Thud, thud, thud, thud.
And then came a breathy panting that sent chills down Mac's spine.
The worshipper's cries rose to an almost deafening volume.
A shriek like that of a strangled woman cut the night and stilled their voices. Through the north doorway a panther entered. Its black hair gleamed in the flickering firelight as it moved with a restless animal grace. Its golden eyes locked on Uncle.
"How dare you desecrate this place," Uncle hissed.
A low growl escaped from the cat.
"I did this for you...." Uncle snapped.
The cat shrieked again, cutting him off. Its muscles bunched beneath its thick coat. The worshippers scrambled to their feet and edged away from Uncle, leaving him alone at the head of the altar. Golden eyes never leaving its quarry, the cat began to pace, back and forth, back and forth, slow and methodical. Its complete attention focused on Uncle.
It seemed like eternity that they stayed this way, each poised as if to strike. Then Uncle moved.
The cat was on him in seconds. The panther placed massive paws on Uncle's shoulders, locking them both in a horrifying dance. Uncle's screams were blood curdling as the cat's claws tore through the robe to the skin beneath. His hood was knocked back and Mac caught of a flash of silvery-golden hair. Blood erupted from the horrendous wounds and his body crashed to the ground on the far side of the altar. The worshippers scattered, their shrieks fading in the rapidly rising wind.
Mac tensed as the cat approached the altar. With a graceful leap the cat landed on the stone, careful not to step on the wounded boy. It sank down, using its big body to cover the child. Placing a massive paw over the wound in the child's chest, he licked the blood from the child-Mac's face. He saw the child stir under the warmth of the big cat's body and its reassuring purr. Periodically the cat lifted a paw to check the wound until it seemed he was satisfied the bleeding had stopped. Rising, the cat pawed at the child, forcing him to move.
Slowly the boy sat up, shaking his head as if dizzy. child-Mac swung his legs over the edge of the altar and he tried to slide to his feet with the big cat bracing him. But his knobby knees gave way, sending him face-first into the snow.
Snow?
Painfully Mac rolled over, freezing rain pelting him in the face as he beheld the stormy sky of the 20th century. Chills wracked his nude body as he tried to summon the will to rise to his feet. Exhaustion pulled at his limbs as the enormity of his experience washed over him.
My Goddess, I am the son of a Pagan High Priest from the eleventh century.
Familiar golden eyes appeared as Renault bent over him, obscuring his vision of the cloud-laden sky. Strong hands pulled him into a sitting position as Renault dropped into a crouch, supporting Mac against his own body.
"Mac?"
"I know," Mac whispered to his savior from centuries ago. He caught a glimpse of the ancient ceremonial robe as his eyes slid closed. He felt Renault wrap the wool around him and as he slipped into unconsciousness he heard Renault whisper, "It is about time, brother."
Shortly after Mac left, an icy rain began to fall. After eight hours it finally began to slow but the damage had been done.
Jennifer stood by the tall living room window watching the scene below her. Ice coated everything with a clear sheen in the watery afternoon sun. Naked tree branches, their souls revealed to the casual observer, reached toward the leaden sky. Their branches crashed together, clacking their displeasure at the weather.
Miranda was dead.
The ache that settled in her heart told her this. Her best friend was dead. Gone from the face of the earth she'd walked for over a thousand years. How was that possible? After three hundred years of friendship, gallons of tears and millions of laughs, Miranda no longer walked this earth.
For the first time in her life, Jennifer was truly alone.
If her heart hadn't been encased in ice as the world was outside, she thought she would cry. For now, she was too hollowed out to do anything more than stare out into the icy world and wonder if she would ever feel anything again. Would she ever find the courage to love anyone?
An insidious voice whispered in her mind, What about Mac?
Panic fluttered in her chest at the thought of Mac. She loved him. She'd never stopped loving him and it was time to admit that, at least, to herself. As long as she lived, she would love Conor MacNaughten. And as long as Mikhail walked this earth she could never have a relationship with Mac. It wasn't safe for them, for Mac. Because of her, Mikhail wanted him dead.
But did Mac even want her anymore? He'd loved her before, she was sure of it. He said that he didn't want her for anything more than sex, but was he lying? He hated what she was and who her master was; would this knowledge end their relationship?
Could she accept him on his terms? Could she find fulfillment in a strictly sexual relationship with Mac? Could she live with only having sex with him without having his heart as involved as hers?
Can you live without it? The voice taunted.
"I have so far," her voice shattered the silence of the room. But did she want to continue this way? Empty and alone? Never knowing the touch of a man of her choosing?
The door to a small house directly across the street opened and a young couple walked out. For a few moments they stood in the doorway and marveled at the layer of ice that coated everything. The man locked the door and, arm in arm, they started their hazardous journey up the street. As they laughed and slid, they clutched each other's arms to remain upright. Pausing at the corner, the dark-haired man bent and within seconds, on the deserted street corner, the young lovers were wrapped in a heated kiss.
She felt like a voyeur as the man slid his hand inside the woman's coat, at his touch the woman jerked then leaned into him. Without warning the man overbalanced and slid on the ice, sending them both into a heap on the icy sidewalk. Their mingled laughter reached Jennifer's ears as she watched the woman who lay cradled in his arms. The woman leaned forward to whisper something to him then she scrambled off his body, leaving him to gape after her. The woman stood a few feet away from the man, her smile was so filled with love that Jennifer's heart ached at the sight of it.
The woman slowly drew up her skirt and shimmied out of her panties. She twirled them on one finger then tossed them at the man, hitting him square in the chest. Astonished, the man scrambled to his feet and lunged for her, pale pink panties clutched in one hand. The woman shrieked with laughter, easily evading him, and slid her way back to the doorway they'd exited only moments before.
As she managed to unlock the door, the man caught her. Spinning her around in his arms, he shouldered the door open and hustled her through it. He pinned her to the wall with a kiss and his big body while he blindly reached behind him trying to find the door to shut it.
Jennifer smiled faintly as the door finally closed. Was that what she wanted? The thought of that kind of intimacy frightened her. She knew she was a coward when it came to relationships. Even if Mac wanted her physically, could she escape the boundaries she had lived with for so long? She yearned to try, to know what it felt like to make love to a man she loved with all her heart and soul. Maybe she could garner enough courage to toss her panties at Mac sometime...
She started as the back door hit the kitchen wall with a crash. Spinning around, she grabbed the fireplace poker, holding it out before her in what she hoped was a threatening stance. Her heart leapt into her throat as Renault filled the doorway, hauling a semi-conscious Mac in his arms.
"Is he..." she faltered, her knees wobbling precariously.
"No, but he needs your help." The big man labored through the living room and up the stairs leading the way into the bedroom, Jennifer right on his heels. "We need to get him warmed up and fast." Renault settled Mac on the bed.
She eyed the oddly embroidered cape Mac wore. "He didn't leave here wearing that. Where are his clothes?"
"It's a long story," he said shortly.
She averted h
er eyes as Renault quickly stripped the robe off Mac's unconscious body. She busied herself collecting extra blankets from the top of the closet. When she turned around, Renault had him covered with the bedclothes.
She added the blankets as shivers wracked his body. "What happened to him?"
He shook his head, "That's for him to tell you." With brisk efficiency Renault turned his attention to the tiny fireplace. Within moments he had the fire laid and he applied a flame to the tinder while Jennifer busied herself rubbing Mac's chilled limbs through the layer of blankets. Within minutes the fire was crackling merrily, lending the room cozy warmth against the frozen world outside.
Renault rose from his crouched position in front of the fire. Jennifer could feel his gaze on her. She looked up to meet his haunted golden eyes. "Look after him," he said quietly. "I have to take care of something."
She nodded and looked away, "I..." Her throat constricted as she caught sight of the golden ring on Mac's finger. Slowly she reached down, lacing her fingers with his chilly ones until her ring lay beside Miranda's. How many times had she and Miranda done the exact same thing? Lacing their fingers together so that the rings lay side by side, chanting a silly childish rhyme about friendship. Hundreds of times? Thousands?
"She's gone," she croaked. Grief threatened to steal her voice.
Jennifer felt Renault's hand on her shoulder and he squeezed gently, confirming what she knew in her soul. For a second she thought her heart would stop beating and her lungs would just stop breathing. The world hung still and silent. Then her lungs expanded again. Maybe she would live through this.
"He's had a bad shock. You need to get his body temperature back up and let him rest. He will awaken when he is ready."
She turned and looked into his unusual eyes. "Thank you Renault, for bringing him back to me."
With another squeeze, he released her and left the room. Moments later she heard the back door open and close once again.
The crackle of the fire was her companionship as she watched the man she loved. His face was deathly pale and still, lacking the animation that usually resided there. A sudden urge to be close to him seized her. Not questioning her instincts, she stood and shed her clothing. Clad in her underclothes, she lifted the covers and slipped into bed beside the man she loved.
At the first touch of his chilled flesh, the breath flew out of her lungs. Resolutely she massaged his cold skin beneath the blankets. Shivers seized his body as she worked her way down each arm. As she rubbed her way down his long legs, the shudders slowly lessened until they finally ceased altogether.
He really was magnificently built. At just over six feet in height, he was long limbed and wonderfully muscled. Jennifer worked her hands across his chest, massaging in long, heavy movements to stimulate blood flow. His chest was hairless and broad and marred by a single, thin scar on the right pectoral. Thick with muscles, and golden from the sun, Mac had a body that was every woman's dream. She wanted nothing more than the right to be cradled against that chest for the next thousand years.
When she finished with a foot rub, Mac was sleeping peacefully. Exhausted, she stretched out beside him. Linking her arm through his, she shifted forward until her lips lightly grazed his shoulder. She breathed in the scent of warm man and sandalwood that was uniquely Mac, and rested her head against his arm.
Weariness pulled at her limbs as his warmth began to seep into her skin, relaxing her. What would she have done if he'd run into Mikhail? She hugged his arm tightly. She couldn't bear to lose him now that she'd found him again. Now if only she could convince him that he needed her as much as she needed him. She closed her eyes, if she could do that, all would be right with her world.
* * *
Chapter 7
Outside Guildford, England
"So what's the deal with the sunglasses, James Dean?"
Jennifer glared at Mac's broad back as he laughed and swept Shai into a bone- crushing hug. He'd abruptly awakened her four hours earlier, demanding she get up and dressed immediately. It was easy for him to make demands; he'd been awake awhile and was already fully dressed. Oddly dressed at that. The black jeans and dark blue turtleneck were normal but the black sunglasses were an odd touch even for Mac. She'd expected him at any minute to proclaim "'I vant to be alone', or 'No pictures, no autographs.'"
Instead, he'd hustled her into some warm clothes and out into the ice-covered world for the dangerous trek to Val's house outside Guildford. It was a two-hour journey under normal circumstances. Due to the ice, it had taken almost three hours. During the drive he'd offered no explanations or answered any questions. Instead, he'd patted her hand, telling her all would be revealed, as if he were some great magician.
Jennifer snorted, kicking the door closed behind her. Something was certainly different about him, something she couldn't put her finger on. His energy was different. Before, Mac had been a rather intimidating physical presence. Unpredictable and wild like an animal, his energy had been predatory, dangerous. Now there was a sense of restraint. The leashed energy he emanated fairly hummed along her skin. What happened and where this change had come from, she had no idea. It was unnerving yet oddly reassuring at the same time.
Shai grabbed her for a quick hug, jolting her out of her reverie. "Darling girl!"
Jennifer smiled at the familiar endearment. The scent of cinnamon enveloped her as she returned the hug. "I've missed you."
She pulled back, a wide grin animated her face. "And I you." Her gaze turned concerned. "Are you ok?"
Jennifer nodded, tears pricking her eyes in the face of her friend's concern. "Yes. How is Val?"
Her friend's expression turned sad, "I've never seen him like this. He's so hurt and so angry right now," she whispered. "I'm afraid that he'll do something rash."
Jennifer linked her arm though Shai's and they walked toward the library door, where Mac had vanished only moments before. "I know. I feel so helpless right now. I just don't know what to do..." her voice trailed off as they entered.
Mac stood in the middle of the room, his gaze concentrated on Val, where he stood before the darkened window. Val looked exhausted, as if he hadn't fed or slept in days. His eyes burned with an unholy light and they were locked on Mac. The tension in the room was palpable as the two men stared at each other, one daring the other to break first and look away. For a few seconds they all stood frozen in time. Shai broke the silence.
"Well, I think that is pretty much enough of that." Shai unlinked her arm from Jennifer's and strode into the room. "Can anyone join in on this pissing contest or is it limited to territorial males only?"
Val visibly relaxed, his gaze never wavering as Shai approached him. Ignoring the fact he was one of the most powerful vampires on the planet and he could kill her with a glance, she stepped directly in front of him, lacing her arms around his waist.
"Anyone care to tell me what is going on here?" Shai asked.
"Ask him," Val nodded toward Mac.
Jennifer moved to Mac's side, laying her hand on his arm. The muscles tensed then relaxed beneath her fingers.
"I did all I could to save her," Mac's voice was pained. His arm trembled faintly beneath her touch. She squeezed it, earning a faint smile.
"I want to hear all of it." Val's voice was raw.
Jennifer resisted the urge to cover her ears. She didn't want to hear about the agony Miranda had suffered. She pulled away, but Mac's arm snaked around her, tugging her into his side. Surprised, she glanced up at his dark sunglasses. She frowned as the dark lenses reflected only her image and nothing of the man behind them. She raised her hand to remove them, but he stopped her, and pressed a tender kiss to her palm. A shiver rippled down her spine. He lay her hand over his heart, its beat steady and reassuring beneath her touch.
"Jennifer woke me around four-thirty this morning. She was in some sort of a trance and told me Mikhail was killing Miranda. She described the place where he took Miranda and I recognized it. How, I don't know but I
did. So I left Jennifer bundled on the couch and took off to the standing stones." He shook his head. "The weather was so bad. It is almost as if something conspired against me. The closer I came the farther away the circle seemed to be. "
Jennifer squeezed his waist in sympathy.
"When I finally drew close to the hill where the stones are located, my Land Rover failed. The electrics, the engine, I was unable to do anything. The vehicle was headed directly at one of the guardian stones at the base of the hill. I had to risk bailing out of the vehicle or crashing into it at forty miles an hour. Miraculously, the Land Rover stopped before it hit. I still don't understand it, it should have hit the stone." He shook himself from his musing.
"I started to climb the hill, but the wind seemed to be trying to prevent me from reaching the top. I had to drop to my knees and claw my way up. I kept praying that the clouds would hold and protect her from the sun," his voice grew hoarse with suppressed emotion. "When I reached the top of the hill, the sun broke through." He pulled away from Jennifer, his movements agitated.
"I was too late," he whispered.
Jennifer reached blindly for a nearby chair and sank bonelessly onto it. Her hands trembled as she wiped away her sudden tears. Through watery eyes she watched Mac approach the fireplace. He placed his hands on the mantel, his hands fisting over the edge of the Carrera marble. Miranda's ring glimmered in the firelight.
"Too late," he whispered again. The room grew still as Mac stared into the fire. The expression on his face tugged at her heart. His torment was there for all to see. Clearly, he was reliving something that she couldn't begin to comprehend. After a few tense minutes he shook his head, removing himself from the past.
"I approached the altar where Miranda was chained to a wooden cross." His voice was flat, emotionless.
"A cross?" Val croaked, his voice rough with emotion.
Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 2 Page 10
