Coldstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 7)

by Amber Kallyn

She pointed her sword at the incoming beasts. "Halt in the name of the Magic Council." A powerful command laced her voice.

  Five of the six wolves dropped to crouch with their bellies to the ground. Only the very large black one in the back continued toward her.

  Low deep growls drew Matt's full attention to the leader. The Rogue's cold, husky blue eyes held such malevolence and hunger.

  This was a darkness he'd encountered before. One he'd hoped to never meet again. Surprise didn't come. Not after everything these Arcaine monsters had done in his town, to his clan.

  The wolf leapt, snapping sharp fangs at Matt's throat.

  Instinct took over. Power, speed and strength rushed through him. Exhaling sharply, he struck his fist directly above the wolf's heart.

  Ribs cracked and shattered. Squeals rang in Matt's ears as the animal crashed into him, a flurry of jaws and sharp claws.

  Across the cave, Anca shouted in frustration and pain.

  Matt's blood boiled. His protective instincts rushed to the fore, commanding him to protect. Primitive fury mixed with the rush of the fight.

  Without thought, he threw the wolf onto the stony ground, grabbed its ears in one hand, its muzzle in his other. Rage roared from Matt. He twisted violently.

  The wolf's spine snapped.

  Matt ripped its head from its shoulders, ensuring a permanent death.

  Still riding the overwhelming need to protect, he raced for Anca.

  Just as she cut down the black wolf. It struggled to rise for a short moment, then collapsed and stopped moving.

  Matt scanned the cave for any other signs of threats, his vision awash with a red haze.

  Protect. Must protect.

  Cool air rushed over his face, making him blink. For an instant, he almost thought he saw sparks floating just in front of him.

  With the threats contained, rationality returned. The light touches of air stopped.

  Anca glared at Matt, her breathing heavy from the fight.

  The five wolves who'd frozen at her command remained on the ground, still but for their trembling. They stared at her with blank eyes.

  "Are you all right?" Matt demanded, looking over her bloodied skin to check the extent of her injuries. No bones appeared broken. The bite wounds on her shoulder were healing, but he'd like to see a few stitches in them to stop her blood loss. Deep gashes marked one of her arms, her neck and collar. Claw marks. Healing better than the ragged bite at least.

  "I'm fine." Her voice was lower than normal. From exertion. Probably pain. The husky European lilt sent an electric jolt down his spine.

  Then she asked, "What about you?"

  A sudden realization struck him mute. She was studying him with the same protective intensity pushing him with worry.

  The thought forced him a startled step backward.

  To cover the awkwardness, he said, "Let me get that bandaged. Stop the bleeding at least."

  Confusion shadowed her expression.

  It clouded his mind a moment, as well, when he glanced around and realized he didn't have any bandages. No first aid kit. Nothing.

  Without thinking, he jerked his t-shirt over his head. A bit sweaty, some blood and dirt stains, but the cleanest thing in this damned cave. He ripped it into long strips.

  Folding some over into pads, he pressed them against her deeper gouges and bite marks.

  Anca hissed. Though the pain had to be excruciating, especially when he took her right hand and told her to push the pads tight to her shoulder, she didn't show any other signs. He ripped a longer strip from the shirt.

  She stood stiffly as he tied the makeshift bandage. It would do until he had something better.

  Shadows stirred in her gaze.

  He searched her face, her posture. "Something else hurt?"

  She shook her head, stared intently at the ground between them. "Thank you." Her whispered words were so quiet they nearly got away before he could catch them.

  "For what?"

  "Helping." She motioned to her shoulder with her good right hand, biting back a wince.

  Almost as if glimpsing a peek into her soul, he suddenly understood that this woman was used to being alone. So very alone. Having another along, concerned and ready to help, was a completely foreign concept to Anca.

  For some reason, the thought of keeping her on her toes pleased him. As did the way her arm was healing a little faster now that the fighting was done.

  This close to her, the scent of cherry blossoms invaded his senses. Inside Matt, long forgotten things rose and fell like shallow waves just waiting to become a tsunami with a coming tide.

  He couldn't look away from Anca as he suddenly saw so many similarities between them.

  One of the cowering wolves whimpered and Anca turned away, breaking the spell.

  Matt caught the way she gingerly held her side, below her ribs. Donning the professionalism of a doctor to hide the tumultuous things churning inside him, Matt stopped her with a hand on her uninjured arm. He lifted her shirt to find ragged bloody claw marks over her waist and hip.

  He scowled. "I thought you didn't have any other injuries?"

  Anca blinked at him with owlike innocence, started to shrug, then winced. "I didn't know about that."

  After he bandaged them, he double checked for anything else she hadn't noticed. When he found no other major wounds, the tension in his muscles eased.

  With all hints of lurking danger gone, the last rush of adrenaline faded. Matt took a few settling breaths, then studied the cave.

  Including what he'd done to the Rogue shifter.

  It had been a surprise, the overwhelming rage and protectiveness.

  And yet, he'd thought such actions to be far in his past. He didn't fight anymore. He was a healer now. No longer a killer.

  Or so he'd believed.

  The contradicting proof lay on the dusty cave floor. Matt's gut churned. He denied the smallest of shakes trembling along his nerves. To keep this woman safe, he'd slipped into long distant roles from the far past.

  Without a second's hesitation. Something he'd only ever done for those he'd considered his.

  "You have your cell phone?" Anca asked.

  Mutely, he pulled it out and turned it on. No service. "It won't work in here."

  Anca waved at the wolves. "We need to tie them up. Then find somewhere we can call your Keeper of the Peace."

  The first thing that came to mind thoughtlessly escaped. "You're not going to torture them for information?"

  Vertebra by vertebra, Anca stiffened. She started to tilt her head, hid a wince, then shot him a grimacing smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I save torture for special occasions. It's funner that way."

  An apology caught at the tip of his tongue.

  She sounded sarcastic. But she did work for the damned Magic Council. Which meant torture was just one of many dubious tools of her trade. And yet...

  Stopping that line of thought, Matt strode to the bound vampires, a young couple he'd known from town. As mortals. They'd abruptly moved away about six years ago, without a word to anyone. How had they managed to hook up with the Rogues? To become vampires?

  Grabbing the rope they'd had with them, Matt returned and knelt by the wolves.

  Anca took the rope, cutting a length with her sword. One by one, Matt forced the shifters to sleep, then hogtied them tightly. Anca remained silent as she cut the rope into smaller sections and handed them to him for muzzles around each wolf's jaws.

  Finished, Matt banked the fire and took one last look around. Not only at a glimpse of the evil stalking his town, but at the darkness inside himself, kept at bay for so long, but now, once more unlocked.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  At Matt's side, Anca hurried down the tunnel, gritting her teeth the entire trip. At the pain radiating through her body, especially concentrated in her slowly healing shoulder. And the rumble of hunger in her belly didn't help.

  She needed food. Blood. Both of them soon.

 
; Outside, the forest hung silent and still. The sunset streaked the sky in shades of purples and reds and golds. It wouldn't be long before night fully descended.

  Matt stopped a few feet from the tunnel and checked his cell. "Nothing. This deep into the forest, surrounded by so much rock, not to mention the magic in this place. The only option is hiking further out, or getting to higher ground." He stared intently at the forest around them. "You feel any other threats?"

  "No." The flickerings of magic from the earth spirits circling both her, and for some reason, Matt, were calm.

  Anca couldn't sense anyone else of power nearby.

  Matt pointed to the tall, craggy hill cresting to a flat mesa about forty feet above the tunnel.

  It was an easy climb. If her arm and shoulder weren't injured. She raised a brow.

  He shrugged. "It's not too far. I'll make the call. Anything happens, yell. I'll be right back."

  She nearly snorted at the idea of needing protection, but her right arm brushed her side, jarring her shoulder, and instead she hid a groan. "I'm fine."

  He started up the cliff face, finding holds with his hands and boots. As he climbed, his bare back rippled with muscles. His jeans tightened sinfully across his ass.

  Her mouth began to water. Anca licked her lips, trying to look away.

  It didn't work for a long while.

  Finally managing to glance around, she spotted a fallen tree off to one side of the cave. She sat down, able to keep an eye on any potential escapees. Or any more enemies arriving.

  And Matt.

  His skin began to glisten with sweat.

  Warmth twisted inside her.

  It almost seemed like it had been days, rather than only hours, since he'd kissed her.

  At the thought, she remembered the press of his lips, the taste of his rich whiskey essence.

  Memories of how his hard body pressed against her, his mouth soft then demanding, washed through her. Just as they'd done earlier, when Matt frantically looked her over for injuries.

  He'd truly been concerned about her welfare.

  The realization had been shocking. And she'd been overcome by a heat that stirred strange things inside her. Heated her blood, hummed along her senses.

  It all revolved around one inescapable thought.

  She wanted to taste him again.

  Matt reached the top and climbed over. Light shone from his cell phone. A moment later, he raised it to his ear. He walked along the edge of the flat top, staring out at the forest.

  Even from this distance Anca heard the muted, undecipherable sounds of his voice. The husky accented undertones made her shiver.

  She wasn't very experienced with men. The last time she'd attempted a relationship it hadn't gone well. The sex had been good at least. But relationships tended to be complicated. Messy.

  Not that there was anything like that here. Just a stunning attraction.

  It was a rare man who could inflame her senses.

  Stir her desires.

  Sure Matt was handsome, with his dark looks and expressive honey brown eyes. But his cold stiffness wasn't her usual cup of tea.

  Yet when it came to him, her hormones seemed to enjoy the entire package. Perhaps she was the crazed one.

  Anca cleared her mind, forcing her thoughts to replay the fight for any clues, any hints as to what these Rogues' purpose was. If all they wanted was to kill and terrorize, then Phoenix, only a few hours southwest, was much more populated. It was a buffet big enough to satiate even the darkest heart. And in a large city like that, autonomy would be greater.

  Hadn't Phoenix been plagued by such things—rogue sorcerers and demons—recently? She'd seen the Magic Council's reports.

  So why here? What was it about this small mountain town that kept Montgomery's remaining Rogues here?

  The few answers she'd found so far only managed to bring more questions.

  Loose rocks clattered along the side of the cliff, rattled across the ground. Anca glanced up and found herself captivated once more as Matt descended.

  One of her lengthening fangs pricked her tongue. A reminder of how rapidly her body responded to him.

  It truly was crazy.

  And out of place. Unwanted.

  Matt jumped the last few feet to the ground. "Shane'll be here in about a half an hour." He sat on the log beside her, his leg brushing hers.

  Sparks danced along her skin.

  The scent of minty male tantalized her senses.

  Anca stiffened, but couldn't bring herself to move away. His body heat warmed her degree by degree. Though her heart beat rapidly, his presence was also, somehow, soothing. It dimmed the lingering aches from the fight.

  Thankfully, Matt didn't seem to notice her discomfort. He stared out at the field of trees. "The shifter was powerful."

  "Yes."

  And yet, he'd killed it.

  Weaponless.

  She'd been slightly occupied with the overgrown black wolf, and hadn't seen Matt, had only felt the sudden extinguishment of the shifter's powerful magic. The disappearance of its darkly pulsing aura.

  Matt absently asked, "It was most likely one of the lieutenants you felt earlier?"

  "Probably."

  "This Mistress he spoke of. You think it's the child, and that she's the new leader of the Rogues?"

  She glanced at him, then immediately away from the companionship and protectiveness in his soft expression. "Probably."

  "So she'll be even stronger."

  Anca didn't bother to repeat herself again.

  Of the growing questions in her mind, the most pressing one wasn't how these Rogues had gotten so unnaturally powerful. That was easy enough to figure out with their alignment to dark and evil.

  It was wonderment at how the wolf managed to brush off her Council magic as if it had been nothing. The powers bestowed upon Judges were an explosive combination that could inflict damage on any Arcaine. Her spells had never, in her hundreds of years as a Judge, been flicked away like she was less than an annoying mosquito.

  "Damn Rogues," Matt growled. "Arcaine monsters." Scowling, his eyes hotly crimson, he stared up at the thin bands of sky visible through interlaced tree branches.

  There was a deep pain in his eyes.

  Immense.

  Old.

  Yet for a brief moment, it looked fresh, as if something recently had been ripping at long buried wounds.

  Heat prickled in her heart. She knew how old pains could flare without warning, making it seem like time had reversed, for the sole purpose of remembering—feeling fully—the fresh agonizing desperation of one's heart breaking.

  Sympathy stirred within her. Uncomfortable at the way she wanted to draw him close, hold him tight and ease his pain, Anca quietly said, "You are a vampire. An Arcaine. Yet you sound as if you despise us all."

  Matt slowly turned to meet her gaze. In his eyes was a glimpse of hardness.

  "You don't hate Jordan. I've seen you cold to those in your clan, but it wasn't hate." Emotions and memories fled across his face before disappearing behind chilly aloofness once more. "I don't hate all Arcaine." Matt's voice held a hollow ring of truth. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I despise the monsters among us. I despise Rogues, who seem only to exist in order to cause mayhem wherever they go." His glare chilled. "I particularly hate underlings of the Magic Council, specifically their Judges."

  With sudden clarity, she pictured his eyes turning to ice, full of fury and hate. For her. Because sooner or later, he'd find out who she truly was.

  When MacDougal ordered her to work with Matt, to stay silent about being a Judge, it hadn't seemed a big deal. Now, after spending the last day with him, after fighting back to back—both of their lives on the line, protecting each other—he no longer felt like a distant stranger.

  Anca wasn't quite sure what it was though. All she knew was the creeping twist in her stomach. Part guilt for lying, part dismay for what would come.

  All she said was, "If you wa
nt to look at the butchers of this world, those who lack even the most basics of humanity, you should look at the mortals. Throughout history they have perpetrated far more murderous rampages than any Arcaine."

  Eyes hard and flat, Matt replied, "You need a refresher course on the atrocities your Council has committed."

  "You speak as if I'm some sort of babe, blindly following Council Laws. I know the Council once ruled through force more than diplomacy. But those were ancient times. Mortals are still doing so today."

  He just shrugged. "Whatever you think."

  She realized something. "You don't believe what I said earlier, about the Magic Council not sanctioning the rampages of those Judges in Spain."

  His cool look said she was right.

  The heat of debating flushed her blood. His unspoken accusations stirred her. "So you think I'm a monster who's only purpose is to play assassin for the Council's whims?"

  He met her gaze, not denying her statement.

  Rising to her feet, Anca dusted off her jeans, then stuck her restlessly fisting hands in her pockets. "The people I work with are not monsters. Neither am I. For nearly five centuries I have watched the world. In that time, I've seen mortals slaughter entire civilizations. My own people were forced to flee from such persecution. From genocide. My family..."

  Old agonies rose. Her fangs descended at the rush of emotion. She stopped that line of though, gritting her teeth. "Even today the Romani are considered second class. As recently as a decade or so ago, numerous European countries continued to practice forced sterilization of Romani women. These mortals, who you claim are less monstrous than us.

  "Look at the wars, at the way so many believe money and things are more important than people and love. We Arcaine have some Rogues. Yeah, they tend to be the kind of monsters you speak of. But most Arcaine are not. Most of the Magic Council is not." She turned away, looking at the forest. "I am not."

  Behind her, he stood and stepped closer.

  ***

  White fury and red rage vibrated along Matt's nerves. How dare she defend all the Council had done.

  Comparing them to the mortals?

  Matt's voice came out a tight growl. "Do not speak to me of such things until you have witnessed all that I have."