Meena wasn’t so lucky. Despite both of their parents being supernaturals, Meena had been born human.
A pang of jealousy reared its ugly head, and she was quick to push it down. She didn’t like being petty. She was healthy and loved by people who would never grow old and who would more than likely live hundreds of years more than her. They would go on long after she was gone, and that brought her joy. She’d seen a number of her human friends lose loved ones, and the effects on them had been devastating.
She didn’t even want to think on it more. Glancing around the training room, Meena watched as Rose flipped, sparring with Bhaltair. At six-two, and second-in-command to her grandfather, Bhaltair was imposing. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of him that wasn’t muscle. He somehow managed to avoid looking too muscular, but only just barely. He moved with an impressive gracefulness, reminding her more of a dancer than the legendary, feared vampire she’d heard mention of him being more than once. She knew he was holding back.
“Come on, Walt,” yelled Rose, annoyance coating her every word. “You’re going easy on me. I thought you special operatives were tougher than this.”
Meena cringed at the sound of her sister using the English version of Bhaltair’s name. It did not suit the man in the least. That didn’t stop Rose from calling him Walt or Walter as much as possible. Probably to get a rise out of him.
He didn’t take the bait. He did, however, twist and use his fighting staff to sweep Rose’s legs out from under her, depositing her on her backside. Meena couldn’t help but laugh softly at the look of indignation on her sister’s face. The girls often argued, as sisters often did, but in the end they loved each other greatly.
“Jerk move,” said Rose, pushing to her feet.
Bhaltair licked his lips, his gaze moving to Meena for the briefest of moments.
She tensed, her heart rate increasing and her palms beginning to sweat. That response had been happening more and more around him of late. She wasn’t sure why, but his very glance could suddenly send her body into overdrive. She wanted to touch him—something she rarely did.
“Have you had enough?” he asked, a Scottish brogue evident. There were times it was quite thick and other times it was barely noticeable.
Rose grunted and went at him again. He deflected her attack with no real effort. That only served to piss Rose off more. Her sister, in addition to possessing the gifts of a supernatural, also had a heck of a temper.
It was important to their parents that the girls be trained and be able to protect themselves should the need arise. Rose had come out of the womb headstrong and ready to kick butt. Meena hadn’t, leaving her feeling like a colossal letdown to her parents and the supernatural community in general. She didn’t have super strength or excessive speed. She was clumsy at best, and where Rose could take a hit and keep on going, Meena tended to end up battered, bruised or with broken limbs.
When she’d come out the other side of a training session with two broken bones from one well-placed hit by Bhaltair, he’d refused to train her again. She strongly suspected he’d been avoiding her since then as well. The few times he’d allowed himself to be in the same room with her, he’d treated her as if she were a delicate porcelain doll who might break if looked at too long or hard.
For a while, she’d refused to allow it to bother her. She’d stayed busy and done her best to be scarce whenever Rose was training. But lately, Meena was drawn to the training sessions.
More specifically, drawn to Bhaltair. The urge to touch him ate at her, nearly forcing her from her seated position.
She closed the book she’d been reading and watched as Rose swung high at Bhaltair’s head with her fighting staff. Meena’s breath caught and she waited, fearing he would be hurt. He merely leaned back, the staff gliding past his head as if it had never been a threat at all.
He glanced in her direction and winked.
She was surprised. He wasn’t known for winking at her.
Or at all that she knew.
While he was nowhere near as set in the old ways as her grandfather, he was certainly a man out of his time. As an immortal vampire, he’d been alive centuries, and at times, it was glaringly obvious. Not that he looked old or worn, just that his mannerisms and often his lack of pop culture knowledge or modern slang made it painfully clear he was older than he appeared.
Rose lowered her fighting staff and put her hand up. “I’ve got to go. Hot date tonight.”
Bhaltair snorted. “Yer twenty. Too young to date.”
Rose undid the tie holding her long, flaming-red hair back. “Dad says the same thing. He wishes I was more like Meena. You know, a bookworm who never gets in to any trouble. Otherwise known as boring.”
Meena pursed her lips and pretended the dig wasn’t hurtful. Rose had a long history of speaking before thinking. Meena knew her sister would apologize later, once she’d thought more on what she’d said.
She smoothed her skirt down and avoided looking up for a moment, fearful the moisture pooling in her eyes would be seen. No one liked being called boring. She certainly didn’t relish the label cast upon her at an early age. In comparison to Rose, Meena was downright boring.
Rose shook her head, raking her gaze over Meena slowly and then wrinkling her nose as if smelling something bad. “Big sister, we have got to get you to wear some sexier clothes. You look like you’re ready to attend a funeral at any moment.”
Meena surveyed her apparel. It wasn’t that bad, was it? The skirt she wore was dark brown, vintage lace with long flowing layers of material beneath it. She had on a matching cami with a black long-sleeved shirt tied loosely over it. The shirt matched her knee-high leather boots.
“Embrace jeans and tight shirts, Meena. You’re always in dresses, and not even sexy, slinky ones. Boring.”
Meena pushed her long, unruly dark brown hair behind her ears. Streaks of red danced through it. She envied her sister for having the same color hair as their mother and grandfather. Meena was more of a mix of her mother and father, rather than taking after only one.
Rose approached and tossed her towel at Meena. “Whatcha reading? Poetry again?”
“I don’t read poetry…much.” She was reading a wonderful book written long ago. When she’d come across it in the archives, she’d had to read it. She couldn’t stop herself.
“You live your life in books. College is such a waste of our time. We’re on break and you’re still studying. I don’t get it. Why?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Meena said, standing and clutching her book to her chest. Her sister didn’t care about learning or soaking up knowledge. Rose only cared about how hard she could hit something. A trait Meena did not share.
“Try me,” Rose returned.
Shrugging, Meena made a move to step down from the bleachers but tripped and nearly bit it face first. Bhaltair was suddenly there, catching her, steadying her. Heat flared throughout her body, and she pulled back from him. “Th-thanks.”
Rose burst into laughter. “Mom and Dad should have named you Two Left Feet. You are clumsy, hon.”
Meena stifled a laugh as well. Rose was correct. She was clumsy.
“Rose, you promised your grandmother you’d visit with her before leaving tonight,” Bhaltair said, something off in his voice. He kept Meena close.
That was different and odd, but Meena made no move to pull away.
“Sure thing, Walt,” Rose replied as she headed for the doors.
Meena righted herself, her attention on Bhaltair. “How do you not strangle her?”
“I have amazing self-control,” he said, making her laugh. He tipped his head, his shoulder-length raven hair falling into his strikingly handsome face. His dark gaze always looked as if he were hiding some big secret, one she wished he’d let her in on. Mostly, she just had to fight to keep from trying to touch the guy, he was that alluring. “You were quiet tonight. Is the book yer reading good?”
“Oh, it’s really good. It’s about the
Scottish rebellion in the late 1700s.” She stopped, realizing he most likely didn’t care.
He lifted a brow. “Really? Those were interesting times, to say the least, lass.”
“I forget that you lived it.” She snorted. His brogue was there, but not as thick as her grandfather’s. Bhaltair had been alive during the very time she was reading about. He didn’t need her recounting it all.
He’d been there.
“You don’t have to pretend to be interested. I’m boring. You can say it. Rose tells me all the time. I think she’s a redheaded version of our dad. You know, a total hellion.”
Bhaltair chuckled. “Aye, I would agree. She looks much like yer mother but acts most like yer father.”
“I’m starting to think I was adopted,” she said, only partially kidding.
He eyed her over. “Yer a green-eyed beauty who is able to take a man’s breath with simply a look.”
She blushed and lowered her gaze momentarily. “Thank you.”
Meena wasn’t sure what brought on his statement. Bhaltair wasn’t normally known for being overly nice or for handing out compliments. That being said, he must have felt bad for her and maybe even a little bad about ignoring her for so long. Because any man who looked like him and had been alive for centuries certainly wouldn’t find her attractive.
Chapter 2
Looking toward the windows, Meena couldn’t help but notice how many stars were out. It hit her many times in her life that her father, grandfather, and Bhaltair were never allowed to enjoy the sun. Stars were all they knew now. While she loved the night and had always preferred it to the day, the thought saddened her. “Bhaltair, do you ever wish you were different?”
“How so?”
She shrugged, growing quiet. He eased his hand into hers, standing next to her, and the action felt normal even though they didn’t make a habit of holding hands. In fact, she didn’t recall a time prior to that night when they’d ever done so.
She didn’t care what had brought it on. She just didn’t want it to end.
“Are you asking if I miss the sun?” he questioned.
“I’m sure you miss it,” she said, easing closer to him, her other hand touching his upper arm. She was left leaning against him, holding his hand and touching him, her head resting on his shoulder as they both faced the windows. She stared longingly out at the dark sky, enjoying the closeness to Bhaltair. “I love the night. Stars are so beautiful. So is the moon. It takes my breath away every time I see it full in the night sky. But I can’t imagine never seeing the sunrise again. That has to be hard.”
Bhaltair stayed silent, but he didn’t move away. He remained perfectly still.
Meena caressed his upper arm absentmindedly as she continued to stare out at the night. “It’s stunning.”
“Aye, you are,” he said softly.
Sure she’d heard him wrong, Meena glanced up at his profile, her gut tightening at the sight of him there. Everything about the man seemed to ooze power and sex appeal, yet he was always so reserved, so guarded. She lived for the rare moments when she caught a glimpse of him smiling. They were few and far between.
“Tell me your thoughts, Meena,” he said, still facing the windows. “I have never been able to read you.”
She knew as much, though she wasn’t sure why. None of the vampires she knew could read her thoughts. It was the only thing that set her apart from humans. In every other way, she was the same. “I wish I was different. I wish I was more like all of you.”
He said nothing as she found herself tearing up. She didn’t want to appear pathetic in front of him, but she couldn’t seem to stop her emotions as they continued to build.
“I wish I didn’t break so easily,” she whispered, the words something she’d never spoken out loud before.
“Aye.” He tugged her gently until she was standing directly in front of him, still facing forward. He wrapped his arms around her waist, easing against her, his front pressed to her back. “As do I.”
She flinched and tried to pull out of his hold. He didn’t let go. He held her there gently yet firmly. He was so powerful without even trying that she wouldn’t be moving until he permitted it. “Bhaltair, I see the way you all worry about me. I know Grandpa and Dad want to wrap me in a protective bubble. If I could change what I am, I would. I’d be like you. I’d be strong and fearless.”
He simply held her, and strangely, it was exactly what she needed. She didn’t care what had brought it all on, or why he was doing it. She didn’t want it to end. She put her hands over his and rested her head back on his chest.
When he spoke, his deep voice seemed to reverberate through his powerful chest, right into her. “You asked if I wished I were different. I dinnae use to wish for such a thing. I enjoyed being as I am—more than a man. As of late, I often find myself wishing I were more human and less supernatural.”
She gasped and twisted in his arms to be able to see his face. “Why? You’re perfect as you are.”
“You see me as perfect?” he asked, his dark brown gaze lingering on her as he eased his hold, allowing her to step out of his grasp. She didn’t go far.
She couldn’t hide her partial laugh. Was he serious? He was about as perfect as guys came. “Uh, yeah. Do you have a fault? If so, I’ve never noticed.” She held up her hand, ticking off his qualities on her fingers. “You’re incredibly loyal and very tender-hearted, even though I think you try to hide that from most people.”
He raised a brow quizzically.
“You can pretty much beat up anything that looks at you funny. You know how to deal with both Grandpa and my dad. You’re patient. I mean, just the other day Striker was here, but you kept your temper in check, and didn’t try to kill him. Even when Grandpa and my dad both went at him. And you’ve got this nice mix of sophisticated yet funny and free.”
Striker, a PSI operative with a thick Scottish accent, and a sense of humor that got him into trouble often, had come by to drop off paperwork for her grandfather. He’d ended up goading her father and her grandfather to the point the two vampires both took swings at the shifter male.
Bhaltair grunted. “I’ve no patience for Striker. I simply dinnae wish to have to clean his blood from the floors. Should he make another pass at you, I will end him.”
Meena smiled up at him, thinking back to the pickup lines Striker had attempted on her before trying the very same lines on Rose. “Bhal, he’s a little too cocky for my liking.”
Something she couldn’t read passed over his face. “Many women find him verra pleasing to the eye.”
Striker was extremely good looking, no question there, but he was no Bhaltair. She loved Bhaltair’s darker features and his quiet reserve. She loved how he was sexy without coming off as too sure of himself, and she had always been a sucker for his dark, smoldering gaze. “He’s not too shabby, but…well, he’s no you.”
“No me?” he pressed.
Pink stained her cheeks. She couldn’t believe how bold she was being. “I think you’re way sexier.”
He appeared amused, and she instantly backed away, feeling childlike.
“Forget I said anything. I’ll go. I shouldn’t be here anyways. It’s not like these training sessions are for me.”
She tried to go, but he caught her arm lightly. He caressed her flesh with his thumb. The very feel of his hand on her arm made her breath catch. She closed her eyes faintly, nearly leaning into the feel of him once more. Something about the proximity made her want to submit to him—to surrender fully.
Snap out of it, she thought, but it did little to change her situation. If anything, she pressed against him more. It wasn’t as if they did it often—or ever before tonight—but she wanted to be held again by him. She’d always wanted him to touch her in such a way, but she’d never come right out and asked him to. And she never thought he really would.
“Meena, look at me.”
The very idea of making eye contact after she’d confessed to thinking he w
as sexy nearly sent her scrambling from the training facility. She may be human, but she was betting her embarrassment could give her speed that rivaled any vampire’s. And if he kept making skin-to-skin contact with her, there was a better-than-average chance she’d show what his touch was doing to her.
“Ask me how it is I see you,” he said, still making contact with her.
She paused, the moment’s joy fading fast. “I already know. I heard you arguing with Grandma about me once. She was trying to convince you to work with me on self-defense, and you told her I was too human for you to bother with.”
He stiffened. “You misunderstood my meaning.”
“Hard to misunderstand that, don’t you think?” The sting of the words still haunted her. She wanted to be like her family. She wanted to be like Bhaltair. Special. Different. Not too human to bother with.
He exhaled slowly. “Meena.”
Moisture coated her eyes as she stared up at him. “I need to be on my way. The campus librarian is holding a book for me that I requested, and I promised to pick it up by nine. Night, Bhaltair.”
She was also possibly meeting a man there that she didn’t want Bhaltair to know about. He wouldn’t understand and he’d tell her grandfather and father. And then they’d forbid her from seeing the man anymore. No one really thought much of her visiting the campus library. She did it often enough. It was well known how much she loved it because it was far more than just a regular library. It was magnificent.
The campus library was really a front for one of the many PSI archival departments spread out all over the world. Meena had spent a great deal of time visiting different ones when she was a child and had come to love and appreciate the abundance of history they housed. So many events cataloged. So many artifacts tucked away, kept safely stored under the noses of humans. She loved history, both human and supernatural.
“Meena.”
She looked away, unwilling to make eye contact with Bhaltair as a lone tear eased down her cheek. He didn’t need to see the effect he had on her. It was bad enough she’d allowed herself to be upset once more with his words of her humanity, spoken months ago. She didn’t need to expose herself emotionally to him any more.
Taming the Vampire: Over 25 All New Paranormal Alpha Male Tales of Contemporary, Military, Shifters, Billionaires, Werewolves, Magic, Fae, Witches, Dragons, Demons & More Page 45
