Cursed to Death

by L. A. Banks

  All eyes remained on the king as he flung pots and pans and gave in to a full-blown tantrum. Over fifty Fae staff waited for his next bellowing command with bated breath. Other staff throughout the castle had been scurrying around in a full fright for more than twenty-four hours, attempting to placate their master to no avail.

  But Rupert remained steadfast and as still as stone, head lowered but standing upright. Everyone glanced at him, their eyes begging him to say something as Sir Rodney’s most trusted servant. Their terrified gazes sent a unified message; Rupert was the only one in their number who could diplomatically remind their lord what was at stake.

  Rupert held back a disgruntled snort. Now was not the time to appear defiant; not when the king was in such a foul temper. One could end up as a gray-haired tortoise, or worse. However, one unequivocal fact remained: egregiously lusting after another man’s wife—especially one who’d befriended you—was just not regal and could start an armed conflict that could last for centuries. It was simply bad form.

  Worse, in Rupert’s view, it was beneath the station and honor of his dear friend and master . . . Lo these many years, it was true that Sir Rodney had quite a reputation amongst the ladies, but a scoundrel he was not! One simply could not make a cuckold of an honest wolf friend by using Fae glamour and still call oneself the Seelie Court king—unheard of! Sir Rodney’s sudden infatuation with the beautiful she-Shadow was simply an unhealthy diversion that had to end.

  This truth made Rupert bold; until he got through to his king, he would be relentless, unafraid of the potentially hazardous consequences. Rupert glanced around, taking his cues from the other staff members and from Sir Rodney’s slowly de-escalating tantrum. His winded king was spent; thus only now was it prudent to speak. The closer the time came to the soirée, the worse Sir Rodney’s obsession seemed to become, so he had to act now—three short days before guests were due to arrive—lest his king make a complete fool of himself at the ball.

  “Again, forgive me for my ignorance.” Rupert bowed deeply, his attention split between Sir Rodney and the cowering staff. “I will be sure to extend the utmost of Fae hospitality to Ms. Trudeau and her life mate, Max Hunter—the head of the North American Clan of the Shadow Wolf Federation . . . along with his brother, the head of the Southeast Asian Clan of the Werewolf Federation, and any guests they bring.”

  Rupert stared at his master’s back, sure that by using the titles of their guests in proper context Sir Rodney would slowly regain his composure enough to realize how imprudent it would be to start a war over a woman he could never hope to win. The Fae Parliament had sided with the Wolf Clans in their ousting of the Vampire Cartel, and the Fae, which had heretofore been fractured into feudal law, could ill afford to make war with two strong wolf packs, let alone their global Federations.

  Sir Rodney straightened his spine, lifting his aristocratic chin, and then drew a deep breath as though wresting back his dignity. “I want every one of our guests who is also an important diplomatic ally to have the red carpet rolled out for them. No less than our best is all that I am striving for.” His gaze scanned the assembled staff and then landed on Rupert as he turned to face him.

  Both men stared at each other for a moment and then Sir Rodney looked away as though both ashamed and confused by his own actions. Rupert let out a quiet sigh of relief and responded with a satisfied nod. Sir Rodney had clearly gotten his message—the wolves were more than guests, they were indeed critical diplomatic allies.

  “Milord . . . a word,” Sir Rodney’s top advisor said, entering the room and putting away his wand in his robe sleeve.

  Rupert remained mute, as did the rest of the staff. Seeming disoriented, Sir Rodney nodded and walked out of anyone’s earshot but his advisor’s.

  “Garth . . .” Sir Rodney stammered, holding both sides of his skull in his palms. “What has besieged me?”

  “It is the dark magick, milord,” Garth said with a frown. He extracted his wand from his sleeve, the tip of it still smoldering. “It has now begun to permeate the castle.”

  Moving Shogun was agonizing to watch. As his men hoisted his body up onto the gurney in a coordinated, single move, the wail Shogun released scored her mind. The sound of his body realigning once he’d been jostled was like fingernails raking a blackboard. The hair stood up on her neck and a hard shiver passed through her that made her clench her teeth. When Shogun began begging for a bullet, Sasha closed her eyes. Merciful Jesus, she couldn’t watch this again, but she had to.

  Seung Kwon and Dak-Ho handed Shogun down from the stage to Hunter and Bear Shadow. Shuddering, Shogun clawed at the padding and sheet as another hard transformation stretch pulled at his spine, cracking it as the remainder of his wolf tail receded. That’s when the man simply broke down and wept. Sasha turned away and took in a few steadying breaths. She had no way to know he’d shift, no way to know any of this would have happened to him. Guilt put tears in her eyes, tears she could ill afford at the moment.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Hunter said, staring at her back—she could feel it.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She didn’t even look at him as she bounded off the stage and ran ahead of the gurney to open the door.

  Baron Geoff Montague opened his eyes in his lair. It was almost twilight. An evil smile graced his handsome mouth as three cool-skinned beauties slept soundly, draped over his body. Rumor and gossip always kept the airwaves interesting. So, the Fae had a problem with their glamour while the wolves were hopelessly chasing their tails looking for a murderer of Phoenixes. Très bon. Vengeance was always a dish best served ice cold.

  Doc gave Sasha a look but didn’t say a word as they loaded Shogun into the back of the ambulance. She knew the questions he had—would she be okay back there alone if Shogun flipped out mid-transformation. Crow Shadow tossed her the shotgun before she closed the door. She caught it with one hand. Her eyes met Hunter’s. Doc opened the cab door and lifted out a shotgun to show Hunter that he was also armed, should there be an issue. Hunter nodded. Then she slammed the door and banged on the interior wall to let Doc know they were good to go.

  She prepped the needle like a pro. How many times had she had to do this for Hunter, she wondered. Her eyes met Shogun’s and a quiet understanding passed between them. She placed her hand over his heart and briefly closed her eyes, sending Shadow Wolf healing into his body to help him relax. When he came to, she would dull the ache of torn muscles and ligaments, if he survived . . . but he’d been transforming for so long. Hunter had never endured something like this.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered and then plunged the needle into Shogun’s arm.

  Bumps on the road bounced the vehicle and he cried out in pain.

  “Kill me, Sasha,” he whispered through his teeth. “They gave you the gun—use it!”

  She shook her head no and backed away to the far wall, now letting the tears she’d held back stream down her cheeks. She watched the first wave of restoration hit him as he arched and raked deep gashes in the metal interior wall. When his legs began to snap back into place she almost dry heaved. His wails became sobs that turned into an insistent plea to be shot until hard convulsions stole language from him.

  He was flatlining; she knew the signs. His lips were blue; he was foaming at the mouth. His eyes had rolled backward revealing only white orbs. Working quickly, she grabbed a rubber-coated flashlight off the wall and jammed it between his jaws, and then made sure his airway was clear by pressing his tongue forward with her fingers before she paddled him.

  The electric jolt lifted him off the gurney by a quarter inch and his instant reaction was to clamp his jaws down hard on the flashlight, severing it in half. Oh, yeah, he was back—and apparently very pissed off. One long agonized wail bore witness to his full transformation back. It happened in an instant, like a rubber band snap. Maybe it was the antitoxin mixed with the spell, but he was definitely way stronger than he should have been coming out of a hard shape-shift.
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  He spit out broken metal, rubber, and severed batteries, and leaped up to a crouching position in his human form. Shogun angrily wiped his face and mouth on the sheet and then flung it down on the floor.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Sasha?” he growled, eyes glowing pure golden outrage.

  “It was the only way,” she said as calmly as possible. “If I didn’t give you the meds and the jolt, you would have died.”

  He stood slowly, coming off the gurney nude and snarling. “That is so not what I’m talking about.”

  She eyed the shotgun; so did he.

  “So now that I’m all better you would add insult to injury by shooting me after the fact—instead of when I needed you to?”

  “No,” she said, without apology in her tone, “but you are coming very close to invading my personal space, now back up!”

  “Invading your personal space . . .” He shook his head, making the wild thicket of onyx hair sway from side to side. “Is that why you ran into the shadows where you knew I couldn’t follow!”

  “I went in there to avoid a war.” She stared at him without blinking, truly understanding how affected he was by the dark spell. A hundred realities split her skull in an instant. She’d had time to get her mind together by going in and out of the shadows; Shogun had been in Ethan’s bar, just like his men had, for hours.

  “You went in there with him!”

  Sasha kept her voice neutral. “I went in there alone. He followed me.”

  “And he was gone with you for hours . . . while you were in phase!” Shogun slammed his fist into the metal wall, denting it next to her head. “Do you think that I’m stupid?”

  “Have you ever been in the shadow lands?” she asked coolly, never taking her eyes off his. “Have you ever seen the labyrinth of caverns in there?”

  “No,” he said in a low rumble, closing the gap between them. “Show me.”

  “Hunter took Silver Hawk in there on a shaman spirit walk, and its not advisable. Besides, I don’t know if your physiology will handle it, just coming out of a hard transformation. You’ll die.”

  “Why do you keep trying to save my life if all you do is torture me?” he asked in a sullen tone, the low timbre of his voice a melancholy rumble. “Where is your mercy?”

  “I don’t want you to die, don’t want our clans to go to war, don’t want to pit brother against brother, and . . . shit . . . what do you want me to say? I care about you, all right? I’m made of flesh and blood just like you are. But I’m trying my best to function with honor under some really fucked-up circumstances.”

  Why tears had risen in her eyes, she wasn’t sure. All of a sudden she felt trapped and claustrophobic inside the tight ambulance confines. She needed air. Being this close to Shogun and all that beautiful naked skin was making it hard to breathe or make sense.

  Shogun finally nodded and conceded with his intense, almond-shaped eyes. “You were gone for hours . . . I didn’t know what to think.” He let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, either . . . my honor crumbles before you. Yes, Hunter is my brother . . . but . . .”

  “Don’t say it,” she whispered. “Please don’t say it.”

  “When you were gone with him for hours . . . all I could think of was that you’d given yourself to him as I lay in agony unable to change out of my wolf and leave like a man. Sasha, have you any idea what that was like?”

  She couldn’t answer that charge, nor was it advisable to get into the fine points about the fact that she was, after all, Hunter’s life mate. Not right now, not when Shogun was like this—irrational, and making her that way, too.

  “I came back to be sure you were all right . . . and you weren’t.” That was no lie, even if the rest of what she’d said had been a series of evasions and errors of omission.

  His fingers gently traced her cheek and found her hair. “No, I wasn’t all right and I’m not sure that I am now.” He nuzzled her hair, breathing her in, pulling her into a deep embrace. “Sasha . . .”

  The moan he released when his body molded to hers felt like a depth charge inside her womb. He took her mouth with desperate hunger, his hands splaying across her ass and the small of her back, moving against her as though already inside her, pulling at her clothes to get her out of them.

  Functioning with a divided mind, she was losing her personal battle with resistance. Rational thought ebbed by the second. Primal urge replaced promises and protocols. His breathing was ragged, trapping hers and making it follow his. She held his back when she’d meant to push him away. God, he felt so good; his scent was so undeniably male. Her body was becoming pliant, moving with the ancient give-and-take rhythm of all species that right now invited disaster. The temptation to allow her palms to slide down over his sweat-slicked ass made her hold the small of his back harder. Want dampened her, began to swell her to discomfort with sudden heat. His nostrils flared as he picked up the scent of her need and groaned. She lolled her head back, almost too weak to stand.

  “We can’t do this,” she gasped as he rained hot kisses down her throat. Her hands played over sinew-thick shoulders and caressed his biceps. “We’re not in our right minds. There’s a—”

  Another harsh kiss blotted out her words and made her legs go wobbly. A shudder claimed him, claimed her, and brought her out of the kiss on a breathless gasp.

  “Shogun, there’s a spell,” she breathed out when he sought her neck again, pressing a throbbing erection against her thigh. Oh, shit, safe haven, and there wasn’t a shadow big enough to claim her—except for his. “We’re under the influence . . . we’re . . .”

  “I know,” he rasped, hands sliding up her back beneath her shirt. “It’s taken me over since the first time I saw you—oh, God, Sasha, I’ve wanted you like this for so long. If it’s war, so be it.” His hands rounded her torso in a burning sweep that covered her breasts and made her cry out. “Can you stop this? Do you want to stop this?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer as he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth.

  Sasha’s back slammed into the wall as Shogun pressed his body against her, his tongue tangling with hers, and she barely felt the ambulance jolt to a halt. A few seconds later the door opened and the distinctive click of a shotgun stilled Shogun’s passion. She heard him snarl. Frantic, she wrapped a leg around his thigh to slow him down from an instant death lunge.

  “Don’t attack him if you care for me,” she said quickly. “He’s my dad.”

  CHAPTER 11

  “Step away from my daughter or die where you stand,” Doc said, his voice low and deadly. Rage danced in his eyes, the muscles in his arms and shoulders twitching from it.

  “He’s not hurting me, Doc,” Sasha said quickly, not releasing Shogun, quite unsure of how either man would react.

  But it only took a second of staring into Doc’s eyes to see that he was under the dark magick influence. His normal cool-under-flre demeanor was shattered. That’s when it hit her: Doc was 50 percent Shadow Wolf. Even if he did take after his mother’s human side and couldn’t shape-shift, he still had more wolf in him than even Woods and Fisher, who were familiars. His allegiance would still be with the clan alpha . . . Hunter, Silver Hawk, the North American Shadow Wolf Federation, where his father hailed from. And Doc would now be an outraged father. Holy moly . . . this was rich even for Vampires.

  Eyes wild, in a fighter’s stance, Doc flung Shogun’s clothes onto the floor of the ambulance.

  “He may not be hurting you like I thought, but this here, what I’m witnessing, is cutting me to the bone!”

  “If you shoot him,” Sasha said calmly, “I’ll die right along with him—you don’t have a clear shot.” She glanced around. Thankfully, Doc had pulled over in an abandoned parking lot nowhere near Dugan’s B&B.

  “Take your hands off my daughter,” Doc said evenly. “You won’t molest her while there’s breath left in my body.”

  Shogun nodded and lifted his hands slowly in the air. “That’s no
t my intention, sir . . . I love her.”

  “You didn’t ask me for her! Your brother did—respect! She brought your mangy Werewolf ass back to life—I gave you meds, and this is how you repay me? With disrespect? Trying to rape her?” Doc brought the shotgun up higher so he could stare through the sight. “I thought you were fighting her in there, heard the side of the vehicle opening up like a tin can . . . heard your transition wails . . . then heard the punch and the thump, and didn’t hear her voice and got nervous.”

  “It’s cool . . . uh, Dad,” Sasha said, appealing to whatever altered reality was playing itself out in Doc’s head. “He never laid a hand on me—like that.”

  Doc lowered the weapon. “Then if he ain’t forcing you, what the hell is he doing all over you, huh?”

  Shogun closed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. Sasha could feel the muscles in his abdomen coil with the need to pivot and lunge.

  “There was no disrespect intended,” Shogun said through his teeth. “What happened here was . . . spontaneous.”

  “Are you out of your damned minds?” Doc uncocked the weapon and looked from Sasha to Shogun, bewildered. “Do you have any idea what Max Hunter would . . .” Doc’s words trailed off as his gaze finally settled on Sasha.

  Shogun backed up carefully. “Can I turn around and collect my clothes?”

  “Yeah! Put on your goddamned pants.”

  Sasha closed her eyes and rubbed her palms down her face. This was so not how any of this was supposed to go. Doc walked in a confused circle for a moment, took one look at Shogun’s groin, and spat.