by Lolita Lopez
Struggling to fill her lungs, Celia clutched the edge of the chaise and tried to stand, but her attacker gave her no such chance. His arms clenched her waist, squeezing her bruised ribs until she felt a terrible snap on her right side. Realizing that he meant to kill her, she clawed at the brawny hands locked above her navel, drawing blood as she ripped into him.
Yelping, her attacker let go and she scrambled free. Although his pulpy face oozed crimson, Celia recognized him as Gerard. He was too big to fight in a standing position. She would have to bring him down.
When he charged her, she quickly sidestepped to the right and brought the full force of her left elbow up into his jaw. He wobbled backward. With a hand pressed to her aching right side, Celia capitalized on the short distance between them and smashed her left shin into his ribs. She hooked his knee with the same foot and yanked forward, dropping him to the ground. Not wasting a second, she hopped on top of him, her knees on his stomach, and proceeded to pummel him. His attempts to fight back were futile and Celia finished him with a knuckle-busting punch to the mouth.
Exhausted, Celia fell off Gerard and onto the floor, rolling onto her left side. Eyes closed, she ran her hands down her right side and felt the uneven ridges of broken ribs. Each breath was absolute agony.
Lying there in misery, Celia suddenly realized that it had gone eerily quiet. She peered around the room and saw it littered with unconscious and maimed bodies.
Struggling to her knees, she glanced toward Bianca. Evi, naked and dripping sweat and blood, knelt beside her sister. Eyes widening in terror, Celia watched as Evi lifted Bianca’s bile-stained camisole just high enough to bare her upper stomach and placed his left hand over the area of her liver.
In his right hand, he clenched the unsheathed Blade of Amrita. His mouth moved as whispers of an incantation drifted from his lips.
The topaz blade glinted menacingly in the firelight, and before Celia could scream, Evi plunged the blade into Bianca’s liver.
Bianca bolted upright, her eyelids flung wide as she shrieked like a banshee. Torrents of blistering topaz-colored energy blasted from Bianca’s body, and Evi, still keeping the blade buried in her liver, shielded his eyes with his forearm.
Awestruck, Celia barely noticed Didier stumbling back into the room, one hand clamped to his hemorrhaging side—the other shakily holding her gun. The seeping catheter that had once been attached to the infusion pump now dangled impotently from its implantation sight along his right hip bone.
How his gaunt, nearly bloodless body was able to walk confounded her.
He raised the gun, aiming at Evi, but his wildly trembling hand could have easily sent the bullet into Bianca.
Gathering every last ounce of energy left in her body, Celia concentrated it into the palm of her left hand, forming a potent energy ball the likes of which she had never made. Red with fury, it swirled and cracked in her palm, burning the skin, but she held onto it as long as she could.
Launching herself sideways and blocking his shot, Celia hurled the energy ball at Didier. His finger tensed in an automatic response to being hit and he fired a wild shot that penetrated Celia’s right shoulder—before the energy ball struck with such force that Didier’s body blasted through the wall and into the hallway.
As Bianca screamed and Evi yelled, Celia’s temple smashed into the edge of the desk. By the time she clattered to the floor, she was unconscious.
Chapter Eleven
Eyelids fluttering, Celia reluctantly dragged her mind from the chasm of sleep and into the present. Her battered body pulsed with a dull ache and she vaguely recalled the events that led her to this groggy state.
Squinting and moaning, she rubbed her face and tried to figure out where the hell she was. That chair by the bed, the rug, the fireplace, the drapes and this bed—it didn’t take her long to realize she was propped up in Evi’s bed, the duvet tightly tucked beneath her arms. Glancing down, she saw her favorite pair of pajamas—a white cotton camisole and pink cotton capris.
“Hello?” Celia croaked, her scratchy voice barely registering. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Hello? Bianca? Evi? Somebody?”
When there was no response, Celia threw off the duvet and scooted unsteadily from the middle of the bed to the edge. Standing was a tad difficult as the room tipped first left then right before completely sliding off kilter. She grasped a bedpost for support but immediately regretted the action. Fiery bursts of pain in her right shoulder made her stomach roll, and she quickly sat down on the edge of the bed, praying the pain and nausea would subside.
Without warning, the door exploded inward and Bianca bounded into the room and tackled her back onto the bed. “You’re awake!”
Clamped tightly in Bianca’s hug, Celia became aware of yet another forgotten injury, her broken ribs—except they didn’t feel broken, just incredibly bruised. Had she been treated by a healer?
“Oops! Sorry,” Bianca apologized upon hearing her sister’s smothered groan. She pulled Celia into a sitting position before stepping back.
Shocked by the sudden change in her sister, she gave Bianca the once-over. Bright blue eyes, pink lips, a healthy flush to her usually sallow skin and her once emaciated frame looked plumper, fuller. “Jesus, Bianca! You look…amazing! Spunky. Energetic.”
“Aw, thanks,” Bianca nonchalantly replied before twirling in her best impersonation of a runway model. “I feel fantastic!” Stopping, she settled her gaze on Celia and scrunched up her face. “You, however, look like shit, sis.”
“Gee, thanks, Bianca,” Celia grumbled, self-consciously touching her face. She could only imagine the number of bruises and scrapes that must mar her skin. “How long have I been out?”
“Six days.”
“Six days!”
Bianca nodded. “That healer guy warned us it could take a few days for you to wake up.”
“Healer?” Celia repeated uncertainly.
“His name is Alexei. He’s apparently one of the Leshnikov cousins.” Eyes wide, she lowered her voice and explained, “There are, like, half a dozen tiger shifters prowling this place now. They came roaring in here like an invading horde the same day Evi brought us to his house. Something about Evi finding you and him using the Blade to stab me alerted them, I guess.” She waved her hand as if the reasons didn’t matter. “Some of them are nice. Some of them are jerks.” She scowled. “Roman is, like, the enforcer of the family and he’s so mean. He took away my iPhone and my iPad and my laptop. He won’t let me use my Instagram or my Snapchat or—”
“Bianca,” Celia interrupted gently. “Could we maybe save the rundown of Evi’s family tree for tomorrow?”
“Oh. Sorry.” Bianca winced apologetically. “It’s just that I’ve been cooped up in the house and I haven’t had anybody to talk to around here. They’re all talking in Russian. It’s really kind of rude, actually. I mean, if you think about it…” Her voice trailed off as she seemed to realize she was doing it again. Clearing her throat, she said, “So the healer, Alexei, took care of you. The bullet wound was a through and through, but man did it bleed!”
Curious, Celia glanced at her right shoulder and took a better look at her wound. “I see that Evi’s healer doesn’t believe in stitches,” she said, noticing the smooth bump of raw skin coated in an oily salve.
“Alexei was one of those laying-of-the-hands types,” Bianca confirmed. “He said that your aura was all kinds of messed up and that it looked as if you’d been running on fumes for years. Oh, and of course, two head injuries in twelve hours was a bad deal. He gave you some kind of draught to sedate you, something about the body healing better in a sleep state.” Bianca shrugged and made a face. “I wasn’t really paying attention to all his healer mumbo-jumbo.”
“Imagine that,” Celia dryly replied. “Did he look at you?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“He said I’m fine.”
“That’s all?”
“Something about my aura
being the brightest and healthiest he’d ever examined,” she said. “I was kind of bummed when I found out that I’m not really immortal though.”
“You’re not?” Celia asked, surprised.
“Not according to Alexei. He didn’t see the signs.”
“So you’re not sure?”
“I’m not exactly keen on the idea of finding out, Celia. I can’t imagine that it’d be particularly comfortable or safe.”
“True,” she conceded. “Well, other than being bummed about not being immortal, how do you feel?”
“A little weird,” Bianca admitted. “I can’t remember what it feels like to not be sick, you know? I keep waiting for the pain and the nausea and the wooziness to come back. My head was cloudy that first day, but it’s clearer now. I just think it’s going to take me a few days to adjust to not feeling like crap 24/7.”
The mattress dipped as Bianca sat next to Celia and wrapped an arm around her waist. She rested her head on Celia’s shoulder and whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?” Celia laughed acerbically. “Allowing you to be kidnapped and then taking so long to rescue you that you almost died? Yeah, definitely not my best work,” she murmured in displeasure.
“Dude, whatever,” Bianca replied. “Okay, so maybe you did take a little longer than I expected, and maybe I was literally seeing the White Light, but still, you came through for me. You always do.”
Celia pressed a light kiss to Bianca’s forehead. “It’s what a big sister does.”
“I love you, Celia.”
“I love you too, Bianca.”
Even before the bedroom door opened, Celia felt the strangest vibration in her core. She knew that it was Evgeni coming to check on her. The sensation of security and comfort that accompanied that vibration made her eyes sting. For so long, she had been alone and fighting to survive and care for her sister. She had resisted instantly the idea of Evi taking her as a mate. With their complicated history and her responsibilities toward Bianca, it seemed an impossible thing to join her life with his.
And yet…
And yet it also seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
What they had shared the other night had awakened a hunger inside her. Beyond that sexual hunger there was something else awake within her. A yearning for affection and love and friendship. The need for a partner in life to help her and love her and support her.
“Isn’t this touching,” Evi lightheartedly teased as he entered the room. Bearing a silver tray supporting an exquisite bone china tea set, he carefully crossed the floor and placed the tray on the bedside table. She didn’t miss the way he breathed in deeply as he poured a cup of the steaming tea. He was trying to scent her, testing to see if she was all right and if she returned his affection and need.
Their fingers touched when he handed Celia the cobalt blue and gold saucer with matching teacup. “Alexei left this restorative tea for you. You’re to drink two cups twice a day for two weeks, no exceptions.”
“What’s in it?” Celia wondered, nervously eyeing the tawny liquid as she blew ripples across its surface.
“Mullein, red clover, chamomile, cowslip, jasmine, ginger, peppermint and about twenty other ingredients that I can’t even begin to remember,” Evi said, sinking into his favorite chair. “I’m not going to pretend that it’s delicious. Those herbal remedies rarely are.”
Celia hesitantly sipped the tea. It was exactly as horrible as she imagined it would be, but she managed to muscle it down. Realizing the second cup would be even more difficult to drink, she quickly motioned for Bianca to pour another dose. As soon as Bianca returned the cup, Celia gulped it down and sputtered at the bitter aftertaste.
“If it’s any consolation, that tea he left me isn’t so hot either,” Bianca assured her.
“I think you’re looking much better already,” Evi chimed in, his stare intensive.
Sensing that some alone time was warranted, Bianca rose and excused herself. “I’m going to go finish unpacking and setting up my room.”
“Her room?” Celia questioned, her eyebrows arched as she watched Bianca skip into the hall and shut the door.
“I had your things moved here,” Evi explained. “There’s no need for you to live in that dingy apartment. I don’t know how you could stand living there.”
Ignoring Evi’s subtle cohabitation request, she answered the latter. “We lived there because it was close to Texas Children’s Hospital and Bianca’s transplant team and— Oh god!” Celia groaned into her hands. “How am I supposed to explain Bianca’s miraculous recovery to her doctors?”
“There are ways to avoid that,” Evi matter-of-factly replied. “Destroying medical records, altering a few memories and the like.”
“Call me crazy, Evi, but I think messing with a doctor’s memory isn’t such a great idea.”
“I know someone who’s very good at that sort of thing.”
“I’ll bet you do,” she dryly muttered.
“Ilya is our family’s…fixer.” He seemed to have chosen that word carefully. “When we need a problem fixed, he cleans it up for us. He won’t break a sweat doing this for Bianca now that she’s part of the family.”
Celia swallowed nervously. She didn’t want to talk about that but it had to be done. “Is that what we are now? Your family?”
He must have sensed her fear and hesitation. “We don’t have to make it official tomorrow or next week or next month or even next year. I know that you’re mine. You know that I’m yours. That’s enough for me.”
She smiled shyly at him. He was so certain, so sure. It wasn’t arrogance though. It was confidence. In me. In us.
“We’ll take it slow,” he continued. “We sort of crashed into this the other night. It might be good to start at the beginning and try this relationship thing in the proper way. Dates, dinners, the ballet…” As if sensing her disappointment that lovemaking wasn’t mentioned, he added, “Ropes and straps and paddles and canes…”
She tried not to smile too much at the teasing in his voice. She wanted to explore all of that with him. She wanted the wooing and the seduction and the exciting bedroom games he wanted to teach her.
But first, needing closure, she asked, “What happened to Didier?”
Evi didn’t answer immediately. “What was left of him burned in the house fire that Ilya started to destroy all of the evidence.”
“What was left of him?” she asked in a quiet voice.
“He nearly killed my mate. It was my natural reaction.”
She didn’t want to think about the massive Siberian tiger shredding Didier to bits and pieces. Instead, she asked, “And his henchmen?”
“A few of them made it. That big one that you pounded survived.”
“What about the police? I’m sure that the gunshots and explosions raised a few eyebrows.”
“Don’t worry about it, Celia. Ilya took care of it.”
She decided to leave it at that. “And Bianca? How did you know that the blade would save her?”
“I didn’t,” he admitted honestly.
“That’s comforting,” she mumbled unhappily.
“Look, Celia, she was going to die. I decided to take the risk.”
“What I don’t understand, Evi, is why no one in your family has ever used the blade.”
“Probably because immortality isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be,” he replied. “What’s the motivation for living if there’s no threat of an end?” He paused before continuing. “My ancestors pledged to protect the Blade of Amrita from people like Didier, and that’s what we’ve done.”
“So why isn’t Bianca immortal?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Evi confessed. “Alexei thinks that perhaps because she was practically dead or possibly even clinically dead for a few moments before I stabbed her that it only healed her body. It’s also possible the dagger never really conferred immortality. It might have just been a myth or a misunderstanding or a bad translat
ion.” He shrugged. “Who knows?”
“I want to know.”
“Then I suppose you have your next project.” Fixing her in place with a look, he said, “Right after you catalog and sell all those other objects you’ve stolen over the last few years. I won’t have any of those things in my home. You’ll return them or sell them on the black market.” He slashed a hand through the air. “You’re done with stealing and thieving, Celia.”
“Yes, sir.”
He gave her a dark look when she replied so submissively. “Don’t try to entice me and change the subject.”
She exhaled roughly. “But what am I going to do with myself if I can’t take jobs anymore? It’s what my family does. It’s what made us infamous.”
“It’s what your family did,” he corrected. “You’re part of this family now. We’ll find you a new occupation if you must have one.”
“I must.”
“Well, you’re rather good at finding things, aren’t you? Perhaps you could find things—artifacts and the like—for people.”
“Maybe,” she said, her mind already running full speed ahead with that thought.
“Celia?”
“Yes?”
“We should talk about the other night.”
She blanched. “I’m really sorry about dosing you with the sleeping potion. I didn’t know how else to get out of the house. I didn’t want to provoke you into shifting. Putting you down for a cat nap seemed like the best option.”
He frowned at the cat nap remark. “I understand why you did it. Just be thankful that I have a very high metabolism and my great-great-grandmother’s teleportation amulet.”
“I am, and thank you. I really misjudged the situation.” Her face flamed with embarrassment as she remembered how close they had all come to dying.
“We all make mistakes, Celia.”
In a conciliatory and flirtatious gesture, he patted his lap, inviting her to sit. Without hesitation, she rose slowly and walked over, lowering herself onto his lap, dangling her legs over the arm of the chair and resting her forehead against his cheek.
