The Cursed by Blood Saga

by Marianne Morea

  “It’s over, Sandro. Can’t you see that?” Carlos said. “Your boys are killing each other, dying by their own hands. But you…you can’t even recognize that you’ve lost. The laws of our kind may forbid me from killing you, but the laws of the universe say otherwise.”

  Tommy fell to the ground at Sandro’s feet, his throat ripped out and his breath gurgling through torn cartilage as he tried to speak. With a disgusted look, Sandro kicked him, rolling him over to muffle the sound. “Talk, talk, talk…that’s all you’re good for, Carlos. So you acquired some power along the way. I’m not impressed. You’re still more wet nurse than warrior, as far as I can see. We were meant to be gods. But instead, you’ve become as pathetic as the blood whore you love so much,” he said, yanking Trina’s hair.

  Carlos kept his face impassive, but his fingers twitched, wanting to rip the smug look from Sandro’s face. He couldn’t afford to act rashly. There was too much at stake, and Margot’s warnings hadn’t gone unheeded. Sandro was an elder, and vampire politics held no quarter when it came to manslaughter— or vamp-slaughter—and there were no extenuating circumstances. He might have escaped censure for Robert’s death, but he wouldn’t be so lucky this time. Unless…

  “The choices I make and the choices I give are what grant me my power. But that’s beyond your comprehension, Sandro, it always has been,” Carlos said. “All you see is what you can take. But hear me now. Human or not, Trina is my chosen mate. I don’t think I need to explain how that changes things. I’m offering you a choice. You can either let her go and live, or die where you stand.”

  “Ha! I’ll take what you love with me to hell first!” Fisting Trina’s hair, he wrenched her head and neck over the back edge of the chaise. In seconds, his mouth was tearing at her flesh. He severed her jugular, and blood spurted everywhere from the open artery.

  Trina was bleeding out, dying in front of Carlos. Every muscle and nerve-ending in his body surged with force. With only minutes to spare, he flew at Sandro, pulling every ounce of strength he could find from within himself. Leaping over the chaise, his hand shot around Sandro’s throat. Heart’s blood, crackling with power filled him completely, suffusing his body with heat. His fingers blazed with raw energy, blistering Sandro’s flesh. The vampire struggled, his eyes bulging and blood running from his nose and mouth as Carlos crushed his throat.

  With a single twist, he separated Sandro’s head from his body, letting the rest of him crumple to the floor. Kicking the head aside, he grabbed the twitching headless form and punched a hole through its chest, removing the heart. It turned to ash in his hand, the rest flaking off, covering the blood-smeared floor like so much soot.

  Wiping his hands on his pants, Carlos rushed to Trina’s side. Her head lolled at her shoulder, her wounds gaping and stark against her pale skin. Immediately he bit down on his wrist. Blood pooled up, and squeezing his fist, he allowed it to gush from the puncture marks onto her throat.

  Carlos held his breath, not sure if he was too late, but the rip in her artery mended and slowly the gashes in her skin knit together. At least she was no longer hemorrhaging. Her other bite marks had stopped bleeding, and he silently prayed it was due to Trina’s own natural coagulation and not because there wasn’t enough blood left in her to bleed.

  Leaning forward, he slid his arm beneath her neck, propping her up. “Trina. Mi vita, I know you can hear me. Open your eyes.” He could hear her heart stuttering weakly, and knew there wasn’t much time. Biting down on his wrist again, he held it over her mouth, letting it drip gently onto her lips.

  Trina’s eyes fluttered open. Her face was drawn and covered in blood, but relief washed over him when he saw she was cognizant. “Thank God! Drink,” he urged, holding his wrist over her mouth. “It’s the only way, querida, please. I won’t lose you again.”

  Barely conscious and scarcely able to move, Trina shook her head weakly. Her eyes held his for split second, and she whispered one word. “Wait.”

  Her eyes rolled back, and she lost consciousness completely, her head falling to the side again. “No!” Carlos yelled his voice harsh and breaking with grief. She wasn’t dead, but if she didn’t take his blood, she’d soon be.

  Leaning her head back, he put his fingers in her mouth, prying it open. He’d force feed her if he had to. “Trina, please.”

  A hand clamped over his wrist like steel, yanking it backward. “Carlos! No!”

  Whipping his head around, he saw Eric holding his arm up by his wrist. “Let go of me, Eric! Where the hell did you come from? Trina’s dying. Let go!”

  Eric shook his head. “Carlos, stop. It’s not what Trina wants. Think! If you change her now, you condemn her. What would her last emotions be? Terror? Pain? Is this what you want for her—to chain her to an endless existence of feeling nothing but malice and bloodlust? Do you really want her to have to struggle with that, like you did? Like I’m still struggling?”

  Miguel and Julian came to stand beside Eric, their faces saying the same thing. The three were disheveled and covered in blood, and Carlos knew then the young bloods upstairs were no longer a problem.

  Carlos’s chin fell to his chest. It was like being caught in some cruel circle where history repeats itself: first Isabel, now Trina. This time he knew better than to make the same ignorant mistake. Exhaling, he looked up into their faces and shook his head. “Of course not. That’s not who I am, not what we do.”

  Eric nodded. “Good. Then give her enough blood to stabilize her so we can get the hell out of here. In the meantime, we’ll go round up what’s left of Sandro’s human staff. There are only about six, including that butler. We’ll send them over to Rosa. She’s certainly the one to straighten them out. I can only imagine what Sandro did to them, but they were certainly quick to help us out.”

  Julian and Miguel cracked up. Eric said more in the last few minutes than he had in months. “Come on. They’re probably upstairs waiting for us with stakes and holy water!” Julian laughed quietly, clapping Eric on the shoulder.

  Giving Carlos some privacy, the three headed toward the stairs, stepping over splotches of blood and cracked marble. Eric stopped, looking back at Carlos over his shoulder. “Just remember, she said wait. She didn’t say no.” With a wink, he turned to catch up with the others.

  Carlos smiled tiredly. Wait.

  Well, what else did an immortal have, if not time?

  Chapter Sixteen

  The curtains were drawn back, and the lights of the city below shined with an ethereal light. There was no other way to describe Rome at night. It glowed. From the lights reflecting off the bridges crossing the Tiber, to the lights illuminating St. Peter’s Square and the Vatican, the entire city seemed bathed in gold.

  Trina stood at the window, a glass of wine in her hand. Pushing the French doors open, she walked out onto the terrace overlooking the gardens below. A soft summer breeze fluttered the bottom of her silk dress. She took a deep breath and sighed dreamily, leaning on the curved wrought-iron railing. The air smelled delicious and her mouth watered. So many scents—food and wine, the tang of lemons and pomegranates, and the pleasant woodsy smell of Italian cypress wafting down from the hills surrounding this glorious city.

  She had been in Rome for forty-eight hours and already she was in love. These days, she could have been in a mosquito-infested swamp and still have the same silly grin on her face.

  Eight weeks ago, she thought her life was over. And even afterward, she never thought she could be happy, feel whole again. Thanks to Carlos’s blood, her body healed quickly, but nightmares and terror gripped her for weeks and weeks on end. She woke up screaming every night, huddled into a corner in her room. Carlos refused to leave her side, slowly bringing her back from the edge—minute by minute, day by day.

  “A gold doubloon for your thoughts,” Carlos said, coming up behind her. Sweeping her hair to the side, he kissed her bare shoulder, sliding his hands up and down her arms.

  “Your extreme age is showing aga
in. They’re called euros, now…remember?” She chuckled leaning back against his chest.

  Hmmph. “The gold standard is still the gold standard. Speaking of which, I have something for you,” he said, kissing the top of her head.” Taking a step back, he reached into his pocket and pulled out long velvet box, handing it to her.

  Trina took it and opened the lid. Inside was her great-grandmother’s locket. It was beautiful, cleaned and restored to its former brilliance. Running her fingers over the filigreed edge, she smiled, thinking how Isabel would have loved to see it like this.

  Looking at him over her shoulder, she blinked back tears. “Thank you, Carlos. I don’t know what to say. This means the world to me.”

  “There’s more. Open it.”

  Trina took the locket from its velvet bed, its gold flickering in the light as it dangled from her fingers. Laying it in her palm, she clicked the release. Inside, Isabel’s miniature was still there, as was Carlos’s, but now a third portrait graced the inside. Hers. Carlos had a third compartment designed to hold not only her miniature, but the key to her great-grandmother’s diaries.

  Spinning in his arms, she threw her own around his neck. “You’ve given me my life back, Carlos. Not just in body, but in mind and heart. Without you, I would have sunk so far into my own darkness that I would have never recovered. You gave me back the ability to hope…the capacity to love.”

  Tracing the edges of her jaw, Carlos’s fingers brushed the scarred tissue scoring the side of her throat. Reaching up, Trina pulled his fingers away.

  “I try not to look at it,” she said with a shrug, her voice catching a bit as looked away.

  Taking the locket from her hand, he undid the clasp and fastened it around her neck. His fingers brushed the edges of her scars again, but this time he covered her hand with his when she tried to push him away.

  “I know a way we can fix that,” he said, placing a finger under her chin and raising it so she had to look at him.

  “I can’t,” she said, her voice full of regret. Seeing his jaw tighten she quickly added, “But not for the reasons you think. I’m not afraid and I harbor no prejudice.”

  Carlos looked at her, his eyes searching. “Why, then?” He took both her hands in his, not letting her walk away. She was going to look him in the eye and tell him her reasons.

  “Please, Carlos…this is hard enough as it is. I owe you everything, and I love you more than anything in this world. All I want is to be with you, but I won’t ask you to do this. I can’t. I won’t be the reason you change who you are, what you believe. You’ve never changed anyone unless they had no other choice. I had my chance and I said no. Besides, I don’t deserve it.”

  His face was incredulous. “You don’t deserve it?”

  “After everything I said to you and your family, and the trouble I caused, how can you sound so surprised? I’ve been a condescending fool. Self-righteous and pontificating. I looked down my nose at your way of life without pause, letting my own opinions blind me from seeing all your kindness. I sent you away with my holier-than-thou judgments, telling myself it was for the best. I even convinced myself I was doing you a favor in not forcing you to choose. And look what ended up happening.”

  “What happened with Sandro had nothing to do with you. You were just a pawn. If it wasn’t you, it would have been one of the kids or possibly even Margot.”

  “Yet, you still came after me. After all the trouble I caused.”

  “And I’d do it again. But you’re wrong about something else.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t say no,” he said, running his fingers along the edge of her cheek. “You said wait.”

  Trina smiled, tilting her head to the side. “I did?”

  “Si, señorita, you did, and I’ve been waiting, and will continue to wait until you send me away. Maybe even after that. I’ve lived my life for centuries being all about choice, but now I choose to live it being all about love. In the end it’s the only choice that matters, whether you’re human or vampire.”

  Trina brought Carlos’s fingers to her lips. “Then I choose you. Forever.”

  A brilliant smile spread across Carlos’s face. “Then we’d better let Dominic know we’ll be otherwise occupied tonight,” he said, nipping her bottom lip, drawing a little blood.

  “Ouch! Exactly how much is this going to hurt?”

  Swinging his arm around her shoulders, he led her back into the bedroom. Closing the doors behind him, he pulled her into his arms. “As much as you’d like it to,” he answered, smiling against her mouth as he kissed her.

  Acknowledgements

  When an author publishes a book, whether it’s their first or their five hundredth, it’s nothing less than a defining moment in their life. So many people have helped and encouraged me, even when the writing dragon had me spewing fire and belching smoke at every turn.

  My unbelievably patient husband, for putting up with the insanity and verbal barrages that accompany being glued to my laptop for hours. Our three kids for knowing enough to leave Mom alone when she’s writing, despite laundry piling up and pasta for dinner, yet again.

  My amazing alpha readers…without you guys I would be lost. My editor gods…whether it’s a full line edit, a copy edit, content brainstorm or proofreading, you guys rock!

  And last, but certainly not least, I want to thank God for all his blessings. The longer I live, the more I learn to appreciate what could very easily be taken for granted.

  God bless.

  The Cursed by Blood Saga

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  About the Author

  Marianne Morea was born and raised in New York. Inspired by the dichotomies that define ‘the city that never sleeps’, she began her career after college as a budding journalist. Later, earning a MFA, from The School of Visual Arts in Manhattan, she moved on to the graphic arts. But it was her lifelong love affair with words, and the fantasies and ‘what ifs’ they stir, that finally brought her back to writing.

  If you enjoyed the story, please feel free to email me. Reviews are always welcome, especially on Amazon, iBooks and Goodreads!

  More by Marianne Morea

  THE RED VEIL DIARIES

  (Reading Order)

  Choose Me

  Tempt Me

  Tease Me

  Taste Me

  Bewitch Me

  THE CURSED BY BLOOD SAGA

  Hunter’s Blood (Shifter Romantic Suspense!)

  Twice Cursed (Vamp/Were…Book hangover possible!)

  Blood Legacy (Icy hot vamp romance)

  Lion’s Den (Will make you cry happy tears!)

  Power Play (Hot and Suspenseful!)

  Collateral Blood (Vampire Suspense!)

  Condemned (Vampire Suspense!)

  Of Blood and Magic (Vampire/Witch Suspense!)

  Fever Play (Short Story…fast, and HOT!)

  THE LEGEND SERIES (Teen)

  Hollow’s End (Witch Suspense)

  Time Turner (Time Travel Suspense)

  Spook Rock (Ghost Suspense)

  THE BLESSED

  My Soul to Keep (Angels and Demons)

  MT PRESS BOOKS

  Sass Master

  Lucky Sass

  Sass in the City

  HOWLS ROMANCE

  Her Fairytale Wolf

  The Wolf’s Dream Mate

  Her Winter Wolves

  The Alpha’s Chase

 

 

 
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