by Cecy Robson
“So?”
A smirk cut through his serious demeanor. “So I think I found the perfect forum for your skills.”
I rolled my eyes. “You want me to teach the little pukes at the Den how to track, don’t you?”
Aric grinned. “Damn, Bren. It’s like you can read my mind—just no sex talk. Stick to the subject and you won’t piss me off.”
“Okay, if I must. But what if one of the little bastards has a question about getting laid?”
“Then you can direct him to me.”
“Shouldn’t I direct him to someone who’s actually getting some?”
Aric pinched the bridge of his nose and growled something about me being a monstrous pain in the ass. He pushed off the door frame to leave, but I stopped him.
“Can I ask you something?”
At first I thought I pissed him off enough to say no. But then he crossed his arms again and gave me a stiff nod. “Go ahead.”
“My dad failed to turn my mother wolf. How the hell did I manage to turn Dan?”
Aric abandoned the doorway and lowered himself into the old beat-up leather chair by my bed. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “Bren, the turning process is complex; it’s not just about piercing another’s heart and transferring your wolf’s essence. If it were, we’d have more weres. The Elders believe the donors and recipients have to be spiritually and physically tough to endure one soul’s invasion of another’s.” He shook his head. “Even then, if their love for each other is weak, they’ll fail.”
I growled defensively. “You sayin’ my parents’ love wasn’t strong? You don’t know shit. They were mates, goddamn you!”
I should have known better than to challenge an Alpha, especially one who’d already whooped my ass. And yet for some reason, Aric didn’t respond with aggression.
His shoulders remained relaxed and he continued, dismissing the growls that continued to burn a hole in my gut. “I told you what the Elders believe. What I didn’t explain was that a lot can go wrong. Your father could have released your mother too soon, or his fangs may not have punctured her heart deep enough. I didn’t know your father. But I know it killed him to cause his mate pain.” He lowered his head and stared at his palms. “If he didn’t commit to the task out of fear of hurting her, he failed her even before he began.”
I took in the sadness creasing the edges of his eyes. “Are we still talking about my folks?” I asked like a dumb-ass.
Aric paused, then slowly leaned back. He ignored my question and glanced between me and Dan. “I think it helped that Dan was dying. Your desperation to save him committed you to turning him. Under other circumstances, I can’t be sure you would’ve survived.”
I paused to think about what Aric said. “I guess that makes sense. Here’s the thing, though, most successful turns occur between mated couples—or those who love each other deeply.”
Aric nodded. “That’s right. Otherwise the human’s soul would reject the were’s.”
“Well, boss, Dan and me aren’t a couple. Does this mean he’s been secretly in love with me this whole time? I mean, I can’t blame him if he is, I’m pretty damn awesome—”
Dan actually growled at me. Aric rolled with laughter and it took him a moment to collect himself. “The turning process is typically done between mated couples because their love is believed strong enough to survive the experience. But you’re forgetting there are other kinds of love—like that between brothers, which you and Dan appear to share.”
Dan wagged his tail when I turned to acknowledge him. I grinned and patted his back. “Okay. Thanks, Aric.”
He stood to leave. “I’ll expect you at the Den tomorrow, on time and ready to work.”
“Yeah, yeah, I read the note, remember?”
Aric huffed. “Yes, and not only did you read it, but you passed it around like a damn hors d’oeuvre.”
I chuckled. “I guess I shouldn’t have shown it to Celia . . . or your fiancée.”
Aric shrugged. “I don’t care who saw it, everything in it is true.”
My spine stiffened. “Even the part about Celia being your mate?”
“Yes, that, and the part where I call you a loser.”
I barked out a laugh. “So you don’t care that what’s-her-face got mad?”
His expression hardened, losing its humor. “No. I only care what Celia thinks.”
“Well, she thought enough to ask to keep it.”
My comment seemed to surprise him. “She did?”
“Yup, she’ll probably sleep with it under her pillow.”
Aric laughed and headed for the door. He stopped before walking out and glanced over his shoulder. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”
I nodded but didn’t respond. Celia was part of my pack—the real one. And packmates would take a cursed gold bullet for one of their own. My stomach growled as Aric disappeared, furious I’d gone so long without feeding it. I slapped Dan’s skinny rump and nudged him out of bed. “Woman, you better put on that French maid outfit and fix me some grub. Daddy’s hungry.”
Read on for a preview to the next installment
in Cecy Robson’s Weird Girls series,
CURSED BY DESTINY
Available from Signet Eclipse in January 2014.
Chapter One
Master Vampire’s Estate
Tahoe City, California
“Are you ready, Celia?”
Misha’s voice was nothing more than a seductive whisper. It made me breathless. “Yes.”
His gray eyes wandered down my body. “Are you sure you can handle it?”
“Yes.”
“All of it?”
I shot him an exasperated look. “We’re no longer talking about the scrimmage, are we?”
He let out a deep sigh. “No, but perhaps we should continue.”
Misha gave the order in the form of a subtle nod. Ten of his vampires attacked me, the thirst of the hunt shadowing their overly eager faces. It was hard not to rely on my claws. The vamps fought dirty, and they didn’t hold back—but hell, neither did I. My body slid lithely across the hardwood floor of the dojang just when two vamps tried to tackle me. They slammed into each other—hard, like two boulders colliding.
The moment I kipped up to my feet, three more advanced. I punched, kicked, and maneuvered my way around them. It was grueling, and my animal instincts propelled me into overdrive. Yet my innate need to survive and the long months of extensive martial arts training paid off. The overly obnoxious and excessively tanned vampires dropped with a skull-pounding crunch against the hard floor while I continued to hold my own against the rest. It wasn’t easy. Liz, Maria, Edith Anne, and Agnes Concepción were especially vicious. For she-vamps who bounced around in Catholic school uniforms all day, they sure were a mean bunch.
Maria threw back her dark hair, her Brazilian accent thick and dripping with spite. “Did you get an invitation to Aric and Barbara’s wedding, little tigress?”
That was low, even for Maria. “That’s none of your business.” She hadn’t even hit me yet, but I knocked her out with an uppercut to the chin just for being a bitch.
Liz jumped over Maria’s body, pouting her perfectly plump bottom lip as she advanced with all the grace of a starving cheetah. “What’s the matter, Celia? Are you mad that you’re not good enough to marry that werewolf?”
My hackles rose. Liz had hit a raw nerve. “Mention Aric one more time and you’ll be gumming your next meal.”
Liz smiled, peering down her nose at me. “Aric. There, now what—”
Liz’s fangs landed somewhere near Misha’s feet. He rolled his eyes. An entranced maid silently appeared and swept the pointy canines into a pan.
Edith Anne crouched into an attack stance. “Damn. You’re an angry little shit.”
I growled at E
dith Anne, blocked her strike, and wrenched her arm behind her back. She hissed and snapped her fangs at me. I silenced her with an elbow to her temple. The sickening snap almost made me feel bad. Almost.
Maria stirred as she regained consciousness. I was still ticked at her for mentioning Aric’s wedding, so I knocked her out again with a kick to her face. My sudden bitterness overwhelmed me and made me lash out at two male vamps who’d struggled to their feet.
My foot nailed the first vamp in the jaw, but his pal struck me across the face before I was able to plant both feet. I whirled in the air three times before crashing on my back. Crap. He leapt into the air with his fist reeled back. I rolled away—fast. He grunted upon impact, lodging his hand through the floor. My heel found the back of his neck before he could jerk his arm free. The pop of his vertebrae and limp form told me he wouldn’t be getting up any time soon.
I panted and spun around, swearing under my breath. The vamp could have easily busted my jaw. I knew it, and so did the next two vamps who rushed me.
I couldn’t heal like weres, but damn it, I was just as strong and just a little faster. And unlike weres, I could shift underground and come up completely unscathed. I spat out some blood and used my resentment against the remaining opponents.
I held Agnes and Edith Anne with my feet pressed against their throats, taking care not to protrude my back claws when they grabbed my ankles and tossed me. I flipped back and landed in a crouch. Maria regained consciousness, again, and tackled me from behind. I yelped when fangs dug into my skin, piercing my flesh like sets of scorching needles. The scrimmage ended and the pain receded before I could tear the Prada-worshipping leeches off.
Edith Anne and Agnes visibly shook as Misha laid into them. “Celia belongs to me,” he hissed. “You are never to taste her.”
I frowned. “I’m not yours.”
The vamps ignored me. “I didn’t drink her blood, Master. I swear it,” Edith Anne whimpered.
Agnes cowered at his feet. “Neither did I, Master. Not even a lick.”
I rubbed my face. The Catholic schoolgirls and I weren’t exactly buddies. In fact, we barely tolerated one another. That didn’t mean, though that I wanted them turned into clumps of dust. I strode to Misha’s side and grasped his elbow, halting his tirade. “Misha, it’s fine. They only bit me. On the shoulder and . . .” I turned to look at my backside. “Damn it, Edith, you bit my ass?”
Edith shuffled back and forth, looking at her feet. “Sorry, Celia. It was an accident.”
Her wicked smile and flirty wink told me otherwise. Misha glared with the might of his master badass-ness. “Leave now.”
The so-called Prince of Darkness knew how to clear a room. There was a slight breeze and the whole lot of them vanished—as in hauled serious supernatural tail. I tried to leave too, but Misha grabbed my hand. “Wait, I must heal you.”
The smoldering look Misha gave me told me exactly what he meant. “That’s okay, they’re only puncture wounds. I’ll see Emme tomorrow. She’ll fix me right up.”
Misha closed the distance between us. “They left deep marks. You should not wait to tend to them.”
“Misha . . .”
Chills spread through my body as Misha licked my shoulder to seal the wound. His tongue and breath warmed my skin. Misha had been around for over a hundred and forty years; he’d had plenty of time to learn how to touch a woman. He continued on, even though the bites had closed after the first flick of his taste buds.
I broke his hold and backed away. “Misha, don’t.” Misha was a thrill ride I didn’t want to straddle. My loneliness had become unbearable; every part of me longed to be touched. But it wasn’t his hands my body craved.
Misha’s heated gaze promised me hours of pleasure. “I’m not done yet, kitten.”
My mouth went dry. This was a problem; when it came to fighting, I’d take on anyone, anytime, anywhere. When it came to males, I changed into the super hero of dorks—a big ol’ “D” blazed across my chest and an army of pocket-protector worshipping fiends bowed at my feet. Any able-bodied female in my situation would have taken control and made Misha beg for pleasure. Where were these able-bodied females when I needed one?
I inched my way back, laughing a little too hysterically for my tastes. “You don’t really want to kiss my butt do you? What will people think?”
A wicked smile spread slowly across his strong masculine face. As if on cue, a gust appeared despite the closed windows and fanned Misha’s long blond mane in perfect super model fashion. “Do I strike you as someone who cares what others think?”
My eyes darted around, searching for the source of the breeze. My brows knitted tight. “Did you just do that on purpose?” The gleam in his “come hither and do naughty things to me” expression affirmed my suspicions. My gulp dissolved my frown. I’d already backed into the bamboo walls. Misha continued to stalk toward me. His smoldering gray eyes accelerated my pulse, my forlorn female parts screamed to give in, and my hands itched to take my clothes off. Thank God my mind still functioned reasonably. “Misha, under no circumstances will your tongue or lips touch my backside.”
He placed his palms on either side of my head and regarded me with growing desire. “As you wish.”
My shoulders slumped with relief . . . until I realized I hadn’t been specific enough. Misha grabbed two fingers of my right hand and placed them in his hot mouth, instantly spiking my body temperature ten degrees. I was so distracted that I didn’t notice him yank my yoga pants down to my ankles. By some lingerie miracle, my thong remained in place. He pulled my delighted fingers out of his mouth and smoothed them over my remaining marks. I swallowed hard while he held my gaze. My body was literally shaking with need. No man had touched me like that since Aric. . . .
Aric.
I jumped out of Misha’s grasp, only to land on my face and scramble away like a damn epileptic inchworm.
Misha sighed when I managed to stand and yank up my pants. “Kitten, why must you make things so difficult?”
“Misha, I don’t want this. I told you that before I moved in.”
Misha leaned against the wall and quirked an eyebrow. “It didn’t appear that way a moment ago.”
My hands dropped to my sides in frustration. “I know, and I’m sorry. But I can’t stay here if this is what you’ll expect of me. You promised you’d keep your hands to yourself.”
Misha pushed himself off the wall and, in a blink, faced me. “I promised to make you the perfect weapon, one that could help us defeat the Tribe.” He licked his lips and focused on mine. “I also promised not to do more than you would allow between us.”
“There is no us, Misha. I can’t allow our relationship to go further.”
Misha flashed me another wicked grin before he gave me his usual line. “We’ll see.”
He offered me his arm. I knew then he was backing off, so I let him lead me out of the dojang. “Come. Our reservations are for seven.”
Snow crunched beneath my sneakers. Normally the slate walkway to the main house was kept meticulously clean, but a light dusting of snow had blanketed the stone during our time in the scrimmage. The clouds cleared and the trees parted, revealing the sparkle of a thousand stars in the beautiful Tahoe sky.
We moved quickly, passing through the main garden. Come late spring, Misha’s caretaker would painstakingly tend to the flowers and the stone waterfalls that emptied into a beautiful carp-filled lagoon. For now, the garden was mostly quiet, only the faint trickle of running water whispered from the melting ice.
The night was lovely, but carried a “your boobies are going to snap off” kind of cold. My inner golden tigress usually kept me warm yet even she couldn’t compete with the chill in the air, especially in my skimpy workout clothes.
Misha slipped an arm around my shoulders when I shuddered. Whoever said vampires were ice cold had it all wrong. Mi
sha was the supernatural equivalent of a Snuggie. “I better snag my coat from the guest house.”
Misha tightened his hold, preventing me from veering toward my quarters. “Your coat awaits you in my limo.” His hands rubbed against my toned arms. “It would please me if you ate more than your fill this evening. You have grown too thin.”
Which is the reason he’d consented to taking me to the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet in South Tahoe. “My weight remains the same, Misha. It’s just shifted a little.”
“Your tone is too defined. You’ve lost too much body fat and your breasts are considerably smaller.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What the hell are you doing looking at my breasts?” I grimaced when Misha chuckled. “Never mind.”
Misha was right. My muscles were more pronounced than when I’d merely exercised for fun. But then sculpting my body to fight for the newly formed Alliance was now my career. I shuddered again, this time not from the cold. I’d never relished destroying anything or anyone . . . until I discovered the monsters that feasted on innocents and basked in cruelty.
The Tribe had emerged without warning, pimp-slapping the supernatural world and demanding we fall at its proverbial and claw-hoofed feet. Led by demon lords, they recruited ostracized weres, witches, and vampires—freaks like me, who never quite belonged anywhere.
I could have called the Tribe a group of crazies, and not have been completely off the mark. The problem was, they were an effective group of whack-jobs, seeking to give the demons a new world to overtake and loads of unsuspecting females to impregnate.
“What is it?” Misha asked.
My hatred for the Tribe had momentarily distracted me. I pushed away my anger and refocused on my favorite vampire. “Misha, I don’t want you to punish Edith and Agnes for biting me.”
The corners of Misha’s lips curved, he knew very well my thoughts hadn’t revolved around the good Catholics. Still, he didn’t push me. “Celia, they bit you after I specifically forbade it. I do not tolerate disobedience.”
