Part 8 (1/2)

Sheila's mirth filled his mind and he sent a silent query.

”He's too hooked on your new Healer to bother with escorting me into town. Rafael?”

Eli suppressed a smile. Sheila was entirely too taken with Rafe, but Eli wasn't about to have the two hundred year old vampire out on the town, so to speak, with a vampire who had been changed less than a year.

Sheila was entirely too...charming. Eli preferred to keep Rafe focused when he wasn't around.

”Jonathan,” Eli said firmly. ”And tell him to leave Lori alone. She's a child, and too young for him. You can play with Rafe later, sweet. Find out what you can and keep me updated.”

Then he focused his full attention back on Sarel, licking his lips, touching his tongue to the tips of his fangs as they dropped down, his body going on red alert at the sight, the scent of her.

They hadn't told her that he was to be her first, and possibly, only trainer. If Eli had his way she would be his partner. Since his first partner had died, he'd been alone. Caris had been the first and the only partner he'd ever had. When the young werewolf had died, the Council had tried to make him take another, but Malachi had intervened.

Malachi was not one you could easily tell no.

Even the Council.

What had Sarel had thought of Malachi?

Wondering if Malachi had f.u.c.ked her, he discarded the idea. Malachi may have found her physical form attractive, but if he knew Malachi, the older vampire was still too angry. Keeping his anger well hidden, he held onto it for ages, but he cherished women far too much to ever take one in anger, even one he disliked.

He would not trust himself not to harm a woman if he f.u.c.ked her in anger.

Had Sarel been drawn to him?

Some witches were more immune to the vampire's call than were mortal women. If Malachi had been suppressing it, chances are, she wouldn't have felt much unless they were in direct physical contact.

Sliding through the shadows as though one of them, his long coat caressing his ankles, his eyes roamed over her body hungrily. So few changes, and all of them so sweet, her waist trimmer, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s just the slightest bit bigger, her rather feline features even more cat-like than before. Watching her green-gold eyes scan about impatiently, he could smell her frustration and see the way her pulse throbbed under the thin s.h.i.+eld of golden skin in her neck.

Keeping to the rear of the thinning crowd, he moved until he was at her back, tsking under his breath. They would have to have to work on that. She shouldn't leave herself so easily unprotected. Once he stood a few mere feet behind, Eli just waited, breathing in the sweet scent of her-honeysuckle, the perfume of her s.e.x and blood.

Right before she sensed him, he asked in a low voice, ”Are you waiting for some one?”

Oh, no.

They wouldn't have paired her with him.

Was this her punishment?

All the teachers knew, of course.

She'd had to confess how guilty she felt. And even if she hadn't confessed, many of them were empathic, and they felt it, just as they felt her hunger for him before she learned the fine art of s.h.i.+elding. Counseling for the troubled was routine for anyone going through witch's training at Excelsior. You couldn't train the gifted if the gifted were likely to go postal on you. The problems had to be addressed, and resolved, first.

Of course, she had sensed things from them as well.

Not true empathy, that had come later, with training.

But it was as she had sensed from Malachi in England- his rampant dislike of her-she sensed their distrust of her. She had won many of them over.

Even so, most of them were still angry with her on a very deep level.

And she knew, deep in her gut, this was her punishment.

They were placing her with the man she had to thank for being what she was today-Eli, the man she had tried to kill.

”Eli,” she said quietly. The low raspy quality of her voice sounded flat and unwelcome even to her ears.

Knowing he could tell she wasn't pleased, she wanted to kick herself. At the least, she needed to try to make the best of this.

Elijah smiled, a slow, lazy cat's smile that had a bolt of heat striking through her belly, straight down to her cleft. Moisture pooled in her s.e.x and her cheeks heated when his nostrils flared. Knowledge filled his eyes and her heart sank. He knew, d.a.m.n it.

The Master vampire, her new trainer knew how much she wanted him.

And didn't that just beat all?

”You sound so unhappy to see me,” Eli purred, reaching out and drawing her carry on bag from her shoulder, slowly sliding it down her arm, somehow managing to graze the side of her breast with the back of his hand as he did it. She stared at him in silence as he threw the bag over his shoulder.

”Did you have anything to do with this?” she asked.

”No. I knew beforehand, of course, and I could have refused. But what would be the point of that, I wonder?” He moved a little closer, until the toes of his black boots nudged hers and they stood face to face, nearly eye to eye. ”Shall I send you back? I shall, if you like.”

”Why?” she asked, her voice nearly soundless.

”I do not want an unwilling student.” His breath was a soft warm caress on her face. It smelled oddly sweet, not the way she would have imagined a vampire's breath would smell. It smelled like clover, and cinnamon. Like tea, she decided. ”It would be dangerous for both of us.”

”I will never willingly cause you any sort of harm, ever again,” Sarel whispered slowly, somberly. G.o.d, she wanted him. Everything inside her called out for him.

”Does that mean you are-willing?” Eli asked, that same slow smile of amus.e.m.e.nt on his mouth.

”Yes.”

Eli's head lowered. For one brief moment, Sarel thought he might kiss her.

But then, before she even realized he had moved, he was gone. Elijah Crawford was happy.

Not having been happy in so long, he had wondered if he would even recognize the feeling if he felt again.

Not only was she drawn to him, she was truly attracted.

Sarel was sorry for what had happened, truly repentant.

Of course, he wasn't above toying with her awhile, or seeing if he could make her as mad with l.u.s.t as he had been for the past five years. It was humiliating-truly.

This woman had come closer to killing him than any other in more than two centuries. If it had not been for Tori, Declan and Kelsey, he would surely be dust in the ground right now and sweet Sarel would be as well.

Unless she was still in a jail cell, locked far below the earth. They could have locked the magic inside her, made her a prisoner inside her own body, inside her own mind, until she slowly went insane. Then they would have killed her. The Council didn't actually believe in torture, but they did believe in making the criminal suffer. A quick death for the killer of one of their Hunters would not have been their choice.

All in all, Sarel had no idea how much she owed the other three. She paced silently at his shoulder, her unusual cat's eyes straight ahead, looking neither left nor right. A great many changes had occurred in the past five years, Eli noted. Not physically, but, well, he couldn't put his finger on it. She carried herself differently. Having spent most of her teenage years on the street, she had been rough, hostile and unkempt while in his home.