Magicstorm (Heart of a Vampire, Book 4) (11 page)

Brandon slid into the passenger seat, a brow
raised.

“Who the hell do I call for something like
this?” she asked. “It’s not like our crime scene techs can deal
with it.”

Chapter
eleven

“Let me borrow your phone,” he said.

“Where’s yours?”

His cheeks reddened. “I left it at your
office.”

She handed him the phone, then was left
frustrated as she couldn’t hear both sides of his conversation.

“Shane?” Brandon said.

After a moment, he replied, “I don’t know
what we have. I’ll send you the pictures soon. But I’m going to
need your type of help.”

Another minute paused and she tapped her
foot.

“Not demon. Sorcery. I’m certain of it, but I
don’t know who or where. Their power is strangling this city.”

She was about to demand he hit the speaker
button when he hung up.

He started texting the photos. “We need to
get those cuts taken care of.”

She forced herself to glance away from his
muscled torso. “Who’d you call?”

Brandon set her phone on the seat between
them, but kept his hand on it. “A friend. He’s a Native Shaman up
in Moss Creek.”

The name finally clicked. “You mean the
sheriff from the reports about the last murderer?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s coming here?”

“He knows magic. He can help.”

Shaking her head, she drove from the
abandoned buildings, feeling as if this case was slipping out of
her control. She already had to deal with Brandon. Now a
shaman?

She drove home, not wanting to go to the
station covered in her own blood. In her apartment, Hercules rushed
up to her, then meowed pitifully. Celeste glanced at Brandon.

He looked from her bandage wrapped, blood
covered arms to the cat, then picked him up. Hercules curled up in
the crook of Brandon’s arm, purring contentedly.

“You have a way with animals,” she said,
something softening in her chest at the sight of the tough giant
with a tiny kitten in his arms.

“Not usually,” he replied. “Animals tend to
shy away from Arcaine creatures. Your furball is strange.”

Her lips twitched, but she held back the
smile at his disgruntlement. Leaving them in the living room,
Celeste headed for her bedroom. After opening her closet, she
hesitated for a long moment, then grabbed one of the shirts from a
box at the back. Once more in the living room, she handed the shirt
to Brandon, her hand shaking a little.

“Thanks,” he said, laying Hercules on the
couch so he could put the shirt on. He glanced at Celeste. “Do you
have many male visitors who need dressing?”

His tone was curious, rather than censuring,
the only thing saving him from the pain and anger rioting through
her.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat,
seeing Brandon wearing the shirt. “It was my father’s. I kept a
couple of his favorites.”

Brandon’s eyes softened, darkening. “I
apologize.”

“No need,” she bit out quickly, then fled
back down the hall. In the bathroom, she tore off the strips of
Brandon’s shirt from her arms.

Thankfully, the scratches were mostly
shallow. She shouldn’t need any stitches. Still, she would need to
rebandage them.

Walking around looking part mummy wasn’t on
her list of great ways to dress, but she had no choice.

She washed her arms, then pulled out a
plastic bin holding band-aids and an assortment of gauzes.

As she was trying one-handedly to wrap one
around her wrist, cursing at the struggle, Brandon stepped into the
room.

His presence made the already small bathroom
seem tiny. Miniscule.

He moved to her back, then reached around
her, gently grasping the gauze. Trapped between him and the
counter, she felt his body heat spread over her, trying to suck her
into some sort of comfort.

She spun, facing him. He took a small step
back, but that didn’t stop the roiling feelings inside her. He was
still too close.

His eyes flashed right before he lowered his
gaze to her arms. Gently, he wrapped the bandages around her
cuts.

“Thank you,” she said, unable to form any
coherent thought.

His fingers drifted over the back of her
hand, and electric thrills shot through her. The sensations she’d
felt outside the building rushed back.

Desire. Lust. The need to feel alive. To feel
him.

He met her gaze, his eyes widening. The
startling blue was ringed by a thin band of red. And they shone
with the same desire rushing through her blood.

Her mouth went dry and she licked her lips.
His gaze snapped to the movement. His hands curled into fists at
his sides.

“Are you a witch?” he asked, so softly she
barely heard him.

“No.”

“Then why do you have this power over
me?”

“I could ask you the same.” Her words came
out husky.

He met her gaze once more. Her heart rate
sped, her body heating. Slowly, ever so slowly, Brandon bent closer
until only a hairs breadth separated his lips from hers.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, his
voice strained.

She should say no. Walk away. Kick him
out.

She couldn’t.

Celeste closed the remaining distance between
them, relishing the warm smoothness of his mouth on hers.

A groan rumbled up Brandon’s chest and he
grabbed her in his arms, pulling her against him. He kissed her,
soft but with urgency.

Then he became more demanding. Desire spiked
through her, uncontrollable, like some deep primal urge.

He tasted of smoke and spice, an irresistible
combination.

She ran her hands over his back, the feel of
the strength beneath her fingers driving her lust even higher.

He groaned as his canines descended. She felt
them against her tongue, but he didn’t hurt her.

Her mind went hazy. All she could think about
was this man holding her, kissing her as if he wanted--needed--to
slake a great hunger. As if she was the only one who could fulfill
him.

She slid her hands under the shirt, thrilled
at the touch of his bare skin. The kiss turned frantic, a battle of
lips and tongues.

His heat, his scent, his taste, his touch,
all combined to set her on fire. He pressed her against the
bathroom counter, his hardness rubbing against her.

She moaned, shivering as he consumed her. She
drew back, yanking the shirt over his head, then reaching for the
waist of his jeans.

He grabbed her wrists, careful of the
bandages. “Are you certain you want this?”

Meeting his reddened gaze, she tugged her
hands free and unsnapped the button.

His eyes blazed, pure red, as she slowly slid
the zipper down.

With a growl, he ripped her shirt over her
head, then froze, his gaze hot on her chest. “I saw you last
night,” he whispered, trailing his fingers over her shoulders. “I
came to make sure you were all right, and I saw you through your
bedroom window, as you readied for bed. You wore only a lacy red
bra and panties.”

The idea should have been shocking, but it
only thrilled her that he’d seen her nearly naked.

He seemed hesitant, so she grabbed his hands
and placed them on her breasts. His touch was hot enough to burn
like a brand.

Strange sensations whispered deep inside. Not
just lust, but something else she couldn’t name. Some connection
between them, more than a woman and a man. Its flames filled her,
driving her onward.

When his chest rumbled with a growl of
desire, she leaned into his touch, easing her legs further apart to
feel him everywhere.

He cupped her breasts, capturing her mouth
again, plundering as if he couldn’t get enough. He trailed his
fingers down her ribs and stomach, undoing her trousers. When he
stepped back, she nearly moaned at the loss of his heat.

He knelt before her, barely fitting in the
small bathroom, and slid her pants down her legs. She stepped out
of them, standing proudly in front of his appreciative gaze in only
two scraps of lace.

Brandon stared at her. She was beautiful,
perfect in every way from her bountiful breasts, wide hips made for
bearing children, and long legs that went on for miles.

His blood pounded so loudly, it was like a
thumping beat in his head. He reached out, unable not to touch her,
and traced along the top of her pale blue panties. She trembled and
he throbbed with satisfaction.

She wanted him.

His desire for this woman was so fierce, he
no longer cared if it was magic or fate. For she had touched him
beyond words, a place deep inside that now bloomed with soft,
strange emotions. It didn’t feel like a spell, but rather like
finally coming home.

Sweeping her up in his arms, he headed for
her bedroom.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and
kissed him lightly along his collar-bone.

Setting her on the bed, he reached for her
bra, drawing the clasp open.

She shrugged her shoulders and let the blue
lace slip down her shoulders, her arms, to the floor.

Meeting her gaze, he stood, pleased as she
reached for his jeans and tugged them down.

Celeste gasped, the sound husky. “Commando,
huh?”

“I’ve never liked the newer invention of male
underwear.”

She blinked at his statement, then
smiled.

As she helped him remove his pants, her hands
caressed him boldly. The need to sink into her, to take her and
claim her as his own tried to override his thoughts.

Laying her down, he joined her on the bed,
stretching along side her. She reached for him, caressing his
chest, his stomach.

He nearly groaned when her hands dipped
lower. He kissed her, losing himself in her taste. She was
ambrosia, the honey of the gods, and he wanted more.

Celeste couldn’t think. Didn’t want to. She
loved being lost in his touch.

He rose, trailing his hot mouth over her
breasts. She shuddered at the powerful feelings expanding
inside.

She felt safe.

Alive.

Needed.

He nipped at her, sliding his fangs
deliciously over her skin. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples
tight and hard. Brandon suckled one deep into the blazing heat of
his mouth. She gasped as pleasure shot through her, making her back
arch.

He chuckled, a rough deep sound that made her
shiver in anticipation.

Meeting her gaze, he flicked her other nipple
with his tongue. The sight of his fangs made the pleasure sweeping
through her tingle with a dangerous edge.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered
huskily.

She scraped her nails over his shoulders. He
groaned, burying his face against her neck. His hardness throbbed
against her thigh.

She trailed her hands down his back and over
his tight ass.

He was perfection, all warrior strength bound
with gentle protectiveness.

As the lingering pain from the cuts on her
arms broke through the haze of desire, she realized she didn’t want
gentleness. She wanted, needed, strength and power.

She tugged on his long, soft hair. When he
rose once more, she kissed him with the heady passion inside her,
demanding he give her everything she desired.

The feeling of connection.

Of not being alone.

He kissed her in a frenzy, his body
tightening above her.

He moved down to tug at her underwear,
drawing them down her legs, then tossed them to the floor.

His hands drifted over her calves, her knees,
up her thighs, making her tremble even more. Then he replaced his
fingers with his mouth, licking the skin on her inner thigh.
Sensations exploded inside her.

She tangled her hands in his hair, breathless
as he loved her.

He took her higher and higher, spinning her
around on a plateau of pleasure. When she fell, she was screaming
his name.

Her body tightened as she orgasmed against
his delicious touch. As she grew pliant, he glanced at her, a
satisfied grin curling his delectable mouth.

He rose, hovering above her, easing up her
body until the light dusting of blond hair on his chest tickled her
nipples, making them tingle.

Nearly mindless, she wanted to grasp him,
pull him deep inside.

“Protection,” she managed to mumble.

“I’m a vampire. You don’t have to worry about
anything, disease or pregnancy,” he whispered.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

With a sigh of acceptance, she tugged his
mouth back to her skin.

He kissed her neck, sucking on her skin
lightly as he drove into her. She gasped at the feel, raising her
hips to take him all.

Whispering his name, she raked her nails down
his back, as the feeling of completeness overwhelmed her.

Stunned, she grasped his hair, tugging until
he met her gaze. She stared at him as he drew back, then filled her
once more.

She felt as if she’d come home. To the place
she belonged.

Their connection went beyond their bodies,
down to their very souls.

Brandon groaned, slamming into her. She
mewled as the pleasure intensified beyond belief.

He moved in and out of her in a rush and she
rose, meeting each thrust of his hips. The peak grew closer and all
she could do was hold on for the ride.

Chapter
twelve

The orgasm exploded, rushing through Celeste.
Brandon groaned, moving faster as he came with her.

Their movements slowed, though her breathing
remained heavy. The haze of pleasure drifted over her. Brandon
eased to her side, pulling her against his chest and keeping her
delightfully trapped.

“Wow,” she said, glancing at him.

He smiled like a cat full of cream, placing a
light kiss on the corner of her lips.