The Warrior Vampire (20 page)

 

CHAPTER

17

Cold unlike anything he'd ever felt before chased through Ronan's body. Like an intricate web, the tendrils spread through his brain, his heart, even his lungs. It raced through his veins, making the burn from his blood troth seem like a dip into tropical waters by comparison. A ragged shout of unmitigated pain erupted from his throat as he fell to the ground, his back bowing to the point that he thought his spine might snap.

“If you think I'm kidding, Joaquin, make a move.”

Naya's voice was a beacon in his pain-hazed mind. Her tone promised death and Ronan almost felt sorry for the poor bastard on the receiving end of her words. A force of pure energy swelled inside of Ronan and he gnashed his teeth until he felt his fangs puncture his bottom lip. Blood welled in the seam of his lips and he swore it froze in a crystalline ribbon. Gods, if whatever the hell was trapped in his body didn't release soon he was going to fucking explode.

“Ronan? Can you hear me?” She was the
only
thing he could hear. The center of his entire gods-damned universe. “Stay calm and try to focus.”

Oh, he was focusing all right. On the icy shards that were currently spearing his liver. The Collective intruded on his stream of consciousness, pulling him away from the present. A tidal wave of memories crashed over him, images flashing in super fast-forward as though he sped through time. Ronan clutched at his chest as he relived the memory of a slayer driving his silver-tipped stake through some poor vampire's heart. Bloodlust flared in Ronan's throat as he relived another's first feeding, post-transition.

“Ronan?”

Naya's voice grew quieter, more distant, and panic seized him. He thrashed his head from side to side as though it would somehow dislodge the hold of the Collective on his mind. There was no refuge for him there with the dead. His salvation was right here in the present.

With
her
.

“Siobhan.” He wasn't sure if he spoke the word aloud or not. His mind spun in a dizzying haze, the voices of the Collective scratching at his psyche. “Belong. To her. I'll break the troth, Naya. Only you. Want … only you.”

His world spiraled into darkness and he fought its seductive pull. Visions of Jenner prowling nightclubs for a fresh vein caused a pang of concern to stab through Ronan's chest, and another of Claire voicing her concerns to Mikhail. His king worried for Jenner; a vampire who couldn't master control would be a vampire with a very short life span. Mikhail worried that he would be the male to put Jenner down if he couldn't get a grip on his lusts. The world Ronan had left behind was unraveling, and the world that lay before him was a dark void that sent a jolt of unease through him.

Break free from the Collective. Leave the past where it belongs.

Ronan surfaced from the memories as though breaching an ice-covered lake. Power pulsed within him, an unnatural presence that his body fought to reject. It pooled in his gut and his stomach heaved. A riot of color filled his vision as blinding as midday. Hands, warm and soft, cupped his face and he leaned into the contact. She was the sun. A pinpoint of light in a dark, fathomless universe.

“Naya.”

He gripped her upper arms in an attempt to steady his careening world. The tether that bound them gave a forceful tug and Ronan lurched forward as though it were a physical thing. A blanket of warmth covered him, banishing the bone-deep chill until he no longer felt as though he were freezing from the inside out.

Exhaustion weighed him down and Ronan toppled forward, the hard sand grating against his cheek upon impact. Gods, he could sleep for a year. Just lie there on the beach, not giving a single fuck whether the tide took him out to sea or not.

He was rolled over onto his back and his head came to rest in a nest of soft warmth. Her fingers slipped through his hair, brushing it off his forehead as she murmured words of reassurance. “You're going to be okay. Just try to relax.”

Relax? Shit.
Just call him Jell-O.

One lid cracked and then the other. The blinding colors were gone, thank gods, but from the corner of his eye Ronan caught the shadow of an enormous black cat pacing near the edge of the pier. Looked as though his mate's boyfriend wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet, which was fine by him, because the second Ronan was back to 100 percent he planned to pick up where they'd left off.

Fucking hell, he was sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.

“Here. Drink.”

Naya pressed her wrist to Ronan's mouth. The cat laid his ears back and issued an angry hiss, but she paid him no mind. Ronan felt as though he'd been run through a meat grinder, but he mustered just enough energy to flash a superior smirk in the male's direction.

“You. Quit being so smug.” Naya gave Ronan a nudge and he suppressed a grunt of pain. Yup, through the meat grinder.

He crooked his neck back until his gaze met hers. Still a little fuzzy, she appeared to be surrounded by a halo of light. “Gods, how I love a feisty female.” The cat growled and Ronan reached up to take her wrist in his hand. His fangs broke through the skin and an almost imperceptible sigh slipped from Naya's lips.

The moment wasn't half as intimate as Ronan would have liked. They had an audience after all, and he never was one to share. He didn't linger at his mate's vein. It was a utilitarian feeding meant to restore his strength and nothing else. There would be time to enjoy her body while he drank from her later. Now he needed to be prepared to protect her from not only the threats running rampant through the town but also the one currently staring her down from the shadows.

Ronan sealed the punctures, swirling his tongue over Naya's flesh. He stole a glance upward to find her eyes heavily lidded, her lips parted. A rich bloom of scent perfumed the air and it stirred Ronan's lust. Odds were good that he wasn't the only one who'd noticed his mate's arousal.

He reached up and cupped her cheek in his palm. “Curb your thoughts, love. If the cat scents you, one of us is bound to kill the other before the night is out.”

Naya quickly averted her gaze, focusing her attention on the jaguar that continued to pace several yards away. “He'll tell the elders about you,” Naya said. The cat swished his tail back and forth as he returned her stare. “I can't keep you a secret any longer.”

Ronan's temper surfaced. “I never asked you to.”

Christ.
That she would once again treat him as though he were some shameful thing she needed to hide away. She was his mate.
His.
Not the male who continued to watch them with his feline eyes.

“I know.”

Sadness accented her features, but Ronan held fast to his anger. He shoved himself upright, his head still so gods-damned heavy it felt like a boulder atop his shoulders. Naya's gentle care of him no longer gave him comfort. Instead, it made him feel weak. Dependent. A male who thought himself more worthy of her watched as Ronan crumpled like paper at her feet, helpless against the force of magic that sought to overtake him.

“Easy, Ronan. The magic is still—”

“I don't give a fuck-all about the magic!” Ronan railed. The cat growled from where he stood watching them and Ronan rounded on the beast with bared fangs. “Bring your elders!” he shouted. “She”—he jabbed his finger at Naya—“belongs to
me
!”

*   *   *

A little blood went a long way when rejuvenating a vampire, it seemed. And being the blood donor hadn't exactly been a hardship for Naya, either. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as anger burned in her stomach at Ronan's heated words. Why was he treating her so harshly? As though any of this were her fault. By rights, she should have killed him that first night. She'd spared his life. And now he was treating her kindness as though it were something reprehensible, taking the care she'd shown him and throwing it right back in her face.

She sat in the damp sand, stunned, as Ronan continued to shout at Joaquin. His eyes were fully silver, shining like the moon in an endless midnight sky. Her vampire was quick to temper. A foolish tantrum that would do nothing but coax Joaquin to violence.

As if it hadn't been humiliating
at all
for her to have the male she was supposed to be paired with notice her raging desire for the one resting in her lap. Ronan acted as though she allowed her lust to master her on purpose. As though the pleasure of his bite were something that she could turn on or off like a light switch. Gods, her entire life had gone into a fiery tailspin. She no longer had control over anything, least of all her own emotions. And Ronan threw them in her face as though they meant nothing.

She belongs to
me!

His words cut deep. Once again, a male equated her with nothing more than a bauble to be put on a shelf until needed. And who in the hell was Siobhan? Naya's teeth clamped down at the thought of his incoherent ramblings. Was there another female in his life? One who perhaps thought she had a claim on
him
?

There was much Naya's vampire hadn't told her, it seemed.

As Ronan continued on his tirade, shouting at Joaquin, daring him to attack, the control that Naya exercised over the power swirling within her was held by the barest of threads. A pittance compared to what was still contained inside of Ronan, but no matter how she'd tried, she'd been unable to extract the magic from his body. Like a malicious parasite, it refused to leave its host. His volatile temper was proof enough that the darkness inside of him was growing in power. Cold dread settled on her heart at the realization that, as with every usurper she'd hunted, the only way to banish the magic would be to kill Ronan.

If she didn't, he'd become a monster.

Hours seemed to pass in the minutes they'd been under the pier. The moment Naya had threatened him, Joaquin had shifted. It was hard to tell at this point if he was planning to kill them both. Knowing the chieftain's son, Naya realized he'd try to take them both before the council. Joaquin was nothing if not a stickler for the rules. But if she didn't do something to diffuse the situation now, he wouldn't get the chance to play it by the book, because Ronan was going to kill him.

“Ronan, let's go.” As much as his words stung, she didn't want to be out here, exposed, for another minute. It wouldn't be long before Santi or one of the elders showed up. They rarely went out alone in their jaguar forms. And whereas Naya had no doubt that Ronan would win in a one-on-one fight, she doubted he'd fare as well if he fought a handful of Bororo warriors.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Ronan grated. He jerked his chin toward Joaquin. “I'm not afraid of him. I'm not afraid of
any
of them.”

Exasperating male!
“I never said you were! But this is going to get ugly fast if we don't leave. You're still volatile. I can hear it. And I'm not doing much better. We're at a disadvantage here. We need to regroup.”

“
We
don't need to do anything,” Ronan stressed. “I need to find my sister. I need to get rid of whatever this is inside of me. And I need to get my ass out of this backward fucking town and back to L.A. Come on!” he shouted at Joaquin. “Are you going to stand there all fucking night or are you going to fight me, you cowardly son of a bitch!”

Deafening music punished Naya's ears, so loud that she wished she could do something to soften the offending song. Ronan's fury washed over her like a winter-ocean spray and she sucked in a sharp breath at the chill that permeated her skin.

Joaquin's dark ears perked up and he took off down the beach, letting out a loud cry as he loped through the sand.
Not good.
There would be a force of Bororo descending on the beach in a matter of minutes.

“What in the hell is the matter with you?” The music of corrupt magic had begun to quiet in Ronan's body though his anger had yet to subside. “Are you out of your mind? It's like you're looking for a fight!”

“Maybe I am.” Ronan rounded on her, his eyes bright with silver. “I don't need your protection, Naya, and I don't need you to fight my battles for me. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“You think I'm trying to fight a battle for you?”
Seriously?
Testy vampire was testy. “I'm trying to save you! Ronan, the magic inside of you is feeding on your anger; can't you see that? You're only accelerating the process by giving in to that aggression. I'm trying to save you, damn it! Hanging around and waiting for a fight isn't going to do us a damned bit of good.”

He raked his shaking fingers through his hair and let out a measured breath. Every muscle in his body rippled with tension, pulled taut and hard as granite. His chest heaved and his lip pulled back in a feral snarl revealing the wicked points of his fangs. “You are tethered to
me,
Naya.
Mine
. Any male who thinks to claim you is going to meet a violent and bloody end.”

“Do. Not. Treat me like I'm a possession!” Naya snapped. “Who is Siobhan, Ronan? You seem so bent out of shape that another male would claim me as his, but the words from your own lips suggest that you might not be as free as you've let on, either.”

His jaw flexed as he gnashed his teeth. “When did I speak of her?”

Naya's question seemed to drain some of the fire from Mister Intense and High-Handed's commanding tone. Tears prickled at Naya's eyes, but whether from anger or hurt she didn't know. It shouldn't matter to her if Ronan had pledged himself to someone else. It did, though. Gods, it did.

“Never mind,” she said, defeated. “Let's just go. I'm weak and I need to meditate and center my energy. And I need to discharge the dark magic from my dagger.”

Ronan stood immobile, a deep furrow creasing his brow.