The Warrior Vampire(37)

“When dhampirs are turned into vampires, we forfeit our souls to oblivion. When we find the one we’re meant to be with, our souls become tethered to our mate’s soul. You returned my soul to me, Naya. We are forever bound to one another.”

She’d heard it before from him, but somehow it was different now. Her own body’s response to him was unusual. The power that crested in heady waves when he touched her unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Still, whether she was starting to consider his claims or not, it didn’t change the fact that the elders had already set her on a path that took her far from Ronan. Naya wasn’t interested in tying herself to anyone. She wanted to be allowed the freedom to be—and belong to—herself.

She sensed that what she wanted didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Paul would still insist that she be mated to Joaquin, and Ronan would continue to insist that she was already mated to him. Things were going to come to a head too soon, and when they did all hell would break loose. Either Ronan would have to get used to the idea of polygamy or they were all in for one hell of a fight.

Of course, none of it would matter if Naya couldn’t first control the rogue magic that was infecting people throughout town. “We’d better get to hunting,” she said as she opened her door. “The sun will be up soon.”





CHAPTER

11

Ronan’s mood slipped further into darkness with each passing hour. He hoped that they’d find some malicious beastie hell-bent on death and destruction so he could kill the fucking thing and hit the release valve on his pent-up aggravation.

The invisible tether that bound his soul to Naya’s gave a tug and Ronan responded, closing the distance between them until he was mere inches behind her. The town was too small. Too quiet. The sights, sounds, and scents too unfamiliar. And Naya was much too exposed for his peace of mind.

“Do you recognize any of this?”

They’d been walking for miles, tracking residual magic that Ronan couldn’t see or scent, which only furthered his frustration. How could he possibly protect her from something that eluded his senses?

“What?” His mind was wandering and he needed to get his shit straight.

Naya raised her hand and swirled it around. “Is any of this familiar? Anything triggering a memory?”

“No.” So far tonight they’d canvassed the area of the town proper and the residential areas that skimmed the beach. Now, facing the crescent-shaped harbor, Ronan’s gaze scanned through the darkness for any potential threats. Gods, none of this was familiar. It was like he’d just popped out of thin air and landed chained to Naya’s bed.

“The residual magic is stronger here,” Naya said as they continued to walk. The sound of waves lapping at the shore helped to lull his temper. He loved the ocean. Had never lived far from it. He wondered, did Naya love the ocean, too?

“How do you know?”

Naya cut him a look, her brow furrowed.

“I can’t smell it. Can’t see it. How do you know it’s there?”

“I can hear it, remember?” Her quick smile punched straight through his gut. “Magic sings to me.”

He’d stayed away from the subject of magic over the past week, opting to keep their interactions light. But after the night that he’d taken her vein, curiosity burned through him. His kisses, his touch had awakened a power in her and he was dying to know why. “Like actual music?”

Naya negotiated a wide pool of water that gathered in a low spot on the sand while Ronan crossed in a single graceful leap. Her mouth quirked in a reluctant smile. “I wish I could do that. You move like Joaquin. Graceful and powerful.”

Joaquin. The male who was supposed to be her mate? Ronan swallowed down the predatory growl that rose in his chest.

“Anyway, yes, it’s like actual music. Music in my head. My ears. My soul. I can feel it pounding in my chest. And the song is always different depending on who’s using it and for what.”

“That’s how you know when it’s corrupt?”

Naya jumped to reach the wood planks of the pier above them and missed. Ronan stepped up beside her and wrapped his hands around her waist. Gods, she was so slight that his palms almost completely encircled her and she was nothing more than a feather in his grasp as he lifted her up. As she began to climb, his touch lingered. He didn’t want to let her go. Didn’t want to sever the physical contact that he’d yearned for over the past days. “How did the music sound when you found me?”

“Chaotic,” she responded without looking at him. “Out of tune.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, “And then so perfect and beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes.”