The Vampire And The Highland Empath (2 page)

Though he had to admit she was taking waking up in unfamiliar surroundings fairly well. Of course, she had no inkling of how much time had passed during her slumber.

Her chin set and her eyes glinted. Roque stared, transfixed by her abrupt change in demeanor.

“Ye’ll tell me now.” She came to him, lifting her palm to his chest.

Empath.

The last of her kind. Roque remained perfectly still, tamping down the urge to swipe her hand away and close himself off. He did not want the ugly contents of his life bared to her. He was not a good man. He had done…things.

Murderer.

Yet he wanted her trust. His gaze flitted to the blood on her neck.

Magic arrowed into his chest—powerful and old, the likes he’d never felt, and he had experienced a lot.

The woman’s features scrunched together, devastated. She looked less the fierce empath and more little girl lost. “What’s wrong?”

“I...?” Her palm slipped from him, taking the warmth of her magic.

Roque caught her hand. “Whatever it is, you can trust me.”

“Can I?” Her words snagged on a cry. She covered the bloody pricks on her neck with her palm.

“You…? He startled. “You don’t know?”

Her eyes swept over him like an accusation.

“I know what you are,” he admitted.

Her lips trembled.

He sensed her pulse speeding up. Roque narrowed his gaze, unsure of what she saw in him.
Monster. Beast.
“You know that you can trust me.”

“I do not know.” She pressed her palms to her head. It hurt to hear that. “I cannot…I could not feel anything.” Her eyes lifted to his, wet and pleading. A punch to his gut.

Roque stared down at her, seeing the truth of it in her eyes. Every nerve inside of him loosened. Panicked laughter bubbled up inside his throat—a cosmic joke.

Hitler’s long unattained weapon—an empath able to uncover all plots and enemies against the Führer—useless.
  

Roque’s lips curled. Fate had just made his job of keeping this particular weapon out of the Nazi’s hands that much easier.

Except…the devastation paling the empath’s face shot straight to his heart. He understood what losing a part of your soul felt like.

“Edeen,” he whispered her name finally. He hadn’t meant for it to echo around the stone like a prayer in a great cathedral.

She flinched back. The firelight flickered around the interior, reflecting within those lovely haunted eyes.

“Come outside with me.” He again offered his hand. “I promise I’ll help you. We’ll figure this out.” The thought of her being tested and examined even by the Allied scientists brought a bad taste to his mouth. “Trust me.”

She frowned, delicate brows drawing downward. She’d probably never had to trust anyone without sensing their true intentions before. Roque held himself very still, unnerved by how badly he wanted her trust.

She slid her palm against his and Roque’s world tilted sideways. He nodded, his throat tight. Folding her smaller hand within his own, Roque guided Edeen through the outer cave, past old broken and looted crates and out onto the slender sea-drenched ledge forty feet above the slashing waves. The cliff wall extended another thirty feet above them. The wind slapped the rope he’d used to climb down to the smugglers cave upon the rocks.

Muted sunlight filtered down through clouds heavy with approaching rain. The reptile in him preened. Had he wings, the dragon would stretch them to soak up the sun. Roque grinned, counting this one thing regarding the mixture of his heritage a blessing. He was the only vampire in existence immune to the terminal effects of sunlight.

In fact, his dragon side craved it.

He detected the woman’s gaze on him and turned to her. Again, he was struck by her beauty. In the light she became a riot of colors. Creamy skin, rose-tinted lips. Vibrant intelligent eyes the shade of verdant green. And her hair, a deep auburn with interwoven streaks of brighter copper and honey browns.

Treasure
. The beast inside flicked open its eye for a closer look.

She was looking at him warily. “I know this place. Magby’s Cove. Why are we here?”

Your brother hid you away
. He did not want to tell her any of this. With a few words he’d be taking everything she once knew from her.
But he’d promised her.
His voice tangled around his throat like a noose.

“Edeen, you’ve been asleep—”

“Roquemore Giordano,” a voice called from the cliffs above.

Roque stiffened, craning his head upward. He’d know that voice in his worst nightmares. Wulf.

From above,
Sturmhauptführer
Wulf Geschopf of the bloody SS leaned over the edge of the cliff. If only a strong gust would topple him over. Several men were with him, in civilian clothing, high-necked sweaters and jackets, though their close cropped hair and straight bearing marked them as soldiers of the
Schutzstaffel
. As did the Kar 98k rifles pointing down at them. Perfect, Geschopf brought bloody members of the bloody
SS with him.

Into Scotland. Enemy territory. The
Sturmhauptführer
had large ones, he’d give him that.

Roque guided Edeen out of view beneath the lips of the cavern. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he called up conversationally. Where the bleeding hell was Alex? He’d left him up top as watch. If Geschopf had harmed the young man….”

“I would not expect so.” Geschopf peeled off a glove. “But then I always manage to catch you off-guard, don’t I, Roquemore? You know freedom’s such a fleeting promise. I’ll always be able to find you. Whenever I want to find you.” He stretched out his fingers, cracking knuckles as claws grew out from his fingertips.

Roque’s heart beat crazily at the implications. Geschopf must have known where he was all this time. And he’d led him straight to the empath. He’d let Roque awaken her before springing his trap. The bastard had played him.

A tremor rolled through Roque. The ghostly jab of needles prickled his veins. Electrical jolts seared every nerve. Experimented upon. Caged. The dragon nearly unchained and never quite the same again.

He wouldn’t go back to Geschopf's cage.

Light fingers curled over his arm. He looked down at Edeen. He wouldn’t let that be her fate either.

“Who is that man?” she whispered.

Butcher.

Scientist.

The
Führer
’s Hunter, known by reputation as
Die
Schwarzen Klaue
. The Black Claw.

“No one you should ever have to know.”

“He is a cruel man.”

Roque’s head whipped upward again. “Can you sense—?”

“Nay. I see the cruelty in the planes of his face.” She scanned about for a way out, eyeing the rope that dangled past them and then below at the treacherous rocks angling up out of the foaming swells. “What are we going to do?”

Roque smiled at the steel in her spine.

“Do you trust me?”

She canted her head toward the cliff wall. “More than him.”

That would have to do.

Geschopf kicked at the rope with the toe of his boot, flicking it outward. “Climb up, Roquemore. Send the girl first. Or does she need assistance?”

Anger flashed across Edeen’s features. Wind pushed her hair in front of her face and she grabbed it and held it back.

Roque motioned her back inside the cave.
 

They went all the way back to the stone slab. The bottom of her gown swept across the stone floor. All that remained of the quilts were soot and ash.

Edeen placed her hands on her hips. “You have a plan.”

“That I do.” One he was certain she was not going to like.

“Well, what is—“

He didn’t give her a chance to ask. Or object. Racing forward, he grabbed her up and sprinted toward the wide opening. With a running leap, he hurtled off the ledge. He was faster, stronger than a normal man and hoped that his extra last push helped them clear the rocks below.

They plunged downward. Wind whipped across them.

Bullets shrieked past.

Geschopf cried. “Cease firing.
Feuer einstellen
. I don’t want them hit!”

Too late.

White sharp pain speared down Roque’s side. He curled tighter around the woman and hit the sea like a torpedo.

Chapter Three

Edeen came up sputtering, the man, Roquemore, kicking to the surface with her.

“Can you swim?” He pulled her closer.

“Ye ask me now?” She knew she should never trust an Englishman.

His eyes crinkled until his gaze went beyond her and his lips thinned. “Shite.”

Twisting, Edeen saw the man from the cliff dive and slice into the water as cleanly as an arrow. He’d jumped after them?

Both men were clearly insane.

Nor human, of that she was certain. It’d take someone—gifted, of otherworldly abilities—to propel themselves (and her with him) far enough out to clear the rocks.

Another man jumped from the cliff. Then two more. All more than mortals apparently.

Roquemore pulled her through the water, edging along the cliffs. Edeen tried to keep up. She was a strong swimmer, but did not have anywhere near the speed as the man hauling her through the waves. The muscles in his arms bunched and lengthened near her side. She tried to kick around the long folds of her gown tangling in her legs.

A hand clamped around her ankle, hauling her under.

The man, the one who jumped after them—Wulf?—his face was a white orb in the inky water. An iron grip flung around her arm, spinning her. He pulled her away.

Edeen jerked her arms to break loose, but the man had a strong grip. Pressure filled her lungs. Bubbles poured from his nose, streaming to the surface. Her gown puffed around them like a drifting cloud, hampering them both as they sank like anchor stones. The man remained calm, didn’t seem to care he was drowning, or her with him.

A dark form streaked toward them. Roque came at them, dark hair streaming. Angry. Determined. Fierce.

He pounced on Wulf, pushing them down. Edeen’s arm wrenched, dragged with them. Until suddenly she was yanked free, spiraling loose in the water. Spots danced before her vision. A great crowding pressure clamped her muscles tight, lungs screaming. She had to breathe.

Kicking toward the surface, she tugged the heavy skirt around her hips, freeing her legs.

The men were a tangled hazy twisting mass below her. She kicked and kicked and broke free of the surface just as she lost all her air.

Floundering, she sucked in a painful gasp, nearly choking it down into pain-riddled lungs. She would never breathe right again.

A boat raced toward her, the likes of which she couldn’t fathom. She had never seen a vessel cut through the water so swiftly, especially without oars or sail.

It pulled up noisily alongside her and a young man leaned over the side, arm extended. “Grab on, Miss.”

Still heaving air into her lungs, Edeen pushed away from the strange little boat. It’s back end rattled and rumbled, smoke curling from an odd iron monster, making all the noise.
 
The man in the boat must be a powerful sorcerer to tame such a beast.

“Ma’am, please. I’m here to help.”

Which could be true or nay. Whatever his intent ‘twould be preferable to staying within the freezing sea. Also escaping one lone young man would be simpler than escaping the many magic wielders who’d jumped in after her. Bluidy mercenaries, Col would say of them.