Soul Taker (26 page)

He inhaled deeply and his nostrils flared.
She wondered if vampires needed to take such breaths or if he did
this more for the dramatic effect.

"Agreed." He nodded stiffly. "No more jokes.
Shall we get started then?"

She thought he'd go upstairs and change his
clothes, but hey, if he wanted to work out bare-chested, she was
all for it. She could well imagine how his muscles would ripple
beneath his skin. Her lips curved.
Oh yeah, this could prove
fun
.

"What goes on in that brain of yers? Ye look
like a cat ready to pounce on a mouse."

"Is that so?" She licked her lips and
meowed.

His mouth twitched, but for some reason he
didn't want to give her an inch and truly smile. His stoic
expression stayed nailed into place. "I'll show ye a few defensive
moves first, but remember, yer best defense is to run and don't
look back. Are ye sure ye're ready for this?"

When Garran had asked if she was ready, she
didn't realize he would be relentless with his training. He showed
her self-defense moves she hadn't thought were possible.

For the umpteenth time, he knocked her off
her feet with a swift sweep of his leg. He was upon her, his hand
jerking in an imitation of stabbing her. "Ye're dead again, Miss
Lucci." He stood and offered his hand to her. "How many times is
that now? I've lost count. Sixty? Seventy times?"

She didn't take his hand and stood on her own
accord, but rather slowly this time so she could catch her
breath.

"Do ye wish to stop?" he asked her.

"No." She wouldn't let him have the
satisfaction no matter how her muscles screamed for mercy. "So far
you've done your best to show me how you can kill me. How about you
show me how I can take you down."

"Ye can't. That's the point of this
exercise."

"Humor me anyway." She thought he would
dismiss her, but he surprised her and gave her an answer.

"Death by fire or decapitation is the only
way ye'll truly kill a vampire. Ye neither have the strength nor
the ability to manage either feat. Ye witnessed my nightmare of how
I was changed. My men and I were seasoned warriors, but we could
not win."

Before she could rebuke his claim, he
flitted. She barely blinked before he had his hand around her
neck.

"I can snap yer neck before ye even—" His
words halted as she used the maneuver he'd shown her earlier,
knocking his hand away, but instead of stepping back, she threw her
body weight into him, a tackle maneuver she'd learned from her
brother and cousins when they played football at their
grandparents' house.

The unexpected ploy caught him off guard. He
stumbled back and slammed against the wall with her pressed against
him. For a moment, he just stared at her.

God, he felt good, smelled delicious too, as
his scent caressed her senses. Was he wearing cologne, or was it
purely his masculine scent? His gaze slid over her features,
landing on her lips and for a moment, she thought he would kiss
her. He even dipped his head and she tilted her head to the side to
accept, but at the last second, she realized what she was doing and
refocused her efforts.

"Well, do I have it in the right spot?"

His lips curved with a devilish slant, making
her wonder where his thoughts had turned. A part of her had a good
hunch.
Typical male
.

She applied pressure with her hand, right
below the ribcage. God, he was so close, so very close.

His eyes widened only slightly in surprise.
So she had distracted him enough that he hadn't realized where her
hand rested. If she had been armed with a weapon, she would have
made her mark.

"Aye." He nodded with something close to
admiration. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed
her back a step, as if he too needed some distance to clear his
thoughts and just breathe. "Let's see if ye can do it again."

She had a hunch her surprised attack wouldn't
work on him a second time. Twenty minutes later and her suspicions
were proved correct with her being knocked onto her backside with
him on top of her. Too bad this wasn't a bout of foreplay with a
promise of pleasure in the near future. Instead her body would pay
the price without satisfaction.

"Time out." She breathed heavily.

He rose to his feet and offered her a hand.
Once on her feet, she leaned down gripping her knees as she caught
her breath. Garran handed her the towel and a water bottle she
placed earlier beside her workout bag.

"It isn't fair," she said.

"What isn't?" He stood with his hands on his
hips, looking
James Bond
kind of sexy, even with the way he
was dressed with his jeans hanging low on his hips and his bare
chest looking as if the gods chiseled him into perfection.
Yep,
dangerous and suave, all in one lovely package.
"I'm drenched
and you haven't even worked up a sweat."

"Vampire," he stated as if that said it
all.

"You mean you can't sweat?"

"I'm the undead, Ms. Lucci, or have ye
forgotten I'm one of the monsters?" He growled, baring his teeth to
prove his point.

So he had been perturbed over her statement
earlier. She supposed she couldn't blame him. She invaded his home,
his fortress. She'd insulted him by calling him a monster. A few
days ago, she would have thought he fit the mold of a monster with
his
I'll-bite-your-head-off
attitude, but she saw more to
him now. Oh, she knew he had a dark side, but he didn't allow the
demon inside of him to take over. Despite his snide remarks about
humans, Garran had kept his humanity. "I want to repay you."

"For what?" His one golden eyebrow
arched.

"For helping me."

"Ye are far from bein' able to defend
yerself."

"Better than when I arrived. You also saved
my life the other night and I owe you."

He
harrumphed
and waved off his heroic
deed like it was just another night on the town.

She walked over to her workout bag,
determined not to take no for an answer. "You're far too
tense."

"I like bein' tense." He crossed his arms
against his chest.

She did like how his chest looked when he did
that. "Ple-e-ase!" she dragged out the word in an exaggerated
display. "Do you really expect me to believe that? I want you to
lie down on the floor."

"What in the world for?"

"Just do it. I promise you, you'll enjoy
this." He hesitated and she quirked one of her eyebrows at him. "Or
are you afraid I might take advantage of you?"

He
harrumphed
again, a guttural noise
he managed to bring forth from his gut.

"The floor and on your stomach, please."

"Ye're a wee bit bossy."

"I said,
please
. You aren't used to
people giving you orders, are you?"

"Certainly no'."

Isabella chuckled.

His frown became more pronounced. "Ye find
somethin' humorous?"

"Oh no, my laird." She curtsied, pretending
to hold out the folds of a dress.

"Point taken." His chest rumbled and the
corner of his sensual mouth lifted in a lazy smile. What a
transformation. She'd bet women swooned over such a look. Maybe it
was a good idea he didn't smile.

Garran stretched out on the floor, resting
his head on one arm as he watched Isabella prepare. She opened her
backpack to retrieve her collection of crystals.

When she arrived on his doorstep this
evening, revealing her connection to him through her dreams
surprised him. She kept doing that.
Surprising
him. Every
time he believed he'd figured out Isabella Lucci, another
intriguing aspect revealed itself.

He'd never bonded with someone so completely
and he'd only used a minor blood ritual with her, one where she
didn't even taste his blood. The only bit of him that could have
gotten into her system was his saliva he used to close the
wound.

So instead of ushering her into the library,
while he made himself scarce, he decided to take her up on her
asinine request. He planned on being relentless with his training
in hopes of deterring her from the fantasy she held that she could
defend herself from a preternatural being. Instead, this human
female refused to be intimidated and refused to give up. Her
muscles had to be screaming by now.

He admired her audacity to confront him at
every turn and he found he liked that.

Now the woman wished to soothe him. She
placed crystals around him and rubbed the stones on his bare skin.
He gritted his teeth together, wondering if she knew what sweet
torture she bestowed upon him. Warm, soft hands on his body… He had
not felt such warmth, such gentleness in a long time. To his
surprise, his muscles relaxed as her long fingers lightly caressed
him.

For a petite female, she handled herself like
highland lassies of old. She'd have made a good wife back
then—strong and built for the rough life along with the added
pleasure of possessing the face of an angel. Her dark wavy hair and
those hazel eyes with golden rims did him in from the start.

He inhaled deeply, letting her essence
envelope him. Her womanly scent drove him to distraction and it
took all his will power not to act upon it. He doubted she knew the
danger she was in, and in more ways than one. Heck, maybe she did
know, and believed she could handle it.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything,"
Harrison announced at the doorway, leaning against the wood frame
with his arms crossed against his chest and a Cheshire grin
plastered to his face.

With a curse, Garran flew to his feet,
scattering the crystals and knocking Isabella over in the process.
She landed on her behind with a grunt of annoyance. Her eyes
narrowed as she glared up at him.

"Forgive me." He offered his hand and helped
her to her feet. All the blood rushed to her face, making her
cheeks a beautiful shade of crimson.

Harrison chuckled, obviously taking great joy
in their discomfort.

"Garran showed me some moves," Isabella
stammered.

"Oh, I just bet he did." Harrison continued
to smile like a fool.

"Get yer mind out of the gutter," Garran
growled, wishing he hadn't given Harrison a key to the house. He
also wished he had donned a shirt, but he liked the way Isabella's
gaze wandered over him with appreciation. Despite her remark about
monsters, she wasn't afraid to be alone with him.

However, there was no reason Harrison needed
to know of her attraction or of his interest in her.

He frowned at where his thoughts had gone.
No, he refused to believe he could be interested in Isabella. She
was human, fragile…
off limits
, but he had linked with her
and found he wanted to know everything about her. His frowned
deepened. "We can't always be at Miss Lucci's beckon call. She will
need to defend herself against Alexander and others like him."

"Who's going to protect her from you, ey?"
Harrison countered wagging his brows.

Isabella clicked her tongue. "Harrison, stop
teasing, Mr. MacLaurin." Her tone indicated she regained her
composure. "You know how he abhors humans. I was only cleansing his
soul, helping him to relax." She crouched down and reached for the
stones and crystals of various colors, placing them in the bag she
had brought with her.

Harrison's brows shot up. "I wasn't aware the
old vampire possessed a soul."

Garran bared his teeth with a growl.

"Oh, he has one," Isabella said. "It's a
little rough around the edges but not as dark as he likes to let
people believe."

Harrison let out a roar of laughter. Garran
threw him a glare, but it only made it worse for Harrison to
control himself.

"Just how old are you, Mr. MacLaurin? Hmm?"
Isabella asked as her gaze roved over him with interest.

"Old enough," he snapped, wanting her to stop
her visceral appraisal now that Harrison stood in the room.

"Alexander called you
laird
. Were you
a laird of a castle back in Scotland?"

"He fought in the battle of Culloden,"
Harrison volunteered the information.

Isabella's eyes widened and she gave a low
whistle of disbelief. "He's ancient. Though I do have to say,
you've aged rather well." She smiled sweetly, causing Garran's lips
to twitch despite his efforts to remain stoic.

"Bein' a vampire does have its occasional
perks," he told her, giving in and enjoying their light banter.

"Oh, I can see that it does."

"Hey, do you want me to come back later?"
Harrison pointed with his thumb and gestured behind him as he
backed up toward the door.

"Why are you here, Harrison?" Garran
growled.

"Ooh, touchy." Harrison chuckled. "Fine, back
to business it is then,
old man
. I've received a tip where
Alexander is holding Monette's daughter."

"Where?"

"A warehouse, down at pier seven. It's owned
by the Mahoneys, a preternatural family. Werecats," he clarified
for Isabella.

"Naturally." She nodded. "So how do we talk
to these um… werecats?"

"That's the thing."

"What is?" Garran had a feeling he wasn't
going to like the answer.

"No one's seen Sid Mahoney or his clan for
over a week."

"Are they… dead?" Isabella looked uneasily at
Harrison.

"Aye, most likely," Harrison confirmed the
grim news.

"We'll need to check this out for ourselves.
Yer source is good?" Garran asked.

"Good as any. I thought we'd run by the place
tonight."

"I'm free." Isabella spoke up.

Garran exchanged a look with Harrison. "It's
best ye don't go with us," he told her.

She placed her hands on her hips and raised
an eyebrow. "Is that so? I can help."

"Ye'll just be in the way and give Alexander
another crack at nabbin' ye," Garran insisted.