A Cursed Bloodline (WG 4) (2 page)

He walked inside, slamming the door behind him. Invisible fists struck my face with each step he took. He broke my nose and bloodied my face without ever lifting a finger. My ears rang from the jolts and from the eerie call of howling wolves.

“Do you think me merely a vampire or a Tribemaster you can so easily defeat?” he spat. “I am an
Elder
. I can summon the power of the Pack and use it to my liking. I can kill Aric and anyone I wish from miles away. No one can stop me—and no one can help you!”

He lifted his palm and squeezed his fingers, choking me slowly from where he stood. Spots speckled my vision. I thought he would kill me until he dropped his hand and released the pressure burning my throat. He paced in front of me, rubbing his jaw, seemingly pleased with the amount of magic at his fingertips. I spat out blood and tried to speak. “Why Aric?” I croaked.

His hot breath stirred against my face. “I will not allow you to taint his bloodline. He is a king among wolves and you are nothing but a whore. I’d rather see him dead than with an abomination like you!” His stare traveled the length of my body with the deepest of loathing. He lifted the edge of my sweater, before yanking it down with disgust. “I never understood what he saw in you,” he scoffed.

Anara’s hold continued as he stalked away. “My followers are everywhere, Celia. I can manipulate them to do my will, just as I did Virginia. I will know if you see him, I will know if you speak to him.”

The realization of his words struck me like a thunderbolt and washed my bleeding form with cold dread.
He
was the one who believed me the key to his destruction…and to all he led.

Anara stopped at the door, the muscles of his back tightening until they bulged against his red shirt. “If you
dare
tell anyone about this, your sisters will share Aric’s fate.”

As a testament of his power Anara didn’t release me until about an hour after he left. I crashed to the floor, coughing and shaking. The only thought racing through my head was the need to protect Aric, my sisters, and the baby growing inside me.

Chapter Two

My legs trembled when I struggled to stand. Heavy footsteps pounded at the door. I thought Anara had returned to kill me and hurried to rise. I slipped on my blood and on the scattered pieces of broken wood and glass. My back slammed hard on the floor as the door swung open and a furious Liam charged in. He crouched next to me, poised to protect and growling ferociously.

Liam surveyed the damaged wall and the splintered glass and wood. I couldn’t tell him what happened. Aric and my sisters would be hurt—or worse. But I couldn’t lie to Liam. Like most preternaturals, he could smell a lie. So I worked to calm my racing heart and tried to gather my words carefully.

He helped me to stand once he failed to sense any immediate danger. His eyes widened as he took in my state. “Good Lord, Celia. What happened?”

“I was attacked,” I gasped, still unable to speak clearly.

Liam swept me into his arms, moving me away from the shards of glass.
“Tell me who did this to you!”

“Our…enemy.”

Liam sniffed the air. I panicked, thinking he’d detect Anara’s scent. “Wolves. Wolves have been here,” he said.

Wolves?

“I don’t recognize their scent.” Liam threw a blanket on the couch and gently laid me over it. “Hang on, Celia. I’ll call Aric—”

“No! Liam, you can’t call Aric.”

“Celia, I have to, you’re hurt.”

My throat ached and it burned to talk. “I don’t want him to see me like this. He’s already dealing with a lot. Please, Liam, just get me to Misha’s house. Emme can heal me there.”

Liam’s face split with guilt and uncertainty. As one of Aric’s Warriors, he was blood-bound to protect me as Aric’s mate, but he was also obliged to obey him. “Celia, I know he’s in his own personal hell, but you’re his priority. He’ll want to be here.”

“
Emme
is who I need right now. There’s still blood running down my back.”

In an instant, Liam was behind me, examining my wounds. I wasn’t a
were
. I couldn’t heal. “Oh, shit. I’ll get you to Emme right away.”

Liam lifted me and raced toward the door, kicking the empty boxes he’d dropped on the porch out of his way. He must have arrived to remove his belongings from the bedroom he and Emme had shared.

The bright sunlight burned my eyes. I shut them tight until we reached Liam’s SUV. The moment he strapped me in, he stomped on the accelerator and roared out of our cul-de-sac. “What exactly happened, Celia? And why did I only smell your blood?”

“I was caught off guard.”

Liam frowned. “What the hell? You’re always on guard.”

“I’ve been distracted because of…everything. Look, I can’t keep talking. It hurts too much.” It was true, but mostly I was running out of ways to be creative with my answers.

“Sorry, Celia—I wasn’t thinking. I’m just trying to figure things out. Don’t worry. You’ll be with Emme soon.”

The relief I felt was short-lived. Almost immediately, he called the one person I dreaded most.

Aric’s voice pulsed with strain from the moment he answered. “Liam, I told you now’s not a good time—”

“Celia’s hurt.”

“
What?
Is she all right?”

“She’s not dying.” Liam gave me the once-over. “At least, I don’t think she is. But she’s pretty fucked up. Near as I can figure she was attacked by a bunch of Tribe wolves.”

The Tribe were the evil band of bastards who had awoken the even more evil and bigger bastard demon. In stopping them, we’d decimated their numbers, but they were still out there—thankfully providing the perfect scapegoat.

Aric’s breaths came out fast. “When did this happen?”

Liam sniffed the air around me. “By the way the dry blood on her smells, about an hour ago.”

Aric let out a string of swearwords. “By the way the
dry
blood smells on her!”

“Well, yeah, she’s still bleeding.”

“How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad, but I think she’ll live.” He shook his head when he took another look at me. “Damn, you should see her. She looks like hell….”

I groaned.
Way to keep Aric calm, Liam.

“…her face is smashed in and her back is cut up like breakfast sausage….”

I glared at him. I couldn’t believe he was being so descriptive or how quickly Aric flipped out, smashing and destroying what sounded like heavy furniture.

“…anyway, I’m taking her to Emme. She’s at the master asshole’s house.”

“Let me talk to her.”

I shook my head frantically and grabbed my throat when he tried to pass me the phone. Liam nodded his head in supposed understanding. “She can’t talk right now, Aric. I think her larynx is partially crushed….” My jaw dropped and I clutched my heart in shock. For once in his life, I wished Liam would shut his trap. Instead he smiled. “Aw, Celia, that’s so sweet—I’ll tell him. Aric, Celia sends her love.”

If my head wasn’t already pounding, I would have banged it against the window.

“Tell her I love her, too. I’ll meet you at the leech’s house.”

No!

Liam disconnected before I could protest. The rest of the way to Misha’s my mind raced with what to say. Vampires were just as good at sniffing lies as wolves, but even if they weren’t, Misha knew me well enough to tell the difference.

Liam turned onto the mile-long path that led to Misha’s estate at warp speed, stopping only to slam on the brakes in front of the colossal wrought-iron gates. A vampire immediately abandoned his post and sneered at Liam through the window. “What do you want, mutt?”

“To smash your damn fangs in, asshole. Let me in. Celia’s hurt and needs her sister.”

The vamp did a double take when he saw me. “Oh,
shit
.” He yelled to the group of vampires that had gathered behind the gate. “Let them through—it’s Celia. Tell the master she’s wounded!”

The gates had barely parted when several vampires disappeared toward the immense Mountain Craftsman mansion. Liam powered through the entrance and over the bridge. He swerved onto the circular stone driveway just as Misha sprinted down the stone steps, followed by Agnes, Maria, Liz, and Edith. The she-vamps wore their usual Catholic school uniforms. I always thought they looked creepy, but most males found it hot. Misha wore only black suit pants. I had probably arrived at a bad time.

My seat belt had just slid across my chest when Misha flung open the door and lifted me from the seat. Misha was about one hundred and forty years old. He normally didn’t swear much, but, boy, he did then. His light Russian accent clipped every four-letter word.

Liam leapt out of the car and stormed toward us. “Keep your hands off her! She’s only here for Emme.”

“Shut up, hound. Emme is out,
I
will tend to her.”

The schoolgirls blocked Liam when he charged, hissing through their elongating fangs. Daylight or dead of night, it didn’t matter, the vamps were always ready to fight—especially
weres
who threatened their master.

“Don’t hurt him,” I croaked.

Misha responded in an ultra-deep, pissed-off voice. “No harm shall come to him so long as he knows his place.” His eyes softened as they took me in. Without turning from my sight, he motioned to the crowd of vampires. “You three—locate Emme Wird and bring her back,
now
.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeaked out my words. “Misha, I don’t want anything to happen to Liam.”

Misha caressed my throat. “Rest your voice, my love. All will be well.”

I glanced at Liam one last time before Misha rushed us inside. Liam hated vampires. As a member of the Alliance, he’d fought alongside them and the witch clans to help destroy the Tribe. They’d worked together because they had to—not because they enjoyed it.

We entered Misha’s chambers faster than I could take my next breath. Two sultry and very naked women lounged on his mammoth bed. “Leave us,” he told them.

Misha shouted orders before his dinner and dessert could bolt. Edith removed my boots and socks while Misha carried me into the bathroom, her master’s stress making her anxious. Maria filled the round tub and added salts that sizzled with hints of dry mint and thyme—the aroma of witch medicine.

Liz swept in, her arms packed with the first-aid supplies Misha had requested. As a former nurse, I thought Misha would allow me to dress my wounds. Sometimes I could kick my own ass for being so naïve. Misha tore off my clothes in one hard pull. As I stood there wearing only my tiny panties, I had the feeling he’d done this before.

I tried to cover my breasts with my arms and long hair. “Misha, what are you doing?”

“Get on your knees.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kitten, you must round your back. It’s the only way to remove the glass embedded in your skin. Now do as I ask.”

I sighed and looked to my closest Catholic schoolgirl. “Maria, may I have a towel, please.”

She stopped in the middle of adding more salts and frowned. “For what?” she asked in her thick Brazilian accent.

“To cover myself.”

My request seemed to confuse her. “Why? It’s not like de master hasn’t seen you naked before.”

My face heated. “Just pass me a damn towel!”

Maria rolled her eyes and handed me a large cream bath towel to placate me. Had Misha not been present, she would have thrown it in my face. She might have dressed the part, but she was
not
a good Catholic.

I covered my chest and rounded my back, jumping when Misha removed the first large shard. Warm fluid spilled down my cold and sensitive skin. At once Misha’s tongue ran over my open wound. He sealed it instantly, but wouldn’t stop. Suddenly, I was no longer in pain—I was in trouble.

When vampires fed, both the sucker and suckee experienced emotional orgasms. As the “suckee,” who’d been body-slammed against a wall and pummeled into hamburger, I couldn’t feel more than unease. Judging by Misha’s deep intakes of breath as he continued to lick my skin, not only was he in the mood, he was full speed ahead.

“Misha,
don’t
.”

“I must,” he groaned. “You are injured.” Misha extracted another shard of glass near my right shoulder. His arms wrapped around my waist and his tongue moved in slow, seductive circles. My eyes widened, but it was a sound from his bedroom that had me bolting away.

Misha hissed.
“What is it, Edith Anne?”

“Forgive me, Master. I was just trying to help.” Edith fled the room as Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” boomed over Misha’s sound system. It appeared Edith’s “help” consisted of “mood” music.

I stood at the opposite end of the bathroom when Misha turned back to me. The ravenous gleam etching its way across his handsome features made it clear I hadn’t run far enough. I held out my hand when he took a step forward. “No more, Misha.”

“My love—”

“Misha, I’m not your love. You know this.”

I turned to wash my face in the sink, only to freeze at the sight of my reflection. My nose angled somewhere near my right cheek and the obscene amount of swelling distorted my features. Dry blood caked my face and long hair in thick streaks, and a cascade of bruises darkened my golden skin with ugly tinges of blue and purple. Anara had bashed my face in with the might of his hatred. I instinctively ran my hand over my belly, grateful my child had been spared from his wrath.

The throbbing in my face and the relentless pounding in my head intensified as I relived the moment of the assault. The day had taken an array of unexpected turns, from the first moment I’d sat on the exam table until I’d opened the door to find Anara waiting for me. The disastrous outcome struck my battered body with a final blow, releasing my pain and terror in one mangled sob. I wasn’t one for hysterics, nor did I want to be. I gritted my teeth so my tears ran silently and focused on that tiny heartbeat in order to calm.

Misha stepped next to me. Tension and fury darkened his beautifully masculine features. He turned on the water and soaked the washcloth gripped in his hand, then gently passed it over my face. “Whoever did this shall suffer,” he promised.