A Cursed Bloodline (WG 4) (41 page)

Diane narrowed her eyes further. I supposed Taran had a point. She stormed to where Aric spoke to his mother and another elderly
were
—and smacked him hard across the face. The brutal strike echoed, causing a stunned silence among the crowd. He shook his head to clear it. I rose, slowly, shocked at her outburst.

She rushed toward me. Aric intercepted her, looming over her. “You can say and do whatever you want to me—I deserve it—but my Celia is off limits.”

Eliza took her place next to her son. Her back was to me. I couldn’t see her expression, but I saw Diane’s. She took a couple of frightened steps back and left. The reception resumed as if undisturbed. It seems some level of violence was expected at a
were
funeral.

Danny left his conversation with Makawee and walked toward our table. Heidi surged out of nowhere, her outrageously large breasts pressed tight against the fabric of her hot pink dress. He lifted her hand and kissed it. His eyes never left hers until they joined us at our table.

I smiled at her. Aric had told me she was the one who’d placed me in Makawee’s dress the night we were captured. She didn’t remember doing it, as she remained under Anara’s control, but I couldn’t help but think she’d done so against his will.

Bren swaggered over with his arm around some werecheetah and a bottle of witch’s brew at his side. The cheetah snuggled contently against him. I’d wondered where he’d disappeared to. Taran gawked back and forth between them. “Son of a bitch. I can’t believe you hooked up at a funeral.”

Bren gave her a hard stare. “It’s what Liam would have wanted.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing he had a point.

The sun had begun to skim across the orange and red sky when Aric knelt before me and took my hands in his. “Liam’s family would like a word with you before they leave, sweetness,” he said quietly.

I stood with him, knowing I had to face them and yet wishing I didn’t have to. Gemini joined Aric’s side, his dark almond eyes locking on Taran. There was something different in the way he regarded her, but I couldn’t determine what it was. She pretended not to notice and reflexively tugged the sleeves of her silk gloves. He lowered his head and reached his hand out to Emme. “They wish to see you as well,” he said.

Emme shot me a panicked glance as Gemini led her ahead of us.

Aric tucked me against him and escorted me to where Liam’s family and his mate waited beside the simple urn holding his ashes. My eyes burned as we closed the distance and I struggled not to fall apart. But my grief and guilt over Liam’s death made it impossible to stay strong. By the time we reached them, I was wailing miserably and so were they.

Liam’s human mother towered over me and yet she met me with kindness. “Don’t weep for my son,” she told me as her own tears continued to run. “He died honorably.” She kissed my forehead and gazed out into the setting sun. The ache in my chest tightened when I caught her eyes lower to fix on the large portrait of Liam. “He was a good boy, always was,” she said remembering. “He’d pick dandelions and leave them around the house for me. ‘I know you like flowers, Mommy,’ he’d say. Even once he found out they were weeds, he’d continue to bring them to me, knowing they made me smile.” Her lips quivered a few times and her voice cracked. “I’d give anything for him to bring me one now.”

I gathered her in my arms, my voice shaking. “I would, too. God, I’m so sorry.”

I released her into the arms of her husband. Except for his advanced age and a few extra pounds, Liam’s werewolf father resembled him perfectly. He smiled while he continued to cry. “Thank you for tearing out the witch’s throat for us,” he said politely. “I hope you got to eat it before you were captured.”

“Um” was the only answer I managed.

Liam’s sister, Maeve, passed her child to her husband and threw her arms around me. A tear trickled down her face when she released me. Like her mother, she was also human. “Liam really liked you, Celia,” she told me. “He said you were kind and smart and funny.” I smiled. “He was also impressed by your sexual prowess. He used to tell us how you and Aric would go at it for hours.” My smile faded. His sister didn’t look anything like him, but I could tell they were related.

Allie gave me an excuse to turn my crimson face away. She clasped Emme’s hands and smiled gently. “The full moon is in two days. I’ll be with Liam soon.”

Allie was nothing more than a walking skeleton. Her pale skin clung to her sunken face and what remained of her muscles dangled from her bones. When
weres
die, their mates usually join them by the next full moon. Judging by Allie’s fragile condition, she would join Liam before then.

Emme squeezed her hands. “Of course you’ll be with him. You’re his mate for eternity.” She reached out as Allie lost her composure and gathered her tight.

It was the moment that Emme needed to release her despair and say goodbye to her beloved Liam.

Chapter Thirty-five

“Will they try to kill us?”

Aric’s grip around me tightened. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, love.”

Okay, not the answer I want to hear.

Koda drove our SUV along the grassy path leading to Mount Elbert, the command center of the North American Were Council. Shayna rode in front with him, gripping his hand tight. She was quiet…and scared.

Aric’s protective hold on me increased the closer we drew to the base of the mountain. My eyes darted toward Eliza on my other side. She tried to smile when she caught my glance, but failed to conceal the bitter scent of her nervousness.

“Um. This is the part where someone says, ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Celia. Of course we’re not walking into imminent doom.’ ”

No one laughed at my comment.

“Sweetness, I don’t want you to worry,” Aric repeated once more.

I angled my chin to face him. “Just tell me what’s going to happen.”

“I’m going to plead my case before the president and his advisors. If they deny our union, I’m renouncing my pureblood status.”

It sounded simple enough, except the tension thickening in the SUV’s cabin convinced me that the ramifications of Aric’s actions could be severe.

Koda veered left through a break in the trees. We’d arrived. Just like that. Too late to turn back.
Shit
.

Aric kissed my cheek before helping me out.

“Son of bitch.” Taran emerged from the SUV behind us with Emme, Bren, Gemini, and the Elders.

Emme hurried immediately to my side and squeezed my hand. “Do you know something I don’t?” I asked her.

She nodded and glanced at Aric. “I’ll take care of everything,” he assured me before I could ask. “I promise, I will.”

Koda approached a giant slab of stone the size of my house. He muttered some words in ancient Ute and then stepped away. The giant slab vibrated, thinning to a clear shield before disappearing completely and revealing a modern fortress. Sixteen
weres
dressed in black capes and dark military fatigues marched toward us in synchronized rhythm. Most were Native Americans and held holsters on their sides and machine guns draped across their chests. I could smell the gold from the bullets in the weapon chambers and in the extra clips secured to their belts. It was the first time I’d ever seen
weres
packing heat. But I supposed if their job was to keep other
weres
in line, it was easier to fire off shots than to fight with claws and fangs.

My sisters and I stiffened when they encircled us. None of our
weres
responded aggressively or prepared to fight, except for Bren. He cracked his knuckles as he often did in anticipation of a brawl. In perfect unison, the soldier
weres
turned and led us into the mountain. The backs of their capes depicted the silhouette images of their beast forms in silver embroidery. The group was composed mainly of bears and wolves—except the one on my right. He was a wolverine…and somehow appeared the most threatening.

The best way to describe the inside of this Den was a colossal cave crossed with modern comforts and technology. Large brass sconces that flickered like torches lit the open expanse and the multiple levels spiraling high above us. Administrative staff shuffled around the floor or typed feverishly on their flat-screen computers situated atop shiny oak desks.

Everyone dressed in long capes, similar to the guards except in varying shades of earth tones. Those who passed us bowed regally at Aric and Eliza. They nodded back in acknowledgment, stopping only when a cluster of young
weres
knelt before them and the Elders. Each of the young carried a large red velvet box.

Aric and Eliza removed beautiful red capes from the first set of boxes. The capes—satin-lined velvet with flowing trains and trimmed with white fur and jewels—resembled something a king might wear on his coronation. The backs bore silhouettes of wolves howling at a moon fashioned from small black diamonds. If that wasn’t bad enough they pulled crowns—honest-to-Betsy
crowns
—from the next set of boxes.

Eliza adjusted her dazzling tiara. “Don’t worry, dear. It’s just a formality.”

“Damn,” Taran muttered.

Aric had dressed in a black suit and tie and black silk shirt. I’d slipped into a sleeveless maroon dress and silver sandals, elegant enough for a formal wedding, but certainly not enough for a coronation! I couldn’t believe he hadn’t warned me. As I took him in, I understood why. Aric tugged on the cape the exact same way he pulled on one of his tight-fitting T-shirts. And his command remained no bolder than usual—even with the damn crown. He was troubled by what we might potentially face, but these adornments, all the pomp and ceremony, didn’t affect him in the least.

I reached up and kissed his lips. I wasn’t sure if it was allowed, but I didn’t care. His humility made me proud.

He smiled and cupped my faced. “I love you,” he said.

“I know,” I whispered.

Aric gripped my hand as the guards escorted us away from the open area and down a long hallway. We entered a large auditorium where rows of seats carved into the reddish brown stone ascended upward. The twenty
weres
present wore elaborate capes and crowns in different variations and colors. Spongy soft chairs shaped like boulders replaced more traditional seats, strange yet befitting a cave full of supernatural beasts.

The president waited before us on a more traditional-looking throne, its dark wooden back extending several feet past his head. Something about him seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

We bowed our heads respectfully. He inclined his chin, saying nothing. I watched him closely, careful to keep my eyes averted from his. Four
weres
sat on either side of him, though at least twelve could sit comfortably behind the long stretch of carved marble podium they ruled behind.

The president resided as the sole lion among the pack of wolves making up his advisors. His crown—surprise, surprise—was the biggest of all and perched on his head like the Pope’s miter. Etched in gems into the stone plate before him was his name, President Omar Gris de Leone. My lower lip dropped to my chest. I scanned the room until I spotted Tye. Sure enough, he lounged lazily in the second row of seats nearest to me. He danced his eyebrows and flashed me his dimple. I could have killed him. How could he have never mentioned that the president of the North American Were Council just happened to be his father?

Tye donned a dark blue cape, just like good ol’ Dad. I’d never had the chance to thank him for his help. He’d left during the first few days of my recovery, without much word to anyone. And yet as shocked as I was to see him, I hadn’t expected to find none other than Destiny cuddled against him. His arm slung around her like the old pals he professed them to be. I feared her ability to predict the future had brought her to help determine Aric’s fate. Her presence wasn’t a welcoming comfort. And neither was her attire.

Destiny had really outdone herself. She wore neon-pink zebra-printed boots and white and black polka-dot tights. A sparkly silver cardigan partially covered a hot pink minidress that in no way matched her shoes or the flamingo feathers sticking out of her tight bun. She was, hands down, a walking hodgepodge fashion disaster. And, truth be told, she scared me senseless.

She waved at me excitedly, sending some of her flamingo plumage into the air. I gave her a half-assed smile and turned to the President of the North American Were Council, believing him to be less frightening.

Omar’s blond hair draped to his shoulders, just like Tye’s. Yet Tye’s electric blue eyes appeared to be a unique family trait. His father’s were the more typical amber common among
weres
. Father and son carried enough of a resemblance, except Omar’s face was fuller and Tye’s features sharper. “Shall we commence?” Omar asked.

Aric stepped forward, leading me with him with our fingers linked. “Thank you, Sir President, for agreeing to an audience. I, Aric Connor, Leader to the last remaining purebloods, wish to request an exemption from our laws requiring me to seek another pureblood for a life companion. I have taken Celia Wird as my mate and thereby refuse all others.”

Omar responded stiffly. “Anything else?”

Aric didn’t appear surprised by Omar’s curt demeanor. “No.”

Omar turned the discussion over to his advisor, a tall and striking African American dressed in a cape of deep purple. “And what is the opinion of your Pack Elders?”

Martin walked toward the podium first. His long golden cape flowed behind him. As a non-pureblood, he didn’t possess a crown. But his cape was just as regal and decorated with a mixture of black onyxes and clear diamonds. Martin stopped and waited for Makawee to join him. Preserved eagle feathers made the trim of her elegant brown cape, and silver beading mixed with turquoise and red stones created the image of her wolf on the back. Her crown was a Native American headdress, bejeweled with more silver and turquoise, the most splendid of all in my opinion.

Martin lowered his head. “As Alpha of the Squaw Valley Den Pack, I give my consent to their union.”