“Step away from the woman, demon.”
A deep voice, dark and rich and full of threat, rolled out around them like a clap of thunder. Emma didn’t feel the reprieve that voice should have provided, though, because Derek’s hands on her arms tightened, his fingernails digging through her long-sleeved yellow T-shirt to slice into her skin. She felt blood trickling down her arms, glanced down to see it seeping through her shirt. She felt sick to her stomach.
“Guardian,” Derek whispered, his once-pronounced accent now completely gone, and his voice a raw scrape on the air. “Move and she dies.”
“Don’t move!” Emma shouted, looking past Derek to the man standing in the open doorway. The instant she saw him, she knew instinctively that nothing would ever be the same again.
At least six foot five, he had shoulder-length black hair and pale blue eyes. His jaw was square and his nose looked as if it had been broken and reset a few times. His shoulders seemed as broad as a football field and the long, black leather coat he wore over black jeans and a white shirt was just the camouflage he needed to hide the sword he carried.
The sword?
Oh, God. What was going on?
And in that one horrible moment, she realized that she’d spent a lot of time lately wishing for some excitement in her life. This reminded her of her mother’s all-time favorite saying.
Be careful what you wish for.
“You don’t belong here,” the sword-wielding giant announced, his deep voice nearly rattling the windowpanes.
“Excuse me?” Emma said, outraged despite the fact that Derek’s fingers dug even harder into her upper arms.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the huge man in the doorway said, those pale blue eyes fixing on the guy with a death grip on Emma.
“Oh. Okay.” Well, good, she thought, one half of her mind still worried about that sword, while the other half was happy to have him on her side. Then she turned her face to her captor. “Look, just let me go and we all walk away.”
“No, we don’t.” The man in the doorway looked more formidable than ever as those icy eyes of his fixed on his prey.
“Not helping,” Emma told him, struggling wildly to pull free of Derek’s grip.
“I’ll not let her go,” the blond said, and instead of releasing her, he wrapped one arm around her throat and pulled her back tight against him. “She’s mine now.”
“Yours?” Emma dragged her short, neat nails across Derek’s skin, but he acted as though he didn’t feel it. She had to escape. Had to get out. How had a study night at the library turned into a scene from one of those movies she hated? How had she, Emma Madison, landed in the middle of some weird hostage situation?
Chapter 2
“You can’t win this and you know it, demon.” Bain Sinclair stared at the demon he’d tracked through most of Edinburgh and couldn’t help the mild sense of disappointment he felt. This miserable creature would prove no test of his strength. Would offer no real battle. Were there no strong demons left to fight in this infernal city? Was this the best demon the worlds had to show him?
Still, as an immortal Guardian, it was Sinclair’s duty to capture the damned demon and send it back through a portal to the hell dimension it had escaped. As there were thousands of different demons, so, too, were there many different dimensions. All of them crowding up against this world, all of them housing demons hoping to claim the earth and subjugate humanity.
The Guardians were all that stood between the demon worlds and this one. Sinclair, like his fellow Guardians, had taken an oath centuries ago to protect the human world from those that would destroy it. Even if it were only this puny demon with delusions of grandeur.
“I’ll kill her.”
Sinclair scowled at the creature who held the woman so tightly. He didn’t dare take his eyes off his prey long enough to inspect the hostage. Even small, inferior demons could prove challenging at times, and he’d no wish to see the human woman harmed.
“Get him off of me!” The woman’s voice was loud and demanding.
Then Sinclair did spare her a quick look and felt a hard jolt to his system. She was tall, with eyes as green as the highland hills and short, red hair with curls that looked as soft as eiderdown. Her mouth was full and lush, her chin stubborn and her body the stuff dreams were made of. Her curves were as lush as her mouth and desire pulsed inside him with a heat he’d never known before.
Who was she? Who was this woman who inflamed both him and a demon? A question that must be answered. But first… Lifting the sword he’d carried for nearly a thousand years, Sinclair moved within a foot of his prey in the blink of an eye.
“I swear I’ll kill her,” the creature spat at him, his eyes wheeling as he desperately searched for an escape that wouldn’t be found.
Pale blue eyes locked on the demon, his features schooled into a calm mask of determination, Sinclair shook his head. “You won’t, you wee weasel of a demon. You need her. As you’ve said yourself.”
“There are other Campbells,” the demon said slyly.
“Campbell?” Sinclair stopped short, glared first at the demon, then at the woman and then back again. “She’s a Campbell?”
Before anything more was said, the woman clearly became tired of waiting to be released. Lifting her foot, she dug the heel of her boot into the top of the demon’s foot. The creature let loose a shout of pain, released her and she instantly dropped to the floor. Scrabbling backward on her butt, she moved as quickly as she could, while keeping an eye on the men closing in on each other.
Sinclair took advantage of her courage. Moving quickly, he tossed the tip of his sword high and allowed the Guardian netting, a fine mesh of magically warded silver he’d attached to the blade, to drape across the demon, who was trying to run. Instantly, the creature was trapped, and the more it struggled, the tighter it was held. Only when he was sure his prey was incapacitated, did Sinclair allow himself to turn and face the woman.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “And why are you with a demon?”
“I’m not with him—” She broke off and sent a look at the creature trapped within the netting, rolling about on the floor and cursing in an unintelligible language. “A demon?”
“Aye.”
“You’ll pay, Guardian,” Derek suddenly screamed in unaccented English.
“Aye,” Sinclair muttered, “so your kind always say.” Then he focused on the woman, now gathering up her things from the floor and pushing herself to her feet. “Tell me, then. Who are you and why did the demon want you?”
“My name’s Emma Madison and who are you?”
“Bain Sinclair. Guardian to this post and the one who’s asking the questions, lass.”
“I’m not a lass,” she argued. “And what’s a guardian and you know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know what’s going on here, who you are, who he is, how you threw that net or any other damn thing. I just want out of here.”
She backed away and Sinclair’s eyes narrowed on her. She wouldn’t be leaving until he knew what was happening. The fact that she was a Campbell didn’t set well with him, since Sinclair had died during a skirmish with the treacherous clan centuries ago. But he was willing to overlook that for now, especially since she had a spine. Unless he discovered that, true to her bloodline, this lass was somehow conspiring with the demon world to unleash hell on Earth.
“I’m just going to leave now and you two can—” Her voice faded away as her gaze locked with his, and Sinclair felt her fear spike even as he watched it register on her features.
Guardians were telepaths, able to read the minds of those they wished. Normally, Sinclair turned that power down, not wanting to be assailed by the thoughts of others. But in this instance, he needed to know what the woman knew. Needed to have more information. And in a rush, her wildly disorganized thoughts streamed into Sinclair’s mind.
You’re both crazy, her mind screamed. I don’t know what you want. Or what he wanted, but right now, all I wa
nt is to get back to my dorm room, close the door and barricade it. Maybe this is a dream, she thought frantically, helplessly, maybe I’ll wake up in my room and realize I’m just jet-lagged or hungover or something and none of this is real and—
“’Tis real,” Sinclair said brusquely, interrupting the wild flow of her thoughts.
“What?” She blinked up at him. “How did you know— What are you?”
“Time enough for that discussion later, Emma Madison,” he said, turning his gaze back to the trapped demon. “First I must return this one to his hell.”
“Hell? Oh, God…”
Sinclair bent down, lifted the demon as if he weighed nothing at all, then slung him, still netted, over his shoulder. “Come. We’ll talk, you and I. I’ve need of answers and you’re the one who has them, I’m thinking.”
“Hold it,” she said, shaking her head, shifting her gaze between him and Derek. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Aye. You are. Either walking or across my shoulder. Your choice.”
“I’ll scream.”
Sinclair waved one hand through the air, effectively sealing the three of them in a bubble of privacy. Wrapped in this field of energy, Guardians could move unseen through crowds of humans. And trapped as she was now, with him, the woman could scream her blasted head off and none would be aware of her.
“Go ahead, then,” he said, already walking, expecting her to follow, for where else would she go now that he’d trapped her as neatly as he had the demon. “But once you’ve seen it’ll do no good, I’d take it as a kindness if you’d shut the bleeding hell up.”
Insulted, enraged and just plain terrified, Emma was dragged in his wake as if tied to him by an invisible tether. She had to run to keep up with his long-legged stride and she noticed as they moved through the library that the building was indeed deserted. Long hallways lit by the flickering overhead lights seemed to stretch on forever. Empty rooms stood sentinel as she passed and Emma’s heartbeat quickened. If Sinclair hadn’t come to her rescue, God knew what Derek might have done to her.
And he’d been right. Screaming wouldn’t do her a bit of good. There was no one to hear her.
The big man stopped suddenly and she collided with his back. It was like walking into a brick wall. He didn’t budge. Didn’t rock unsteadily on his feet. He was a mountain. The proverbial hard place. And now she was trapped between him and a…demon?
Her gaze fixed on Derek, she stepped back and slammed into an invisible wall behind her, then shot another look at Bain Sinclair. Was he safety or a new threat?
The man Derek had called guardian turned his pale, icy blue eyes on her. Slowly, he raked his gaze up and down her body until she felt as though her skin was on fire. Tiny electrical jolts shot through her system under his steady regard. She took another breath, fought down that sizzle of whatever it was and focused on the most important point at the moment.
She was alone with not one but two crazies.
Instantly, Emma pictured the headlines on her hometown newspaper in California: “College Student Killed by Sword-wielding Psycho in Scotland.”
Not what she’d been hoping for when she signed up for this summer course. But then she’d never expected to run into a man like this one, either. Who would?
“A new portal’s been opened here,” Sinclair said, lifting his sword high.
“I don’t see anything,” Emma muttered, not sure if she should tell the truth or placate the crazy man.
“You will.” Then Sinclair began speaking, his deep rumble of a voice rolling out around her like black velvet. Words in a language that sounded as old as time and just as mysterious filled the air and Emma held her breath, half-afraid to face what might happen next.
Then she saw it. A wash of pale yellow light that streamed into the room as it brightened, elongated, becoming what looked like a window into another world. As Sinclair’s voice rolled on, images formed and faded within that window. Colors, shapes, creatures, flickered on and off like a slide show of kaleidoscopic breadth. So many things, too many. And none of it made sense.
“Hold!” Sinclair’s shout brought the flickering images to a standstill.
Emma looked into the window of light and saw beyond to a landscape that was so foreign she could hardly take it in. Black trees, twisted into shapes both horrifying and intriguing. Skeletal creatures slipping in and out of the shadows. Twin bloodred suns shining from a black sky, and a hot wind, heavy with the scent of spices, raced through the opening into Emma’s world.
“What is that?” She shook her head, looked at Sinclair as he swung Derek down off his back and quickly freed him from the netting.
“There are many hells,” Sinclair muttered, keeping a tight grip on the back of Derek’s neck. “And even more demons. This one belongs in that hell,” he said, jerking his head at the weirdly pulsing window of light.
Derek stared at her, licked his lips with a tongue that was as red as the weird suns staining that foreign sky and then he whispered, “He can’t save you from me, you know. I’ve got the flavor of you now.” He lifted his fingers, still damp with her blood, tasted them and sighed. “I’ll find you. When he’s nowhere near. I’ll find you.”
“Leave off, demon, and go back to your hell,” Sinclair ordered, and gave Derek a shove that sent him tumbling through the window of light and fire.
When he was gone, the portal snapped shut and disappeared as if it had never been. All that remained was the faint scent of spice and the huge man at Emma’s side.
“Oh, my God.” Her brain was spinning. This was like being drunk without the good time. Nothing of what she’d experienced could possibly be real. So the only explanation was she’d had a stroke or something. Maybe she was even now lying in a dream-filled coma in an Edinburgh hospital. Heck, maybe she was still at home, dreaming about going to Scotland. And if that were true, she wouldn’t be anywhere near the country she’d dreamed of visiting all her life.
But beneath her, the floor felt cold and hard and the sultry scent of spices still hung in the air. So no, she wasn’t dreaming. This was all real. Impossibly, incredibly, real. “What is happening to me?”
“A long story, lass. One better told in safer places.” The giant of a man held out one hand to her and Emma wanted to take it. She just wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand even with his help.
She needn’t have worried.
“I might’ve known it would be a Campbell to bring me more grief.” He shook his head, his long black hair settling behind his back as he grabbed hold of her, pulled her to her feet and, in one easy movement, tossed her across his shoulder—exactly as he had with the demon only a few moments ago. Emma pushed herself up against his back, but she’d no hope of freeing herself, anyway. He was even stronger than he looked.
Locking one arm across her knees, Sinclair muttered something about damned women and blasted Campbells as he stalked from the library and into the cold, clear night.
Chapter 3
Emma’s kidnapper/hero lived in luxury.
His palatial estate took up half a city block not far from Princes Street, and outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of Edinburgh twinkled like fallen stars. Inside the house, she stood in a book-filled study, with a fire blazing in a man-size hearth. Leather chairs dotted the floor as if silently inviting guests to get comfortable.
She was so far from comfy, Emma thought she might never relax again.
Her gaze slid to the man standing with his back to the fire. His coat and sword were gone and still he was formidable. Broad chest, muscular legs and thickly muscled arms—the man was a walking weapon. She should be terrified of him—and yet, there was something inside her that…yearned. That ached for him. Wanted to crawl inside his embrace and stay there. Ridiculous, she told herself. She was clearly having some sort of delayed reaction to what had happened to her.
“Think, Emma. What would a Cirico demon want with a Campbell?”
“I don’t know,” sh
e said for at least the fifth time since he’d brought her here to this…palace. For the past hour, he’d questioned her, made her repeat her conversation with Derek and in general hadn’t given her a moment’s peace. “Until an hour ago, I didn’t even know there were demons.”
“Yet he found you. Marked you.” Bain nodded at her neatly bandaged arms.
For a second or two, she remembered him carefully rolling her long-sleeved shirt up and tenderly bandaging the slices Derek’s fingernails had made on her skin. In those moments, Sinclair had seemed gentle. But it hadn’t lasted long.
“What does that mean exactly?” she asked. “He ‘marked me.’”
“He’s tasted your blood—”
“Don’t remind me—”
“When he escapes again—”
“When?”
Bain nodded. “The blasted demons never stay gone for long. And once he’s out, he will find you.”
“Oh, God.” Her knees folded and she sat down right where she was, landing on an ornate rug that was more beautiful than padded. “What can I do?”
“You will stay here. With me.”
A decree, she thought, said with the same tone of authority that an ancient lord of the manor would have used to an annoying peasant. She wanted to be insulted, but, really, she was grateful. And what did that say? She didn’t know this guy from a hole in the wall. For all she knew, he could be just as crazy as that…demon. But no. Her mind argued with her even as she considered it. He wasn’t crazy. He was the hero in this picture. He’d saved her from whatever Derek had had planned. And he’d brought her here and bandaged her—she remembered the soft touch of his hands on her skin and recalled, very clearly, the buzz of sensation just being near him had caused.
So yes, she was grateful to him and intrigued by him and, God knows, she didn’t want to think about facing Derek alone—still, she couldn’t just stay here with Bain Sinclair indefinitely.
Vacation with a Vampire...and Other Immortals: Vampires in ParadiseImmortal (Harlequin Nocturne) Page 11
