Bloodstorm (Heart of a Vampire)

by Amber Kallyn

  He moaned softly. Her fangs extended as desire swamped her. She tightened her hold on his back, trying hard to resist pulling him on top of her. She needed to feel his body over hers. God, how she wanted it.

  But she shouldn’t.

  The thought was fleeting, the passion between them almost too much to handle, sending rational thought scampering away.

  As if he felt her conflict, he nipped her lower lip, then drew back. Shane stared into her eyes for a long moment.

  His words were husky. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you properly.”

  Considering she could barely breathe, her heart was galloping and her body was alive with need, she replied, “I’m fairly certain you accomplished that.”

  He took a deep breath and sat up.

  She felt the loss of his touch acutely and wanted it back more than she could remember wanting much of anything. Behind Shane, the ghostly wisps of her family rose in the corner of the room. She closed her eyes and turned away.

  Shane stiffened. “Perhaps I owe you an apology.”

  She swallowed the pain in her chest. “I’ll let you know when I require one.”

  She couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss, even though her ghosts had come to remind her they needed justice. She hadn’t met a man who could make her feel such things in centuries. It confused her. She wasn’t good at such emotions.

  She certainly couldn’t afford the complications. She was finally close to Thomas. Too close to let anything interfere.

  Resolved, she glanced at Shane, relieved the ghostly wisps had gone. “I need to get back to the Inn.”

  His jaw tensed, but he only said, “I’ll get your clothes.”

  He strode from the room, the lines of his body stiff. When the door opened again, his grandmother shuffled in with a pile of clothes in her arms.

  The old woman laid them at the foot of the bed. “You shouldn’t move yet.”

  Niki blinked. “I’ll recover. Been hurt worse than this.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here, you know. The sun will be up soon. I know how the day eats at your strength.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, uncomfortable at the woman’s kindness. “But I really must go.”

  After the old woman left, Niki gingerly pulled on her clothing. Not only were her clothes clean and mended, but her blades were sharpened and oiled.

  She left the room, rolling her shoulders to try to work out the stiffness in her back. Shane waited by the front door, also dressed, his look gloomy. He led her to his truck and opened the passenger door, slamming it after she’d gotten in.

  In the driver’s seat, he started the truck, gunned the engine, then tore down the gravel drive.

  The air was thick and silent as he drove.

  When he parked, Niki glanced at the three-story architect’s dream in front of them. The sweeping wrap-around porch reached nearly to the drive. “Where are we?”

  “My house,” he tersely replied.

  “I need to go to the Inn.”

  His eyes blazed. “Look, Miss Stubborn. I don’t know what kind of man you think I am, but I’ll be damned if I send an injured woman, alone, to a place where those trying to kill her know where she’s staying.”

  With each word, he grew louder, until the last bit was shouted.

  Her first instinct was to ask what had crawled up his ass, her second was to argue. But he made sense, even if being with him might be more dangerous than the vampires hunting her.

  Slowly, she nodded. “All right.”

  His mouth snapped shut at her agreement and some of the tension left his shoulders.

  She followed him inside, surprised at the hominess of the place. Their shoes tapped on wood floors, through the entryway and up the stairs. He led her to a bedroom, obviously rarely used.

  On the bed were her bags.

  She shot him a look.

  “What?” he asked.

  Shaking her head, she pushed them over and sat down.

  “Sleep.” Shane turned and walked away.

  She was tired, drained by her roller-coaster emotions, along with the increasing pain in her back. She stretched out, ignoring the bags, and tugged the blanket over her.

  Her last thought before falling asleep was of Shane’s mouth on hers.

  ***

  Shane strode into his bedroom and stripped. He walked into the bathroom, turned the shower on cold and stepped inside.

  The icy water shocked his senses, but didn’t stop his raging desire. Niki was in his home, just two doors down. He could smell her. And he remembered her reaction when he’d kissed her.

  She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  He could go in there, kiss her senseless, and slake his need in her luscious body. He shook his head. Then she’d turn from him again, and he wasn’t sure he could deal with that.

  Hell, he hadn’t slept in forever and was thinking crazy.

  He stumbled from the shower. Not bothering to dry off, he fell on the bed, picturing Niki curled against him. The damn shower hadn’t done a thing.

  He didn’t know if he was cursed or depraved, but these thoughts weren’t like him. This need was nothing he’d felt before. It burned, it commanded to be fulfilled. Burying his head beneath a pillow, Shane fisted his hands and concentrated on ignoring it all. He’d sleep. After that, if he still felt this strongly, he’d deal with it.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Niki woke, the pain in her back was nearly gone. But in return for the speed of the healing, her stomach growled loudly.

  She grabbed her suitcase and pulled out a bag of blood, drinking it down. It barely sated the hunger. After downing two more bags and nearly depleting her supply, she felt like she could be around humans without the urge to eat them.

  Noises came from downstairs. Shane was up.

  The thought of him made her hungry again, but in a different way--one that couldn’t be fulfilled.

  She took the time to change and brush the tangles from her hair, convincing herself it was simple grooming and not because she wanted to look nice for the man banging around below.

  Downstairs, she glanced around the large living room before following the sounds to the kitchen at the back of the house. The sunset shone in through glass doors, spreading reds and golds over the room.

  Shane stood at the stove, jabbing a spatula at a pan of scrambled eggs. The scent of coffee and bacon drew her further into the room. He whipped around, saw her, and his eyes blazed. Quickly turning back to the poor eggs, he grumbled, “Help yourself.”

  She hesitated, but she needed the food as well as blood to finish healing. She took a plate from the center island and put a slice of toast and a couple pieces of bacon on it, then grabbed some coffee.

  Shane scooped some eggs from the pan and dumped them on her plate as she walked past.

  “Thank you,” she muttered.

  She hadn’t slept very well, dreams full of him and his hands and mouth. If he wanted to be pissy, well then, she’d have a thing or two to say about it.

  When he finally joined her at the table, the silence was so strained she could scream. They avoided looking at each other, instead concentrating on pushing the food around the plates.

  Niki glanced at him, but not sure what to say, looked back at her mutilated breakfast.

  After another long minute, she set her fork down, crossed her arms, and stared at the man.

  He sensed her gaze and looked up.

  The tension jumped from anger to desire in less than a heartbeat. She gasped, Shane ground his teeth.

  Looking anywhere but at him, she finally said, “I want to go to the bar tonight. I think your idea was a good one.”

  “Fine.”

  She’d rather be mad than squirming in her chair as her body’s needs made her skin tingle and her pulse race. “You wanna tell me what your problem is?”

  He slammed his fork down. “I didn’t know I had one.”

  “Oh, funny. I hadn’t noticed you walk around perpe
tually pissed.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Well, you don’t really know me, do you?”

  “Obviously not.” She stabbed some eggs.

  Shane shoved his plate back and stalked out. She sat there, forcing herself to eat because she needed it, but the food tasted like dirt. She washed her plate and set it to dry, then headed back to her room.

  Shane stood at the top of the stairs. Niki stopped at the bottom, holding the rail, watching him.

  He ground his teeth, and said, “Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well and that’s one thing sorely lacking in my life lately.”

  “Fine,” she replied and headed up the stairs.

  As she walked by, he grabbed her arm. “You know, it’s not every day I kiss a woman. But usually, she doesn’t turn away, looking like she’s going to cry.”

  Stunned, she took a step back. He was serious. She burst out laughing.

  He scowled and tucked his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

  “That’s why you’re mad?”

  Heat flushed his neck. “Never mind.”

  She tried hard to stop laughing, but still grinned. “Wow.”

  His blush darkened.

  “Really, wow.” She leaned against the wall. “I... it wasn’t because you kissed me. Again, I might add.”

  “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

  But she knew better. “Look, are we going to work together or not?”

  “You’re going to work with me. You don’t have a choice.”

  Well, she’d put Mr. High and Mighty Sheriff in his place when she was ready. He might be a Keeper, but that didn’t mean he could keep up with her.

  “Whatever. Next time you have a stick up your ass, why don’t you try yanking it out and talking to me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I told you I’m haunted.”

  “Your family.”

  “Yes.”

  He must’ve heard something in the way her voice caught, because the tension eased from his shoulders. “You saw them.”

  She nodded.

  Shane sighed and shook his head. “I told you I’m lacking sleep. Can I apologize and we’ll just say sleeplessness makes me cranky?”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  “How about this, then.” He waved her to follow down the hall to the last door at the end.

  ***

  Shane felt her moving behind him and wanted to kick himself for being an idiot. He hadn’t even known he was so mad at her reaction until she’d walked into the kitchen this morning.

  This woman was spinning him around and taking him to places he wasn’t used to. To get so mad over thinking she’d thought he was a sucky kisser.

  Idiot.

  He entered the library. Niki gasped, staring at all the books.

  “You read?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Her tone was awed.

  It was an interesting tidbit to know.

  He reached the middle of the room and tugged the string to the attic. Stairs popped out and slid down. He climbed them, flicked on the light, and waited for Niki.

  She stepped inside, glancing around curiously.

  His father had helped him design the attic space. The walls were covered with shelves holding books and bones and minerals and herbs. On the far wall, a worktable sprawled beneath the lone window. It too was cluttered.

  “This place reminds me of a witch I know,” she whispered.

  Shane passed it all and headed for the door on the left wall. He unlocked the three deadbolts and entered a deep walk-in closet. Niki followed and nearly moaned in delight.

  “This is my kind of place,” she said. Weapons hung on the walls, filled the shelves and drawers. She traced a dagger, the blade coated black. “Nice.”

  He watched pleasure flit over her face. He might be an idiot, but he’d decided one thing during the long night.

  He was going after this vampire whether she liked it or not. If he killed the man, Niki wouldn’t be forced to face the Council.

  She would live.

  He grabbed a duffle from a top shelf and set it on the floor, loading it with silver knives, a sword, plastic water bottles filled with potions he’d made himself. From the back wall, he grabbed the short-bow his grandfather had made. Beside it hung a quiver of special arrows, their tips a mix of silver and rowan wood, coated with salt. The shafts were iron.

  They would hurt any of the Arcaine, from shifters and vampires to demons and other spirits.

  Niki reached for one, but Shane held it back. “Look, don’t touch.”

  “Interesting,” she murmured, and leaned over to sniff the arrows. She glanced at him, brow arched. “Covering all your bases, huh?”

  “Usually works better that way.” He added the quiver to the bag. Zipping it up, he took it to the workbench. He was just as quick with the bow as with a gun, but he wanted both.

  At the workbench, he slid out a hidden drawer beneath the table. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, lay rows of homemade bullets.

  “What are they?” Niki asked.

  “Same concept as the arrows. Silver hollow-points, packed with rowan wood and salt.”

  Her eyes were wide as she looked them over. “Planning to go to a paranormal war?”

  He shrugged. “I hope not.”

  “You were a boy scout, weren’t you?”

  He raised his hand, three middle fingers up. “Always be prepared.”

  Niki snorted. “Figures.”

  “Besides,” he added, “the state requires me to keep an arsenal at the station. Same case here with the Council.”

  “I guess.”

  Shane handed her a dagger nestled in rabbit fur on top of the workbench. “Here.”

  She reached for it. He set her hand on the blade, while he held the hilt. Then he whispered some words in his native language.

  She watched him, and when he nodded, took the dagger gently, searching for any area she shouldn’t touch.

  “It won’t hurt you. I’ve seen your blades. This one should make a fine addition.”

  Her mouth nearly fell open.

  “My grandmother made it long ago. The metal is a combination of iron, silver and steel. The handle is rowan.”

  She almost dropped it, but stared at her unblemished palm.

  “It’s infused with magic so that it can’t hurt its owner.”

  “But that’s you.”

  “Not anymore. It’s yours now.”

  She hefted it in her hand, checking the balance. “I guess there are some benefits to knowing a Keeper.”

  “Maybe a few.” All he knew is he wanted her safe. And that dagger would help.

  Shane finished loading the bag, then headed downstairs. Outside, the sun had fallen and the gloom of night crept over the town.

  He wanted to ask her to stay here, to let him take care of things. But she’d probably smack him and take off on her own. Taking a deep breath, Shane stepped out into the night, vowing to keep her safe. From others, and herself, if need be.

  Chapter Twelve

  Niki strode into Henry’s bar, again looking for information. But this time, Shane was at her side.

  He opened the door for her, his other hand resting lightly on her lower back, sending shivers up her spine. She didn’t doubt he wanted to make sure she didn’t run away and search for Thomas on her own, the way he’d been looking at her during the drive over.

  She wasn’t sure she really believed they’d find anything here. But it was better than nothing. Besides, ever since finding out the reason for his pissiness, she’d been in a strange mood. Almost lighthearted. She was used to working alone, yet here she was, hardly a peep of protest.

  Niki slid into a booth, across from Shane.

  The man seemed to feel the same lightness. He winked at her.

  A waitress stopped at their table, a brow raised as she looked between Niki and Shane. “Well, howdy.” She smiled slowly. “Introduce me to your pr
etty lady, Sheriff.”

  Niki stiffened. “I’m not his ‘pretty lady’.” Her tone made the waitress’ smile wobble.

  Shane patted the woman’s hand. “Don’t worry, Rae. She’s in a bit of a mood tonight.” He winked at Niki again.

  Niki could have leapt over the table and sank her teeth into the man at his response. Instead, she said with sarcasm, “Yes, Rae. I’m just in a mood.”

  But if looks could kill, she would have fried Shane on the spot.

  Rae, seeming to know which side of the team line she was on, snatched her hand from Shane and glared at him. She turned to Niki and gave her a friendly smile. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

  “A shot of whiskey would be great,” Niki replied.

  The waitress strode to the bar without another look or word for Shane.

  He blinked. “What did I do?”

  “Just acted like a typical male ass,” she replied to the maddening man.

  His face flushed and he stared morosely at Rae. The waitress brought the shot, set it in front of Niki, gave Shane another glare, then stomped away.

  “Well, damn.”

  As he scooted from the booth, Niki downed her shot and handed him a glass. “Get me another one while you’re up, dear.”

  He glared at her and strode to the bar, but he took her shot glass.

  When Shane returned, the bartender was with him. “This is Henry.”

  “We’ve met,” the disheveled man stated gruffly.

  Niki plastered on a sweet smile. “And you were so helpful.”

  The bartender grunted.

  Shane took his seat and waved Henry to join them. The man grabbed a chair from a nearby table and slid it to the end of their booth.

  “Who’re you looking for this time?”

  Shane raised a brow.

  She sighed. “He’s going by Jeremy Oakdale now.”

  “I don’t do names. What’s he look like?”

  Niki drew back, easily calling up a memory of Thomas. “About five-eight. Black hair. Pale.”

  Shane added, “Vampire.”

  “Seen me a bunch of them lately.” Henry shook his head. “Sad state.”