The Warrior Vampire (21 page)

“Please.”

She could leave him here to his fate, but that's not what she wanted. As angry as Naya was with him, there was still that part of her that couldn't bear the thought of being separated from him. Long moments passed as they stood in the surf, the tide rising up to meet their feet. He let out a long ragged sigh and started toward the car.

Relief flooded her. Gods, she was so lost to him that she'd rather argue with him for the rest of the night than spend a single moment apart. There was still so much between them that needed to be settled. So much about him that she didn't know. She just hoped that she'd get the chance before the magic that influenced him took what was left of the male who claimed to be her mate.

 

CHAPTER

18

Ronan slammed the door with enough force to take it off the hinges, stalking through Naya's living room as though he had someplace to go.
Gods.
He had nowhere to go. No idea how to find Chelle so he could get out of this miserable place. Away from
her
. The tether that bound them pulled taut and Ronan wished he could take a blade to it. Sever it. Free himself from the inescapable
want
that was slowly eating him alive.

The rational side of him knew that she didn't understand. She wasn't a vampire. Naya didn't feel the tether in the same way that he felt it. But the irrational side of him didn't give a fuck-all about that. She'd given her body to him. Her blood. And when push came to shove, she'd tried to get him to run and hide like he was some sort of fucking coward. As though he were in the wrong for laying claim to what was rightfully his.

She was
his
mate!

The past twenty-four hours had passed in a flurry of emotion and Ronan's world refused to stop spinning. Neither of their tempers had cooled on the drive back to Naya's house, and if anything, they were simply looking for reasons to perpetuate a fight. Was that better than the alternative? Of Ronan coming clean with her and admitting that he'd trothed his body to another female and sealed the bargain with blood?
Christ.
How could he have been so stupid as to ramble on about Siobhan while his mate offered her vein to replenish what the damned foreign magic had stolen from him? Magic that turned people into demons, no less.

That creature could have killed her. Would have had she been out hunting alone. The energy she had expended to kill the thing had dropped her unconscious onto the sand. She would have lain there until someone had the good sense to look for her or another creature came to finish her off. How could her own people risk her life so callously? Ronan might have been angry with her. He might have wanted to shake some sense into her. But ultimately he wanted nothing more than to protect her. To keep his mate safe from harm, and that included her own kin.

“I want an audience with your chieftain.” Ronan kept his voice to below a shout, but barely. “You're all living in a bubble, Naya, and it's about to burst.” If the Sortiari got wind of the goings-on in Crescent City, it would only be a matter of time before they intervened. Those bastards didn't take prisoners. They wiped out entire species. The Bororo might have wanted the world to think they were gone, but the Sortiari would make it a reality if it fit into their agenda. “There is no way—
none
—that you can fight whatever this is on your own.”

“That's not the way this works, Ronan.” Naya's curt tone wasn't doing anything for his escalating temper. “You can't just show up out of nowhere and demand that your voice be heard. You're not in the position to change something that hasn't changed in centuries.”

“For fuck's sake, Naya! Have you ever considered that your inability to join the twenty-first century is part of the problem?” It happened with supernatural creatures. Hell, Mikhail was still having trouble adjusting to the modern world. “You're being manipulated by your own people and you're too damned blind to see it!”

Naya's jaw took a stubborn set and she palmed the dagger sheathed at her side. Ronan wouldn't put it past her to use it if she got angry enough. His anger flared that she would treat her own life and safety so carelessly. If he hadn't been on that pier last night, that monster would have killed her. And she was more than ready to run right back out there and single-handedly take on more of the bastards because a roomful of antiquated bastards said so!

“You have no right to say that! And what I choose to do—what's my
responsibility
to do—is none of your gods-damned business.”

Her dark eyes sparked with indignation and her chest heaved with her breath. Ronan took a moment to admire her fierce beauty before he shot back, “You. Are.
Mine!
”

Her expression fell into blank indifference with the words, a calm before the storm. Gods, he hadn't intended to say it yet again. Didn't even want to admit it to himself. He wanted nothing more than to find Chelle and put this miserable place behind him. So why did the thought of Naya belonging to another male send him into such a jealous rage that he had no choice but to assert his ownership of her? Talk about living in an antiquated past. He was such a hypocrite.

“I
will
protect you, Naya.” It seemed that Ronan couldn't keep from running off at the mouth. “I won't stand by while you go out into the night and hunt something that you have no chance of defeating. And likewise, I won't allow you to be punished by a council of blind fools who are not even male enough to go out and hunt this evil by your side.”

Naya snorted, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Buddy, I was out doing this—on my own—way before I met you. I can hold my own. You don't know anything about me. What I'm capable of. And I won't sit here and listen to you not only insult my abilities but undermine them.”

It was true. He knew virtually nothing about her and it rankled. Had she been dhampir, he would have turned her. Had she been a vampire, they would share a history of knowledge of their kind through the Collective. She was neither of those things, though, and it was stupid to keep falling back on it as an excuse. They were tethered. Ronan's soul knew hers. That should have been all that mattered.

But gods damn it, it wasn't good enough.

“You could have died!” he railed.

“And if I can't stop whatever this is, and find the source of the magic that's causing it, you're going to die as well!” Silence followed on the heels of Naya's emphatic words. Her eyes met his, shining with unspoken emotion. She let out a slow sigh and her voice became soft and sad. “There's something inside of you, Ronan, and I don't know how to banish it. It might be dormant now, but it won't be for long. And when it truly wakes, it won't stop until it's clawed its way out. Paul, Joaquin, they'll kill you if I don't. How can you possibly expect me to sit by and not do something—anything—to protect you just like you want to protect me?”

Her worry echoed his own. At least they were on the same page about one thing. He'd felt that force within him tonight. Clawing, scratching, expanding inside of him, and anxious to be let loose. If that happened, what then? Would he turn into a monster as well? Kill his mate? Despair choked the air from his lungs and Ronan crossed the sparse living room to where Naya had collapsed onto the couch.

“If that happens,” he said, his gaze unwavering, “
you
kill me.”

He'd rather die than see any harm come to her. Especially at his own hand.

She let out a soft snort. “If you think I could possibly do that, you're kidding yourself, Ronan. I can't even make myself leave the room when you're in it.”

Ronan sat down beside her and let his head fall back on the cushion. He stared up at the pattern of plaster on the ceiling. The sun would be up soon and he'd be forced to sleep while Naya faced the firing squad over everything that went down tonight. Gods, he'd waited so long to become a vampire, and now he felt nothing but disdain for the weakness that would keep him from her until the sun set once again.

“Why don't you like to be restrained?”

The question came out of nowhere and Ronan brought his head up to look at her.

“That first night, when you offered to let me handcuff you, I could tell that it made you uncomfortable. Your body went rigid when I secured the cuffs. Was it the silver?”

She studied him as though she wished she could climb into his head for the answer. For a moment Ronan took in the sight of her: her soft bronze skin, lush, full lips, and eyes that were as deep and fathomless as the night. Dark, wild curls framed her face and Ronan reached out, unable to stop himself as he took the strands between his thumb and forefinger, stroking the silky length.

“I was a warrior,” he said, low. “I fought for a vampire lord against the Sortiari when they waged war on the vampire race over three hundred years ago.” Naya's expression softened and Ronan gave her a rueful smile. “I had yet to be turned and the slayers were killing off vampires at an alarming rate. We were losing. And there were those vampires in the aristocracy who chose to hide rather than fight. To send detachments of dhampirs into battle while they fled for safety. I'd sworn a blood oath to a lord who promised to turn me and many others. Instead, he took us as slaves.” Ronan took a deep breath, raked his fingers through his hair. “I was trained to fight. To show no mercy.”

“He sent you out to die?” Naya's wide eyes shone with emotion.

“I don't think that was his intention. I think he hoped we'd beat down the berserker warlords that the Sortiari sent. Not all vampires were honorable,” he said. “Nor are all dhampirs. But they were afraid. And they were dying at the Sortiari's hand. I suppose my lord did what he thought he had to do. When we weren't fighting, we were kept like dogs in the bottom of the keep. My sister refused to leave me there. She attended to our lord's mate. A gentle female who spent most of her nights sobbing in fear of her impending death.”

“Gods,” Naya breathed. “That's awful.”

Ronan supposed there were worse fates. “I was good at war,” he said with a shrug. “But I was equally willful and worried for Chelle. My temper got the best of me more times than not, and when I wasn't fighting I was chained.”

Naya reached out and smoothed her fingers over his wrists. “I never should have cuffed you. Ronan, I'm so sorry.”

“You couldn't have known.” All of his previous anger and agitation melted under her gentle touch. “It was a price I would have paid a thousand times over. Worth my soul. Worth
you
.”

Naya's lips parted and she looked away, but Ronan heard the way her heart raced at his words.

“They were turbulent times, and in the chaos Chelle and I managed to escape. We sought out a coven that had hidden itself deep in the forests and far from battle. The Sortiari continued to wage their war against the vampires and it wasn't long before they were gone. Wiped from the earth. I could never be turned. I resigned myself to my fate. But there were rumors. And so I left Chelle in the care of our coven and set off to find any vampire that might have survived.”

“I wondered,” Naya said. “I'd never seen a vampire until the night you tackled me. I thought you were all dead.”

“I searched for Mikhail for almost a century. I found him in Russia. Starved. Weak. Feral.” Ronan gave a rueful laugh. “It's a wonder he didn't kill me.”

“Paul steers clear of the Sortiari,” Naya remarked. “He calls them
reyes de las tineblas
.”

Ronan quirked a brow.

“The kings of darkness.”

Ronan snorted. “Fitting.” He wondered what sort of history the chieftain had with the guardians of Fate. “What do you know about them?”

“Not much,” she replied. “Just that they're bad news. We follow
El Sendero
and don't bother with what the rest of the world is doing.”

“The Path?”

Naya pursed her lips and cut him a look. “Very good, vampire.
Caminos de la magia
are roads of ethereal energy that stretch across the earth.” Ronan lost himself in the smooth timbre of her voice. When Naya spoke, he swore he could feel the power that thrummed around her. “We police it. Magic. My grandma used to say that it was a gift given to us by the gods. But more and more, I only see it as a curse.”

*   *   *

Naya had never spoken so openly with anyone. Ever. Not Santi or even Luz knew how Naya felt about her lot in life. But being with Ronan filled her with a sense of peace and comfort. Trust. Even though they'd fought, she didn't worry about laying herself bare to him. Deep down, she sensed that he could see everything she sought to hide anyway.

“Paul keeps a tight rein on our pod.”

“Pod?”

“You know. It's the Bororo equivalent of a…” Naya swirled her hand around as she tried to find the right word. “‘Pack.'”

Ronan quirked a brow. “Vampires don't live in packs. We live in covens.”

She pursed her lips. “Potato, potahto. You know what I mean.”

He continued to fiddle with her hair, his gaze pinned to it as he ran the strands through his fingers. Naya suppressed a pleasant shudder. Something so simple shouldn't have felt so good. “There are other Bororo pods?” The sound of his voice lulled her, low and warm.

“A few.” She leaned into his touch, angling her body until her shoulder rested against his. She wanted to lay her cheek against his chest, but she held herself in check. She couldn't afford to lose herself to him again. His pull was too strong, too absolute. And until she knew more about this Siobhan and what she was to Ronan, Naya had to guard her heart as best she could. “Smaller pods are less conspicuous. The size of the pod depends on the size of our location. Crescent City is a tiny town, so our pod is relatively small in comparison to some of the others.”