The Cursed by Blood Saga

by Marianne Morea

  Neither had a home to return to, and neither wanted to go back to the streets. After falling prey to the real monsters of this world they were more than happy to accept Carlos’s offer. Understanding exactly what he required of them, they both swore blood oaths to keep the family’s secrets and moved in permanently.

  Carlos locked eyes with Amanda and beckoned her. She approached him, tentatively at first, but when he flashed a beguiling smile, she relaxed. She went to him, immediately wrapping her long, thin arms around his neck. Lifting onto her tiptoes, she ran her tongue over Carlos’s bottom lip and pressed herself against him.

  Reaching up he lightly took hold of her wrists and brought them down, holding them gently in front of him. “No, mija, that won’t be required of you tonight. I need you to satisfy a different craving,” he said, his gaze intensifying.

  Amanda’s pupils dilated at once as Carlos cradled the back of her neck. Gently he tilted her head to one side, his fingers a feather’s touch against her skin. He could feel the throb of her pulse as he brushed her soft hair away from her throat, feeling its pace quicken beneath his hand.

  His head pounded in time with her skittering pulse and his vision turned red. His fangs descended and with a hoarse moan, he pierced the delicate flesh of her throat without pause. He had waited too long to feed and knew he was being less than gentle.

  Amanda cried out as his fangs slid beneath her skin into her vein, and he immediately waved his hand across her line of sight. She slumped in his arms, spelled and supple.

  He took long pulls from her neck, breathing in the warm scent from her skin. He could taste her emotions in the back of his throat as the hot, coppery liquid flooded his mouth. Her contentment gave her blood a special sweetness, and for that, Carlos was grateful.

  Too many times when hunting the emotions he tasted were so saturated with vice that he felt it would poison what was left of his soul. The fact that Amanda’s emotions showed her to be happy was a miracle indeed, and he felt his spirits lighten even as he took her blood.

  Carlos felt Amanda shiver as he withdrew his fangs. A tiny drop of blood trickled slowly toward her collarbone. He caught it with the tip of his tongue, rasping upward toward the bite marks to cleanse and stop the bleeding.

  She was still in thrall, so he picked her up and laid her gently on his bed. She looked so small on its expanse. He gently ran his finger over her soft cheek, remembering how at first, neither she nor Tommy had any memory of him or how they had gotten to the house. Memories of their ordeal were sketchy at best, as happens with victims of trauma, but their nightmares were very real. It had taken more than just Carlos’s gifts to dull their memories effectively enough to give them some peace. It had been a collective family effort.

  With his fingernail he pricked his wrist and bid her take a few drops to help heal and replenish her. He watched as the marks on her throat closed, healing instantly.

  Carlos gently straightened her clothes before waking her from her trance. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up. “Carlos?” she asked, a little puzzled.

  Carlos brushed the hair out of her eyes and kissed her forehead. “You can go back downstairs, mija. Tell Rosa I said for her to make you something to eat. She’ll know what to give you to keep up your strength,” he said, and took her hand to help her off the bed.

  She was a little wobbly on her feet, but had no memory of what had just passed between them. Carlos nodded to her as she left before he turned to look at the clock on his nightstand. Seven p.m.—exactly a half hour till he’d see Trina.

  Perhaps it was the fresh blood coursing through his body, but an image of her in full arousal, with her head back and her lips wet and swollen passed through his mind. His cock hardened as he remembered the silk of her skin and the feel of her pulse beneath his fingers.

  An unusual pressure built behind his ribs, and the sensation was so alien he pressed his palm to his chest. Vampires didn’t suffer cardiac episodes, but his blood pumped through his veins like a fever, and the burn was exquisite.

  ***

  Carlos pulled out onto the street. His Jag purred like a well-fed cat as he made his way over to Park Avenue. He loved the feel of the car’s horsepower, and he revved the engine at the light before merging into the southbound lane. He had expected some residual rush-hour traffic, but the roads were uncommonly clear for this time of day. It was as if the night was already setting itself up to fall exactly where he wanted it.

  His thoughts centered on Trina. He gripped the steering wheel and licked his lips. If he had a pulse it would be ratcheting up at this point, and he ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth. They tingled in response, and he chuckled. A vampire’s equivalent to an adrenaline rush.

  He couldn’t explain why, but Trina tripped every predatory instinct he had. Well sated, Carlos was confident his instincts would stay muted tonight. At least he hoped.

  Impatient for this evening since he had dropped Trina off right before dawn, he let his thoughts drift. She had called earlier, and the sound of her voice only increased his anticipation.

  “Carlos? It’s Trina. I hope I’m not catching you too late but there’s been a change of plan,” she said quickly.

  Carlos frowned. “What kind of change? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just I need you to pick me up at the club instead of at my house. Rick needs me to give him a hand for a little while. He couldn’t get anyone else on such short notice, and since I felt a bit guilty about skipping out early last night, I couldn’t say no. I’m bringing a change of clothes with me, so I’ll be ready to go when you get there. I just wanted to call to make sure it was fine with you.”

  Carlos laughed. Trina hadn’t stopped for breath once in her nervous explanation. “Of course I can meet you there. Would you rather I wait in the car until you’re finished, or should I come in?”

  Trina laughed in relief. “Either. I’ll see you a little later, then,” she said happily and hung up.

  The mere sound of her voice sent a jolt straight into his groin, and the reaction amazed him. At first he attributed it to his long-overdue thirst, but he had just fed, satiating himself to the point of sloshing. Yet his craving for her hadn’t subsided.

  He pulled up in front of Avalon and cut the engine. He sent his senses out, listening to the sounds of the different heartbeats inside and knew hers instinctively. He got out of the car and took the front steps of the club two at a time.

  He knew exactly where she was inside, and headed straight for the stairs marked “private” when suddenly he stopped. He couldn’t just charge down the stairs after her, even though that’s what his body urged him to do. If he did, he’d be hard pressed to explain. So instead, he took a deep breath and sat down at one of the tables near the entrance to wait.

  Someone had turned on the music, and even with its volume he could hear Trina coming up the stairs. He turned toward the door just as she pushed it open. She had two bottles in her hand and a big smile on her face at seeing him waiting for her.

  “Carlos!” she said, as she hurried over to where he sat. “No one told me you were here. Have you been waiting long?” She gave him a hug as he stood to greet her.

  He inhaled, discreetly taking in her scent. Her skin smelled of honeysuckle and vanilla, and her own natural musk beneath it made it a heady perfume. He closed his eyes for a moment and let it linger on the back of his tongue. “Not to worry, I just got here,” he said lightly, hiding the effect she had on him.

  She smiled, lifting the bottles. “For later,” Trina said with a wink. “Rick felt guilty about making me come in tonight, so he gave us these.” She put the bottles on the table and ran a hand through her hair.

  His gaze drifted past her right shoulder as Rick and Louie came up from the basement carrying cases of beer. She followed his gaze, then looked back at him. “I’ll only be a minute. I just need to let them know you’re here and change out of these grubby clothes so we can get going,” she said, leaning in to ki
ss his cheek. His hand brushed her lower back, and though his touch was light, his fingers circled her skin with the promise of more.

  She turned, and with the way she moved in her jeans, it was as if they had been made for her, hugging her rounded bottom and highlighting her narrow waist.

  If that’s grubby, then I’m in trouble, he mused as he watched her walk away.

  Carlos picked up one of the bottles she had left on the table. Conundrum. It was a pretty good California white, and considering the name, it was both apropos and ironic.

  Trina emerged about ten minutes later. Carlos looked up from his BlackBerry and froze. She was breathtaking. Her dress flowed around her body just skimming the surface of her skin. It shimmered in different tones of copper; catching the light and making her skin shimmer as it floated about her. Every smooth, full curve was accentuated, sensual yet graceful, as if held in a silken dance.

  “Trina, you are beautiful,” he said as he got up and crossed the floor. He took her hand and turned it over, kissing her palm. It was an old world gesture, courtly, yet he felt her shiver, and the flush of immediate arousal stained her cheeks.

  A beautiful, dusky rose spread across her skin. “Thank you,” she said, a little embarrassed.

  Carlos helped her on with her coat and then took her arm. They walked toward the front entrance. “Night, Louie. Night, Rick,” she said, as they passed the two men stocking the side bar.

  “So, where are we going?” she asked, tilting her head to look at Carlos. Her eyes swept the stairs to the club and then back again, and her lips curled in a secret smile.

  Carlos caught her look of déjà vu. “I know. It seems like we were just here, doesn’t it?” he teased.

  “That’s because we were,” she said, her smile widening. “It’s funny. I’ve known you less than seventy-two hours, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  Carlos didn’t answer, but just looked at her meaningfully. Forever, he thought. You have no idea.

  He unlocked the car doors and they both got in. Fastening her seatbelt, Trina glanced over at Carlos. “Are you hungry?”

  He raised an eyebrow and gave her a seductive half smile. “Depends,” he said. “What did you have in mind?”

  Trina blushed again. “I meant dinner, funny guy. I thought you might not have eaten since our plans had changed,” she shot back, palm up in mock defense.

  Carlos laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. But you walked right into that one and I couldn’t resist. No, I’m not hungry right now, but thanks for asking. You?”

  “I’m fine right now, too. Rick takes good care of me. He made sure to order in sushi for me since he knows I love it. He comes off like a jerk sometimes, but he can be very considerate—especially when he wants something.” Trina added, folding her arms.

  Carlos frowned a bit, wondering what else Rick could want from her. “Has he been your boss for very long?

  “Since I started at the club. In fact, he was the one who hired me. At the beginning, he wanted something other than friendship, but I let him know that was out of the question. Besides the fact that he’s my boss, I just never felt that kind of vibe with him. He’s cool with it, though.”

  Carlos wasn’t so sure, and made a mental note to keep an eye on her supposed good friend.

  “So you haven’t told me where we’re going yet,” Trina said, unfolding her arms and putting her hands in her lap.

  Her scent told him her nerves were on overdrive, and her fidgeting made it even more obvious. Carlos reached over and took one of her hands in his. “We are headed to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They are having a special exhibit of Spanish art that spans from around the time of the renaissance up to modern day. I thought you’d enjoy it. There’s a cocktail party as well. Perhaps after that, we could head north to a favorite restaurant of mine. It’s just a hole in the wall, but the food is superb.”

  “Sounds great. I’ve always enjoyed the Met. I actually worked as an assistant in the Restoration Department while I was an undergrad. I even entertained the idea of becoming an art anthropologist at one point. I thought it would let me combine my two great loves, art and science.”

  “So what changed your mind?”

  “My great-grandmother. Remember I told you my family was crazy?” Trina looked at him for a moment and when he nodded, she continued. “Over the years her obsessions have driven my family apart. Don’t get me wrong, I love my great-grandmother to distraction, and it’s my love for her that made me want to study the human mind and what ails it. You see, I believe she has suffered from delusions her whole life, and my great-grandfather—God rest his soul—loved her too much to do anything but coddle her, forever denying anything was wrong.”

  “What kind of delusions? Has she a doctor? What do the professionals think?”

  Trina sighed. “She has seen many different doctors over the years, but it all boils down to one thing. She believes absolutely that preternatural beings reside in this world. That they surround us, coexisting with the human race, some even feeding on us.”

  Carlos was speechless for a moment. The old woman must have had an encounter at some point in her life, and not had her memory completely wiped. He hesitated, then spoke slowly.

  “Trina, there are people in this world who are more sensitive to things one might call otherworldly. Haven’t you ever heard of the psychics that help police departments? And what about the stories of people in need helped by angels? Surely you’re not so cynical that you believe all these accounts to be hysterical?”

  “No, of course not. I believe in the supernatural. I always have. But where my Nanita takes things, I just can’t go. She believes in magic, in vampires and shape shifters and such,” Trina said, shaking her head.

  “And you don’t, obviously,” he said, watching her reaction from the corner of his eye.

  “Do you know anyone who does? I mean, outside of the downtown freaks that walk around like it’s Halloween every day of the year?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. The legends come from somewhere, even if Hollywood has rewritten most of them. Science can only go so far and sometimes it becomes a matter of faith.”

  “I’ve heard this argument before. That may have been true centuries ago, but modern science and psychology have proved most of the myths to be false. I believe what I can see, for the most part, and leave faith up to the church.”

  “Maybe one day you’ll see something that will change your mind,” he said softly. “Perhaps restore your faith in legends and mythology.”

  Trina laughed. “Maybe. For now, I just worry about my great-grandmother. I’m the only one she has left.”

  ***

  Carlos pulled in front of the museum and handed the keys to the valet. Trina looked up at the building’s imposing facade and couldn’t help but be impressed. Draped with enormous banners highlighting the event, the museum looked even more majestic as they billowed like a silken waterfall in the wind.

  Photographers meandered around, grabbing photo ops of New York society as they went up the red carpet. It was a veritable mix of socialites and social climbers, philanthropists and the bored elite, all hobnobbing in the marbled lobby.

  “My, my, you must have some pretty important connections to score an invitation to this kind of an event,” Trina said as she took Carlos’s arm.

  “They have to let me in. Most of the art shown in the exhibit is on loan to the museum from my private collection,” he said as he took her coat and handed it to the coat check.

  Trina was about to laugh when a tuxedoed gentleman came bounding over to shake Carlos’s hand. The man pumped Carlos’s arm like he was trying to draw water. “Oh, Señor Salazar, I am so honored that you decided to attend. The exhibit is a huge success. How can we ever thank you?”

  Carlos flashed a gracious smile, and smoothly extricated his hand from the gentleman’s grip. “De nada, Mr. Pierce, it is my pleasure to do this for the museum. Let me introduce you to my lady. This is Ms. T
rina Markham. Trina, this is Graham Pierce, head curator for the Met.”

  Trina’s mouth fell open for a moment. She quickly snapped it shut and tried to regain her composure. Carlos hadn’t been kidding. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, quickly extending her hand and hoping she didn’t appear to be too much of an idiot.

  Pierce took her hand and bowed his head over it. “The honor is all mine. Any friend of Carlos Salazar’s is a friend of ours.”

  The corridors overflowed with guests. People milled around, looking at the various artifacts and paintings, obviously enjoying themselves. Occasionally Trina would catch people whispering as they passed, and it was obvious everyone knew who the show’s benefactor was. She even caught a couple of women giving Carlos the eye, blatantly flirting with him regardless of having their own escorts. Instinctively Trina tightened her grip on his arm, and he chuckled.

  “You have nothing to worry about, querida. Why would I be interested in paste when I have a true gem on my arm?” he asked, gesturing with his hand.

  Trina’s heart warmed at the compliment and he smiled, running his finger along the side of her cheek. “I know I told you before,” he said, “but you truly take my breath away with how beautiful you are tonight.”

  Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She’d be damned before she let her mascara run and her nose get red after he paid her such a huge compliment.

  They walked around admiring his artwork, and Carlos gave her the story behind each piece that caught her eye. But when they stopped at a particular oil painting depicting an auto de fe from the Spanish Inquisition and a woodcut of Tomas de Torquemada, he grew quiet and a little distracted.

  “Carlos, you okay?” she asked, a little puzzled by his change of demeanor.

  He gave her half a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m fine, really. It’s just this time period always saddens me. So many people died needlessly from hatred born of ignorance and fear. Every time I’m reminded of this time in my country’s history, it’s a little sobering.”