Cursed by Destiny

by Cecy Robson

  Bren laughed out loud. “Celia’s got a point. Damn. You poor, dumb pricks are whipped!”

  My stupid rant eased some of the tension, but not enough. Koda remained upset. He pulled away when Shayna tried to touch his arm.

  “Puppy, don’t—don’t push me away like that,” she said.

  Koda relented at the sight of her glistening tears. “Shayna, you are my mate. Running off like that is not okay. I almost lost you once. I can’t go through that again.”

  “Koda, I go through the same thing every time you and the others leave to hunt the Tribe. I want to help, too.” She glanced back at me. “And I wanted to help my sister. The Tribe’s after her. A witch and a newly born demon child knew her by name.”

  I suddenly had more attention than I could handle. Danny turned to Gemini. “If a newborn knows Celia by name, that means hell’s familiar with her, too.”

  Gemini didn’t blink. “I’m not surprised. The Tribemasters themselves are linked to damnation.” He nodded slowly as he thought matters through. “Which further verifies they’re the ones who seek to kill her.”

  Emme clasped Liam’s wrist. “Could someone also be sending them her way? That’s what Celia thinks.”

  Liam’s boyish features darkened with a pinch of fear and a cupful of pissed-off. “Hell itself could be commanding the Tribe to annihilate her, Emme.”

  My tigress poked at me irritably, to make sure I was listening. Yup. No worries. Heard that one loud and clear.

  Koda’s jaw crunched. His tumultuous brown eyes met mine briefly before returning to Shayna. “The Alliance knows Celia’s been under fire. As Aric’s mate, we owe it to him to keep her safe, and we will. No matter what seeks to harm her.”

  Koda’s reference to me as Aric’s mate hurt like a punch to my chest. I still refused to believe. After all, weres didn’t abandon their mates. The bond was supposedly too strong. I stared hard at the ground when the wolves collectively murmured their vows to protect me. The next moment or two of silence seemed like a lifetime as I worked through my drove of emotions—pain at Aric’s mention, worry for my future, fury at those who sought me. I was grateful when Koda shifted his attention back to Shayna.

  He lifted her chin with his fingertip. “As for you, you know I leave you only because I have to. I have abilities you don’t. I’ve been trained to kill. You haven’t. I can risk more and still be okay. You can’t.” His thick brows furrowed upon catching the grin spreading across her pixie face. “Why are you smiling?”

  “I killed a Tribemaster.”

  Okay, so not the way to calm a raging wolf.

  Except for Shayna, we all took a few collective steps back. Way back. Growls belted out from Koda’s throat—loud enough to smack against my face. I didn’t know what he said, but I had a keen sense of swearwords in any language. And still Shayna grinned. Hands down the perfect example of beauty taking on the rabid, psycho, severely homicidal beast.

  She clasped his arm. “It’s taking the nightmares away.” Koda froze, his eyes widening. Her slender fingers slipped from his bulging arms. “For the first time, I’m starting to deal with . . . what happened to me. I’m not completely over it, but I feel like I could get there.”

  Koda’s large hands cupped her face carefully, his dark eyes filling with sorrow. “I just wish it hadn’t come at the expense of your safety. I wish I could’ve helped.”

  “You did, Koda,” Shayna said softly. “I can heal now. By giving me some of your wolf’s essence, I’m able to mend my injuries . . . And now that I’m gaining my confidence back, I think it will also help my trauma.” Her grin widened. “Cool, huh?” Koda swept her into his arms and held her close. She nuzzled his neck. “Thank you . . . for loving me, and for saving me.”

  I almost bumped into Bren’s wide chest when I stepped farther away from Shayna and Koda. He picked me up and planted a smooch on my cheek. “Did you get hurt, kid?”

  I shrugged. “Crushed ankle—and I lost a few nails trying to gut the Tribemaster.”

  Bren chuckled and scratched his scruffy beard. “Hey, that’s not so bad. It’s better than last time.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” I flashed him a small smirk. “We eliminated the nest and killed one of the Tribemasters.”

  Danny squeezed my shoulder. “There were two?”

  I nodded.

  “Whoa. Congratulations. You did an incredible job.”

  “I disagree. Celia allowed the other Tribemaster to escape, thereby ensuring he will continue to breed and carry on with his onslaught.” His Royal Prince of All Things Batty aka the Deflowerer of Prom Queens finally decided to emerge from the limo. His gray eyes flickered with annoyance.

  Oh. Hell no.

  The look on my face must have been classic—everyone gave us ample space. “Well, maybe if you’d gotten off your lazy, bloodsucking, womanizing ass and helped, he wouldn’t have gotten away!”

  Misha’s vampires all gasped, right before they scattered like flies. No one had probably ever spoken to him that way. “What did you say?”

  Bren and Danny stepped in front of me. I moved around them and stormed up to Misha. “You heard me, you Hugh Hefner wannabe. I’m in no mood for your crap. So unless you have something good to say, keep your fangs shut!” I turned back to my shell-shocked sisters and their laughing wolves. “I’ll call you later.”

  I stomped toward his limo, making a hell of a lot of noise considering I wore UGGs. “There better be food in there!”

  I wrenched the door opened. The sound of familiar laughter stopped me before I slipped inside. Aric waited near the road leading to the highway, leaning against his black Escalade. I hadn’t noticed his car in the darkness of the miserable morning. Yet I couldn’t help but notice how his tight washed-out jeans hugged his strong legs or how his black leather jacket broadened his wide chest. He’d been there the whole time. The misting rain had likely dulled his scent. He stopped laughing when he caught me staring. I smiled and gave him a small wave. If his wolf was struggling for dominance, I couldn’t sense any trace of it. He was still Aric, at least in my presence . . .

  His wink instantly made my heart race. All it had taken was that minute gesture to make me want to melt against him and distract me from all the problems between us. “I love you,” I squeaked out in a whisper. Shit. I wanted to punch myself for being so weak and foolish. Barbara was a gold-digging wench who didn’t give a damn about Aric. I knew it. He knew it. But, bottom line, she was still his fiancée. I had no right to say that to him. “I—I’m sorry—”

  Aric’s light brown eyes fixed on mine with such intensity, I almost stumbled back. “I love you, too, Celia,” he answered, loud and clear. He took a step toward me, only to freeze. All at once, his expression hardened. So instead of moving closer, he turned back to his SUV and placed his palms on the hood. His back rose and fell with each hard intake of breath. What I saw wasn’t his wolf taking over. It was a were struggling to commit to the obligations his pack had thrust upon him, a man fighting to do what was right. No wonder his beast felt the need to protect him.

  I watched and waited as the strain of his burden continued to divide him. For just a moment, I thought he would rush to me as I so needed him to. Instead he climbed into his car and sped aggressively away.

  I lurched forward. My tigress insisted we chase after him. I dug in my heels, denying her. Chase after the speeding SUV? No, that wouldn’t seem desperate or anything.

  I ran my fingers through my hair, damp from the drizzling rain, and resolved to return to my new life, where superbaddies couldn’t wait to sink their claws into me. I couldn’t be with Aric, and that’s all there was to it. Problem was, my heart would never completely abandon him.

  Stupid heart.

  I stepped into the limo and was greeted with glares from the four bimbos who’d fondled Misha the other morning. This was so not the moment to piss
me off. I yanked them by their smut-wear and threw them out on their asses. One by one they landed on the asphalt screaming and launching into tremendous fits, but none of them dared to climb back in.

  Lucky for Misha, there were two large milk shakes and a tremendous bag full of burgers waiting for me. It was the only thing that saved his hide. He climbed in a moment later, leaving his hostile mistresses behind. If he was trying to pretend he was mad at me, he did a shitty job. A satisfied smirk played across his face. “Why did you toss the girls out?”

  I spoke through a mouthful of food. “Because they’re nasty, spoiled, sleazy hoochies.” My eyes narrowed further. “And where the hell are the fries?”

  CHAPTER 11

  “Oral sex.”

  I gawked at Maria. “Ah, no, thanks.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I was not offering.”

  I held out my open palm. “Then . . . ?”

  “Celia.” Liz said my name like I was some kind of simpleton. “Maria is suggesting a way to make amends with the master.”

  I crossed my arms. “So an apology would just be out of the question?”

  Edith Anne threw her hands in the air. “Oh, hell, Celia. Nothing says I’m sorry like a little—”

  “Stop right there, Edith.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “I don’t want you to finish your thought. Trust me, nothing you say will make what you’re asking of me more tempting.”

  Misha hadn’t apologized for being so cold to me. Then again, I hadn’t apologized for ripping him a new one in front of everyone. I considered us even. He obviously didn’t. The underlying tension between us continued over the next week. When we’d met for breakfast, neither of us spoke or made eye contact. I couldn’t stand the awkwardness. I ate quickly and left without a word. On my way to the dojang, the Catholic schoolgirls stopped me in the garden.

  “Come now, Celia. You have to do something,” Agnes Concepción demanded. “At least walk around naked for a while.”

  “You really expect me to walk around naked for him?”

  Agnes scowled. “Fine. You can wear shoes if you’d like.”

  I rubbed my eyes and begged God for patience and guidance. In my mind, I envisioned Him dropping a stake from the sky. He had His limits, too.

  Liz tugged on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “I have a cute pair of Cinderella shoes you can borrow,” she offered.

  Edith nodded with determination. “I think we should all do it. It will please the master.” She raised a fist in the air. “For the master.”

  They continued to excitedly discuss the matter as I continued on the path. Misha’s estate was beautiful, elegant, and decorated with hand-carved mission furniture, expensive leathers, and magnificent sculptures and paintings. It was the vision of a gifted architect who would probably keel over if she knew it housed a bunch of horny nutcases.

  I’d reached the fork in the slate walkway. The right branched out toward the guesthouse overlooking the lake. The other took me deep into Misha’s wooded property where the dojang lay hidden amid an Asian garden surrounded by dense fir trees. I’d just veered left when something shattered a third-floor window and crashed onto the snow-covered lawn near my feet.

  I leapt aside with my claws out. A vampire landed and rolled like a giant baseball. I gathered Misha was the “bat” who’d swung. The vampire groaned and tipped onto his back. I tried not to react as his dangling eye slowly crept back into his skull. It didn’t work. Ew.

  The vamp poked his eye a few times—I presumed to make sure it was all the way back home. “The master is not in a good mood,” he said.

  “I can tell.” I tried to haul him up by his arm. It would have worked if it was still attached to his body. He scrambled upright and accepted the appendage. “Thanks.” He stepped toward the front of the house, pausing to glance over his shoulder. “Try not to piss him off, Celia.”

  First the schoolgirls and their Oral Pep Talk, and now this swing and miss.

  A growl rumbled deep in my chest. If Misha’s attempt was to intimidate, he picked the wrong gal. I stormed down the path and up the stairs to the dojang. I abandoned my sneakers in the foyer and slid back the woven bamboo wall. The soothing warmth of the brightly lit room greeted me like a friend. A friend who liked to nut-punch when you’d least expected. The light wood flooring and soothing aromas of the shelved orchids, jasmine, and dahlias suggested this was a place where one could find inner peace and tranquillity. I’d quickly learned it doubled as a torture facility.

  When Misha first told me I would spend several hours a week doing yoga as part of my training sessions, I thought he was nuts. Martial arts I understood, cardio was a given, weight training, ditto, but yoga? I hated to admit how right he had been. My flexibility had improved and I’d become more aware of my body. Yoga had taught me and my tigress to move more like the preternatural creature we were. I could flip, land, and pounce better than ever. That being said, I hated the training. Ying-Ying, my yoga master from planet Whoop Yo Ass, often subjected me to hours of grueling stretches. Today, I managed to bypass the Gumby routine for a day of martial arts training aka a trip to the emergency room.

  I bowed to Kuan Jang Nim Chang. A white gi covered his rotund figure and a wide grin took up most of his round face. The five-foot-tall barbaric bastard returned my bow, then rubbed his hands the way villains did in movies. If he had a mustache, he’d twirl that, too. Seriously, he scared the shit out of me.

  He ranted about something and gestured frantically. But Chang wouldn’t let something like a little language barrier stop him from brightening my day. His specialty was tae kwon do, but he was also a hapkido and a muay thai master. He directed me to the rear of the dojang. Spurts of his mysticism flickered from the soles of his feet as he hurried to where my stoning—I mean, training exercise—awaited.

  The pile of bricks in the center of the room should’ve tipped me off. The day’s fun consisted of repeatedly breaking bricks with my ridge hand and instep. It wasn’t enough to hold them in place and break them. Oh, no. He thought it would be more effective to throw them at me. The little bitch had lousy aim. I kept leaping out of the way to keep my toes from being crushed. I didn’t speak Korean and screaming at him in English didn’t get me anywhere. He just gibbered on with a big smile on his face. He could’ve been reciting the Korean version of the Sesame Street theme song for all I knew.

  I’d been born “weird,” but I never thought my life would turn as whacked-out as this. “There’s something wrong with you,” I snapped.

  He paused and pointed to the extra-large brick in his hand. “Tribe coming for you,” he said in broken English. He gave me a stiff nod for emphasis, then pitched the brick at my face with a jolly grin.

  • • •

  I had just showered and was soaking my brick-bashed hands in ice when someone knocked on my door. I was surprised to find Misha there with a little elderly woman. She was dressed from head to toe in black and carried a giant wicker basket covered in red cloth.

  He smiled. “May we come in?”

  Although vampires needed to ask permission before entering another person’s dwelling, technically he didn’t have to ask since the guesthouse was part of his domain. Regardless, I appreciated his attempt at being polite. Maybe he’d started to come around. “Sure. Make yourselves at home.”

  Misha stopped smiling when he saw my hands. He frowned as he examined them. I didn’t protest. It was the first time he’d shown any concern. “Would you like me to send for Emme?”

  I was surprised he didn’t offer to heal me himself. Maybe it was because of the old woman’s presence. No, never mind—her watching would’ve probably turned him on. “No, I’m okay. I’ll be seeing Emme the day after tomorrow. If they’re still bothering me then, I’ll have her mend them.”

  “You should still have them tended to whether they feel bette
r or not.” He met my eyes. “If it pleases you, I would like to spend the day with you tomorrow.”

  My hands slipped from his. I waited for him to say more, surprised by his kindness, considering his mood lately. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”

  “Anything of your choosing.”

  The tiny woman interrupted us by speaking quickly in Russian. Misha answered her and she extracted a tape measure from her basket. She looked at me and scowled. She pointed to my stomach and then my breasts and said something that made Misha laugh. Whatever it was I doubted I’d find it as funny. She grabbed me and turned me in a slow pirouette. For someone who looked ready to shatter a hip, she was a strong little thing.

  She forced my arms up and measured my bust. “Misha, what’s going on?”

  Misha didn’t answer me right away. He was too busy laughing as Little Miss Personality waved the tape measure in his face and babbled on about something. I don’t know what the hell she was so mad at, but she seemed to reach her breaking point when she measured my waist. The little twerp threw her hands in the air and yelled, her deeply wrinkled face contorting with rage. She took more measurements before screaming yet again.

  Misha said something else to her that made her shake her finger at him. He flashed me a wicked smile as she placed the tape measure against my hip and let it fall.

  She pointed right above my knee. Misha shook his head and said something else. She moved her hand higher and again he shook his head. This went on until she almost aligned with my happy place. When Misha finally nodded, she lost her mind and started shouting at me in Russian. Although I couldn’t understand her, I just knew she was swearing. The hand gestures and snarls gave her away. She threw her measuring tape in her basket and started to stomp away. Misha grabbed her by her long knobby fingers and whispered something softly in her ear. The woman turned from bitter old maid to love-struck maiden. She actually blushed and smiled toothlessly at him before skipping away.