by Amber Kallyn
She blinked, coming out of the trance.
And he realized the sorcerer was using every last bit of his concentration, his magic, to push back Brandon’s rage.
He stared at the man, his thoughts tumbling in a haze of confusion as the dark magic tightened. Across the room, Celeste shook her head.
The sorcerer took a step closer, studying Brandon. A slight smile curled his lips as his yellow eyes glowed with pleasure. “Not so tough, are you?”
He bit his tongue again. The pain only cleared his mind a little. Not enough.
Not nearly enough.
Celeste slowly slid to the ground, pulling her handcuffed arms down her legs and around her feet. She held her fisted hands in front of her as she stood once more.
Brandon jerked harder against the magic.
The sorcerer’s eyes widened, and a blaze of fiery agony licked over his skin at Brandon’s fighting resistance.
Celeste raced forward, slamming her fists into the side of the sorcerer’s head.
He howled in rage, his concentration dipping once more.
From the darkness around them, matching screams echoed, piercing the air.
Hooded figures surged forward, surrounding the concrete. The crowd parted as a woman strode forward.
The banshee half-breed.
She smiled at Brandon. Wolves howled, slinking around her legs, staring hungrily at him with ice blue eyes.
His arm twitched. His fury boiled.
The woman opened her mouth and screamed, the sound drowning out everything else.
His head pounded as strength flowed into him. He built his anger, letting his rage take control once more as his berserker fathers had done thousands of years ago.
The chains of the handcuffs snapped. With a roar, he jumped forward, plowing into the banshee just as his ears were about to explode.
The sound cut off as they fell to the floor. He jumped to crouch above her. She tied to scream again. Her wolves surged.
Claws dug into his skin, teeth bit deep in his arm and legs.
He reared back and, against all misgivings about hitting a woman, punched her in the temple.
With a silent sigh, she passed out.
Brandon spun, hitting and kicking at the howling pack trying to drag him from their mistress.
One yelped as his grabbed its ear and threw it across the floor. He clamped his fist around a tail, and stood, raising the wolf and tossing it after its brethren.
The others continued to circle, but held back.
Near the dais, the sorcerer held Celeste to his chest, his arm tight across her throat.
Shana slumped next to the raised table, unconscious or trying to ignore everything, he didn’t know.
He only had eyes for Celeste. Her face, too pale as she gasped for air and tried clawing at the arm across her throat.
“No wonder my mother lost you,” the sorcerer croaked, sounding weaker, tired. “But I’m much stronger than she ever was.”
Brandon couldn’t breathe as pressure banded around his chest, compressing his lungs. His mind slipped to the past, against his will.
The redheaded sorceress, making him kneel next to his brother. Letting her animals rip and tear at Eric’s flesh until Brandon gave up, gave in.
And in the dark corner of the throne room, the ever present little boy he’d always tried to be friendly to.
“Kyle?” Brandon whispered.
The man laughed, the sound echoing in both the past and the present.
“So you do remember me.”
Blinking, Brandon shoved the past away and stared at the boy, now grown.
No wonder he was so powerful. The sorceress had only been a few hundred years old when she’d died. But this boy was as old as Brandon.
A thousand years to accumulate power.
And yet, he himself was older now too. More powerful.
“Let her go. Your issue is with me.”
Kyle grinned. “You mean for murdering my mother? Yes, I’ll take payment for that. But first, you’ll know just how much it hurts to lose someone you love.”
He tipped Celeste’s head to the side and slid a fang over her neck. “I’ve been waiting for a long time to see you find someone you could open your heart to. I started the dark magic here, to draw you in. It was a bonus to watch you find her as I readied to take it all away from you. Just as you took my love, my mother.”
Brandon fisted his hands, not daring to move while Celeste was so close to death. A quick snap of his teeth, Kyle could rip out her throat. A twist of the arm, he could break her neck.
He looked into her eyes, not surprised to see anger burning in them, brighter than the shadow of fear.
“I don’t love her,” he forced himself to spit out. “She’s just someone to share a bed with while I tracked you down.”
***
Celeste blinked, fury hiding the surging pain at Brandon’s words. Someone to shack up with?
The arm pressing to her throat tightened, cutting off more air. She squirmed, struggling to breathe.
Kyle chuckled, his body vibrating against her back. “Oh, don’t be modest now. I’ve gathered reports about you through the years. This is the first woman you’ve dared be with in centuries. I can see into your heart, old friend.”
Brandon took a small step forward, fists at his sides. “Nay. You can’t. You never could see anything clearly, not even when you were a slimy little runt, afraid of your mommy.”
The world began to gray. She needed air.
Clawing desperately, her nails sliced through cloth, then skin.
The sorcerer twitched, his arm loosening the slightest bit. She gulped in a breath.
Celeste slowed her struggles as the sorcerer spun, glaring at the crowd around them. “Why do you hesitate? Kill him.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Shana twitch. Her sister glanced up, met her gaze, then jerked her chin towards the dais.
A glint of metal shone from the edge of the table.
She hesitated as the arm clamped tighter.
“Kill him, I said,” Kyle screamed.
But no one moved. They watched, glancing from the sorcerer to Brandon.
“That’s the stench of fear, of cowardice you smell,” Brandon said. “It happens when you surround yourself with people like you.”
Kyle spun once more, dragging her around with him. “I’m no coward,” he spat.
Brandon’s eyes glowed, pure red, yet she only took comfort in the sight. “And yet you cower, hiding behind a mortal woman.”
The arm loosened around her throat and Celeste leapt at her chance. She slammed her booted foot on the sorcerer’s instep. He howled as she clawed his arm, breaking from his hold.
She ducked as he tried to grab her once more, spinning and stumbling for the dais.
“I’ll kill you both. I’m no coward,” he cried.
Celeste grabbed the glinting metal and raised Brandon’s heavy sword. Adrenaline surged through her blood, giving her the strength to raise it above her head.
The sorcerer stopped coming for her and began to back away, raising his hands and mumbling that strange language again.
She didn’t give him the chance to do anything magical. With a quick look at her bloody, beaten sister, she let her fury have free rein.
The sword swished through the air, the sound like a shrill, bloodthirsty scream of triumph.
Metal bit into Kyle’s neck, smooth as if it was butter.
His eyes widened. He opened his mouth, as if to deny what was happening. A thin line of blood dripped from between his lips, sliding down his chin, as Celeste cut through his throat.
Brandon was suddenly by her side, taking the sword from her hand. She stared blankly at the sorcerer as he toppled to the concrete floor.
Around them, the figures melted back into shadows. Silence reigned as the other creatures fled.
The door to the night-club crashed open. Footsteps thumped down the hall. The sheriff ran into the large ro
om, stopping as he took in the sights. Then he grinned and the image of the bear over him began to fade.
“Done?” he asked.
“Done,” Brandon replied. He grasped her hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a light kiss to the back of her knuckles. “My brave one,” he whispered.
His comment of merely shacking up with her flitted through her mind, but she was mostly sure he’d only said it to try to save her.
Mostly.
Some place deep in her chest still ached from hearing such a thing.
Without a word, she turned to Shana, helping her sister to her feet.
“There’s another guy downstairs. We gotta save him,” Shana said.
“Where?” Shane asked, alert and watching the now empty shadows.
“He was in the basement room where they held me. The poor guy tried to help me, but they beat him really bad.” Her eyes shone with tears.
“Come,” Brandon said.
Together they headed to the hidden staircase and descended once more.
With the lights turned on, Celeste could see the entirety of the basement. It looked more like a dungeon. Three doors were spaced along each side of the brick hallway.
Shana tugged her to the last door on the right, then struggled to open the thick metal.
Brandon touched her shoulder lightly, moving her aside, and ripped it open with a screech.
Shana rushed inside, crossing the room to the far wall where the night-club owner, Sebastian, was chained to the wall. Naked but for tight boxers, the man’s tanned skin was drowned by bloody whip marks.
Shana reached him, grasping his chin. “It’s all right. We’ve been saved now.”
He opened the one eye he could and blinked, then grinned, though it ripped open a scab and blood dripped from his split bottom lip. “Damn. I hate being rescued.”
But his eyes were serious as he stared at Brandon and Shane, gratitude leaking from his gaze.
Shane reached the man and unchained him, letting Sebastian slump against his side. Shana grabbed his other arm, pulling it across her shoulders and helping him walk toward the door.
Celeste moved to follow, but Brandon grasped her hand, holding her there.
She stiffened, but met his gaze. “What?”
He leaned closer, until his breath tickled her lips. “I love you.”
Her heart stopped beating for a long moment, then resumed with a galloping thump-thump-thump.
Her throat tightened, her mouth dried. She couldn’t speak.
Brandon winked. “Just thought I’d let you know.”
He pressed his lips to hers. Fire blazed within her and she could’ve sworn she heard bells ring.
Then he turned and walked away.
Frustrated, still unable to speak, she slowly followed the others, her mind a confused mass of contradictions.
Chapter nineteen
Brandon struggled to hold back his frustration as they all headed back upstairs. She’d not said a word to his momentous declaration.
He’d never spoken those words to another woman before, but weren’t they supposed to do something, like smile, or say it back?
Unless she didn’t feel the same way.
He remembered his words to Kyle, but shook his head. She wasn’t some simpering miss that she’d believe such an obvious lie.
Would she?
He snuck a glance back, but her head was bowed as she watched the floor.
Perhaps he owed her an apology?
He snorted as they reached the dance floor.
Shane let go of Sebastian and headed to the body lying next to the dais. “It will take me a while to deal with this,” he said. “To make sure the dark magic is truly done.”
Brandon nodded, and led the others outside, into sweet fresh air. The parking lot was empty but for his Harley and a flashy red sports car.
“Can I give anyone a ride?” Sebastian called.
Shana helped him to the car.
Brandon stared at Celeste, waiting for her to decide. His heart fell as she followed her sister.
Brandon slowly turned, heading for his bike.
Across the lot, he heard Celeste whispering to Shana. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Sebastian replied, “I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”
“Humph. Much good you did in there,” she answered.
With a groan, Sebastian said, “I was unprepared for treachery. I swear on my own--perhaps blemished but still willing--soul to keep her safe.”
After a long moment of silence, Celeste stated, “Call me in the morning.”
Shana agreed.
When Brandon looked up, to his great relief, Celeste was walking towards him. He couldn’t read her expression--part exhaustion, part worry, part many other things.
Settling on the seat, he started the bike. It roared to life. “O’Grady’s or the station?” he asked, relishing her arms tight around his middle.
“O’Grady’s,” she said wearily. “I’ll take care of the paperwork... somehow, tomorrow.”
***
As Brandon raced the motorcycle towards the Irish pub, she held him tightly, her mind a swirl of thoughts.
She’d never thought about falling in love.
But she couldn’t deny she’d gone and done so.
And with a Viking vampire, no less.
How did that work anyway? She was mortal. She’d age, then die.
Unless she asked him to turn her into a vampire, too.
Regardless of all the stories, she knew to the depths of her soul that Brandon wasn’t evil just because he was a vampire.
But she couldn’t stand the thought of losing her family. Her job. Her sense of self.
It didn’t matter. The idea of never seeing him again made her want to curl into a ball and weep.
Who she was, cop, sister, daughter, had always been the definition of her life.
The motorcycle rumbled to a stop in front.
She got off and led the way inside. Upstairs, in Brandon’s bedroom, Hercules meowed pitifully and twined around her feet. She picked him up, worried he’d been traumatized.
He licked her chin with his rough tongue, then closed his eyes and purred contentedly in her arms.
Though she could admit the fact she was using her innocent kitten as a shield, she assured herself she wasn’t putting him down because he needed human contact.
At last she summoned the courage to face Brandon.
His eyes, the blue ringed with vampire red, nearly glowed with strong emotion. There was love, she saw it clearly now. But there was also fear.
And it dawned on her that she had the power to break this man’s heart, for all he was a big, strong warrior.
Something inside her melted and she couldn’t stop herself. She settled Hercules on the couch, then moved to Brandon’s side. When he started to speak, she kissed him. Taking his hand, she led him to the bed.
In the dark room, lit only by a hint of moonlight, they undressed each other in silence. Brandon kissed her softly, as if savoring her taste.
His hands roamed her skin, gently, reverently.
She delighted in the feel of all his strength beneath her fingertips. Kissing him back, the gentleness grew into urgency.
She pushed him down, then crawled on top of him, straddling his thighs. The heat between them wasn’t just lust. It was infused with a softer, compelling emotion.
And the need to touch him, taste him, pushed her into a frenzy.
She licked his neck, savoring his salty taste. He groaned, cupping her ass and sliding one hand between her legs to stroke her. Already she was wet, throbbing with desire.
Nibbling along his chest, she took one dark nipple between her teeth.
His body jerked beneath her.
Urgency filled her, demanding and in control.
She rose, reaching for him. Her fingers eased around his velvety hardness as she slid him inside her. With a moan of delight, she rode him. His fingers dug into her hips as she s
huddered from the sensations of him inside her, hers to do with as she wished.
She wasn’t certain, but thought he whispered, “I love you, damn it.”
With a cry of ecstasy, she came, her body shuddering around his thickness deep within her.
He grabbed her, rolling them until he was on top. Then he stared into her eyes, jerking his hips as her body slowly rose once more.
His gaze flickered to her neck and she glimpsed his fangs.
“Do you want to bite me?” she asked, barely coherent from the pleasure of his movements.
“Very much so,” he growled, his eyes flashing.
She turned her head, baring her neck.
He lowered his face to the crook of her neck and inhaled. The warmth of his lips, of his breath, branded her.
He sank his fangs into her skin and fire exploded in her blood.
As he drank, he impaled her with his hardness, lifting her to the edge. The feel of his mouth on her skin, of her blood leaving her and entering him, the connection between them she could not deny overwhelmed her.
He moved in and out of her in a rush as he drank her essence. She rose up to meet each jerk of his hips. With a piercing cry, she fell into a dark abyss, surrounded only by sensations of love and pleasure.
He completed her in ways she’d never thought possible.
***
When Celeste woke, the sun was up. And Brandon was gone.
Soreness filled her heart, but she tried to tell herself it was probably for the best. What future could they have anyway?
She showered and dressed. After dialing Shana and making sure her sister was doing all right, she called a cab to take her to the station, trying not to think of Brandon, or the pain he’d left behind.
Was he already headed back home? She felt the deepest need to go home, crawl into her own bed, to shut out the world while she dealt with the agony inside her heart. She refused it.
She would survive, even if the pain made it seem doubtful.
Once at the station, she headed for her office, shut the door, then sat at her desk, staring blankly at the paperwork piled on top.
