getting involved with her, he was just supposed to be keeping an eye on her and making sure she enjoyed herself. But he already knew he was fighting a lost cause.

Their tour guide ushered the large group into a small room with long wooden benches so they could watch a short film about the history of the winery. Stefan settled next to Claire on the last bench in the very back of the overcrowded room, scooting close to her to allow space for other people to sit down.

As the lights dimmed and the film started, Stefan’s body went on high alert. Claire’s body pressed up against his side. Her warmth against his arm and leg stirred reactions in his body he hadn’t felt in a long time. He’d spent years, decades, hell, a couple of centuries, trying to find happiness and excitement in the arms of a veritable parade of women. But sex had become boring to him, nothing more than a momentary release and a few hours of distraction.

This felt different. Very different. He squirmed in his seat, but the action just made it worse. His jeans felt too tight as his hard cock strained against the unforgiving material. His leg slid along Claire’s bare thigh and his arm rubbed against hers. Her breath hitched in her throat and Stefan felt a slight tremble course through her body. He fought a sudden urge to slide his hand along her leg. Glancing over at her, he noticed Claire’s knuckles had turned white from her hands being clasped together so tight in her lap. He grinned. So maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling a little hot and bothered.

The film ended without Stefan being able to recall a single thing about it. Every sense he possessed focused on Claire as the group moved into the tasting room. Old wooden barrels stood floor to ceiling in racks around the room. Low lighting gave off an air of intimate darkness in the room. He and Claire stood shoulder to shoulder in the tight space while their guide poured glasses of wine for them. The other people in the room might as well have not even been there. All Stefan could think about was the way Claire kept casting glances at him. Her gaze flicked from his eyes, down to his lips, and then back again.

Stefan liked wine. He really did. But he couldn’t taste anything as he went through the motions of sampling each variety. By the time they reached the sherry and port, Claire’s cheeks had taken on a rosy glow and he could feel heat rolling off of her body. He also sensed it wasn’t just the alcohol causing the reaction. She had consumed more wine than this over dinner with Christian and him the night before and she hadn’t gotten flirtatious then. Now, however, her breathing quickened and her sideways glances and grins at him became more and more enticing, her cheeks turning more crimson with each furtive look. The alcohol had no effect on Stefan, either, but Claire’s responses to the proximity of their bodies sure as hell did. His cock jerked as Stefan thought of closing the distance between them and pressing himself against her.