Cursed by Destiny

by Cecy Robson

  I scoffed, annoyed at how easily Misha had won her over. “What the hell was that about?”

  “She wonders what a nice girl like you is doing with me.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder that, too,” I said, though I didn’t believe a damn word he said.

  Out of nowhere, a scrawny little old man scurried into the guesthouse with a piece of paper and a pencil. His wiry white hair stuck out in a tuff, contrasting his dark skin. He gave me a warm smile before motioning me to a chair. As soon as I sat, he gently lifted my bare feet and traced them onto the paper. He then waved before leaving as quickly as he came.

  “Will you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “Kitten, there will be a gala at the Den in two weeks to honor Alliance members who have had the greatest impact on the war. Representatives from were packs, vampire clans, and witch covens worldwide will be there. Our combined efforts have helped cripple the Tribe. Your capture, attempted escape, and our rescue of you alone resulted in the destruction of over four hundred Tribesmen. Not to mention that in the few hours you spent in Nicaragua, you helped destroy over a hundred of the enemy and prevented the birth of over twenty demon children. You have also aided in killing three Tribemasters that otherwise would have continued breeding. We are winning the war and it is time to celebrate.”

  “So all this . . . stuff was to fit me for a dress for the gala?”

  “Yes.”

  I smoothed my finger over the sore knuckles of my opposite hand. “Misha, the Elders don’t want me at the Den. Anara especially hates me.”

  “Whether the Elders like it or not, you are an Alliance member—just like the vampires, witches, and werebeasts. And you are respected. Anara was the one who recommended I send you to the nest. He knew your skills would be needed to ensure victory.”

  I pursed my lips. “Sending me somewhere where I might be killed is different than welcoming me into a sacred place among weres.”

  Misha stiffened. “You fight with us and therefore have earned a place among those invited. It would be a tremendous insult to the vampires to show you anything but hospitality.”

  Aric would be there, married by then. The thought of Barbara standing alongside him as his wife drove the last knife into my heart. “I’m not going, Misha. I can’t.”

  “You can, and you will, Celia. You and your sisters will be recognized among the honored guests. Don’t allow that mongrel to rob that from you.” He turned on his heel. I didn’t know whether his derogatory comment was meant for Aric or for Anara. I was resigned to believe it was directed at Aric. After all, Misha had caught my broken expression, the one that overtook my visage every time I thought about my wolf.

  I returned to my small living room and slumped on the chocolate-colored couch. Moisture dripped from the green ceramic bowl I’d soaked my hands in and the chunks of ice had almost melted. I knew I should continue my therapy, but thoughts of seeing Aric raced through my head. If I decided against attending the gala, Misha wouldn’t force me. While I recognized our friendship remained strained, I knew he’d never intentionally hurt me. And seeing Aric married would destroy me.

  CHAPTER 12

  A sonic boom followed more yodeling in Mandarin. I peered through the thick glass of the library window. Ying-Ying had the naughty Catholic schoolgirls dancing with their arms up as she hovered around my assigned Lexus. The good Catholics didn’t appear happy as they twirled around the car to the beat of something Ying-Ying. Like me, they knew better than to risk riling my yogi. She was kind of like the Hulk—but not green and not as charming. Ying-Ying was psycho in a good mood. Nobody wished to see her angry.

  Every time she drifted over the hood, lightning crashed over Tahoe and sparks of peach and pink swirled from the water and onto the car. I turned back to Misha. “Are you sure this is necessary?”

  He didn’t look up from the chessboard. “Considering beings spawned from hell itself wish to annihilate you, I believe magical reinforcements are in order.” He lifted a knight. “Especially given that your beast grows restless if restricted and you find my bodyguards . . .”

  “Annoying? Obnoxious? Rude?” I offered.

  The edges of Misha’s mouth lifted, but he ignored my jabs at Hank and Tim. “The shields will help block any magical attacks while you’re off premises and keep you secure until help arrives.”

  Misha placed the knight in front of one of my pawns. I knew the little guy was screwed, but not sure why. I couldn’t play chess; I barely managed checkers. Misha considered it an important skill, so I let him try to teach me. “I don’t get why you want me to learn this stuff.”

  That earned me a full smile. “This stuff has helped leaders like Napoléon conquer Europe.”

  “I just feel bad for the little guy.”

  “Napoléon?”

  “No, the pawn.”

  “Kitten, the pawns are necessary sacrifices to win the game.”

  “It’s just so unfair. Why doesn’t the knight or the king ever try to protect them?”

  “They are more important and need to be spared. Do you not consider the president worth protecting, say, over a vagrant?”

  “A vagrant would feel just as much pain if he were shot.”

  Misha scrutinized me carefully. His hair cascaded over a silver-colored sweater that accentuated his powerful gray eyes and swathed his strong physique. He hadn’t said much since he’d left the guesthouse earlier. When he asked me to join him for a round of chess after dinner, I thought it was to finally iron out our differences. He’d spoken only a few words. I tilted my head, trying to figure him out.

  Misha could be so very hard, like his body. I sometimes wished his master status would allow the gentleness of his soul to rise to the surface. But that wasn’t possible. Any sign of weakness invited an attack from another master. That meant bloodshed until only one master stood victorious.

  I watched him take my pawn following my oh-so-strategic move and tucked my legs beneath me. “What’s up with the queen?”

  “She is the most versatile.”

  “She also seems to be the one in charge, even more so than the king.”

  “A strong woman is capable of bringing even the most powerful male to his knees.”

  I blinked back at him. “Are we still talking about chess?”

  Misha ignored my question and instead he brushed his hair away from his face. “Tell me about your parents,” he said.

  My legs slipped back to the floor. “What do you want to know?”

  “How they came to be as one.”

  I gripped the chair arms and forced myself to relax when I felt my claws protrude and dig into the heavy mahogany. “My mother was born in El Salvador. She was the youngest of seven children and moved to the States when she was about four.”

  “An immigrant?”

  I nodded.

  “Like me?”

  I smiled without humor. “No. Not like you. Being the youngest, and educated here, she became the most Americanized. She embraced the culture, fell in love with the music, and lost her accent completely. Her skin and eyes were lighter than the rest of her family and she was often mistaken for a Caucasian American. She was kind and funny.” A hint of anger found its way into my husky voice. “But her family didn’t like her much. I think they were jealous she managed to fit in so well while they continued to struggle.”

  Misha abandoned the game and leaned back in his chair. “Success often breeds envy.”

  “So it seems.” The subject of my parents was a touchy one at best. I forced myself to continue, reasoning that it was okay to tell Misha. He was a friend, right? “My mother met my father at Rutgers University their freshman year. My father was prelaw and my mother was a criminal justice major. They started talking and realized they had a lot in common. It wasn’t long before they began dating.”

  “How did the
families react to their union?”

  “Not well. My father was of German descent and grew up in a small town near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. His family didn’t know what to think of my mother. They were all light skinned and fair haired like Emme. My mother had wavy brown hair, olive skin, and green eyes.”

  Misha smiled. “Like you.”

  I bowed my head. “Yes. Taran remembers us looking a lot alike. But despite how my father’s family reacted, my mother’s was much worse.”

  “In what manner?”

  I didn’t answer. My nails had slowly punctured through the wooden chair. I splintered the wood trying to extract them. “God, I’m sorry. I’ll pay for it—”

  Misha’s tone softened. “Do not worry about something so expendable. Please, finish your story.”

  Tears burned across my irises despite my feeble attempts to halt them. “Th-they thought she had betrayed her race and disowned her. Shortly after my parents graduated, they married. My mother became pregnant with me right away. When my mother’s family found out, one of her crazy aunts showed up at her door and cursed my parents with short lives.” I stared at the pawns that were cast aside. “They died when I was nine.” I wanted to stop talking then, but I just couldn’t. Everything spilled from my lips in one breath. “She also hexed all of my mother’s unborn children. But the curse somehow backfired and . . . and made us what we are.”

  Misha studied me closely. “Do you know the words your aunt used when she cast the spell?”

  I considered his question. No one had ever asked me that before. “My mother said it was something like ‘Your children will devour blades and weep like weak and sickly runts. Animals will hunt them and pierce their flesh with fang and claw. They will burn with fire and hide from shame for nowhere will they find strength or love or kindness.’ There was more—” I brushed away my last tear. “But I forgot the rest.”

  Misha frowned. “I’m surprised your mother shared the severity of the words with you.”

  My head snapped up. “She wanted us to know. She felt we should always believe in ourselves regardless of what others might say or do.” I stood abruptly. “I’m glad she instilled that hope in us. It got us through the cruelty we were showered with all through school and helped us survive after they died.” I didn’t like how Misha regarded me with pity, and my harshening tone made it clear. “Don’t look at me like that, Misha—none of it matters now.” Still, the recollection had burned a hole through my chest.

  Misha stood. “If something has caused you pain, I cannot merely dismiss it because you ask it of me.”

  I hadn’t realized how much discussing my parents had upset me until my throat developed an ache I couldn’t swallow. I needed to leave. “I’m really tired. I’m going to bed.”

  Misha placed his hands against my shoulders and slowly pulled me to him. His expression wasn’t one of lust, but of something entirely different. He opened his mouth to say something, only to close it tight. I thought he was about to ask me to join him in bed. Instead he released me and linked our hands. He continued to watch me as he escorted me back to the guesthouse. The moment we arrived on my doorstep, he kissed my forehead and returned to the main house.

  • • •

  Even though we’d both lived in Tahoe a few years, the next day Misha and I did the tourist thing. It would have been a relaxing day if not for the vampire snipers looming at the top of every building we entered, or the hit squad shadowing us. We had just stepped onto the dock on our way to Fannette Island when a young woman frantically waved her arms just a few yards away. “Celia! Celia! Over here.” I recognized her as one of my former labor patients. I rushed to greet her and her little family, but not before I elbowed the vamp reaching for his holster. Thankfully, the family didn’t seem to notice.

  The father tried futilely to wipe some food off his screaming toddler’s face, while Mommy held the outrageously bundled baby. “Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she said. She hugged me with her free arm while her eyes fixed on Misha.

  “Hi, Celia.” The dad shook my hand.

  I smiled. “Hello, Amy, Les. It’s so nice to see you again.”

  Amy pushed out her cleavage just a little bit. Misha had that effect on females. “And who’s this?”

  “This is my friend Misha.”

  Amy raised her eyebrows. “Just a friend?”

  Misha offered a thong-dropping smile. “We live together.”

  My cheeks burned at Amy’s giggle. “Can I hold the baby?” I asked.

  Amy placed the chubby-cheeked infant in my arms and explained how we knew each other. “Celia is just the best nurse! She delivered both my children.”

  “Celia has many, many talents,” Misha added with a wink. He extended his arms to the toddler. “May I?”

  “Of course,” Les said. “But watch out—Cindy bites.”

  “So do I,” Misha answered. I would have killed him if there hadn’t been so many witnesses. The parents just laughed. Oh, wasn’t Misha quite the funny man!

  Misha picked up Cindy and instantly captivated the toddler. She stopped screaming and touched her small fingers to Misha’s face. The baby didn’t need charming. He smiled and cooed as I rocked him. I thought back to a time when Aric and I were still together. It had been a similar situation; we’d run into another couple whose child I’d delivered. Aric had watched me as I held the baby. When she reached out to him, he’d taken her like an old pro. It had been such a beautiful moment between us. Now it just made me sad.

  Little Cindy hollered when Misha returned her to her parents. We said good-bye and stepped onto one of Misha’s smaller yachts. I was still thinking of that moment with Aric as we took our seats at the elegantly set table.

  “Would you like a child?” Misha asked.

  Misha had asked me a great deal of personal questions in the past. This one bothered me more than the others. I didn’t want to answer, but I did, figuring it could do no harm. “Yes . . . Someday I’d really like one.”

  “I could do that for you.”

  I froze in the middle of placing my napkin on my lap. It was a subtle response but one that had our security detail springing into action. The bodyguards surrounded us. On the deck above, a sniper appeared and scanned the area for a possible threat. Misha waved them off. They disappeared with their heads lowered, likely disappointed they didn’t get to lacerate some immortal assailant’s liver.

  My attention returned to Misha. “I thought only the most powerful vampires in the world could conceive a child.”

  “What do you expect after returning my soul and helping me to acquire the power of several ancient masters?”

  “You’re right. I guess I just hadn’t realized the extent of your supernatural muscle.” I moved my utensils around, despite their perfect placement. I’d always wanted children. I considered them cute, wonderful little miracles who needed to be loved and protected. Once I met Aric, my maternal desires became so strong I could taste them. But as much as I still wanted a family, I could no longer foresee one in my future. The dreamworld I’d envisioned in which Aric and I would be married and have a brood of babies was no longer plausible. And yet I continued to desire it.

  “What are you thinking, my darling?” Misha asked.

  I ran my fingers through my hair and leaned my chin against my palm. My other arm rested against the soft linen of the tablecloth. “Misha, what kind of child could come from a preternatural and someone like me?”

  Misha smiled. “I don’t know. Nothing like you or your sisters has ever existed.”

  “So a baby born of a union like that could be scary and have, like . . . eighteen legs or something?”

  Misha choked on his wine. I’d never seen him laugh so hard. He wiped his eyes. “Kitten, we could not conceive a monster because neither of us resembles one. The only guarantee is that the child would be extremely powerful, seeing
as we both are.”

  A deep blush found its way to my cheeks. I hadn’t meant for Misha to think I was soliciting him to be my baby daddy. I should have said something, but didn’t want to embarrass or hurt him, especially in the presence of his hit squad. Instead I munched on the goat cheese salad placed in front of me. Misha took a bite, too. I watched how he neatly chewed on the greens. “Why do you still eat food if you don’t have to?”

  Chef swore as he banged pots and pans from the galley. The guy was just loads of fun.

  “I still enjoy the taste, and I suppose . . . Well, never mind.”

  “What?”

  Misha leaned back in his seat. “It’s nothing of importance.”

  “Tell me.”

  The waves splashed harshly against the boat as I waited.

  “No,” he finally answered.

  I flicked a crouton and nailed him in the nose with it. By the look on his face, you would’ve thought I tossed him a severed toe.

  “Celia, your table manners are—”

  “Tell me.” I growled, but couldn’t manage a straight face.

  He chuckled before speaking. “I suppose it makes me feel human.”

  My lips parted. Most of the time I forgot Misha was a vampire. If it wasn’t for his necessary diet, he could have passed for any average supermodel on the street. “Ever wish you were human again?”

  His eyes never left mine and he took his time answering. “No,” he said finally.

  I realized I had caught Misha in a lie. I didn’t push it, though; some things were better left unsaid. And some vampires shouldn’t be messed with.

  CHAPTER 13

  I didn’t want to move.

  The day of Aric’s wedding had finally arrived. I didn’t get up for breakfast, preferring to lie in bed and wallow in my misery. It was the ultimate jilted ex-girlfriend moment. Empty boxes and wrappers of Tastykakes littered the bedroom floor while Celine Dion’s “All by Myself” blasted away for the hundredth time. Tears streamed down my face as I devoured the last cupcake. There was no point in getting out of bed. I had Celine, a box of tissues, and was moving on to the Butterscotch Krimpets next.