Blood Heat

by Maria Lima

  “Yes, Marcus?” I turned to him, patting Bea on the shoulder, an unspoken promise for a night of catching up, wine, and girl talk implied. “I apologize for having interrupted you earlier, but when I saw Bea …”

  “I hadn’t realized you knew Ms. Ruiz,” Marcus said, an odd note in his voice.

  “For years,” I replied, still grinning at my friend. “She’s family.”

  At that, Dixxi, who’d passed out the drinks and handed over the popcorn and hot dogs to the other men, looked up. “Say what? Family? She’s not—”

  “No. She’s not actually related,” I said. “She’s family in the way of chosen family everywhere. All but blood.”

  “Well, this is certainly going to put a crimp into his plans,” Dixxi muttered.

  Adam’s eyebrow raised two seconds before both of mine did. “My apologies,” he said, addressing both Marcus and Dixxi. “A crimp?”

  “Damn, I forget you people have bat ears,” she said. “I, well—shit.” She turned to Marcus, eyes pleading. “Mark?”

  “What my sister means,” Marcus said, having seemed to regain a little more control, “is that once again, we must ask your indulgence and this time, request a boon.” He made a gesture of apology, hand open toward us. “This wasn’t planned, I swear it,” he continued. “But now that we know of your relationship to Ms. Ruiz, we must ask … even though it breaks most protocol.”

  “Protocol, what protocol?” I asked. “I’m not following you, Marcus.”

  He began to put his hand to his chest and bow, then caught himself as he seemed to realize that we were still in the middle of a high school football game. “Damn. This is going to be awkward.”

  “Seriously, drop the formality,” I said. “We’re not much into that …” I glanced at Adam and chuckled. “Well, at least I’m not,” I added. “What is it you need from us? Land, hunting privileges? Was that why you asked us to come to the game?”

  He seemed taken aback. “You’re certainly direct, aren’t you?”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” I said.

  “Then, I’ll be as direct in return. Ms. Ruiz, if I could beg your pardon?”

  Bea, who’d been following the conversation enrapt, yet obviously puzzled, smiled at Marcus. “Sure, whatever.”

  “My brother, Lev, would ask that you allow him to court Ms. Ruiz.”

  I plunked onto the bleacher bench, at a complete and utter loss for words. Adam sat down much more gracefully. I could tell he was amused. “Court? As in dating?” I asked. Lev seemed about as floored as I was.

  “Yes,” Marcus said.

  “Okay, that’s a new one,” I said. “I mean why ask me? Bea’s right there. If your brother wants to go out with her, all he has to do is ask.” Bea beamed at Lev.

  “I take it you’ve actually met him?” I asked her.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Several times. He, Mark, Dix, and Greg have been spending a lot of time in the café lately. While they get the deli ready. You did hear about that, right?”

  “I did.” She’s at least not completely turned off by the guy, I thought. How the hell was I supposed to answer this? Adam wasn’t giving me any clues. Neither were Tucker nor Niko. Either they’d not had to deal with this before, or they were letting me row my own boat solo.

  “You want to date this guy?” I honestly couldn’t care less that the man in question was sitting less than ten feet from me.

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  I turned to Marcus, catching Lev’s eye as I did. “She says ‘maybe.’” For a moment, I felt as if we were playing some ridiculous kid’s game. “In my book, that means he can ask.”

  “Many thanks, m’lady,” Marcus replied. “On behalf of my brother, as well.”

  Lev came out of his stupor at that point. “Yes, thank you very much.” He gave Bea a look that was just short of infatuated.

  I let my breath out with a whoosh. This ruling thing was getting complicated. Evidently, I’d be learning the rules and conventions for groups other than my own odd family. First the vampires, now a wer pack. Tonight was turning out to be more than interesting.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ABOUT HALFWAY INTO the next quarter of the game, which frankly, I was paying little attention to, Bea leaned over and tugged at my arm. “Hey, could we … I just wanted to … could we go somewhere else to talk? I’d really rather you and I have a chat that’s just a little more private.”

  What the heck? We’d just buried the proverbial hatchet. “What’s up?”

  After a sideways glance at Lev, who still held his sappy expression, she whispered, “There’re just a couple of things I’d rather say without everyone hearing.”

  Normally, I’d say yes immediately, but now, things were different. As heir, I had to think of my security and safety, even within such innocuous surroundings as a high school football game, especially this one, considering the wolf pack. I glanced at Tucker, who, with a nod of his head, both indicated that he’d watch out for us and pointed out the small landing at the bottom of the stadium steps. Perfect. Thanks to Marcus’s vibes and my little spell, most of the crowd on this side of the stadium had shifted to the center of the stands. The landing was a small oasis, free of anyone who could overhear.

  Most people’s concentration was on said game, the usual rush, crush, crunch, and whistles occurring without the least of my attention on the actual field. A glance at the scoreboard told me the score was home 6, visitors 0. Since this was only an exhibition game, “home” meant the defensive squad and “visitors” meant the offensive.

  “C’mon,” I said, “let’s go down there. No one’s close by and with the game in play, folks’ll be focused on that.”

  “Perfect.” Bea took the lead.

  As we reached the bottom she turned to face me and gave me a direct gaze. “I just wanted to thank you,” she said. “For the house. You didn’t have to do that.”

  I started to protest, but she continued, not letting me speak yet. “I know what it meant for you to do that, so thanks. I like it there.” She grinned. “Tio and Tia are happy to see me on my own and not having to watch after them and Noe.”

  “You took it, you’re living there? I was afraid …” That she’d shun that offer, that she’d shun everything I offered, including my continued friendship.

  Bea laid a hand on my arm, her gaze earnest. “Of course I did. It was what I had left of you, you idiot. I had no clue you were even coming back.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You really think I wouldn’t have taken it?”

  I looked away then, past her to the football field where the boys were completing some play. What could I say without completely breaking down? A blink, then two. Taking a deep breath, I spoke, still staring unseeingly at the field. “When I left for Canada, Bea, I was only sure of one thing—that I was coming back. No matter how long things took, I knew I’d be back.”

  “Noe told me,” she said. “I wanted to believe him, but at the time …”

  “I know.” She’d been hurting, afraid, shocked—all those words that meant that she’d seen deeper into the parts of me that didn’t square with her knowledge of who I was. Sadly, what she’d seen was truth. And sometimes, truth is damned brutal … and extremely bloody.

  “It took me a long time to realize that you were still you,” she continued. “The worst part? I couldn’t talk about it to anyone.”

  My heart stuttered. Of course not. How could she have? Oh, by the way, Tia, Keira isn’t human, and hey, she killed Pete Garza. Well, considering what Garza had done to Bea, her aunt might have celebrated that fact, but Bea outing us? Never. She’d learned who we were years ago, during high school, and swore a secrecy oath to me. Not a blood oath, nor formal, but I knew she’d never break it.

  I turned back to her and hugged her. “I’m sorry,” I whispered in her ear. “You didn’t have anyone to talk to, and I had so many.”

  “Apology accepted,” she murmured and kissed my cheek. “No matter what, Keira Kelly, we are sisters.”
>
  I let her go and wiped a tear from my eye as I gave her a wavering smile. “Por siempre y para siempre, chica.” Sisters, forever and always. An idea struck me. Could I ask her to blood bond? She was human, but even if it was simply symbolic … “Bea,” I began, then had to step aside as a man carrying a large cardboard tray full of fried tripas wanted to squeeze by us. I wrinkled my nose at the smell, still pungent, even away from the hot oil of the pan. “Chinga,” I exclaimed. “How can anyone eat—Bea?”

  She’d paled under her summer tan, brown skin going ashen as she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Excuse me,” she mumbled and stumbled down the final two steps to the ground level. I followed immediately, trying to keep to a run/walk that wasn’t out of the ordinary, when every instinct I had made me want to put on my best speed and catch up to her. Either that, or simply will myself there. I’d learned the basics of bending space/distance and could skip ahead up to a mile or more. I reined in my urge—mostly because it would hurt—and stayed a couple of paces behind Bea.

  She flat out ran into the women’s restroom and into the nearest stall, which thankfully was empty. As she slammed the door shut, I saw her fall to her knees. Two women who were primping in the mirror stared at her, then at me. The groaning and choking sounds accompanied by the sour smell of vomit assaulted my senses. Oh, bloody hells.

  “Some privacy, please?” I demanded of the two women, who rushed out the door. I wasn’t averse to using a bit of a hurry-along charm. After the door closed behind them, I threw a locking charm on the door, followed by a strong aversion charm. There were a couple of portable toilets outside if anyone really had to piss. No way was I letting anyone else in. Bea didn’t need the embarrassment of having strangers hear her puking her guts up.

  “You okay in there?” I ventured when the sounds paused for a moment.

  “Fine,” she groaned and then puked again. I closed my senses against the smell. Poor Bea, she must have gotten some bad tacos or something. I hoped she hadn’t eaten the tripas. I hated them, but most kids brought up in the area grew up eating food like that.

  Oh wait, duh, I might be able to lessen her misery. I’d learned a decent number of diagnostic and healing charms. Concentrating, I sent out a tentative feeler in her direction, aiming for her belly. Rumbling and roiling surrounded something else, something not Bea. A regular flutter, so very faint underneath the sounds of her intestines, higher up. What the hell? I searched a bit deeper. There was something there about the size of a tiny pea. Oh, my fucking bloody hells. Tu est bien fucké, cher, I thought to myself, reverting to the slang I liked to use when drunk. My best friend Bea was what her Tia Petra euphemistically called “with child”: knocked up, embarasada, pleine, preggers. Fuck all the gods and goddesses ever worshipped in history. My best friend had a fucking bun in the oven.

  “Whose is it?” I asked as she emerged from the stall, wiping her mouth with toilet paper. She flinched and dug in her bag, pulling out a toothbrush and a small travel size tube of Colgate. As she brushed her teeth, I stared at her. For the first time in my admittedly short life, I was completely and utterly speechless around Bea. As hard as it was, I held my words until she’d finished brushing and rinsing.

  “Bea?” I prodded.

  She tucked her items back into her purse, then with a hand on either side of the white sink, head bowed, she replied, “It’s stupid, I know. But damn it, I’m nearly forty; three months ago I was this close to being raped or dead or both, and then, I thought, ‘what the hell.’ He’s guapo, and fun, and kind. I figured I’d go for it.”

  “Who?”

  Bea took a deep breath and turned to face me as she leaned against the sink, hands still on either side, resting on the porcelain. “You mean you can’t tell? I know you probed me.” Her look was a challenge.

  “‘Probe’ is a pretty sharp word,” I said. “But yes, I did examine you. I thought food poisoning, flu, something … not that. And no, I don’t know who. I didn’t get that far.” I challenged her back. “Why? Do you want me to go poking around inside you? Really probe? I learned how, you know. To get into your head, see your memories. Even if you’re willing, it’s not pretty, nor very comfortable unless you’re blood bonded. It’s the mental equivalent of rape.”

  Her knuckles paled as her hands gripped tighter. “That was a low blow, Keira Kelly.”

  “And you assuming I’d go that far was just as low.”

  She dropped her gaze, staring at her own two feet. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” After a moment’s pause, Bea continued. “I was playing around out there. When Mark asked you if Levon—Lev—could date me. We’ve already been dating.” She raised her head. “Two months’ worth. I think I’m about five or six weeks along. It was like this before when …”

  When she’d miscarried at age eighteen, her pregnancy the consequence of dating the same guy for years, a young romance with a boy who’d eventually come out of the closet. They’d gotten married in a quiet ceremony, then as quickly gotten divorced after the miscarriage. Damn, why on earth did Bea have to have this kind of luck in her relationships? My sympathy turned to anger. She was thirty-eight years old, not eighteen.

  “Now you pull a Keira Kelly?” I was nearly yelling at her, my voice echoing in the empty women’s restroom. “I seem to recall I was the one popping her cherry under these very bleachers outside while you’d only go to second base with Emilio—and you’d been going out since fucking junior high. Hell, you even eventually married the sad bastard. Now you tell me you’ve been seeing Lev for a couple of months and you’re pregnant? Fucking hell, Bea: What’s gotten into you? No, wait—don’t answer that. I know what got into you, or rather who, but really. This is not you.”

  “It damn well is, Keira Kelly,” she yelled right back. “You ran away. You did what you did, then you fucking ran away from me.”

  “What the hell was I supposed to do? You wouldn’t talk to me and I had to go.” Without warning, I burst into tears. “You wouldn’t talk to me.” My voice shook as I tried to compose myself.

  Bea, who’d drawn herself up for another shout, absolutely deflated in the face of my tears. Just like she’d done in the stands, she threw herself against me and wrapped her arms around me. “Shhh, I know, I know,” she soothed. “Tucker told me everything when he got back.”

  I slashed my hand across my eyes and glared at her. “May all the bloody gods damn my interfering brother,” I said. “He never said a word to me.”

  “You’ve been home what? Twenty-four hours?”

  I grabbed her wrist and checked her watch. Nine fifteen. “Just about,” I said.

  “And you spent the next ten or twelve hours in bed, didn’t you?”

  I ducked my head and laughed. She knew me too well. “More like twenty,” I mumbled. “Hand me a tissue will you?”

  With a shake of her head, Bea stepped into a stall and pulled out a wad of paper. “Here. You’re never fucking prepared, are you?”

  “Never,” I said and blew my nose. “Does he know?”

  “Lev?” She bit her lip. “Not yet.”

  I sat back on my heels and studied her face. She did have some of the obvious signs. Her skin seemed a little different. She was right, she could only be five or six weeks along. Not enough to really matter.

  “You going to tell him?”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like we’re in mad love or anything.” She did the air quotes and I laughed.

  “No, but he’s—” I clapped my hands over my mouth. Oh my bloody stars. Sweet bloody hells. She didn’t know. She couldn’t. How in all the crazy mixed-up insanities was I going to explain to my best friend, the very human Beatriz Ruiz, that her baby was half wolf?

  “He’s what—a nice guy, a criminal, what?” Bea eyed me with suspicion. “What do you know that I don’t? Does it have to do with all that whatever that was up there?” She waved a hand in the air. “You know what I’m talking about, Keira. You guys were being all weird with that ‘per
mission to court.’ You weren’t just joking around, were you?”

  “Not really.” How to put this? Gee, Bea, they’re all werewolves and I’m sort of their ruler now.

  “Are you planning to have this baby?” I got right to the point.

  “Hell of a thing to ask,” she said. “How should I know? I only really found out yesterday afternoon. I took one of those at-home tests.”

  I nodded decisively. “Then what you need right now is data.” That was it, I’d introduce it this way.

  “I read the pamphlets and the information online at Planned Parenthood,” Bea said.

  “This century?” I shot back at her.

  She didn’t meet my gaze.

  “Bea?” I cajoled. “Since you found out, have you done anything to research options?”

  “I made a doctor’s appointment for next week,” she said. “I figure I’d discuss it then.”

  “Cancel it.”

  “What? Why?”

  I took a deep, long breath and let it out as slowly as I could. How to phrase this?

  “Remember when last year, you found out that vampires were real?”

  Her eyes grew rounder. “You are not saying what I think you’re saying—but wait, Lev goes out in the daytime, we went on a picnic last week.”

  “No, no, he’s definitely not a vampire,” I said. “He is, however, not as human as he could be.” Shit, why was I dragging this out? “Bea, I really don’t know how to tell you this, but Mark, Lev, Gregor, Dixxi—they’re werewolves.”

  For a silent half a minute or so, Bea just stared at the bathroom wall. Was she in total shock?

  “Nope, this time, you really are kidding,” she said. “They’re part of your family, right? That’s why all that ‘asking permission’ thing.”

  “We can’t breed with humans, Bea. You know that,” I reminded her gently. “They really are werewolves.”

  Bea slumped back against the sink, her hands flying up to cover her eyes. “I thought I was done with the insanity,” she whispered. “You people, then vampires, now werewolves? Chinga! How could I have gotten knocked up by a fucking wolf?”