Читать книгу Eternally - Maureen Child - Страница 7

“You still haven’t answered me,” she said, voice tight, eyes wide. “Who are you?”

“Kieran MacIntyre.” His name, nothing else. She didn’t need to know more. Hell, she didn’t need to know his name. He wouldn’t be seeing her again if he could help it.

Her eyes went wide and flashed with excitement. “You’re MacIntyre?”

“Yes.”

“The man of mystery?” she continued and he could almost see her mind whirling behind her eyes. “The reclusive philanthropist, Kieran MacIntyre? Seriously?”

“And you’re Julie Carpenter. A reporter.”

Those amazing emerald eyes narrowed briefly. “How do you know that?”

“When you try to arrange interviews,” he countered, “do you actually believe you’re not being checked out in return?”

“Oh.” She nodded then said, “Okay then, that makes sense. And here you are. Isn’t this a happy coincidence? You, here, I mean. With me.” She practically scrubbed her palms together in eagerness.

“I’m not here for an interview.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t do one.”

“Yes,” he said shortly. “It does.”

There was no time to waste. Not with her. A distraction was something he couldn’t afford at the moment. Even one so tempting as she. Hunger raged and warred with the instinctive knowledge that he was wasting time. The hunt was all that mattered. A century and a half ago, he’d found the demon. And he’d done it without having a Mate by his side. Now, he would do it again.

He could hardly look at her, though, without wanting her. Her mouth was red and swollen from the kiss that he was trying to forget. He’d be damned forever if he let his desires make his decisions for him.

Hell, doing just that is what had gotten him killed in the first place.

Bending down, Kieran snatched up the ice cream and the spoon. As he straightened, the edge of his coat slipped back.

“Is that a sword?” Her voice yipped on that last word and he saw fear glint in her eyes.

“Bugger.” He shot her a quick look, tossed the ice cream and spoon onto the counter, then tugged his coat back into place. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

“Sure. Of course.” She nodded. “Gazillionaire swordsman. No big. Happens every day. In Bizarro World.”

He saw her thoughts wheeling through her brain and easily read the agitation in her eyes. Frustration coursed through him. He’d come to this house following a trail—and because he’d worried she might be in danger. Now, she was clearly imagining herself in danger from him.

Why the hell had she shown up in his life? This should have been a simple hunt. Locate his prey, incapacitate it, move on.

But nothing was as it should be.

“I don’t have time to explain,” he muttered and moved away from her. Easier to think if he couldn’t inhale her scent.

She practically leaped toward the phone hanging on the wall opposite the refrigerator. With the receiver in her hand and her finger on the number nine, she said, “Make time, sparky. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t dial 911.”

In one long stride, he was beside her, wrenching the phone from her hand and hanging it up. Damn telephones. Ever since their invention, things had been harder for Kieran and his kind. Too easy for witnesses to call the police—or worse, some tabloid.

“Because,” he said, keeping one hand on the phone so she couldn’t grab it again, “the police will only confuse things further.”

She snorted. “Most criminals would say that.”

“I’m not a criminal.”

“Most criminals would say that, too.” She yanked at her hand, trying to get free, which only convinced him to hold her tighter. She winced and said, “So what’s your deal? Is the whole philanthropy thing a front? Or maybe you just like to dress up and scare people?”

“Damn it woman…” His fingers coiled tighter around her wrist.

“Let go of me, you psycho.”

Fragile bones beneath smooth, hot skin. His thumb moved over her flesh, distracting her momentarily from the fear still dancing in her eyes. Kieran met her gaze and held it, focusing his power on convincing her that she was safe. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

Instead of being soothed as he’d expected, the woman glared at his hand, still holding her wrist. At last, he let her go and she rubbed the spot where his fingers had been. Savoring his touch? Or trying to erase it?

“You’re carrying a sword and you expect me to take your word for anything?” She slipped out from under the close press of his body and took a step or two to one side. “Who carries a sword, for God’s sake?”

“Don’t try to run,” he warned softly. “I’ll catch you.”

She sagged against the counter. “You probably would. Fine. I won’t run. Just…get out.”

He stared at her. “If you’re thinking of writing a story about this—you should know my lawyers will make that impossible.”

“You come into my house wearing a sword, breaking my wrist and you’re gonna sue me?”

“I didn’t break your wrist,” he said and heard the barely banked anger in his own voice.

“Came close.”

“Woman,” he muttered, wishing he were somewhere fighting a demon to the death. It would have been easier than dealing with her. “There is more going on here than you know.”

“I’m getting that,” she said, scowling at him.

He watched her, couldn’t stop watching her if truth be told. Despite her fear of him, she held her ground. She lifted her chin and looked directly into his eyes, with the strength of a warrior. And this Kieran understood. Respected.

For centuries, he’d wandered the earth. He’d seen the worst of humanity and the best. He’d battled demons and men with the same single-minded determination. He’d been with women who quailed at the sight of him yet yearned for the taste of danger to add spice to sex. But never had he met the one woman who could reach him. The one woman who might, if old tales could be believed, be his salvation.

Even the thought of the word choked him. There was no salvation for those like him. The most he could hope for was another battle to follow the last. To move on through the years, untouched by time, able to adjust the memories of those whose lives he brushed up against so that he remained unremembered.

This he knew. This he expected.

She was a surprise.

Her green eyes fixed on him, he could sense her thoughts, the wild clashing of instinct and desire. She trembled and the strength of her need was as powerful as the fear darting through her.

Before he could think better of it, he attempted something he suspected—hoped—had no chance of success.

You are safe from me, woman.

She jolted away from the counter and shot him a look that was both intrigued and horrified. “How did you do that? Talk to me in my head? How could I hear you? What’s going on?”

Kieran plowed one hand through his hair, scraping his short, neat nails across his scalp, hoping the minor irritation would distract him from the mess this was quickly becoming. She shouldn’t have been able to hear him. Shouldn’t have reacted at all. The fact that she had, shook him to the core. “I’m telepathic.”

“Ah…” She nodded jerkily and inched closer to the swinging door leading into the party, still barreling along at top volume. She slid one hand across the tiles as if to steady her movements. “Well, that explains everything. A telepathic swordsman. Fabulous. Lucky me.”

“Stop.”

She did. As if he’d fired a bullet at her feet.

Going to her, he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her tightly to him. Her breath left her in a rush as her breasts slammed against his chest.

“I’ll scream,” she warned.

“No, you won’t.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you know I won’t hurt you.”

She took a couple of short breaths and squirmed against him in a way that made him wish for more time. Her hips collided with his need, thick and hard and every twist of movement was glorious torture.

“I don’t even know you, why would I trust you?”

“There’s no reason you should. But you do.” His mind reached for hers and in that tumultuous well of sensation and emotion, he soothed her with gentle whispers.

“Stop doing that,” she demanded, but quit trying to escape his iron grip. “It’s creepy having someone else sneaking through my brain.”

“I am no happier about it than you.”

Questions boiled in his mind and were just as quickly smothered. He had no time for legends. No time to explore the new territory in front of him. Julie Carpenter had no place in his life nor he in hers. She was an accident. A twist of fate, a distraction thrown in front of him to keep him from his prey.

Damned if it wasn’t working.

Through the fabric of her shirt, her skin felt soft, pliant. He wanted to drown in the taste of her, take her scent deep inside him. He wanted to lick every inch of her body and when he was finished, he would begin again. He wanted to fill his hands with the weight of her breasts, suckle at her rigid nipples until she was writhing beneath him, begging for the orgasm only he could provide. And when her body trembled on the very brink, he would join his body to hers, filling her with heat, until, together, they were swallowed by the flames.

Still he let her go, pushing her from him, as if needing the distance between them. He hadn’t expected her to hear him telepathically. Only a true Mate could do that. Only a woman destined to be at a Guardian’s side could be touched by his thoughts. It had been a test he’d thought she would fail. Hoped she would fail.

But she hadn’t and now Kieran was a man with even more to consider. He took another step back. The cold, solid length of the sword he carried slapped against his side, reminding him all too well of his true purpose here.

Gleefully, eagerly, it wandered the old house.

The music swelled within it, dancing through its veins, pounding in its head. Hunger roared within, demanding release.

So many choices.

It moved through the crowd, unnoticed in the throng, its fingers trailing across lush bodies, its hot breath dusting sweat dampened skin, its hands longing for a blade.

Soon, it thought.

Soon the blood would run, thick and dark.

Soon, the hunt would begin again.

Behind them, the kitchen door slammed open, allowing in a blast of music and the shouted conversations and laughter of the party.

Julie looked past the broad-shouldered man in front of her to the blond woman grinning at her from the doorway.

“Julie! You’re with a guy! Yay you!” Instantly she slapped one hand across her mouth and winced. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

“Oh, yeah,” Julie said, her chin hitting her chest. Trust Alicia to come into the room at exactly the wrong moment. Or was it the right moment? Julie wasn’t sure anymore.

“Sorry about that,” the other woman said with an embarrassed shrug. “Too much wine, I think.”

“It’s okay.” Giving her roommate a wry smile, she realized that she should actually be relieved that the smiling blonde had barged in.

So why wasn’t she? Good question, she thought and searched for the answer.

A few months ago, she’d tried every trick she knew to get an interview with L.A.’s own mystery gazillionaire. She hadn’t been able to worm her way through his guard dogs—lawyers. Now here he was—big as life, a hell of a kisser, and hey, possibly nuts—in her very own kitchen. She didn’t even know what to think of him. Gorgeous, sure. Lust worthy, without a doubt. But what kind of man carries a sword and tiptoes through other people’s minds?

By all rights, she should be terrified just being alone with him. Yet, the only thing she was really worried about here was her virtue—which, let’s face it had disappeared a long time ago.

Besides, if Kieran MacIntyre had wanted to kill her, he could have done it when his tongue was down her throat. She shivered at the memory and squelched the desire to do it again. For heaven’s sake, what the hell was going on?

“So,” Alicia prompted, nodding her head at Kieran as she spoke to Julie, “who’s your friend?”

“He’s not my friend,” Julie countered, glancing from her roommate to Kieran and back again. Only a moment ago, she’d been worried about being alone with him. Now she nearly resented Alicia’s presence. “I just met him,” she said, avoiding for some reason, giving her friend Kieran’s name.

One blond eyebrow lifted and Alicia grinned. “Way to go, Jules.”

“Oh, yeah, yay me,” Julie muttered, her gaze swinging back to the man in front of her.

Alicia laughed and walked straight to the refrigerator, swaying her hips in a timeless invitation that was more unconscious than deliberate. “See? I’ve been telling you for weeks that you have to get your head out of your work once in a while.”

“Yeah, well…” She glanced at Kieran, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Instead his ice-blue eyes were locked on her roommate.

Typical.

Well, what did she expect? She wasn’t exactly dressed for seduction, that amazing kiss notwithstanding. Then she noticed that Kieran was looking at her again. “She’s your friend?”

“Yes,” Julie said, glancing now at Alicia, who was rooting around in the fridge. “She lives here with me.”

“She should leave,” Kieran said softly, his voice somehow carrying over the slam of the party noise.

“Huh?” Julie moved away from him. For God’s sake, was the man going to try to empty the house one person at a time?

Alicia hooted, “Hah! I knew there was another bottle in there somewhere!” She dragged her prize, a bottle of chardonnay out of the fridge before shutting the door again. “Who’s leaving?”

“Nobody,” Julie said, never taking her gaze off Kieran. The man could melt steel with that hot glare, but she wouldn’t back off.

Alicia stepped up beside Julie. “He wants us to leave? Our own house?”

“For your safety.”

“Uh-huh.” Alicia nodded slowly, as if soothing a crabby three-year-old. “Okeydokey. Julie honey, I’m going back into the party now. You coming?”

The overhead light shone down fiercely, throwing Kieran’s features into sharp relief. He looked…otherworldly. Mysterious. Dangerous. And just a little bit—okay a lot—sexy. Shadows hid his eyes, but Julie felt the power of them just the same.

“Something’s wrong here,” he finally said, though he looked as though he wanted to say more.

“I’ll say,” Alicia muttered and gave him one last dismissive glance before turning her attention to Julie. “Come on, Jules. Let’s go.”

“No,” Julie said, still looking at Kieran. She didn’t know why, but for some reason, she wasn’t ready to walk away from her sword-wielding mystery kisser. “I’ll be fine.”

Alicia turned a glare of her own on Kieran. “If he bugs you at all, call the cops.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Honey, I never worry,” Alicia said with a wink, still ignoring the man watching both of them. “Makes wrinkles.”

She never looked at Kieran again when she left the room.

“You won’t leave?” he asked when they were alone again.

“No.”

He nodded. “I can’t promise to protect you.”

“Who asked you to?” Her spine stiffened even as a tiny curl of worry unwound in the pit of her stomach.

Funny, but in the six months she’d been in Hollywood, she hadn’t felt the need for protection. Until tonight. This moment.

“It’s my duty,” he said, crossing the room to her in a few long strides.

“You just met me and I’m suddenly your duty?” How she’d managed to speak past the huge knot in the middle of her throat was a mystery. Almost as big a mystery as the man crowding in way too close to her.

He backed her up against the counter until she felt the cold tile pressing into the small of her back. She shivered, but she knew damn well it wasn’t the cold causing it. No, it was the heat pouring off of him to surround her, to invade her, to make her want…oh, boy.

How was it possible that her normal, everyday life had taken such a completely weird turn in the span of about twenty minutes? And how could she be more interested in feeling him hold her again, kiss her again, than in figuring out what the hell was going on around there?

“You won’t leave. I accept that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Stay in your room. Lock the door.”

“Trust me,” she whispered. “First thing on my agenda.”

“I’ll be back.”

“Great,” she said, “movie quotes.”

“I don’t know what to do about you,” he admitted, lifting one hand to trail his fingertips along her cheek, then slowly, softly, down the length of her throat.

Julie sucked in air through gritted teeth and tried to ignore the feeling that her blood was bubbling in her veins. His fingertips strayed to the scoop-neck collar of her shirt and she held a shaky breath, waiting…hoping he wouldn’t stop. But he did and she wanted to grab at him.

God.

She’d never felt anything like this. Hadn’t known she could feel this. Sex with Evan hadn’t exactly been the stuff romance novels talked about and her one other lover, a guy in college, hadn’t been much better. But this guy made her think that maybe there was more to discover.

And how crazy was she? Standing in a kitchen fantasizing about a mind-reading gazillionaire with a sword?

He grabbed her when she would have slipped away, then keeping a tight grip on her arm, he lifted his head, closed his eyes and concentrated. Seconds ticked past, marching in time with Julie’s heartbeat. She stared up at his face, studying his sharply defined features, noting the strength in his profile.

Finally he opened his eyes and looked at her. “It’s gone.”

“It?” She shook her head, more confused than ever. “What it?”

“I have to leave.”

“Right,” she whispered, nodding jerkily. Probably better all the way around if he left. Quickly. “Good idea. You go. I stay. But first tell me what this ‘it’ is.”

“Doesn’t matter now. You may be safe, but there’s no way to be sure.” He stepped back and away from her as if desperate to put a little space between them. His gaze moved over her face with a touch as sure as his fingertips had been only a moment before. “I shouldn’t have met you tonight. There’s no room in my life for you.”

Julie inhaled quickly. “I don’t have room for someone like you, either.”

“Wanted or not, we are connected,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “I don’t yet know what it means.”

“Be sure to let me know when you find out,” she murmured, still shaken.

He stalked to the back door, yanked it open and started outside. Then he paused, caught between the dark and the light and turned to spear her with a hard look. “Lock your door.”

When he was gone, Julie slumped against the counter and blindly reached for the now melting carton of ice cream. She lifted it and drank down what she could, before grabbing a fresh spoon and heading for the back door. She turned the dead bolt, hooked the chain and swept the yellow curtain aside to look out into the darkness.

Kieran was already gone.

Swallowed by the shadows.

And standing in the brightly lit kitchen, she felt a tremor of unease slip through her. Throat tight, heart pounding, she headed for the dark hall and her rooms beyond.

With every step, she felt unseen eyes watching her. The fine hairs at the back of her neck lifted and a chill swept along her spine. Her steps quickened, her breath shortened. Fear walked with her when she stepped into her room and slammed the door closed. Leaning against it, she turned the cold, brass dead bolt, then the antique key in the doorknob and waited for her heartbeat to return to normal.

Kieran pulled a satellite phone from the inner pocket of his coat and flipped it open. Stabbing the speed dial, he waited while on the other end of the line, a phone rang and rang. Finally…

“Santos.”

“What took you so bloody long?”

A laugh rippled across the line. “Kieran. Should have known I’d be hearing from you. I heard it escaped again.”

Kieran scowled, glanced down the darkened street and crossed it hurriedly, moving toward the black Lexus he’d left just beyond the reach of streetlights. “There’s been a kill. This morning.”

“Didn’t take it long.”

No, it hadn’t. But then, the demon had been locked safely away for more than a hundred years. Of course it would want to revel in a fresh kill right away. The trick would be to keep it from doing any more damage.

Kieran punched a button on his key ring and unlocked the car as he approached. He opened the driver’s side door, but before getting in, he paused, concentrating, focusing his energies toward the beast he must find.

“You have its trail?” Santos asked.

“Had it,” Kieran admitted, glancing back over his shoulder toward the house where he’d left Julie Carpenter. He’d allowed himself to become distracted by her. He’d filled his mind with her scent and forgotten about the other. About his mission. Hard to believe. “Gone again now.”

“So you are calling for reinforcements?” The Spaniard’s voice was tinged with amusement.

“No,” he said, confident in his hunting abilities. He’d never needed help before. He wouldn’t this time, either. At least not with the actual hunt. As a Guardian, he’d done his duty over the centuries, accomplished whatever task was set in front of him.

This time, he swore, would be no different.

Even though, it already was.

“Look,” he said, taking off his sword and tossing it onto the passenger seat before sliding into the car and buckling his seat belt, “what do you know about Mates?”

A deep chuckle rumbled into Kieran’s ear and he glowered even while he fired up the engine and threw the car into gear. “What the bloody hell is so damned funny?”

“Ah, my friend,” Santos said, his Castilian accent flavoring every word, “it was only a matter of time before you would come to me with such questions.”

The Spaniard’s sense of humor could strike at any moment, usually when it was least appreciated. But they’d been friends for five hundred years. Ever since that night in old Madrid when the two of them had held off a crowd trying to burn another Guardian, Adrienne Marcel, as a witch. Not that the Immortal would have died in the fire, but recovery from severe burns could have taken her years.

Tonight Kieran was in no mood to play games. “Meaning…?”

“Meaning, that an English knight will never be the lover a Spaniard is.” He laughed again. “I will be happy to give you any tips you require.”

Kieran rolled his eyes, steered his car around a corner and headed down the hill toward Hollywood Boulevard. If nothing else, he’d go back to the scene of the first kill. Look around. Try to pick up the trail again.

“I’m not English,” he growled, “as I’ve told you a thousand times and more. I’m a Scot and the day I need help screwing a woman is the day you can bury me.”

“Ah,” Santos said with only a twinge of regret, “but burial is not for the likes of us, my friend. One only buries the dead, yes?”

“We are dead, Santos. We just don’t know enough to lie down.” He stared at the twin slashes of his headlights, slicing through the darkness, spearing into the bushes and trees crowding the edges of the narrow road. A flash of red eyes as the lights crossed them but Kieran didn’t slow. It wasn’t the demon. Only another nocturnal animal.

“This is true, Mac. But I think it was not the point of this call to discuss the sad state of our too long lives.”

“No.” Too long? He didn’t know anymore. He looked at mortals and sometimes wondered how they could be satisfied with eighty or so short years. But he’d had centuries to fight and sometimes he thought perhaps the mortals had the better deal.

He took another sharp turn as his thoughts splintered. He glanced at the speedometer and slowed down a fraction. One thing he didn’t need was one of L.A.’s finest giving him a ticket. “I want to know what you know about Mates. The Guardian legend.”

The legend Kieran had never put much stock in, despite the few Guardians he’d known over the years who had actually found women to bind themselves to. Perhaps, then, it wasn’t that he couldn’t believe in the legend itself, but that it held no truth for him.

“Ah.” Curiosity colored Santos’s voice as he asked, “You have met…”

“A woman.”

“Always a good place to start.”

“She’s…different.” Stupid word. Incomplete. Julie Carpenter was more than different. She was a flame to his dry tinder. The heat to his cold. And just thinking of her now tightened his body until the ache of it nagged at him like a rotten tooth.

“What do you wish to know?”

“Everything that isn’t common knowledge,” Kieran said flatly as the Lexus finally reached the bottom of the hill. He took a hard right, weaving in and out of traffic like a man with a death wish—or a man to whom death meant nothing. “I’ve never bothered to find out more than the basics before. Now I want to know. So discover whatever you can and get back to me.”

“And the beast?”

“I can handle it.”

“If you change your mind, I’m near.” He paused, took a drink of what Kieran knew was probably Napoleon brandy, “I followed my quarry to San Francisco.”

“You get it?”

“Was there any doubt?” Santos chuckled.

“No,” Kieran said, smiling now. As a warrior, he could appreciate the talents of another. “I’ve never known you to fail.”

“Nor you, my friend. After all, we have reputations to protect,” Santos mused. “Now, I find I am enjoying the view from my hotel of the bridge on the bay. I will be in the city for a while yet.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need assistance.” He hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat beside him.

Though he wasn’t interested in asking for help, Kieran admitted to being glad for the knowledge that Santos was close by. Still, thanks to satellite phones and private jets, no Guardian was isolated anymore.

So many things had changed over the centuries, he thought, drawing to a stop at a red light. His gaze moved over the crowded sidewalks. Hookers, dressed for business, lounged against the sides of buildings and waved desperately at passing drivers. Homeless men and women crouched in dirty doorways and teenagers looking for trouble strutted in packs.

Kieran looked at them all as the beast would. As potential victims. Wandering from light to shadow, the people moved, separate and apart.

And he realized that no matter how much had changed, death remained the same.