The Fates were ever trifling with a man. But this was too much. To send him a Destined Mate after centuries of solitary life would seem a gift to some. But the fact that she was a Campbell proved that those very Fates had a most perverse sense of humor.
“Do you realize, lass,” he said on a sigh, “that I didn’t say that out loud?”
A moment passed, then two. And finally, her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open and she stared up at him. “But I heard—”
“Aye, you heard my thoughts. And that can only mean one thing. You’re mine, lass.”
Chapter 4
She was his.
Three days later, Bain’s words were still circling in Emma’s mind and she was no closer to being able to accept them. How could she? How was she supposed to believe that she was Bain’s Destined Mate? The one woman in the world meant to be with him?
“Not that you’d know it from the way he’s treating me,” she muttered to no one. Three days she’d been locked away in the Edinburgh mansion with the one man in the world who was supposed to be destined for her and had he made one solitary move since that amazing kiss?
No, he hadn’t.
She wasn’t disappointed, though. It wasn’t as if she wanted to jump into bed with a virtual stranger—well, okay, maybe she did. But if he was right, then he wasn’t really a stranger, either, was he?
And if she was this legendary Destined Mate, how could it possibly work out for them? He was an immortal. She wasn’t. So was she supposed to stay with him until she was old and wrinkly and then what? He moves on, looking for another “mate” while she checks into the Old Mates’ Home?
She sighed a little and walked into the garden of Bain’s elegant mansion. Beyond the gray brick wall surrounding the back garden lay Edinburgh, the city she’d dreamed of visiting. The city she’d always felt drawn to. Now she had to wonder if her longing for Scotland had been her own subconscious trying to get her close to Bain. Was it possible that she once had been a woman in love with Bain, and was now reborn to get another shot at a happily ever after?
“God. It sounds like a bad plot in a sappy movie.” But what other explanation was there? How did she know so much about him? How had she seen glimpses of his life? How had she read his thoughts? Why did she feel a “bond” with him?
Had she somehow known that coming here, to Scotland, would give her the opportunity to find the one man in the world she belonged with? And if so, why? To torture herself? Even if she was his Destined Mate, nothing could come of it. He was immortal and she was mortal. And that was just the beginning of their problems.
She was also an American with a family back home waiting for her. She couldn’t just settle down with a Scotsman they’d never even met! And what was she supposed to do about school? She hadn’t finished her degree yet and no way was she going to stop before she had.
Already because of this bizarre situation, she’d missed a couple of classes she couldn’t afford to skip. But every time she thought about going back to the university, she pictured Derek the Troll showing up and trying to drink her blood or something even more disgusting.
Emma sighed, tried to push those thoughts out of her mind and focused instead on everything that had been happening lately. She’d called her parents to check in, not that she could mention anything about the weirdness of her life at the moment. What was she supposed to say about that, anyway? Mom, Dad, I’ve met an immortal and we’re supposed to be together forever. Oh, yeah, that’d go over well. They’d have her on the first plane home, and from there to a lovely rubber room.
It wasn’t easy talking to people you loved and lying to them. She felt terrible about it, but she honestly couldn’t think of a way around the situation, either. Then, after calling home, she’d contacted the university to let them know that she would be missing a few classes. God knew how many, of course, but that was something she didn’t want to think about yet.
Just as she didn’t want to think about the whole Destined Mate thing.
The way Bain had explained it to her, once Mates made love, they were each of them strengthened. His powers as a Guardian would be enhanced and whatever innate strengths she possessed would also be made stronger. There would be a physical and mental connection between them. She could already hear his thoughts as he could hers—which was uncomfortable, but if they were to have sex, that psychic bond would become stronger, too.
That was probably why he was making such a concerted effort to avoid her. She already felt more connected to him than she ever had to anyone else in her life. She couldn’t sleep at night without dreaming about him. She woke up every morning aching for his touch.
Scrubbing her hands up and down her arms to dispel the chill racing along her skin, she wondered how she would ever be able to live without Bain if they ever did make love. Wouldn’t she miss him for the rest of her life? Wouldn’t she ache for him and pine for him and in general lead a long, miserable life all alone? And when she died a, hopefully, old woman, he would still be as he was today. Young. Strong.
Gorgeous.
And alone, she added, letting her gaze sweep across the tidy gardens and neatly clipped hedges. She knew Bain wouldn’t be able to find another Mate. She was it for him. So when she died, he would be left to just keep going and going, continuing on through eternity, so alone. So solitary. So separate from the very world he fought so hard to defend.
Her heart ached for him, as if she were already feeling the pain that he would be forced to live with. But nowhere in his description of the Mate thing had he said anything about love. So what did that really make her? Bain’s own personal battery charger? Not only would he get sex, but he’d become stronger. Was that why he wanted her here? Was it really not about protecting her, but strengthening Bain? And how would she ever know for sure?
“How’m I supposed to deal with this?” she wondered aloud, tipping her head back to stare up at the heavy gray clouds.
“You think it’s easy for me, then?”
Emma whirled around and watched as Bain stepped out of the house and walked with long strides across the patio. He wore his black jeans, a black shirt, and as his long black coat flapped around his knees, she caught glimpses of the sword still strapped to his side. She knew instinctively that he’d been out in the city, demon hunting.
And how weird was it that she was getting used to that phrase?
A cold, damp wind lifted his black hair off his shoulders. His pale blue eyes shone with fierce determination and his mouth was a firm, straight line. Just looking at him made everything inside her burn with a need that was nearly overwhelming. She wanted him. More than she’d ever wanted anything. Was she supposed to ignore that? Ignore the tug of something so fundamental?
God, she wished she knew what to do.
“I didn’t ask for this, either,” he said, his voice as soft and warm as the wind was cold. He stopped beside her and looked down into her eyes. “I’d long ago accepted that I would not have a Mate. Centuries since I’ve allowed a faint thought of finding the one woman meant for me to haunt me. To torment my dreams and fill too many solitary hours. But at last, I decided it was no way for a Guardian to live. How could I keep my mind on my duties if indulging in thoughts of a selfish need?
“No, I put the very idea of you aside, Emma, long ago. Now, when the notion of a Mate no longer even crosses my mind, you appear. A Campbell, no less.” He laughed shortly and the sound tore at her. “Fate, I’ve learned, is at times, a vicious bitch.”
“Well, that was flattering,” she muttered, whipping her wind-driven hair back from her face. “Thanks very much.”
“You feel the same and you know it, Emma.” He shook his head. “Will you not admit at least that the Fates have played you as strange a hand as they have me?”
Reluctantly, she had to smile. “Okay, yes, I can admit that. I came here to take a few classes. To see Scotland. Demons and Guardians weren’t exactly in the brochure.”
“It’s odd for you, I know.
But,” he added, “you’ve accepted it far better than most mortals would. It’s the Scots blood in your veins. Makes you more open to the possibilities.”
“It’s Campbell blood,” she reminded him.
He winced. “Aye, I know. But still Scots.”
She smiled inwardly at the discomfort on his face. He really didn’t like the Campbells. That would make his meeting her mother really entertaining. But, she told herself, that wasn’t likely to happen, was it?
Shaking her head, Emma asked, “Bain, what does all of this mean for us?”
“It means we’re meant.”
He said it so easily, yet Emma knew he, too, was torn about this. She felt it in him. There was doubt in his mind and heart. There was concern for her—with the threat of Derek the Demon hanging over her head. And there was hesitation in him about changing the way he’d always lived his life. His duty to defend humans from demons was a huge part of him and she knew that he was wondering if he could do it as well as he always had if he allowed himself to care for her.
He was wondering, too, if perhaps the Fates hadn’t made a big whopping mistake.
“You say that,” she said, “but I’m picking up enough stray thoughts from you to know that you’re not exactly thrilled with all of this.”
He scowled at her as if he didn’t like being reminded that she could read what he was thinking.
“Besides. We’re meant? For what, Bain? For a lifetime?” She threw her hands up and her voice hitched a little higher. “Whose? Mine? Yours? You’re immortal. I’m going to get old and die.”
He reached for her, laid his big hands on her shoulders and pulled her in close. In spite of everything, Emma felt the heat of him flow into her body, easing away the chill in her blood. The cold in her soul. She snuggled in close to him, resting her head on his broad chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart, and she felt…right. As if she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
“There must be a way for us,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of her head. “I will find it.”
Emma wrapped her arms around his waist, hung on and asked herself if she really wanted him to find a way for them. God knew it would be easier if she could simply walk away from Scotland and pick up her old life. But she’d never be able to do that. Not knowing that Bain existed. Nothing was ever going to be easy or simple again, she thought with a rueful smile.
Because, yes, she did want Bain to find a way through this mess. A way for them to be together. To claim whatever it was that linked them so intricately together. It made no sense, of course. But it was as if she’d known him forever. As if she’d been born with these feelings for him and had only been waiting for them to flower.
She knew his thoughts, how he felt. She saw what kind of man he was. Who he was. And she admired him. Wanted him. Cared for him.
But she couldn’t say if she completely trusted him.
He kept part of his mind closed to her. Pieces of himself he denied her. Once they made love—and she knew they would; it was inevitable—would she be able to see all of those hidden pockets inside him? Would she be able to unravel the mystery of an ancient Highlander? Or would he still find a way to keep himself separate from her?
And a part of her wondered if she would be this drawn to him if she were still living in the dorm room at the university. If she were still going about her everyday life, would she be as intrigued by Bain? How could she be totally sure of anything? He’d swept her away from everything familiar and settled her down in a palace. Protected, perhaps, but cut off, with only him to lean on. How could she really know her own mind until life returned to normal? Until she could take a step back and look at everything objectively?
But what if that never happened? What if he kept her here indefinitely? It’s not like she could escape him. Mr. Ancient Warrior was probably a pretty good tracker, too. He’d find her wherever she went. And so, undoubtedly, would the demon. So she was trapped here. Forced to trust Bain whether she was ready for that or not.
God, could her life get more confusing?
“Your mind is a jumble of thoughts,” he said softly, lifting one hand to push a handful of red curls off her forehead.
“You shouldn’t be peeking, anyway,” she snapped, and hoped he hadn’t been able to read any one thing in particular. People shouldn’t be able to read each other’s minds, she told herself. Thoughts were private and, sometimes, embarrassing. For example, the fantasies she’d been having the past couple of days all starred Bain Sinclair. Images raced through her mind, leaving her staggered even as he groaned.
“If you keep having thoughts like those, lass, I’ll not promise to not look at them.”
“Oh, great.” She closed her eyes, mortified. When she looked up at him, he was smiling. “Just because my thoughts get a little X-rated now and then doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into the mating bed with you.”
“Fine, then.” He inclined his head with a regal nod. “The mating bed, as you call it, can wait. Tell me what troubles you.”
“God,” she said with a choked-off laugh. “Where to start? You said that finding your Destined Mate would make your strength, your powers, grow.”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you’re keeping me here? To use me?”
“No.”
She leaned back and looked up at him, but his face gave away nothing of what he was feeling. Emma tried to look into his mind, but he’d shuttered his thoughts from her. That told her one thing, at least. He didn’t completely trust her, any more than she did him.
“That’s it? Just no?”
He sighed and tossed his hair back from his face. “If my only reason for having you here was to use you, I’d have already bedded you, lass. Sex with you will give me increased strength. Whereas this constant torture of wanting and not having is only driving me around the bend.”
“Torture?”
“You doubt it?” He pulled her closer and Emma felt the hard, thick length of him pressing into her abdomen. “My body aches for yours. As yours does for mine. You think to hide it from me, but your need pulls at me. Your fantasies are all too clear. Would you lie now and pretend otherwise?”
Her eyes closed on a wave of something hot and delicious. Just having his hard body pressed to hers made her damp and more than ready for him. Every cell in her body wanted him and it took every ounce of her strength to not give in.
“Of course I want you. I’d have to be dead not to,” she told him. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
She pulled out of his arms, took a halting step back and tried to regain whatever pitiful sense of control over this situation she could. And while she waited for her heart to stop pounding, she waved one hand at the sword he still carried strapped to his hip. Deliberately, she changed the subject. “Did you find the demon?”
“No.” His features slipped into a mask of frustration that, for once, had nothing to do with her. “The portal at the library is silent, and there were no trace energy patterns nearby. He’s not come back yet.”
“Yet?”
He nodded, his gaze fixed on her. “Yes. He will return. And I think I know why.”
Judging by the look in his eyes, what he had to say wasn’t going to make her happy. But Emma had to know. She’d already figured out that ignoring all of this wasn’t going to make it go away. And until this situation with the demon was settled, then nothing else in her life would be, either.
She waited for him to speak, keeping her gaze locked with his.
“I spoke to Karras,” Bain finally said, “the Guardian who lives here. He told me there was word of an archaeological find newly placed in Edinburgh University.”
“What kind of find?” Apprehension roiled inside her at his tone. This wasn’t going to be good and she knew it.
Scowling, he pushed both hands through his shoulder-length hair and stared into her eyes as if he could somehow bolster her courage by sheer force of will. “It’s a cup. Bronze, they say, etched w
ith what my friend claims are demonic runes along with the clan name Campbell. The cup dates to ancient days. To before my time.”
Before his time meant pre-eleventh century, Emma thought, amazed that she could actually have that thought without freaking out anymore. Demonic runes? What were they? And why the Campbell name? Oh, this couldn’t be good.
Emma felt as though the ground beneath her feet was tipping and she was left to scramble to keep her footing. She took a breath and asked, “What does that have to do with the demon wanting me?”
He looked into her eyes and a shiver swept over her. She’d seen lots of things in his eyes in the past few days, but until that moment, Emma had never once seen even the slightest flicker of fear. But it was there now.
Fear for her.
“It’s to do with how the cup is to be used, Emma.” He reached for her, but she skipped back, shaking her head.
“Oh, God.” Emma swallowed hard. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
He moved closer to her, and this time laid his big hands on her shoulders and let his body heat drain into hers. “The demon needs Campbell blood, Emma.”
Bain paused, gritted his teeth until his jaw looked as tight as steel, then added, “He needs your blood.”
Chapter 5
Her breath hitched in her chest.
Panic coiled in the pit of her stomach and immediately sprung loose, shooting bone-deep fear throughout her body. Even with Bain as close as he was, she felt cold right down to her soul. This was so much worse than she had thought.
Not just any Campbell? Me, specifically? God, why?
“Your mother,” he said, answering the question she’d only whispered in her mind. “She’s a descendant of those who first forged the cup.”
“Oh, God.” Her mind was racing, and even if Bain was reading her thoughts, she knew he wasn’t getting much. There were too many images and emotions flashing through her brain for anything to make sense.
Emma struggled for air while fear clawed and chewed at her insides. The demon needed her blood. Her blood. All because of something that had happened more than a thousand years ago? How was that fair?
Vacation With a Vampire...and Other Immortals Page 13
