Soul Taker (23 page)

Damn pheromones
.

Garran turned women's heads. She saw
first-hand the allure he had on women at the karaoke bar tonight,
and she had no intentions of standing in line to be one of his
minions.

The attraction to him only intensified once
he drank from her. Was it normal to feel connected like this? She
hadn't felt this way when Alexander drank her blood, but he hadn't
closed his mouth over her vein. He tasted with his finger. Was this
the difference? Or had something else taken place she was unaware
of happening? Her gaze leveled on Garran with suspicion. "I'm not
going to become a vampire, am I?"

Garran stiffened at her remark as if her
question were a slap in the face. "Hardly. I took very little of
yer blood and ye took nothin' of mine. Rest assured, ye're no' in
any danger of becomin' a
monster
, Miss Lucci."

"That's not what I asked."

He lifted his hand. "Save it." He turned to
go, but hesitated when she spoke again.

"I'm curious, Garran. That's all," she
sighed. "I didn't mean to offend you. This is all new to me and I…
I want to understand you," she finished.

He rubbed a hand over his face as if
considering her words. Then he inhaled deeply. "One question for
tonight, Miss Lucci, and that's all." He held her gaze. "Choose
wisely because I'm no' answerin' another one for ye."

She nodded, pleased he offered. "Does the sun
send you into a deep sleep?"

Garran had spotted her choice of reading
material stacked by her computer. One was
Vampire Lore
by
William Cantwell. He grimaced. He knew William Cantwell, Liam to
his friends. The vampire was from the Dearg-due sept. Liam wished
to deceive the humans about what vampires could do, hoping the
vampires' existence would simply fade into the background of legend
and lore. For the most part, he succeeded with his plan. "Ye should
pick somethin' more pleasin' to read before bedtime." He nodded
toward her desk and she followed his gaze.

"Maybe I find vampire lore pleasing."

He lifted a brow, but didn't comment on it.
"The sun could be… damagin'."

"He won't burst into flames…not at first,
anyway," Harrison clarified, which won him a lethal glare.

Isabella glanced at him, seemingly waiting
his confirmation.

"It will make me ill at first. Dependin' on
how much blood I drank before bein' exposed, it could be hours
before I succumb."

"Oh." Her brows puckered. "Is anything about
vampire lore correct?"

Harrison shrugged. "Perhaps some. Others are
grossly exaggerated like most legends and myths. Here's a bit of
tidbit you'll not find in your books and I, for one, will answer as
many questions as you shoot at me. You know Garran is a Grim Sith,
blooded with Fae blood. If he finds a soul mate—"

"That's enough," Garran snapped. "I don't
appreciate bein' the wee bug under the microscope. I agreed to one
question and I've answered it. Now…" He took a cleansing breath
before continuing, "I'll take over the watch, Harrison—at twilight
so ye may rest."

Without another word, he flitted away in a
blur of colors. Isabella cringed when the door slammed shut behind
him. "He's a mystery, isn't he?"

"He's complicated." Harrison wrapped his arm
around her. "All you need to remember is he's one of the good guys,
Isabella."

****

Isabella stretched out on her bed and stared
up at the ceiling. Harrison took up residence in the living room,
making himself comfortable on her couch.

She stared at her hand and rubbed the inside
of her wrist. Garran chose this spot because it was less
intimate
. One kiss from him had set her blood boiling. She
wanted more. She wanted him to kiss her lips and… and so much more.
What would have happened if he nibbled on her neck?

When he drank from her, she felt him in her
head. He knew her secrets and dreams. Oddly, she didn't feel
violated. Maybe it was because she'd seen a glimpse of him, too.
Before he gave her the final kiss to close the wound on her wrist,
his tongue slid over her flesh and, for a moment, she witnessed a
younger man, still innocent in the ways of the world. She wanted to
wrap her arms around him and tell him he wasn't alone now either.
She rolled her eyes heavenward before she rolled over in
frustration. "Don't be ridiculous. Hold him?"
Among other
things,
her mind mocked her. He was a vampire, for God's
sake.

Seduction was all part of the vampire
allure... or so the books say. Yes, that was it. Hence the reason
she wanted to wrap her arms around him. Even now just thinking
about a kiss from him, set her hormones sizzling through her body,
making her feel flushed from head to toe.

She punched her pillow and wrapped her arms
around it. She seriously needed to stop thinking of Garran. "I
don't even like the arrogant vampire all that much."

Liar...
her conscience whispered.

She turned onto her back again as she slid
her fingers over her wrist, right where Garran had pressed his lips
to her flesh. Memory of those lips teased her thoughts as she
drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Alexander arrived as Monette was locking up
for the night. The
Closed
sign hung in the window. She met
his gaze through the glass, her hand still on the key that rested
in the lock. For a split second, he thought she'd bar him from
entering—for what good it would do. Her gaze shifted to Sanya, who
stood at his side, before her dark eyes held his once more in a
battle of wills. He chuckled in triumph when she looked away
first.

She removed the key.

Alexander pushed his way into her store.
Immediately, an offensive scent tickled his nose and he whirled on
her. "Garran was here." He bared his teeth with a hiss.

"It is a public place."

"Don't play me as a fool, Monette. Ye do
remember I have Frimrose. Yer daughter is lovely by the way, with
all her dark curls and her midnight black eyes." He closed his eyes
and inhaled deeply. "Oh, and her sweet essence is tantalizin'." His
eyelids snapped open, fixing her with a stare that he knew
unsettled most beings. "If ye betray me, Monette, I will no'
hesitate to suck the life out of her. Her soul, her blood… I'll
leave her a crumblin' corpse. Do I make myself clear?"

Monette nodded, but her eyes narrowed to
slits. She didn't show her fear, but he could smell traces of it
just beneath the surface.

He smiled. "Good. We understand each other
then."
Unlike his vampire whore
, he thought. Sanya believed
she was clever, but he knew her allegiance was to Garran. She
feared the laird more than she feared him.
Fool.
He'd trap
the little bitch in her lies and make her pay. She'd fear him more
then, but alas it would prove too late for her.

His gaze leveled on Monette, wondering if she
played him for a fool also?

"Why do you revel in these games?" Monette
spat. "Why not just end it now. Kill Garran and be through with it.
Then you can take over the territory with no one to challenge
you."

"I've waited centuries to repay Garran
MacLaurin back for his treachery. A time and place is important. I
cannot go about eliminatin' governors who work with the Guards of
Judgment without due cause. I do wish to carry on, after I play the
game and watch Garran suffer." He fisted his hand as the anger
spread like a disease inside of him. He had to control it or else
he would end up doing something rash. His gaze wavered over Monette
with thoughts of killing her, but ending her life now was not part
of his plan.

Control…control…
He
breathed in deeply and let it out in a whoosh as if he could expel
his anger with it. It helped somewhat. At least enough so he could
continue this meeting without ripping the voodoo queen's throat
out. "What did ye tell him?"

"Nothing he didn't already know. You're after
him and seeking revenge. Harrison was with him. They traced you
back here. The dog has a nose."

Alexander leaned back his head and laughed.
"Of course, Harrison, the moon shifter was with him. Garran prefers
the werewolf over his own kind. No matter. The plan is in motion.
Garran will pay in the end." He waved his hand. "Now, for what I
came for. My order."

"Another case of witch balls arrived in last
night's shipment." She walked to the back of the store where two
crates sat on the counter. She unwrapped the carefully packaged
ornament. The blown glass sphere was four inches in diameter. "What
do you need with so many witch balls?" she asked. "I thought you
were after vampires, not witches."

Alexander chuckled as he took the clear blue
sphere, turning it around as he inspected it. "Aah...aye, the
beautiful ornaments are wonderful for trappin' a witch who wants to
cast a spell, but it's also grand in holdin' a human's soul."

Sanya's elegant fingers slid over the glass
ornament with a frown. "To what purpose?"

He met Sanya's gaze with a grin. "To sell of
course. Do ye realize how much a soul goes for on the black market?
It's a delicacy. I have demons, vampires, succubi, and other
preternatural bein's eatin' out of my hand." He chuckled. "No pun
intended. They don't have to hunt. They just make a purchase and
lunch is served."

Monette pursed her lips together as if she
didn't care for his line of business.

"How rich. All of a sudden ye are a voodoo
queen with a conscience."

"I don't care what you do," Monette bit out,
"but I wish not to be involved. Your business won't go unnoticed.
The Guards of Judgment will most likely smite your hide."

He waved his hand at her in dismissal. "The
bloody Nephilim will be lookin' to blame someone, but do no' worry.
By the time they nose around, I'll have a secure position from
which to run the territory Garran thought to secure." He lifted a
shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "Others will take the fall before
any of it is linked back to me." He glanced at Sanya. "Be a dear
will ye, and load the boxes in the car and bring in the other boxes
stacked in the back seat."

Sanya was used to men, preternatural and
human, falling over her for just a glimpse of affection from her.
Sanya meant nothing to him, but a means to an end and he didn't see
the sense in pretending to woo her, when he despised the
creature.

He spun a fanciful tale about his plans.
Sanya hung on his every word. It was only a matter of time before
she'd relay her information to Garran and his furry pal about the
shipment and his plans to store the witch balls in Monette's
storage room. Oh aye, his plans were falling into place. "Well?" He
gestured toward the box and lifted a brow. He thought she would
refuse, but she grabbed a box, making no pains to conceal she was
miffed.

"Be extra careful with the boxes in the car,
my dear," he warned. "I wouldn't want ye to break any of the
fragile baubles packed in them. They're filled with souls."

Chapter Forty

Garran opened his refrigerator and took out
the packet of pig's blood. Not something he enjoyed, but a
necessity to keep the demon at bay. After downing it without
ceremony, he kicked off his boots and headed to his bedroom. His
house had been modeled to resemble a castle both outside and inside
with its stone structure and replicas of the tapestries that would
have once adorned the walls of the castles of Scotland. However,
the windows were a modern invention and had been modified with
steel shades to keep the sunlight out.

He rubbed his right temple and frowned. His
head ached, an odd sensation he hadn't experienced in decades.
Vampires were immune to illnesses and other ailments their human
existence had been plagued to endure. It must be a side effect of
the bonding ritual, or an echo of what Isabella Lucci felt. They
were connected now. Then again, perhaps the ache was a result of
her constant banter to question him at every turn. The woman proved
worse than Harrison with the gift of gab at her disposal.

Now, he was linked to her dream realm as
well. She would sleep most of the time when he was awake. He could
expect her dreams to be flashes of emotion and impressions. Nothing
that would hamper his ability to function, but he wasn't
particularly looking forward to witnessing the woman's fantasies
about lattes, buying purses, and other such nonsense human women
may dream about. Of course, he only speculated on the woman's
hidden desires. Perhaps Miss Lucci would prove more interesting. It
wasn't as if he knew very many human women. Well, in this century…
Actually, he didn't know any other than Miss Lucci.

He pulled back the silk covers and slipped
into bed. One thing about being a Grim Sith, he could fall asleep
at will. He closed his eyes and soon journeyed into the land of
dreams and
nightmares...

The earth was bathed in blood after the
battle at Culloden. Garran witnessed his good friend, MacGillivray,
put up a good fight, but in the end he had fallen too, cut to
pieces by the damn butchers. He'd been too far away to help and too
many were upon him as they tried to take his head.

Garran did what he had to do to survive. When
the retreat was called, he fled with the rest of them. They headed
to the highlands to hide among the rocks and in caves until it
proved safe to go home.

Four days and others came to say the killing
wasn't over. The roads into town were littered with bodies of men,
women, and children who had been cut down by the dragoons. On the
battlefield, the officers encouraged their infantry to hack to
death the wounded. It was a living nightmare with no end.

Tonight was Garran and Rory's turn to stand
guard. All was quiet until Garran spotted a lone figure, sauntering
out of the shadows and venturing closer. His hand rested on the
hilt of his dagger as he waited. One slice across the neck is all
he needed to end the man's life if he proved a threat.