Between the Marshal & the Vampire(12)

Stretching her legs reinvigorated her some, though she remained beside her horse, watching as Vellum checked on the condition of the crate.

"It's a coffin," she guessed. "Isn't it?"

He nodded as he brushed his fingertips over the lid. "Modified for my use." His dark gaze found her. "I'm not the undead, if that's your fear."

She flushed. "You're not dead. I—" She caught herself from saying, I felt how warm you are when you were inside me. "You're not like us but you're something else. Something in between."

He cocked his head as though he liked that. "Something in between is an accurate assessment. Better than a man, but not immortal. I am nearly so, however," he added with a sly grin at Clay. "Immortal, that is."

The Marshal stretched his back, arms raised over his head. "There's a way to kill you and if all goes well I'll find it eventually."

"No," Mariel said sternly, "You won't." Clay would get them both killed with his stubbornness.

"He doesn't trust me as you do, Mariel," Vellum said softly, watching Clay. "Then again, he doesn't know me as well as you do."

Vellum moved away from the crate, his steps measured, like those of a prowling wolf. A warning cry rose to her lips as she waited for the vampire to attack Clay. Instead, Vellum veered left to approach her. Clay tried to block his way but the dark-haired male merely pushed Clay aside as though he were a weightless boy and not a tall, muscled man.

Clay cursed but Mariel held up her hand to stop him from coming to her rescue. She didn't need rescuing. The look in Vellum's eye didn't promise pain or danger. Maybe those things would have been better, actually. As she looked up into his strong face, she couldn't deny that she was intimidated. Vellum was beyond the realm of her understanding, not only because of his physical ability and need to drink blood, but because he made her hyperaware of herself as a woman in a way she'd never experienced before, except perhaps in a few choice instances with Clay. Not even her deceased husband had made her this aware of the sensuality inherent in her body, in her breath. Was this the work of Vellum's power? His thrall? Or did she feel these things naturally?

"Thank you for trusting me," he said softly as he stood before her, trapping her against her horse like a mountain of night. "It seems you'll be the one who keeps the two of you alive."

"Pretty words until it comes time for you to drain the blood from our bodies," Clay said cuttingly from a few paces away. "Mariel trusts you because she's good-hearted. I don't trust you because I've seen what your kind can do. I'll be watching you, vampire, and make sure you treat her right."

"Believe it or not," Vellum said after surprising Mariel with a wink, "I admire that about you, Marshal. Mariel deserves a man of your ilk."

He stepped away from her then, and it was as though the sun broke through the clouds. A feeling of suspension, like thunderclouds about to dump their payload of rain, lifted, allowing Mariel to breathe easy once again.

Clay immediately stepped in to fill the void, his whiskey-colored eyes soft with concern. His large hands were warm and comforting as he pulled her into his arms and held her. "It'll be alright," he murmured against the top of her head. He rubbed her back gently. "I won't let him hurt you. It'll be alright."

He smelled of horse and gunpowder and masculine sweat. She realized that in contrast, Vellum had smelled of cool earth and little else.

She felt Clay kiss her temple. The desire welled in her to surrender to his strength and allow him to take care of her. He wanted to. She sensed it from him like a yearning, as though he felt he was half a man if he couldn't be her strong protector.

She tilted her head back to look up at Clay and admired the firm line of his jaw as he warily watched Vellum. Without thinking about the consequences of it, she reached up and cupped his cheek, drawing his surprised gaze.

"Please stay alive with me," she whispered. She stroked along his stubble-covered jaw. "Please don't leave me alone."

Frustration shaded his eyes for a moment but it dissolved behind a firm determination. "We'll both stay alive." He turned his face slightly, until his lips found the center of her palm.

His lips were warm as Vellum's had been, and slightly chapped, but all the more human for that. He kissed her palm as he held her gaze. There was more than a promise to keep her alive in that gaze.

"When we're together in Everton, I'm pampering you," he told her in a low voice. "A night at a show and the best dinner in the fort. And I'll buy you a dress to wear for the occasion. Something made of velvet, not this gingham."

"Fear turns you into a romantic," she teased, but she was thrilled by the words. She believed that Clay meant them. Lord, I hope I survive this so we can do as he's promised.

As if he'd heard her thoughts, Clay looked to Vellum. The vampire stood eerily motionless beside his horse, moonlight casting part of his face in shadow. But it was clear that he watched them like a hawk might watch a pair of rabbits. Rather than the fear she knew she should feel, Mariel shivered for an altogether different reason. A fleeting fantasy of Vellum storming up to her and tearing the bosom of her dress open made her heartbeat leap. But the fantasy didn't end there: in it, Vellum seized Clay by the back of the neck and forced the handsome Marshal's face against her bared breasts, where Clay's tongue curled delicately around a nipple.