Vampire Mine

Chapter Eight

This is Robby MacKay.” Connor introduced Angus’s great-grandson, who strode toward them, carrying a tote bag. “Robby, this is Marielle.”

“How do ye do?” Robby set the bag on the kitchen counter. “We brought you some clothes.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and extended a hand. “So you’re a vampire, too?”

“Aye.” Robby eyed her hand. “I hear ye’re an angel of death.”

“She willna harm you,” Connor muttered.

Robby gave her a quick handshake, then slapped Connor on the shoulder. “What happened to yer claymore?”

“ ’Tis on top of Mount Rushmore. I’ll fetch it later.” He noticed Marielle was studying her hand with a perplexed look.

“Wow!” Gregori approached her, smiling. “You are such a babe!”

She glanced over her shoulder.

In spite of an overwhelming urge to throw the nearest object at the womanizing Vamp, Connor’s chest filled with warmth. Marielle had no idea how beautiful she was. He leaned over and whispered, “The idiot is referring to you.”

“I heard that,” Gregori muttered.

“But I have never been a babe,” Marielle protested. “I was created as I am, though in a spiritual form. This body is new to me.”

Gregori looked her over, his eyes gleaming. “Well, if you need any help getting acquainted with it, just let me know.”

“Show some respect, ye bloody pig.” Connor glanced at the kitchen counter to see what he could throw. The toaster, perhaps?

“Hey, if she’s any indication of what’s waiting for us in heaven”—Gregori motioned to her—“then kill me now.”

She shook her head. “Oh no! I have no wish to harm you.”

Connor leaned close to her. “Doona let him upset you. He’s operating under the false perception that he’s somehow charming.”

Robby chuckled.

Gregori snorted. “At least I’m not an old grouch.” He turned to Marielle and winked. “Great outfit. The toga look really suits you.”

She glanced down at the sheet. “Thank you. Connor fixed it for me.”

“Oh, really?” Gregori’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t know he was so . . . handy.”

“Sod off,” Connor grumbled. The toaster wouldn’t do. Maybe the big wooden chopping block.

“I am delighted to meet you, my beautiful angel.” Gregori took her hand and kissed it, his mouth lingering on her skin.

Connor gritted his teeth. The chopping block wouldn’t do. Maybe the meat cleaver.

“Pleased to meet you.” She retrieved her hand from Gregori’s grasp. Her brow furrowed once again with a perplexed look.

Connor picked up a black rubber coaster. “Why are ye here, Gregori?”

“My mother insisted, so I could give her a full report.” He gave Marielle an apologetic look. “She really wanted to come herself. She’s dying to meet you, but Roman was afraid there might be some real dying after what happened to— Hey!” He narrowly dodged the coaster that zipped past his ear and bounced off the wall behind him. “What the hell was that?”

Connor arched an eyebrow as he reached for a second coaster.

“Why are you throwing things?” Marielle asked.

He shrugged. “Target practice.”

Robby’s eyes narrowed. “Does she no’ know?”

“There’s nothing to know.” Connor dropped the coaster and led her toward the fireplace where the third person was waiting. The priest had remained silent since their arrival, gazing at the angel with a look of awe and reverence.

“I’d like you to meet Father Andrew,” Connor said.

Marielle smiled. “God bless you, dear soul.”

The priest pressed a hand to his chest while his eyes glimmered with tears. “I cannot begin to tell you what a joy and honor this is. So many years of relying on faith, struggling with my faith, and here you are—proof that I have not believed in vain, that all the words I have spoken over the years are true.”

Her eyes shimmered with moisture. “Son of Man, your Father loves you dearly.” She reached out to touch him.

Connor seized her wrist and guided her back to the rocking chair. “Would ye care to sit down?”

The priest hadn’t noticed Connor’s interference. He was busy retrieving a cotton handkerchief from his coat pocket, then wiping the tears from his face.

But Marielle noticed, and she whispered, “What is going on, Connor?”

He opened his mouth to say “nothing,” but found it hard to lie straight to her angelic face.

“She needs to know.” Robby moved close to the priest.

“Nay. She’s been through enough tonight.” Connor wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I willna have you upsetting her.”

Robby’s eyebrows rose. Father Andrew froze with his handkerchief half tucked into his pocket. And Gregori, blast him, actually grinned.

Connor felt warmth flooding his face, but he kept his arm around her. “She’s been through hell tonight—banished from her home, attacked, her back burned and her wings ripped off. She was left in the dirt wounded and bleeding. And she was threatened by a demon—”

“A demon!” Father Andrew’s face grew pale. “Oh dear God. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she replied softly. “But I’m afraid there’s something you’re not telling me.”

When the priest nodded, Connor groaned and lowered his arm. Hadn’t she been through enough tonight?

“I would consider it a great honor to be touched by an angel,” Father Andrew explained. “But my friends are concerned that your touch could harm me.”

“Oh. Is that all?” She exhaled wearily. “You need not fear. I have lost most of my angelic gifts. I can no longer fly or communicate with the Heavenly Host. And my touch no longer kills. I have been touching Connor all evening with no effect whatsoever.”

Gregori snorted. “Right. No effect at all.”

Connor scowled at him. “She would never knowingly harm anyone.”

“Tell that to Shanna,” Gregori muttered.

“Who?” Marielle asked.

“Stop yer yammering,” Connor growled at Gregori. “We can warn her no’ to touch mortals and leave it at that.”

“Are you saying I’m still dangerous?” Her eyes widened with alarm.

“Only to mortals,” Connor grumbled. “Ye can touch us Vamps without a problem. We’re already somewhat dead.”

“And how do you know this? What happened?” She gave him an annoyed look when he remained silent. “You’d better tell me. You may be centuries old, but I am millennia old, so don’t treat me like a child.”

He arched a brow at her and whispered, “Have I been treating you like a child?”

Her cheeks turned pink.

“My dear,” Father Andrew began. “Perhaps we can help you fill in the blanks if you tell us what you remember from tonight.” He motioned to the rocking chair as he sat on the couch. “I, for one, am very eager to hear your story.”

“All right.” She perched on the rocking chair while Connor remained standing by her side.

Robby and Gregori sat on the couch, sandwiching the priest between them.

She folded her hands in her lap. “Earlier this evening, we were sent to a campground in the area known as South Dakota.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Robby asked.

“My supervisor Zackriel and I,” she explained. “We received orders to deliver seven souls. After we arrived, I took a married couple. They were already dead, but their souls were clinging to each other in great fear and despair over their children.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. “I took them quickly so they could be at peace, but they pleaded for their children, and I . . .” She clenched her hands together tightly. “I could not bear it. Two of the children were still alive, barely, but I thought they could be saved, so I refused to take them.”

Connor touched her shoulder. His beautiful, sweet Marielle; she’d lost everything, trying to protect two children. She glanced up at him with tears in her eyes. God help him, he wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her. But he couldn’t do it in front of the others. What he was feeling was far too intense to let anyone else see.

“What happened then?” Father Andrew asked.

She dragged her gaze away from Connor, reluctantly, he thought, and continued, “Zackriel and I argued, but in the end, more Deliverers came to help him take the children. I flew off into the woods to grieve and pray. Then a little while later, Zack found me and told me I was to be banished.”

“Damn,” Gregori muttered. “That’s harsh. All you wanted to do is save a few kids.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I disobeyed orders. And it was the third time. I should have known better. Every time I have disobeyed, the consequences have been dire. Tragic events occur in the human world that could have been avoided if I’d only done as I was told.”

Robby glanced at Connor, then back at her. “So ye have trouble following orders? Where have I heard that before?”

Connor gave him a wry look.

“So I was punished,” she continued, her shoulders sagging. “Zackriel took my wings. I don’t remember much after that.”

“I heard him attacking you.” Connor squeezed her shoulder. “I saw the fireballs and heard yer screams. He left you in a dirty pit, bleeding and wounded.”

She looked up at him, her eyes softening. “I remember someone holding me and a soft, lilting voice that gave me comfort.”

“Oh yeah.” Gregori smirked. “Our Connor is such a sweetie.”

He grabbed a paperback book off a nearby bookshelf and tossed it at Gregori, who managed to dodge it with vampire speed.

“Ye doona remember going anywhere?” Robby asked.

Marielle shook her head. “I remember pain, lots of pain. And darkness. It was very strange, because I’ve never lost consciousness before. I suppose it happened because of this human body I have now. When I woke up, I was here. With Connor.”

She glanced up at him, her blue eyes beseeching. “Please tell me what happened.”

He groaned inwardly. “I wanted to spare you the details. ’Twas no’ yer fault, lass. Ye kept telling me no’ to touch you, but I did anyway, and nothing happened. Emma, Roman, and Laszlo touched you, too—”

“When?” Marielle asked. “Where?”

“At Romatech Industries,” Connor explained. “ ’Tis the place where we manufacture the synthetic blood ye saw me drinking. Roman and Laszlo are brilliant scientists, so I took you there, thinking they could patch you up.”

“You were trying to save my life,” she said quietly.

“Aye.” He didn’t want to admit he’d suspected her of being a Malcontent, or that he’d wanted to keep her alive so he could question her. “Ye warned us several times no’ to touch you, but we dinna think much of it . . .”

She stiffened. “I didn’t kill someone, did I?” She jumped to her feet. “Tell me! If he’s not scheduled to die, then maybe it’s not too late to undo it.”

“She’s no’ dead,” Robby said, anger flashing in his eyes. “She’s in a coma.”

“Oh God.” Marielle lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. “I—I’ll pray for her to be healed. Bunny could do it.”

“A rabbit?” Robby and Gregori both asked.

She shook her head, then bowed her head, clasping her hands together close to her mouth as she murmured quietly.

“Buniel is a healing angel,” Connor explained. He touched Marielle’s arm. “Shanna is in a vampire coma. Her husband attempted to transform her.”

She turned to him, opening her eyes. “Her husband is a vampire?”

“Yes, Roman Draganesti. Shanna already planned on becoming a vampire. It just happened sooner than they expected.”

“We’re no’ sure if she’s going to make it,” Robby grumbled.

“Then I will pray for Bunny to help her through.” Marielle’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m so sorry. You were trying to save me, and I repaid your kindness with . . . death.”

“ ’Tis no’ yer fault,” Connor insisted. “Ye warned us—”

“Of course it’s my fault!” A tear rolled down her face. “I disobeyed again. And that always causes terrible things to happen.” She gripped Connor’s shirt in her fists. “I always mess up! And I hate it!”

“Lass!” He grabbed her hands and squeezed them. Bugger, she was falling apart. He knew she’d been through too much in one night. “Come, let’s . . . see what Emma packed for you.”

“What?”

“Come.” He dragged her back toward the kitchen and grabbed the tote bag off the counter. He glanced back at the three men who were all standing and watching. “She needs a break.”

Robby frowned. “I still have a lot of questions.”

Father Andrew lifted a hand. “Leave her be for now. Connor’s right.”

He gave the priest a grateful nod, then escorted Marielle to a nearby bedroom. She stumbled alongside him as if in a daze.

He opened the bedroom door and handed her the tote bag. “Take all the time ye need.”

She gazed up at him, her cheeks glistening with tears. “I didn’t mean to harm your friend.”

“I know, lass.” He longed to brush the tears away, even kiss them away, but he didn’t want to do it in front of the three guys. “Ye’re all that is good and pure—”

She burst into tears.

Damn. He’d thought he was saying the right thing.

“I’m not good,” she wailed. “I keep disobeying.”

“Disobeying is no’ so bad,” he grumbled. “I do it all the time.”

“But don’t you see? Whenever I disobey, I’m questioning the wisdom of the Father. It’s rebellion.” She shook her head. “Maybe Darafer is right—”

“Nay!” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Ye willna believe that bastard.” He pulled her into the bedroom and shut the door so the guys wouldn’t see him fussing at an angel. Unfortunately, Robby and Gregori might still hear him with their heightened vampire senses.

He tossed the tote bag onto the bed and led her toward the door that made a second entrance into the bathroom. “I willna have ye thinking poorly of yerself.”

“I killed your friend’s wife,” she mumbled.

“Ye dinna kill her.” He wet a washcloth in the bathroom sink. “She’s in a coma, turning into a vampire, which is what she had planned to do eventually.”

“If her husband didn’t happen to be a vampire, she would have died.”

“She’ll be all right.” He wiped Marielle’s face. “ ’Twas my fault for taking you there.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself. You didn’t know what I am.” She sighed. “I suppose we should be grateful her husband had time to transform her. Usually when I touch a mortal, their death is immediate.”

“Ye dinna touch her. She touched you.” He set the wet towel down on the counter. “She had on latex gloves, too.”

“Oh.” Marielle nodded slowly. “Then my power was diminished. Thank God.”

“No more talk about believing that damned demon.” He gave her a fierce look. “Ye dinna screw up. I did. I do it often, so I’m quite good at it.”

She smiled. “I don’t believe that, but thank you. I feel better now. I shall pray that your friend comes through.”

“Good. Let’s see what Emma packed for you.” He strode back into the bedroom.

Marielle followed slowly. “I shouldn’t have doubted myself. That’s exactly what Darafer is counting on. He knows I’m cut off from the Heavenly Host, so I’m missing the constant stream of praise and confirmation. I never realized how hard it is for humans to stand strong in their faith. You are truly . . . amazing.”

She was looking at him with such awe and reverence in her eyes, he couldn’t bear it. He turned away, feeling centuries of despair and remorse seeping through him like poison. He’d lost his faith long ago. And his hope.

Actually, there’d been a tiny spark of hope when he’d thought Marielle was going back to heaven. But Buniel had dropped her, and Connor’s hopes had fallen along with her. Maybe if he could help her get back to heaven, it would somehow wash away some of his sins. Did he dare have hope?

“What is this?” She had spread a pair of jeans and a T-shirt on the bed, but now she was pulling underwear out of the tote bag.

“That’s a bra. Ye wear it over yer . . . breasts.” He frowned. It didn’t look big enough. “Nay, under yer clothes,” he added when she placed it on top of the sheet. “Ye have to take the sheet off.”

“Oh.” She removed the chip clip and tossed it on the bed.

“No’ now!”

She jumped, startled by his shout.

He lowered his voice. “Ye doona dress, or undress, in front of men.”

She gave him a frustrated look. “You’ve seen me before. I thought you might help.”

He stepped back. “Nay. I canna.”

“Why not?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “The bra fastens in the back, the jeans in the front.”

“All right.” She regarded him curiously. “Is it because you feel . . . desire?”

He groaned. “Ye’re the most beautiful . . . woman to ever set foot on the planet. Any man would desire you.”

She gave him a dubious look. “I don’t think so. Father Andrew looks at me like I’m a holy shrine. Robby regards me with suspicion, and Gregori—”

“He’s a pig.”

She smiled. “He means no harm. He’s merely . . . playful.”

“A playful pig.”

Her smile widened. “Will you take my hand?”

In marriage? Connor’s heart lurched, then he slapped himself mentally. Ye fool. Angels doona marry. She only wanted to hold his hand.

He enveloped her hand in his. When their palms touched, he sucked in a quick breath. His heartbeat quickened, and his grip tightened.

“You felt that?” She sandwiched his hand between both of hers. “At first, I thought there was something odd about handshakes, but I felt nothing when the others held my hand. It is most . . . curious, don’t you think?”

“Marielle.” He winced when she brought his hand to her chest. Holy Christ Almighty, he could feel the soft fullness of her breasts. His sight darkened, turning red.

She tilted her head, regarding him curiously. “I’ve been trying to understand this. I thought it might be lust, but I’ve always considered sin to be ugly and ultimately destructive. This doesn’t feel like that. What would you call it?”

He swallowed hard. “Desire. Longing.”

Her eyes widened with wonder. “Yes. That’s it, exactly.”

He grabbed the back of her neck to pull her forward, then halted with his mouth less than an inch from hers. Bloody hell, he had sworn he wouldn’t do this. If he kissed her, she would see more of his soul.

She released his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes,” she repeated, and all restraint was lost.

He kissed her, releasing all the passion that had built up over the night. How he could feel so much, so quickly, he didn’t know, but Marielle had fallen out of heaven and straight into his life, awakening his long-dead senses and filling him with purpose.

He would protect her with his life. He would see her safely back to heaven. And the small seed of hope in his heart would grow because a beautiful angel cared for him. Even desired him.

She pressed against him, kissing him back, tangling her fingers in his hair. How could he be doomed when she desired him?

He invaded her mouth and tasted chocolate on her tongue. She moaned, sinking deeper into the kiss. His hands smoothed down her back, enjoying the indentation of her spine, the narrowing of her waist, the flare of her hips.

He slipped a hand into the side opening of the sheet, and she shivered as his fingers swept across her ribs. He cupped her breast, and she gasped against his mouth.

He planted kisses along her cheek, then nuzzled her ear. He circled her nipple with his thumb, and the skin pebbled. By the time he brushed his thumb across her nipple, it had hardened into a tight bud.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you again.” He kissed a trail down her neck.

She clutched his shoulders. “I—I thought you didn’t like my breasts.”

He lifted his head and gave her a fierce look. “That was my guilt ye were seeing after I groped an angel. Yer breasts are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen . . . or touched.” He gave her a gentle squeeze.

With a moan, she closed her eyes. “I’m so glad you like them.”

“Are ye now? Would ye care to know how much I ‘like’ them?”

Her eyes opened slowly. “How—”

A knock sounded on the door. He jumped back.

“Is everything all right in there?” Father Andrew asked.

Bugger, the door wasn’t even locked. “Just a minute.” He grabbed the chip clip and fastened the sheet back together. “Are ye all right?” he whispered.

She nodded.

“I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

She nodded again, looking a bit dazed.

He touched her cheek. “Ye’ll be fine.”

She smiled. “Yes. Go ahead.”

He eased out the door and shut it behind him. Father Andrew stood nearby, watching him closely.

Robby stood by the couch, his arms folded over his chest, and a scowl on his face. Gregori’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Is Marielle all right?” Father Andrew asked.

Connor felt his cheeks grow warm. “She’s feeling better now.”

Gregori snorted, and Robby nudged him with an elbow.

“May I have a word with you in private?” Father Andrew motioned toward the back door.

“As ye wish.” A memory flitted through Connor’s mind as he walked to the door. The first time he’d stolen a kiss had been in the church belfry. The girl had burst into tears, and the priest had boxed his ears.

Hopefully his kissing had improved. He glanced at the priest’s stony face. Some things just never changed.