Blood Harvest (Blood Curse Series Book 12)

by Tessa Dawn

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It was 6:40 a.m. when Braden arrived at Kristina’s penthouse.

  A soft, resplendent light, glowing orange, red, and blue, shone below the horizon and caressed the majestic mountain peaks surrounding Dark Moon Vale.

  Twilight.

  A promise of a new day, a bright, shimmering future—the Millenia Harvest Moon would recede, and a new day would take its place. A new day but an old acquaintance, a time-weathered friendship, a burgeoning love and romance.

  Braden parked his King Cobra Mustang, reached for the tightly wrapped bouquet of red roses, pink lilies, and white gypsophila flowers surrounded by gold hypericum and dark green stems, all wrapped in an elegant fold of pink chiffon and tied with a bloodred lace bow, and climbed out of the car.

  As he crossed the parking lot, entered the building, and strolled through the lobby to the bank of elevators, he rolled his shoulders to release some tension and sniffed the air a half-dozen times, checking and double-checking the strength of his cologne.

  Damn, he hoped he hadn’t put too much on.

  He didn’t want to come across as too eager.

  The moment he stepped out of the elevators on the top floor of the casino, he braced himself for what was coming: Santos Olaru’s relentless teasing. The sentinel would take one look at the flowers, get one good sniff of Braden’s cologne, and probably rib him mercilessly. But as he rounded the corner and caught Santos’ eyes, something entirely different happened…

  The Master Warrior bowed from the neck, averted his crystal blue eyes, and placed his closed right fist over his heart. “It is with great respect that I greet a fellow descendant of Jadon, the son of Monoceros, and an honored friend: Amadis and living sword of our prince.” He stepped forward, gripped both of Braden’s shoulders, and locked his eyes with his. “I cannot begin to tell you how good it is to see you this sunrise.”

  Whoa…

  Braden’s mouth went dry.

  He pulled himself together: “Greetings sentinel, fellow descendant of Jadon, and esteemed Master Warrior. Gotta admit, it feels pretty good to be here. You’re a sight for sore eyes, yourself.”

  Santos chuckled, pulled Braden into a firm warrior’s embrace, and then quickly released him, stepping back. “The door’s unlocked. She said to tell you to come on in when you get here.”

  Braden nodded. “Thank you.”

  Santos declined his head again, then vanished from the luxurious hallway.

  Braden stopped to catch his breath. Gods, this was so overwhelming. He hoped like hell that once he was inside Kristina’s apartment, everything would feel normal…familiar. He just needed a place to be himself and unwind. Just plain Braden. And if he couldn’t do that with Kristina, then—

  He abruptly cut off the thought.

  After all, he was the weirdo carrying a bouquet of flowers and wearing expensive cologne.

  He stared at the twin, vertical, long, sleek door pulls mounted on either side of three frosted planes of glass, gripped the one on the right, and opened the mahogany door. The moment he stepped across the threshold, his heart caught in his throat: Kristina was standing in front of the fireplace in a thick cotton bath robe. Her loose red S-curls had dried naturally, framing her face like a radiant halo, and her feet were still bare, toenails freshly painted, but she wasn’t wearing a scant of makeup.

  Her stunning, bright blue eyes were crystal clear and sparkling in the firelight. Her adorable, pristine features were serene and relaxed. And the coral flush of her cheeks matched the shade of her heart-shaped lips, emphasizing the soft feminine lines of her mouth.

  No high heels.

  No miniskirt.

  No pretenses or…barriers.

  Just Kristina Riley Silivasi looking like an angel sent from heaven.

  “Bray…” She breathed his name as much as she spoke it, and then she crossed the living room in a quickening stride until she was nearly running. He held out his arms, and she leaped into the invitation, wrapping her legs around him in a full body embrace. He dropped the flowers on the penthouse floor and held her like the gods might take her away if he allowed even a scintilla of space between them.

  She sobbed into his shoulder.

  And he tunneled his hands in her wild hair. “It’s okay, Red. I’m here.” He kissed the base of her neck, then the top of her forehead. “I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  She clung to him, even tighter.

  As if on autopilot, his mind flashed back to the last night he had been there: what she had offered him…and what he had refused her. He could still see her sitting on the couch in that nearly see-through silk blouse, smooth bare legs, the same painted toenails slipped into a designer pair of stiletto heels, trying to pretend she was calm when her pulse was racing, and her heart was pounding.

  He set her down on the tips of her toes, and not unlike the time before, he leaned into her, grasped her high, smooth, delicate cheekbones in the palms of his hands, his thumbs yet again anchored beneath her jaw, and bent down to kiss her.

  Like before, the kiss was raw, unrestrained, and passionate.

  Unlike before, it was also tender, loving…healing, and he didn’t pull away.

  He gave every ounce of his heart and soul to the slender woman beneath him until both of them were breathless.

  He pulled back to search her eyes, and they were both filled with yearning.

  She tugged on his hair to draw him back to her mouth and swirled her tongue in a fiery tango, wanting…seeking…needing even more of him.

  He groaned into the deepening kiss.

  Holy shit…

  “Kristina…” His voice was hoarse and foreign.

  “I love the way you look in those jeans, that shirt,” she teased, nipping his bottom lip, “but I think I liked that loincloth better.”

  His knees almost buckled.

  Oh…fuuuuck.

  He swept his hands up the curve of her hips, along the small of her waist, and planted his palms just beneath her breasts, extending his thumbs toward her nipples—no!

  Noooo.

  No, no, no!

  Every primal vampire-instinct in his body warred with his conscience, even as it awakened. He knew exactly what to do with her—and just how to do it—how much dominance she needed, how much tenderness she required, what erogenous zones he could tease and titillate…what intimate flesh he could torture.

  And his body was ready.

  He was ready.

  Besides, what he didn’t know, she could teach him, and he would have one helluva time learning—but that was not the issue.

  “Kristina…” He panted her name.

  She giggled, seductively. “Braden.” Then she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and bit him, and he almost bit her back, full fangs to jugular, before tossing her across the room onto the sofa—

  But nope!

  His erection was throbbing.

  No!

  “Kristina,” he tried again, this time sounding both plaintive and desperate. He took a generous step back and locked her wrists in an iron grasp. “I’m not pulling away from you. I’m not turning this down—believe me! But it’s just…it’s just…I know you, Red. I know you like the back of my hand. I know your passion, and I know your pain. I know your body is on fire right now, that you need the closeness, the pressure, the intimacy—so do I—but I also know you need the touch, the closeness. I know your soul needs more. I’ve heard your hesitation, your concerns, the dozens of times you’ve objected, before this harvest moon madness, and I know your mind wrestles with the age difference…with truly believing and giving me all of you. All of you, Kristina—mind, body, and soul.” He raised her hands to his mouth and kissed the backs of her fingers, one after the other, his lips worshiping every rise and cleft, his tongue savoring each bend with a taste. “And I’m way too greedy, way too demanding, to accept any less than all of you.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he shushed her, pressing two fing
ers against her soft, moist lips. “Trust me when I say, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I want to undress you. I want to explore every inch of your body, and I want you to let me bring you to orgasm.” He smiled coyly, but he didn’t blink or look away. He wanted full, unabashed vulnerability between them, and Kristina needed to let herself go—fully go—with Braden in order to begin to trust him. “And not just once but over…and over. And then I just want to hold you, inima mea.” My heart in Romanian. “Hold you and get to know you…all of you…and for you to get to know me.”

  Her brow creased and her lips tightened, but she didn’t object or argue—she just studied Braden’s features, watched him intently…and listened.

  “Red, I want to tell you everything that’s happened to me over the last ten hours, and I need you to tell me your stories. All of them. The good, the bad…and the ugly. No censors, no omissions, no shame or regret. I need you to peel back the Band-Aids.”

  Her face drained of color, and she softly drew back her hands. “What did you just say?”

  He cast his eyes up and to the left, trying to remember the exact words he’d used. “I need you to peel back the Band-Aids, sweetheart. And the gods know, I have a few wounds and scars to uncover, myself. I know it’s awkward…frustrating…extremely bad timing, and trust me when I tell you, Kristina: I want you so much it hurts. And I mean…hurts. But I also know this is right.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ve waited so long…forever…for the two of us to be right here, for you to finally and truly want me.” His eyes misted with tears, and he didn’t try to conceal them. “And now, I’m just…I’m just too damn selfish, too damn greedy, to accept anything less than all of you. Your heart needs healing—I’ve always seen that so clearly. And I want…I need…to be the man who heals you. Not just the man who sleeps with you. Does that make any sense, Red?”

  She cupped his cheeks in her hands. “The male who heals me,” she corrected. “Yes, it makes perfect sense.” She bent down to pick up the bouquet of flowers, and froze as she studied them more closely, tracing the bow with a tentative finger. “Braden,” she breathed, her voice softly breaking. “You brought me lilies…lilies.” She bit her bottom lip. “Talk about vulnerable. That had to be…so hard.”

  “Not for you. Or maybe…only for you.”

  She shook her head and sniffled. “I don’t know what to say—they’re beautiful, Bray. You’re beautiful. And by the way, in case I didn’t mention it, you smell freakin’ fantastic.” She forced a stilted smile.

  He folded her beneath one arm. “Same.”

  She giggled. “Same? I smell fantastic too?”

  “Well, always,” he teased, “but I meant you’re beautiful. Really, really beautiful.”

  Despite the tender moment—or maybe because of it—she nuzzled her head in the crook of his arm and looked up at him sheepishly. “You want to wait until we’re mated, don’t you?”

  “I don’t,” he said, “but I think we should.” He twirled a finger through a loose, silken coil in her hair. “We might be Vampyr—and the gods know I feel like I’m a hundred years old now—but we were both born human, we both spent our formative years in a…different culture. I know it’s important to you, Kristina, that I’m at least legal age by human standards.”

  She sighed, then cringed, probably thinking of her most recent birthday on June 20th—Kristina had turned thirty years old.

  And Braden didn’t give a shit.

  “So, your birthday, then?” she asked.

  “Yes. May tenth. I already spoke to Napolean.”

  She nodded and tightened her arm around his waist. “Okay, but…” She burrowed her head into his chest, as if hiding, and he could feel the heat rise in her skin as she flushed. “But…just me? The…orgasms? All that time?”

  He chuckled.

  “Braden, that’s gonna be…awkward. And selfish on my part. And possibly a little embarrassing.”

  He laughed more heartily now. “Oh, no, Red. It’s gonna be fun. And interesting. And extremely…creative. Believe me, I’m looking forward to every second. Every time. Besides, we’re gonna do more than just…get to know each other…thoroughly. Believe me, we’re gonna sleep, talk, play…sleep, talk, and try some very…creative alternatives.”

  “Braden!” she scolded. “Stop! You’re slaying me here. I’m gonna turn into a red tomato and explode.”

  He considered going somewhere indecent with that comment but thought better of it and chose silence instead. He dipped down, brushed her hair away from her eyes, caught her blushing gaze, and smiled. “Can we go to your bedroom, Kristina?” His voice was deep and throaty.

  She shivered.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  She nodded, seemingly unable to speak.

  “Just one thing,” he said, stiffening his spine. “And damn, I might just become the king of ruining intimate moments by the time we get to my birthday, but there’s something I have to know. Something I have to ask.”

  She raised her brows and peeked up at him. “What?”

  He sighed. “In the canyon, when I first saw you, before you came home and changed, your clothes were…stained with droplets of blood, and I know the Dark Ones held you in the Colony while I was gone. Kristina, did—”

  “No.” She spoke firmly. “No,” she repeated the word. “I promise you, Braden; the answer is no.”

  He exhaled slowly, then reached for her hand.

  Thank the gods, he said to himself.

  He wanted to know more—he would need to know more—but that could wait until a later date and time. Feeling blessed, grateful…and more than a little eager, he took her hand, tugged it playfully, and led her down the hall to her bedroom.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sunday night

  The air was cool.

  The night was crisp.

  And the sweet smell of pine, sage, and lavender rose like incense from the simple but tasteful organic arrangement placed beside Lily’s sweetly embroidered prayer pillow, the family heirloom that had meant so much to the devout female in life…and even more to Braden in the end.

  Kristina grasped Braden’s hand between both of her palms and squeezed but not too tightly. She was trying to contain her own emotion while simultaneously willing her strength to Bray. After all, it was no longer the Millenia Harvest Moon, the gods were no longer pouring down their power upon the earth, nor were the wizards able to construct an energetic dome of protection over the valley. Such deep, painful emotion could wreak havoc on the humans of Dark Moon Vale if the Vampyr could not control it.

  The ancient burial grounds, denoting the final resting place for the fallen descendants of Jadon, were nestled inside a circular clearing, surrounded by towering pines and fir trees, and dotted with simple granite markers.

  It was a hallowed clearing.

  Sacred earth.

  Sheltered by the thick of the surrounding forest and enormous, jutting rocks.

  The male vampires—mostly warriors—were typically buried in the interior grounds, while the female destinies, the few who had passed, were loosely interred along the outskirts, laid in a sacred circle surrounding their mates, their sons, their beloved defenders, in a crown that symbolized the celestial Blood Moon.

  And this night, Lily Bratianu lay peaceful, still, and…perfect, yet adorned in an elegant ceremonial robe of lavender and ivory, upon an ancient stone slab, awaiting final rites and burial. As was typical of the short, solemn ceremonies, there were very few vampires in attendance, only the immediate family and those expressly requested by Braden, Conrad, and Dario. To that end, Braden and Kristina stood on one side of the ancient stone slab, opposite Conrad and Dario, while Napolean Mondragon stood at the head of the slate, just yards in front of Kiera Olaru, who had been requested to attend in order to play her violin one last time for Lily, and Nachari Silivasi stood silently beside his mate, Deanna, at the foot of Lily’s final, open sarcophagus. A contention any larger would have been considered superf
luous…disrespectful, as the custom was as old as the species itself. The Vampyr were tasked with burying their own, the only exception made for members of the royal family: those who led, protected, and indelibly touched the lives of every member of the community.

  Kristina felt the weight of the moment like a boulder resting on top of her heart.

  She was truly Braden’s family now.

  The two of them were in this—were in everything—together.

  Napolean extended a graceful hand outward, his fingertips pointed toward the ground, and with the exception of Kiera, the funeral party kneeled. As his knees hit the ground, Braden released Kristina’s hand and slipped his arm around her waist, his fingers digging desperately into her side, and she leaned into him. I’m right here, she whispered, telepathically. I’ve got you, Bray.

  A tear escaped the corner of her eyes, and she quickly brushed it away, took a slow, deep, steadying breath, and struggled to bank her emotions. She would’ve said more—perhaps something poignant or comforting—but she knew Braden too well.

  Not now.

  Not right here.

  Not if she wanted him to get through this.

  She rubbed a gentle circle along his lower back instead.

  Dario cleared his throat and began to speak softly in the primordial language of the Vampyr’s ancestors, offering a prayer for peace and a final benediction, and then he requested safe journey to the Valley of Spirit & Light, still vocalizing each word in Romanian.

  At last, he switched to English. “May the spirit of Prince Jadon always guide and protect you. May the celestial gods welcome you with open arms.” His voice cracked, and he looked at Braden. “Son, if you could…” His voice trailed off.

  Braden stared at Lily’s face for what felt like an eternity. He seemed to be memorizing every nuance, every feature—every detail—and his shoulders began to shake. She looks peaceful, doesn’t she? he asked Kristina, still using their private bandwidth.