by Siobhan Muir
She froze then slowly turned her right hand over, squeaking again as a warmer, golden light from her palm nearly blinded her. She slammed her eyes shut, waiting for pain to strike her awareness, but everything felt normal. Bridget cracked her eyes open and looked again.
The same symbol on Fredrick’s chest marked her palm, glowing gently with honey-colored light. She flexed her hand, twisting it back and forth, but the glow never died.
Wow, I have my own flashlight now.
She wanted to giggle, but the silver light cut off suddenly as Fredrick turned away, distracting her. She almost threw her hand up, palm out to see where he went, but when the lights flashed back on, she squinted in adjustment.
He pulled his shirt on over his head, disguising the shining silver mark, and his handsome body from her sight. She mentally sighed in disappointment, wishing he’d just walk around naked so she could watch him, touch him, feel the rough hairs against her skin.
She mentally slapped herself for good measure. Focus, dimwit! Your hand’s glowing, and you’re lusting after a sparkling vampire! Shit, when did I get involved with something out of a paranormal romance?
“Please tell me my hand isn’t glowing because I’m radioactive.”
Fredrick’s laugh warmed her right down to her toes. “You’re not radioactive unless you’ve been visiting Chernobyl recently.”
“It hasn’t been on my vacation plans,” she said, glad her voice sounded steady. “Why is my hand glowing?”
Fredrick leaned against the wall beside the window, his arms crossed over his chest. He studied his feet while he gathered his thoughts.
“I told you the Priestess gave me the Mark of the Goddess when I was a boy and gave me a special message.”
“Right, I got that.”
He gave her a flat look, and she sealed her lips. “The reason for the message was because I’d been chosen by the Goddess through Her Priestess to serve Her in a specific way. That’s when the visions started, and I learned to heed their messages.”
Fredrick rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he examined his boot tips. “For the last six months, I’ve received visions of you in your life, doing mundane things like drinking coffee at the coffee shop, or watering the plants in your apartment, innocuous things. I didn’t understand why I received them, but each time I saw you, I grew a little more attached to you.”
“Even when you had no idea who I was.”
“Even then.”
“What does this have to do with my hand turning into a personal torch?”
“Two weeks ago, the energy in the visions changed.” Fredrick’s voice grew serious, and dread snaked down Bridget’s back. “They became filled with warning. I couldn’t see what danger stalked you, but I could feel it.” He grimaced as he raised his dark eyes to her. “Unfortunately, I didn’t know your name or where you lived or even in what city in I should start searching. I didn’t learn that until two nights ago when I found you at Snickerdoodles, one of my coffee shops.” He shook his head in disgust.
“Wait, you own Snickerdoodles?” No wonder he walked around like he owned the place.
“Yes,” he answered shortly. “You’ve been so close in Boston this whole time, and I’ve only now just found you. I thought you’d be safe if I brought you to my home, the danger averted, but I can’t shake the feeling that it remains.”
“Whoa, I’m still in danger?” She rose to her feet and braced her hands on her hips. “But you said I’d be safe here.” Then she shook her head. “Why am I even believing you?”
Irritation flashed across his face before he smirked slyly. “Perhaps because your hand has become ‘a personal torch’?”
Bridget gritted her teeth. “Yeah, why is that?”
“The only thing I can guess, Bridget, is you carry the Blood of the Goddess within you, and when you touched the sacred Mark given to me by Her High Priestess, your bloodline recognized the blessings bestowed upon me.”
“Wait, the ‘bloodline’ recognized it? It has an awareness?”
“The Goddess is in all things, particularly you, my dear. She would recognize Her blessings no matter how small.” He pointed to Bridget’s hand. “The Mark on your hand matches the one on my chest, doesn’t it?”
Bridget nodded uncomfortably.
“The High Priestess told me I would know the Avatars of the Goddess, those born directly from Her bloodline, when the Mark appeared somewhere on their bodies. I didn’t suspect you were the Avatar until I heard your mother’s maiden name from Cynthia.”
“So you knew, but didn’t say anything?”
Fredrick raised his eyebrows. “What could I say to you? You were already displeased with my conduct and didn’t believe I was a vampire. Were you likely to believe in Avatars of the Goddess?”
Bridget wanted to kick something in chagrin. “No, probably not.” She looked down at her hand, rubbing the palm with her opposite fingers. “Will it always glow like that? That might be fun at parties, but a pain in the ass if I’m trying to get some sleep.”
He chuckled, and some of her uncertainty drained away.
“I think it will only glow like that if you connect it to a Mark like mine.”
“Thank God.”
Fredrick frowned. “Thank the Goddess.”
“Right, sorry.” The Mark on her hand looked like an old scar, barely visible in the light. She stared at it hard, but she couldn’t see any movement like the one on Fredrick’s chest. “So, why do you think the Mark appeared now? It’s not like it was there before just a few minutes ago.”
“I can only surmise its appearance is the acknowledgement of the connection between Goddess-born and Goddess-blessed.” His expression filled with unpleasant anticipation, as if he knew she wouldn’t like what more he had to say. “It connects us for the rest of our lives, and it’s a symbiotic relationship, which means if any harm comes to you, I will be affected and vice-versa. Therefore, it is in our best interests to treat each other well.”
“Treating me well,” Bridget said with heavy irony. “That’s what this is? Holding me here against my will?”
“That is for your protection. I still sense danger coming.”
“Danger from what or from whom?”
He had the grace to look sheepish. “I don’t know. The sense remains, and I cannot take the chance I might not be there to stop it.”
She said nothing to that for a short time, her thoughts churning. She rubbed her hand as her mind raged about captivity. But after what he’d told her about their connection, and the damn near orgasmic feeling of being in his arms, she wondered if she really wanted to leave. Especially if he still sensed danger around her.
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Do I really believe he can sense the future? Do I really believe he’s a psychic vampire?
She flexed her hand, remembering how his hand had zipped itself back together after he cut it with her knife.
Yeah, I think I do. But that means I have to believe he’s right about me being the Avatar of the Goddess and him being my servant.
“I don’t want or need a servant.” She wrapped her arms around herself for comfort.
“It’s not that kind of service.” He closed the distance between them. “I serve you by protecting you as a guard, or perhaps teaching you more about your heritage. It isn’t subservience so much as bringing myself and you honor by serving.”
Bridget tightened her grip and closed her eyes as the enormity of the truth hit her. If she was the Avatar of the Goddess, and he was her protector, it stood to reason danger really stalked her, and she needed his protection. She wanted to curl into a ball and hide until it all went away, but she sensed his approach blocked her path to the bed as his scent filled her nose. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know he’d stopped in front of her close enough to touch.
“I don’t really understand what is going on and why all this is happening,” she whispered as her fear and confusion overwhelmed her. “None of this makes any sense to me.”
And she started to cry.
Chapter Six
Bloody hell, please don’t cry!
Fredrick’s heart bled with her tears, and before he thought about it, he’d gathered her into his arms. He tried to tell himself it was just to comfort his Avatar, but deep down he knew it was more. He’d watched her for months, slowly falling in love with the red-headed woman who watered her plants with such loving attention and read romance novels while she sipped coffee. He’d dreamed of holding her, and the first taste of reality when she’d stroked his chest had been better than any dream.
Every time he touched her, the electricity of their connection vibrated through his body, reminding him of his duty and his desire to offer her pleasure and comfort. Goddess above, he could take her right now, but he had no wish to drive her away with his lust. He had to sternly remind his body it had to stay calm. That was almost more difficult than watching her cry.
When she relaxed into his embrace, his heart danced a hopeful jig. She smelled like the sour scent of rotting vegetation, and she shook against his chest. Her fear screamed at him from the tension of her shoulders, but he didn’t know if it stemmed from him or her legacy. He was one of the monsters she’d been taught to fear since childhood. Bram Stoker had painted a dismal picture of the men and women unfortunate enough to receive the genetic code allowing them to live after death.
“I’ve got you. I’m here, Bridget. I’ll always be here from now on.”
Her breath hitched, and more tears soaked the front of his shirt. “You’ve said that before.”
“I have?”
“Yeah, in my dream. At least, I think it was a dream.”
“You’ve dreamed about me?” Giddy delight uncurled within him.
She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his chest, and he suddenly wished he’d left his shirt off.
“What was I doing in this dream?”
“You came to rescue me.”
“Did I now?” Pride swelled his chest, but he resisted the urge to push it out. “Perhaps now you can believe I’d do that in your waking life as well as in your dreams.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He felt her withdraw from him as soon as the words left his mouth, and he mentally smacked his forehead. Her scent changed from rotting vegetation to the smell of the land drying after flood waters recede. She finally pushed herself back from him and rubbed her face with her hands.
Fredrick missed her soft body against his immediately.
“Bridget.”
She held up one hand to forestall him.
“I need to think about this. Is there any way I can go outside and walk in the fresh air? I think better when I’m walking.”
He glanced at the window. The clouds had cleared, and the nearly full moon blazed white against an inky black curtain of stars. It provided enough light to see the contours of the land around the house and the shimmer of the river through the bare trees. The idea of her outside alone made his gut clench, and he had to force his hands to relax from involuntary fists.
With that much light, Cynthia and her wolves will have no trouble seeing her. Bridget will be fine if she says on the estate.
“Of course, but stay on the grounds so that Cynthia or I can get to you if you should need us.”
“I will,” she said so softly only his vampire hearing picked it up. “I won’t run again.”
Fredrick felt chagrin settle into his chest. “That was for your protection.”
“I know. Because there’s danger around me.”
“I realize it doesn’t make sense to you, but I’ve learned to listen to my instincts. They’re screaming for me to protect you.” He shrugged helplessly, wishing he could convey the urgency he felt. “We’re bound, Bridget, and I’ll do my utmost to keep you safe, not only because you’re Goddess-born, but also because—”
He stopped himself before he said too much. She’d never believe he’d fallen in love with her without having actually met her.
“Because I’m a gentleman, and I can’t stand back when I know I can help,” he finished lamely, aching to tell her the truth.
“Thank you for your help.” Her face belied her words.
“Bridget.”
“I’ll be okay. I just need to think.” She strode past him and found her shoes, tugging them on in the growing silence. Looking back up at him, she said, “I’m trying to understand it all. I just need a little time.”
“Of course, take all the time you need. Just stay close.”
“I will.” Then she was gone.
Fredrick stifled the urge to go after her and hold her against his chest, inhaling her scent. She’d told him she needed to think and walk, and she’d promised she wouldn’t run away again. He had to believe in her word. He had to believe she’d call if she needed him, and he’d hear it no matter where she was on the estate. He told himself to calm down. She should be safe here, but the feeling of danger persisted and made his back crawl.
He heard the front door close, and the sound unlocked his feet from the floor of her room. He had to find something else to do other than brood on what haunted her thoughts. She’d come to understand what he told her. She had to. The flare of the marks on their bodies confirmed the truth. Now it made sense why she’d been in his visions, but the danger floated like a hazy phantom on the horizon, just out of sight.
Fredrick gritted his teeth as he left the room and strode downstairs to find Cynthia or Matt. He didn’t want the werewolves to tackle Bridget to the ground if they saw her outside. It wouldn’t win him any points, and she’d never trust him to keep his word.
His guts tightened as doubt assailed his mind. Would she really keep her word? His steps veered for the front door, and he’d gripped the brass door-pull before he could give himself a mental shake.
She’s not running. She promised. I have to trust her.
Fredrick rested his head against the glossy wooden surface, inhaling the scent of mahogany and wood stain until his fears retreated back to a manageable level.
Do I trust her? Can I?
He searched deep down in his gut and realized Bridget had never once done anything contrary to what she said she would. In all his visions, she’d struck him as a woman who stayed true to her word and commitments. She may have turned his world upside down, but she’d never been dishonest in his experience. He believed Bridget and trusted her to do as she promised.
Taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension, Fredrick released the door and headed for the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances, golden Italian marble countertops, and oak cabinets soothed his irritation, and he found Cynthia leaning over the large island in the middle of the black marble tiled floor. She’d ignored the four tall chairs pushed up to the bar on the backside of the island as she read a thick book with cup of coffee in her hand.
“Bridget went out to go for a walk,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “She promised to stay on the grounds, but I don’t want any of the werewolves to tackle her tonight.”
“You trust her not to run?” Cynthia asked, raising her eyebrows.
He nodded. “I do. It’s a lot to take in. Werewolves, vampires, the Goddess. And … everything else.”
“You mean that you’re in love with her?”
He looked at Cynthia sharply, but said nothing.
She chuckled and shook her head. “Fredrick, you’ve known me for years. When have werewolves not known what’s going on? I can smell your emotions, though I’ll admit, yours are more subtle than humans’.”
“I didn’t know that,” he said thoughtfully. “What does love smell like? And are you certain that’s what I’m feeling?”
Cynthia snorted. “It’s obvious, Fredrick. You only get this twitchy when you’re concerned about someone you care for. And love smells like…” She stopped and sniffed deeply then her eyes opened wide. “Whoa. You smell like her. Did you mate with her?”
“No!” he barked and snapped his mouth closed around the desperation in his voice
. “No, I just proved to her the connection between Goddess-blessed and Goddess-born.”
“That’s one heck of a connection if you smell like her,” Cynthia said with a grin. “And that’s what love smells like. Your scent blends with that of your mate. Good for you, Fredrick. Does she love you, too?”
Fredrick sighed roughly. “I have no idea. I didn’t ask. She has enough to worry about right now.”
Cynthia gave a scoffing growl. “No one has too much to think about to know if they love someone. Why didn’t you didn’t ask her?”
“I didn’t want to push.” He shrugged and dragged a finger over the granite. “But I don’t really need her to love me. It’s possible to love someone without that person loving you back. Look at Szilvia.”
“Keep your chin up.” She grasped his hand. “Your relationship didn’t start out well, but other than holding her hostage under the pretense of protection, you haven’t really done anything to hurt her.”
He wore chagrin like a coat. “Well…”
“You hurt her, too?”
“Not purposely.” He hated the defensive note in his voice. “I was holding her arm when she jerked away.”
Cynthia’s eyebrows hit her hairline, but she said nothing as she watched him squirm.
“And it’s not a pretense. She’s still in danger. I just don’t know how.” He desperately looked for something else to talk about and his gaze landed on her book. “What are you reading? It looks like Tolstoy’s War and Peace.”
“Close. It’s C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia collected in one book.”
Fredrick smirked. “A werewolf reading The Chronicles of Narnia?”
“Hey, it’s a great set of stories, and who says there are no dragons just because you haven’t seen one? Bridget had never seen a vampire, but here you are making fun of me.”
He wanted to stick his tongue out at her, but he told himself he was too dignified for such behavior. “Where’s Szilvia?”
“I don’t know. I think she went out for a bite, but I haven’t seen her for a while. Why?”
