The Blood Bundle, Books 1-2: Blood Singers and Blood Song (New Adult Paranormal Vampire/Shifter Romance)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Manny stepped slightly in front of Adi and Tony's eyes tracked the subtle gesture. Tony smiled, looking at the second.

  Tony thought Manny was a sucker for the old ways. Treasure the female wolf, guide her, protect her.

  Blah fucking blah.

  How about a good domination and plundering? Tony thought. Now that was what he was talking about.

  His eyes narrowed in consideration of the Packmaster's second.

  Maybe it'd be a twofer? Possibly he'd get rid of two pesky rivals in one fell swoop.

  Tony wasted a moment self-congratulating. He always came up with the best ideas.

  “What do you have?” Tony asked in a brusque tone, giving Adi a once over that made her blush.

  Not with embarrassment over his brazen lust, but with anger.

  She'd love to give him a go. It just rankled her ass he could kick hers. Adrianna wished she had a defender. Adi gave an internal shrug; that'd take all the fun out of it. She was just bloodthristy enough to want to feel his bones crunch under her fists, his skin shift and split by her own assault. Wipe that stupid grin off his face.

  Along with a couple of teeth.

  Some of what Adi felt must have shown on her face because he stepped nearer to her.

  Manny didn't even try for subtlety. “Tony,” he said in a low voice that was full of command, fueled by integrity.

  Tony flicked his eyes to Emmanuel's, then Adi's. He'd felt that bitch's battle lust like an invitation.

  Tony made a promise to himself then and there. When Adrianna had no one around to defend her, he would take his chance with her.

  He would take her.

  Tony wouldn't stop with her either, his mind touching on the Rare One.

  Julia Caldwell was the ultimate for him. Nothing would keep him from her, not even that red Feral cocksucker. Once he mated Julia, there would be nothing anyone could do to reverse the process once begun.

  Her willingness was not a prerequisite, Tony thought.

  The Packmaster could delude himself into an early grave if he thought that Tony would allow that Feral to get his red paws on the Rare One. It was a joke. Tony knew that Manny would uphold whatever stupid one thousand year old law the Were possessed. He was such a fucking choir boy.

  Tony would be careful, he stepped down with an effort. Emmanuel's posture relaxed when he saw Tony back down.

  Emmanuel glossed over his odd behavior toward Adi but noted it for future reflection. “We train one week for the mission, traveling the week after for the strike.”

  Tony gave a curt nod, then turned to Adi. “Will you train, little wolf?” he goaded her with a gleam in his eye.

  She used werewolf speed, latching onto his nutsack, exerting just enough pressure to let him know she was serious, but not enough to maim.

  The restraint Adrianna used was not pretty.

  Tony grunted, his eyes widening in surprise and Emmanuel looked down and away, trying to contain his laughter with an almost painful effort.

  “You bet your hairy ass,” she said, leveling unhealthy dominant eye contact, and gave a subtle squeeze that made his eyes tear up.

  He met her stare, his most tender area held in her small hands.

  Tony's anger became rage, his earlier promise to himself becoming a vow.

  Soon, he seethed, the ember of the eternal flame of his ferocity permanently stoked.

  CHAPTER 6

  the blood

  Region One

  Marcus watched the two come and although they would not see it or consider it, just their mere physical presence was a study in contrast. He gazed through the old glass window pane, their images wavering as they drew nearer, Julia all golden light and fragility, his son all dark towering menace. Marcus sighed. He knew that the aborted conversation from a few days past would need to be finished.

  How did he reveal the secret he'd hidden from his own children? It had been a necessary falsehood but as he watched his son draw closer, a Singer warrior, he knew the truth would not be well-received. It didn't matter. Scott needed to understand what was behind the soul-meld. It wasn't just chance.

  It was providence.

  Marcus noticed that Scott had worn his gloves. Good.

  They walked inside and it was with a lightness that Marcus had not noticed from his eldest in some time. He realized it was the benefit of the soul-meld. Even if Scott would not admit that he was more complete with Julia than without, it was so.

  “Father,” Scott began.

  Julia's smile faded and Marcus hated to see it go.

  “We need to finish our talk,” Scott said simply and briefly squeezed Julia's shoulder, stripping off his gloves afterward. Scott sat on the overstuffed parlor furniture that went with the age of the house but hurt his ass. Julia sat in the loveseat opposite him, hesitated, then moved somewhat closer to his position in an adjacent chair. The cabbage roses of the material were a true burnt tangerine, the color exactly matched the deepest tone of her hair.

  “Scott?” Marcus raised a brow, watching his focused eldest become distracted with just her presence. He was slightly relieved that he was free of soulmate status. It would be quite something to combat.

  Or just give into.

  Marcus felt the latter would be the better of the two.

  He paced, folding his hands behind his back carefully, while their eyes followed him.

  Finally, he turned to face them. “Scott, you are a Singer from a special bloodline.”

  Julia almost groaned out loud. If she heard “blood” one more time, she was going to slit her own wrists. It seemed that it was the only thing that mattered to anyone. Couldn't they just... she didn't know, talk about anything else?

  Apparently not, she thought, watching Marcus' grim face.

  “I know what blood line I'm descended from,” Scott said in a flat voice, nonplussed.

  Marcus shook his head. “No. You know what I've told you. Or in this case, the truth by omission.”

  Julia thought this was sounding bad.

  Marcus suddenly smiled. “I know that Singer Studies wasn't your strong suit.”

  Scott barked out a laugh, he could have given a shit about school. He was always too active to want to sit and learn. Now fighting skills, combat training? That's what he'd gravitated toward.

  “There's a reason why you're the top Singer defender in our region.” Marcus' eyes met Scott's. “You are a descendent of The Combatant.”

  Scott's mind seized. “Wait a sec, Dad... that can't be...”

  “It is.”

  “They're extinct!” Scott roared in obvious denial.

  “Obviously not,” Marcus gave him a significant look.

  Marcus knew the instant Scott understood what he was. What his purpose was. Before Scott could answer, Marcus quoted scripture out of the Book of Singers:

  The circle of The Combatant will close around the most guarded treasure of Singers, one that holds the sun in her hand, the moon as her guard.

  “I'm a Combatant?” Scott asked incredulously. All the puzzle pieces and differences that had been so stark as he matured came to the surface of his consciousness, at once making sense.

  At last.

  It was troubling. It was a relief. It was all of that.

  Julia jumped in, “Wait a sec, guys,” she began. When she had their attention she continued, “First, what's the Combatant? Second, why do you guys both look like a flock of ghouls have landed in the yard?” She gave that more thought. Maybe she shouldn't say that like it wasn't possible? After all, there were vampires and werewolves... and her. Before she could give it too much introspection, Scott answered her, “It was legend. That there was a special...,” he waved his hand out, still dismissing what he obviously hadn't believed. Like her as Queen, he thought suddenly. Then continued, “group of warriors, The Combatant. They would come from the four corners of the world to protect the prophesied Queen of the Singers. They would all have royal blood,” Scott said, making airquotes.

  Julia
still didn't really see the conflict. “So, they're all Rare Ones?”

  Marcus clarified her speculation with, “They're all of royal descent.”

  “Wait a minute,” Julia began again, crossing her arms, “shouldn't I be a Combatant? I've got the same lineage that Scott has...?”

  “No,” Scott said in disbelief. “You're female, you need the protection of all male Singers. The Combatant is made to protect you.”

  Julia jabbed him in his ribs with her elbow. Men.

  Scott glared at her, so stubborn, he thought, hiding a smile.

  Marcus said, “No. There is one Queen every few hundred years. It's the way it has always been.”

  Marcus met Scott's eyes. “Your mother was a direct granddaughter of the last Queen.”

  Scott shook his head. “I knew Mom, before she... died.” Julia noticed a deep flutter in his jaw as he mentioned his mother's name.

  “She was not your mother, Scott.”

  The silence had its own tangible weight in the room, Julia's eyes acting like a ping pong ball between father and son. Scott's darkened from rage. “Why was I not told the truth?”

  Marcus spread his arms away from his body. “There was no point in telling you of your true biology unless the need arose.”

  “So,” Scott stood, jamming his huge hands on his hips, “you were going to just let me go on in ignorance if the whole Queen thing hadn't happened?”

  Marcus gave a slow nod. “The Combatant is not put into force until a true Queen begins her Awakening. When that occurs, there is no force, except death, that will keep the remainder of The Combatant from coming to close the circle.” Marcus made a perfect circle with his two hands together.

  A vein in Scott's temple pulsed in time to the beat of his heart. He was connecting every dot that his father put forward.

  And ones he hadn't.

  “What about me?” Julia asked, her look going between the two men. “What are they protecting me from? What does this 'circle' mean?”

  “It is a circle of blood protection. A blood rite.”

  Julia gasped, standing. “Like that thing the Were was going to do? A mating thing?”

  “Not exactly,” Jen said from the door.

  “Nice way to bring it, Dad,” Michael said from behind her.

  Julia met Jen's eyes. “What does 'not exactly' mean?”

  Brendan walked in. “It means that once the Guard of the Queen, their circle of protection is in place, no....”

  “Force,” Marcus interrupted.

  “Great or small,” Jen added.

  “Shall harm the treasure of the Singers,” Brendan finished.

  Julia felt a little light-headed and sat down with a light plop in the stiff loveseat, her hands gripping the ornately carved sides. She was some kind of weird Singer Messiah. But she couldn't be! She was just her. Julia looked at Scott and he gazed back at her, his eyes steady.

  He wasn't denying it.

  Shit, she was in trouble here. It felt like the four corners of the house were closing in around her.

  “I always knew you were weird, Scott,” Michael said, licking his fingers after his foray into the chip bag. Scott scowled.

  Marcus said to his other children, “He is still your brother.”

  They looked at Scott. The boys especially. Brendan and Michael had the classic Singer complexion whereas Scott was dark.

  “Who was my mother?”Scott asked.

  “It was an arranged... pairing,” Marcus said carefully.

  “Who was she?” Scott asked in a low voice.

  “Jacqueline,” he answered in a tight voice.

  “What?” Jen nearly shrieked. “The Jacqueline?”

  Marcus nodded and Scott blanched. “That bitch-on-wheels is Dear Old Mom?”

  “Careful, Scott. Much of what you are is predicated by your blood.”

  “You mean her blood,” Brendan said.

  Marcus inclined his head. “I do.”

  “So, this mystery bio-mom is like, what? A Rare One too?”

  Marcus nodded at Julia. “But... she's not like 'a Queen',” Julia asked with an airquote.

  “No. She is not a pureblood. We were chosen to pair because it was thought that the mix of our genetics would have a high probability to produce a Combatant.”

  “What? Like a stud horse?” Jen asked and Julia thought she had it about right.

  “All Singers of Rare blood are required to produce one offspring with a male of Rare lineage,” he shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world.

  “So what about Ruth?” Scott asked, crossing his muscular arms across his broad chest, the workout gear he wore showing every muscle in stark relief.

  “Ah, the woman you knew as mother was one I took for love. When you were born, she accepted you as her own. She was raised in the old ways and understood the Law.”

  Julia began pacing where Marcus had been just minutes before. The siblings and Scott watched her like a group of hawks.

  “Scott's not special. He's one of a bunch of other what, warriors? Who will come here at some future point, to protect me and do some elaborate blood ritual?” Julia directed her question at Marcus. “And I'll ask again: what are they protecting me from?”

  “Once the circle is complete, there is no... supernatural group that can hurt you. They can hunt, try, search....”

  “Flail about,” Michael added with a well-timed smirk.

  Brendan nodded. “It is the most invincible protection the Singers have at their disposal.”

  Julia was confused. “I thought there was the big soul-meld thing?” Julia said and Scott's face got that soft flush of red again.

  “Come on guys, spit it out. Why do you all look like someone died or something?” Julia asked, getting tired of the slow answers.

  Scott's hands became fists of frustration at his side. “Because when the remainder come, your blood will choose.”

  “What? Choose what?” Julia asked, that feeling of acute suffocation deepening.

  “Your one true mate, the King to your Queen,” Jen said emphatically.

  Julia thought of Jason and how he'd been her husband. The memory of the attack caused a fresh wound on her heart that was slowly bleeding out.

  She thought of William, and the growing feelings she'd had for him. Even though much of his motivation to be with her did nothing for Julia, gained nothing for anyone but his coven.

  Julia looked at Scott, her supposed soulmate and realized that he was but one contender amongst other Combatants that may vie for position.

  Marcus shattered her thoughts with his statement, “Blood chosen, Julia.”

  Julia looked at him uncomprehendingly.

  “It is what it means to be Singer. The blood knows all. Your specialness will allow the one Combatant that is meant to rule stand out from them all.”

  “I thought I was meant to be with...” Julia couldn't say it, she gave a small gesture toward Scott. It was all too new to articulate, too powerful to dwell on.

  “You will have a measure of blood-recognition with any Combatant, but it is the one that manifests a special trait that will conclusively tell everyone who witnesses that he will be a King, not just a foot soldier. Although,” he cautioned with a raised finger, “there is no shame in being in the circle and not sharing the treasure, but guarding it.”

  Julia's mind whirled with all the information. She was like... gold bullion or something lame like that.

  “What trait?” Scott asked, the tension on a tight wire. His body a hard line of stress, pulled taut to breaking.

  Julia had put stuff together. “How old are you, Marcus?” There was something so off about him, especially the way he spoke.

  Two full minutes passed before he would answer, finally he said, “Three hundred six.”

  Julia gaped at him. “How... how it that possible?” she whispered, stunned.

  “Singers do not age as humans do.” His eyes fairly sparkled with intensity. “Rare Ones, slower still. What g
ave me away?”

  “The way you talk,” Julia answered then looked at the others. “Are you guys old too?”

  Michael raised a hand, some chip dust on the ends. “Guilty.”

  Jen looked embarrassed. “Yeah.”

  “Uh-huh,” Brendan said.

  Scott elaborated, “We're taught modern vernacular.”

  “So you guys can speak like him and speak like me?”

  “None so well as Michael. He is flawless in his speech,” Marcus gave the compliment without emotion but Michael swelled up like a peacock at the praise.

  “Don't get excited, putz,” Brendan snorted, “Dad's giving you a compliment on that because we can all kick your ass.”

  “Guys!” Jen yelled. “Notch the testosterone down a peg, K?”

  They looked at Julia and she stared back.

  “I don't want to know,” she said in a slow voice. She asked the other question that needed a response, “Who's this Jacqueline?”

  “She is my counterpart. She resides in a different region,” Marcus responded. “She is not well.”

  “Yeah, she's freakin' mental,” Michael said.

  “Deranged,” Brendan agreed.

  “Why did you...” Julia asked.

  Marcus gave a small shrug, his eyes meeting hers. “These things are arranged since our infancy. It is a pairing based on potential, not love. She was not well then. She should not govern anything. The Singers are generally matriarchal.”

  Ruled by women, Julia thought.

  “But that's one chick who shouldn't lead,” Jen said with a shudder.

  “Why? Why is she so bad?” Julia asked giving a hasty look at Scott. She had not forgotten this was his actual mom. It didn't matter to her that he had never known who she was. She was apparently a person of ill repute. Yet, she had this role in Scott's life he was helpless to change. Julia walked to him and laid her hand on the middle of his broad back and over his tight tee. He exhaled a breath, relaxing under her comforting touch. Then she looked at the rest of the siblings, her eyes landing last on Marcus.

  “This is Scott's mother,” she began, nailing each one of them with angry eyes. “You're discussing it in front of him like he doesn't matter! You're discussing him like he's just a switch flicked, put into play. His feelings don't matter. That this insane leader, wherever she is, was just an egg donor!” Her eyes narrowed on all of them. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. He's your flesh and blood. He's one of you.”