Wild Thing: A Vampire Paranormal Romance (Blueblood Vampires Book 2)

by Michelle Hercules

“What took you guys so long?” Manu asks, joining us from the left.

  “Why are you here?” Lucca asks.

  “The alert message was sent to everyone, asshole.”

  She twirls around in time to knock off a gun from a short dragon shifter who came too near. To finish him off, she hits him on the side of the head with the hilt of her sword. He drops down, unconscious.

  We find our rhythm, fighting side by side and carving a path through the enemy. This reminds me of the good old days, and despite the destruction and number of lives lost, it infuses me with a new sense of purpose. Finally, the bullshit treaty King Raphael signed has ended.

  We manage to get near the king and his inner circle. Lucca asks him if he has seen Jacques, but the answer is no. Son of a bitch. Could it possibly be that he decided to sit this one out? Maybe his self-preservation instinct spoke louder than his thirst for blood.

  “Saxon, watch out!” Manu screams.

  I pivot on the spot, the bullet aimed at my head missing by an inch. What the fuck! Seeing red, I search for the motherfucker who tried to blow my brains out. I find him six feet from me. With fangs bared, I prepare to break into a run, but Ronan grabs my arm, keeping me in place.

  “You go after that shifter, he’s dead. We can’t have that.”

  “Fuck that shit. He tried to kill me!”

  A roar as loud as thunder makes me pause. Fuck. Did one of those dragons shift? A moment later, Larsson appears, still in his human form, but displaying a raw fury that shows he means business. At once, all the dragon shifters in the area lower their weapons. As for Jacques’s followers, the few who survived have run away. It seems the conflict ended as quickly as it began. I can’t help the feeling of disappointment. Not only did I not use all my pent-up aggression, but the vile creature we wanted was nowhere to be seen.

  I’m about to lower my katana when the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turn around expecting to find the enemy, but all I see are Red Guard soldiers and the king in the center. His head is dipped low, and he doesn’t seem to be breathing. Suddenly, his spine becomes taut a second before he whirls where he stands, sword raised in an aggressive stance. His eyes are bright red, and his face is twisted in blind rage. That look … it brings horrible memories to the surface. My father looked exactly like that when he killed my sister Kari.

  I’m paralyzed, trapped between the past and the present. I don’t react when the king lets out a roar and aims that sharp blade at my neck.

  “No!” Lucca yells, body slamming his uncle before he can bring the sword down.

  They fall hard on the asphalt, rolling with the impact. Lucca jumps back to his feet, his eyes wide as he stares at our king. The Red Guard is on high alert, unsure of what just happened. Their weapons are at the ready, though.

  “Uncle?” Lucca asks.

  Groaning, the king leans on his left forearm, pressing the heel of his right palm to his forehead. “What the hell just happened?”

  “You attacked Saxon.”

  He seeks my gaze, confusion and regret showing in his back-to-normal dark brown eyes. “I don’t remember doing that.”

  Lucca’s face twists into a grimace as our eyes lock. He must be thinking the same thing I am, that his uncle had a momentarily lapse in his mental faculties. The malady that has been plaguing first-generation Bluebloods has finally touched the king. I pass a hand over my face, consumed with worry and doubt. What the hell are we going to do when he loses his mind for good? Will Lucca be forced to kill him?

  The king gets back on his feet, then walks over. “I’m so sorry, son.”

  “I know.”

  I’m about to add one of my trademark sarcastic comments when a sharp tug in my chest robs me of words. I press a closed fist against it, not knowing where that feeling comes from, when Aurora’s words sound in my head.

  “Saxon, what’s the matter?” Manu asks.

  “It’s Aurora. She’s in danger. I have to go.”

  Without wasting another second, I take off, heading toward the place I almost lost my life a night ago.

  Hang on, Aurora. I’m coming.

  38

  Aurora

  Smiling with glee, Elena walks toward the grimoire. She picks it up with reverence, stroking the cover as if it were a treasure. Her demented stare reminds me of Gollum as he patted his precious.

  “Ah, yes. Finally, after all these years, you’re mine.”

  “You … stupid … old hag.” Calvin spits the words out with difficulty. The effect of the magical dust Elena used on him must be fading. “The grimoire … only serves … my family.”

  Her crimson lips break into a chilling smile. “Yes, and Aurora just became your wife. She’s now family.”

  “Were you … working with … her?” Calvin stares at me.

  “Tsk, tsk. She can’t answer right now. You see, Aurora was so distraught when your engagement was announced that she fell right into my trap. We’re linked through a blood vow, and thus, the grimoire will work for me.”

  Calvin starts to laugh like a deranged person. “Go … ahead. Try to use it.”

  Frowning, Elena opens the tome. Her eyes widen, and she begins to flip the pages in a manic manner. “No. No! That’s impossible. I should be able to see the words.”

  “Who do you … take we Belmonts for? Idiots? A blood … vow is not enough to … allow non-family … access.”

  Elena whips her face to his, leveling a glare at him. But then she switches her attention to me, and once again, a wicked grin blossoms on her hateful face. “That’s okay. I only need the grimoire for one spell. If I can’t perform it, I’ll just have to play puppet master for a little longer.”

  I take a step forward, and another. Once again, Elena is compelling my body to do her bidding.

  “That’s … impossible. A blood vow … doesn’t give … you that much … power over someone,” Calvin protests.

  Wait. How does he know? Until I met Elena, I had no idea what type of things a blood vow did to a person.

  “Normally it doesn’t. But let’s say I gave my deal with Aurora an extra punch.” The bitch chuckles.

  Fucker. If I had use of my arms, I’d punch her in the throat. All I can do is glower until my eyes practically pop out of my skull.

  She shoves the grimoire into my hands, and commands, “Find me Ashmedai.”

  My tongue becomes operational again, but I discover that freedom of speech is not in my cards right now. The only word that leaves my mouth is the name she told me.

  The pages begin to flicker on their own, until they stop at a chapter titled “How to Summon Ashmedai.” There’s a picture of a dark, towering demon with spiraling horns, orange eyes, and an expression of pure evil. Merely staring at it makes my heart shrivel with panic and darkness. There’s another drawing on the page at the bottom. A pentagram, and in the middle, the same symbol I saw Elena worshipping in her apartment. Looking closely, it seems to be a logographic alphabet of unknown origin.

  “What does it say?” she asks eagerly, peering at the page.

  I feel a bitter satisfaction that she can’t see anything, but it’s eclipsed by what she’s making me do now that I’m officially a Belmont. The thought makes me sick. Don’t think about that right now, Aurora. I don’t want to answer her question, but naturally, my will is worthless at the moment.

  “We need to draw Ashmedai’s symbol on unhallowed ground,” I say.

  “Yes, yes. That part he told me.” She bobs her white head up and down.

  “How?” I manage to sneak the question in. She must have slackened her hold on me.

  “In a vision. Ashmedai has been communicating with me for decades. I’m his bride,” she replies with the air of someone who is seriously enamored.

  “You want to marry this?” I point at Ashmedai’s picture.

  She squints while her lips become nothing but a thin line. “I can’t see what you’re pointing at. Get to work.”

  “Wait, you want me to dra
w the pentagram?”

  I’ll keep asking as many stupid questions as she allows me. I have to buy time in the hopes that Saxon heard my call.

  “I know what you’re doing. Stop wasting time. No one is coming to save you, darling. Didn’t you know? Salem is burning.” She cackles like the villain she is.

  “What do you mean Salem is burning?”

  She snaps her fingers, pointing them to a dark spot close to her. “That’s the spot the dragon shifter perished last night. He was killed in cold blood. That’s the unhallowed ground you need.”

  Like a robot that has been programmed, I find a can of white spray paint in Elena’s bag. She has removed my ability to speak again, so I perform my task in silence. Once the pentagram and Ashmedai’s symbol are drawn, I read the rest of the spell. A sacrifice must be made. This can only mean one thing.

  Gripped by terror, I whirl toward Calvin. She’s going to kill one of us, and since she needs me to read the grimoire, that means he’s the victim.

  He seems to realize that too. His eyes are as round as saucers and he’s sweating profusely as he watches Elena pull an athame from her bag and then drag Calvin to the center of the pentagram.

  “Let me go, witch!”

  “Shhh, handsome. This will be over soon.”

  She glances at me. “What are you waiting for? Write down that chant. Ashmedai only serves the one who summons him.”

  My hands are shaking as I find a piece of paper and pen in her bag to write down the demonic spell. The tremors are my own reaction to what’s about to go down. Does it mean her control over me is weakening? I try to stop the pen from moving, but the words keep forming on the blank paper. The spell is short, and I’m done copying it in less than a minute.

  “Hurry up. I’ve waited long enough to meet my groom in person,” Elena pipes up.

  I hand over the spell, making the mistake of looking into Calvin’s eyes. They’re bloodshot and filled with raw fear. I hated him for being such a jackass, but I never wished this ending for him. I want to say I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to save him, but the apology gets stuck in my throat.

  She makes me walk backward until I’m out of the pentagram, then she forces Calvin on his knees.

  “Please, don’t kill me. I’ll do anything you want,” he begs.

  She bends over to whisper in his ear. “There’s only one thing I want, and you’re helping me get it.”

  Faster than a snake, she pulls his head back, exposing his throat. The slash comes swiftly, and I would have cried out if I could. Calvin begins to choke as blood spills freely from the cut on his neck. Elena smears her face with his blood and begins to recite out loud the spell I wrote down for her.

  My knees buckle, and I fall to the ground in a heap. Tears roll down my cheeks as remorse sweeps over me. Calvin is dead and it’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so quick to agree to the blood vow, Elena would have never gotten her hands on the first grimoire.

  The wind changes, picking up speed. Goose bumps break out on my arms as a sinister presence, wet and fouled by darkness, approaches. An oily shadow rubs against my skin, then spreads like a stain in the fabric of air, circling around Elena.

  “Yes, oh great Ashmedai. You’re here at last.” She raises her skinny arms to the sky, letting go of Calvin, who plops forward lifelessly.

  Lightning strikes the midnight canvas, followed by the loud rumble of thunder. The shadow begins to move faster around Elena, becoming a blur before finally zapping into Calvin’s body. At once, I feel the bindings of the blood vow vanish. I can move my arms and legs. I can speak.

  “What have you done?” I ask.

  Elena ignores me. She’s too busy staring at Calvin’s body. I follow her line of vision, not understanding what’s happening. Then, Calvin twitches, making me gasp.

  Oh, no. That’s why the summoning spell required a human sacrifice. Ashmedai can only manifest in this dimension by using a body as a vessel. Slowly, Calvin staggers back to his feet. The gash on his neck is sealed shut, but I know the real Calvin is truly gone. He glances in my direction, and it feels like he’s sucking out all the joy from me. Gone are the whites of his eyes. Two black orbs are in their place. He blinks, and they return to normal.

  “You’re here. I can’t believe it,” Elena mumbles, drawing the demon’s attention to her.

  I let out a breath of relief as the vise-like hold in my chest releases. I have to get the hell out of here.

  “Yes, I’m here,” he says in a smooth voice, different than Calvin’s. “And you are?”

  “I’m Elena Montenegro. Your bride.”

  I slowly get back on my feet, careful not to make a sound. But my heart is pounding so hard and fast, I’m sure the demon can hear it. Holding my breath, I take a step back, wincing when a sharp crack sounds as the branch I stepped on snaps. Ashmedai whips his head in my direction, raising his arm and freezing me.

  “Where do you think you’re going, pretty face?”

  “Let me go. You’re free. You don’t need me anymore.”

  His lips twist into a perverse grin. “On the contrary, my dear. It seems we never had the chance to consummate our marriage. We can’t have that.”

  “What?” I squeak, momentarily taken aback by his declaration.

  “Oh, yes. My vessel had quite an unhealthy obsession with you. I can see it all, his memories, his deep desires. He hated you as much as he desired you.”

  “What about me?” Elena shrieks. “I’m the one who served you all these years. I freed you. You’re my groom.”

  Ashmedai spares her a loathing glance. “You? This pile of sagging skin and bones? You’re no bride of mine.”

  “I was once a beauty. You can restore my youth. You have that power.”

  “True.” He turns to me. “But I like the young witch better.”

  Completely ignoring Elena, he walks toward me. Fear threatens to devour me whole, but I won’t let this motherfucker touch a single hair strand of mine. He might have paralyzed my body, but he hasn’t cut off my magic. I channel all my power into creating a protective barrier around me. Wisps of energy crackle in the air, creating little blue sparks.

  The demon stops in his tracks, raising one arrogant eyebrow. “What’s this? A protective shield?” He chuckles. “That’s cute.”

  With a wave of his hand, he dissolves my spell. Shit. Now what?

  My attention diverts to Elena, who has produced a long sword and is running toward us. I don’t know if she wants to kill the demon or me. Ashmedai spins around just as the crazy bitch raises the weapon above her head, which she loses in the next second when the sword in her hand magically transfers to his. One swipe and sayonara, Elena.

  I scream despite my feelings toward her. Did she deserve to die? Yes. But now I’m alone with the demonized version of Calvin. He’s still keeping me frozen. I can’t recite a spell; I’m at his mercy. He steps into my personal space, and my nostrils fill with the stench of sulfur and death.

  “Now, where were we?” He grabs my chin roughly, lifting my face.

  Despair and fear seep into my thoughts as the demon lowers his lips to mine. Freezing magic or not, I’m going to barf all over him. Then my heart skips a beat, lurching forward not out of panic but elation. Saxon is here. He came.

  “Aurora!” he shouts, not far from where I stand.

  The demon lets go of me to peer over my head.

  “Ah, how providential. Your vampire lover is here. Good. I get to do what my vessel couldn’t.” He shoves me to the ground. “Get comfortable, wifey, and watch me tear your mate to shreds.”

  39

  Aurora

  Saxon becomes a blur on a collision path to Ashmedai. He doesn’t know he’s not facing Calvin, but a demon who has a sword hidden behind his back. I’m free from his hold, so I do the only thing I can. I hex Saxon before he gets within reach of the deadly blade. The blast is weak since I tapped into my powers not too long ago. It only sends him back a few feet.

  I bra
ce for the demon’s retaliation, but all he does is stare at me, surprised. “Ah, wifey. You’re defending me?”

  “I’m nobody’s wife, asshole.”

  Saxon shakes his head and then glances at me, confusion etched on his handsome face.

  “That’s not Calvin. That’s a demon,” I say.

  Saxon unsheathes his katana, getting ready to face his adversary properly. “Even better. I love a good fight.”

  “There won’t be much of a fight, I’m afraid. I just got hitched and you’re keeping me from enjoying my bride.”

  Saxon peels his lips back, showing off his fangs. “The only thing you’ll be enjoying is the bite of my blade as it slices you in two.” He attacks, but Ashmedai simply sends him flying back with a flick of his wrist.

  “Arrogant fool. I’m an archdemon, master of greed and wrath. No bloodsucker is a match for me.”

  No.

  But one thing I know is that what can be summoned can be sent back. I search for the grimoire, finding it next to Elena’s bag. I crawl toward it, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Through the bond, I tell Saxon to keep Ashmedai distracted while I perform the spell. I don’t know if he can hear my thoughts, but I hope he gets an idea of what my plan is.

  The sound of battle recommences, and it’s an effort to not look back to see how Saxon is doing. But I have to reach the grimoire. When Saxon cries out in pain, I feel it deep in my bones. I stop and glance over my shoulder. He’s clutching his right arm, but he’s on his feet. Blood seeps through his fingers, though. It’s just a flesh wound, Aurora, just a flesh wound. You need to get the grimoire to help Saxon.

  I finally reach the old tome, bringing it onto my lap to frantically search for the summoning spell I used earlier. I remember I had to say the demon’s name out loud, which I do in a whisper. The pages flip to the correct one, but a second later, the grimoire flies out of my hand into Ashmedai’s grasp.

  “Oh, no, darling. You’re not sending me back.”

  I watch in horror as the grimoire bursts into flames, turning quickly into nothing but pieces of ember and ash floating on the wind.