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

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Emmanuel coughed and Cynthia ignored him. “Where is your wife?”

  “She is not his mate, Singer,” Tony said.

  “The name's Cynthia Adams you... goddamned butt munch!” Cynthia said and got a stab of satisfaction when his gaze darkened on her as Cynthia heard a snort come from Adi's direction. “Stop calling me, Singer... or whatever.” She looked at Jason. Stared at him.

  “The attack turned me,” Jason said.

  Cynthia nodded. “No shit, Sherlock.”

  Jason scowled at her, raking a hand through his longish sandy colored hair. “God, Cyn, do ya have to bust my chops here?”

  She nodded again. “Totally. Now spill it.”

  “This... den,” he gave Manny and Tony hard eyes then shifted his gaze back to Cynthia, “kept me penned up like an animal until they kidnapped Julia...”

  When Jason finished his story Cynthia stood there in shock. The worst news wasn't that he was a bona fide werewolf. It was the attack on Julia. That somehow, in his confusion of the moment, he'd lost who she was and now she was out there thinking he wanted her... dead.

  “Hell, she thinks. She's gotta think...” Cynthia began.

  “Yeah, I know.” Jason met her accusing stare. “Don't you think I'd do anything to take it back? Fuck, it's all I think about!” he yelled, stalking in a loose circle, pacing.

  “Can't take back the deed, man,” Tony said unhelpfully.

  Cynthia looked at Tony. And making the most immediate character assessment of her life replied, “You're ten different kinds of dicks, aren't ya?”

  Adi barked out a laugh in the background with startled awe. She could totally see why Jules had dug Cyn. Adi looked at the flushed red of Tony's face with barely suppressed joy, it was almost painful. Her smile turned into a grin as Tony knotted his hands into fists at the female that dared to call him on his behavior.

  Cynthia Adams dared. And Adi thought there'd be a helluva lot more where that came from.

  Cynthia and Jason stared at each other, Tony stewing in the background with Manny's hand a staying force against that big shoulder, the tension in the meadow outside the house was breathable, it had weight, substance.

  Tony glared at the new Singer. Now he had two bitches to teach a lesson. Fine, he was all about the numbers. His gaze went to Adi and he knew that he'd deal with that nut-cruncher first. She was a female Alpha. But he was male. She needed one supreme lesson. Tony knew just when to give it. Then he looked at Cynthia Adams, checking her out from head to toe. She was fine tail, that one. She'd submit too. He could be very persuasive.

  Finally, he looked at Caldwell. The sentimental prick. Tony would end him. That would effectively end the sap's torture over his faux pas with the Rare One. What Tony had never told him (he never would) was that being Feral, being a turned Singer had crossed his wires so badly it was actually a miracle he hadn't killed Adi when he nearly tore her arm off. That he hadn't killed a human when he first escaped... well, it was a level of finesse that many in his shoes could not have managed and the very reason Julia still lived.

  Just another reason to hate Caldwell's steaming guts. Yeah.

  Cynthia looked at Jason, dismissing that dickhead behind her for the moment. “You make me sick, Jason.”

  Cynthia's lip trembled and she turned away, shooting a withering glance toward the two Were as she passed them. If looks could have killed, they'd be pushing up daisies.

  As Adi followed Cynthia she heard Jason say softly, “I make me sick too.”

  Adi turned around and walked backwards, catching his eye, I'll talk to her, she mouthed and headed off before she could see his expression.

  It was bereft.

  CHAPTER 13

  Truman

  Truman opened his eyes, the bald sky full of fluffy clouds moving swiftly in the wind as they greeted him from his supine position. He sat up with a groan and touched the knot on the back of his noggin.

  He looked around and gauged the time based on the position of the sun. The damn place was so gloomy he had to hunt for the light. There, he saw it and figured around three in the afternoon, the cover of trees from the border of the forest shadowing where he lay. Hell, who wore a watch anymore? Now Karl almost wished he had. Who knew where his cell was? A collection of shit had flown out of his pockets when that werewolf had laid him out.

  Werewolf, Truman said to himself, letting the oddness of the word roll out inside his mind. It was beyond bizarre.

  Karl Truman didn't know what he'd been expecting. He'd envisioned big dogs the size of ponies.

  These guys hadn't been anything like that. In fact, not that he had a Handle on Lycanthropy but he was betting they'd been in some kind of blended form. He couldn't wait to talk to George. Yeah, Alexander would know more. He barked out a laugh that returned to him hollowly from the open meadow and closed his mouth with a snap as he tasted stale blood, his big ass sitting at the edge of a field having been cold-cocked by a myth. He'd have to come up with some defensive strategy. Understatement of the century.

  They seemed unstoppable, plucking Cynthia Adams away from him like a ripe fruit ready to fall. God only knew what they were doing to her. What they'd already done to Julia.

  Could she be? Truman couldn't finish the thought, shoving it away.

  It came back like a boomerang, smacking him upside the head.

  Could Julia Caldwell be a werewolf? Was that small werewolf he'd seen in the meadow where he sat on his keister... could that be her?

  There were more questions than answers. As Truman got unsteadily to his feet he determined to find out what they were. He'd been tasked with the Adams girl's return and he was a dog with a bone. No pun intended. He'd get it if he had to search every back yard to find it.

  Hell, he was great at digging.

  Truman got moving, collecting his cell, keys and coins where they sparkled all around him in the smashed pasture grass like scattered bird seed.

  He collected it all with a handkerchief and there, on the corner of his cell was a nice fat print.

  He wondered if the werewolves had a record?

  He knew it wasn't one of his. Too big. It took up three times the size of a regular print.

  Truman studied the whirls of the fingerprint.

  Patterns were one-of-a-kind. If the one that had pawed through his stuff had a record, he'd find out.

  After all, what was a federal pass for if not to grant him access?

  Truman whistled as he left, stuffing the cell in his pocket as he went.

  You can run, but you can't hide, Karl thought.

  *

  Julia

  Julia had never felt this level of awkwardness in her entire life. Victor, advisor to Scott's natural mother, and Scott of the soul-meld stood staring at each other. The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

  Finally, Marcus broke the fat silence, “Let us go inside with the Combatant.” He looked at Jacqueline significantly and she gave an incline of her head and they walked off together.

  Julia noticed they had a personal bubble that was wider than most.

  Frosty.

  She didn't wait for Scott, she didn't need to, Julia could feel him behind her. She could also sense the Combatant behind her and suddenly wondered when her life got so weird.

  Oh yeah, when Jason died.

  But then, he wasn't really dead, was he? Julia let her mind wonder where he was for a moment, then just as quickly let the thought float away. She had bigger things to think about. Like independence.

  Julia climbed the broad porch steps of the old Victorian and the group made their way into the foyer and ended up in the large, formal parlor. The furniture looked off. It was all comfortable and the colors complemented one another but they were not the age of the house, Julia noticed in her typical, off-handed way but it was Jacqueline who commented, “I see you have not kept the original furniture. I imagine it was...” she waffled her hand as if she couldn't remember a name.

  “Ruth,” S
cott said from behind her and even Julia could her the irritation in his voice. Julia watched Jacqueline as she studied what was clearly a décor blunder. Although there was a parlor in the house too small to use with all these people that did have the old and uncomfortable settees that would have been perfect, a century earlier. She seemed so offended by their absence in this larger and less formal parlor.

  “Yes, Ruth. Of course, silly of me to forget her,” Jacqueline stated in the most false voice imaginable.

  Marcus frowned. “She thought the trappings of that era stiff and formal.”

  “However elegant,” Jacqueline finished.

  “This is so relevant. This yakking about furniture, but let's talk about Julia and the Combatant and the Closing of the Circle,” Michael said and hearing no dissent from Marcus he looked at his other sibling and Jen added, “By blood.”

  The murmurings began and Julia didn't know where one person's voice began and another ended until Marcus held up a hand and said to the general room, “Julia has been with us a mere week. We have not had proper time to train her, test her progression in her own Awakening...”

  Julia held up her hand like she was back in school. Instead of being bored in class and giving half her attention, they had all of hers.

  The room fell silent and Julia stood firm, even against the unflinching stare that wasn't the least bit friendly by Jacqueline.

  “How long will this 'Awakening' take? I mean, I have telekinesis... but I was supposed to have more...?” Julia hesitated, not sure what the proper term was to insert there.

  “Cool skills?” Brendan supplied and she gave him a wan smile.

  Julia nodded. “Yeah, that's about right.”

  One of the Combatants came forward, jeans and a tee shirt not hiding the ripped physique underneath the casual attire, made that way through combative training.

  He didn't take his eyes off her, Julia found it unnerving but two years with the vampires had hardened a steely core inside of her. She used that now to help her remain unintimidated. Actually, her whole life had been a trial of sorts and she was done being scared.

  “Some of us knew we were Combatant. For you, you have just learned your place amongst the Singers. For us,” he put a fist above his heart, “we have always known what our place was in the order.”

  It left Julia speechless. And more than a little bit ashamed. Here she was, plotting and scheming an escape and all these people wanted was someone to unite the three supernatural groups. But, they could theorize all they wanted. The reality was different. Julia knew the reality, she'd lived it.

  The vampires and werewolves were not really human beings. Humanity had been left behind eons ago. They only knew war, power and control. Those were the very laws they were built on. Their precious books spoke to that, hell, that their ultimate goals were kind of alike underscored that peace wasn't possible.

  Julia looked into the guy's eyes, so earnest, forthright.

  “Listen,” she began, “you're right, I am new here and I've been through a lot.” Survived more, she added internally.

  Images of Jason flashed in her mind, splintered fragments of memories shuffled in a haphazard collision that she pushed away.

  Julia womaned up, going on, “I've been there, lived amongst these groups. They're not like us.”

  “Nonsense, they are supernaturals. That they shift, consume blood? It is of no consequence. They will be brought to heel like the animals they are,” Jacqueline said dismissively.

  Julia didn't roll her eyes. Cyn would have been proud. “I don't think you understand.” Julia said slowly, like she was speaking to a small child, “Their basic nature is animalistic but they intellectualize very well. Never mistake what they can do for who they are.”

  Jacqueline gave a sharp cackle and Julia felt Scott stiffen behind her. “You say you are new, yet you speak as if you hold omniscience in the palm of your hand,” Jacqueline said strolling in a prowl toward Julia.

  The Combatant moved forward and paced her. Jacqueline slowed, finally stopping in front of Julia, then studied the nine men at her back. “Look at how they shadow me as if I hold a threat to our Queen,” she said, making the name queen sound like a loathsome thing.

  “Tell me, Julia Caldwell, do you feel threatened?”

  Julia narrowed her eyes on Jacqueline. “Always.”

  Jacqueline gave a secret smile and turning away said, “Your caution is good, it will make the Combatant's job easier until you Awake.” Jacqueline turned her face so Julia only saw it in profile. “And Awake you will... soon.”

  Julia watched her graceful departure and knew that Jacqueline was toying with her, her cryptic comments adding to the feeling of unease. Julia's eyes swept the siblings, Marcus and finally they fell on the Combatant. They were her Singer contingent. For all intents and purposes, her guard. However, the circle remained open. The uncertain timeline of her Awakening prevented its closure. The blood-bindings with both Jason and William impeded everything. Jacqueline's presence was a thorn in the side of all.

  What was she going to do?

  Julia thought that if she was tired of everyone and everything orchestrating her life she'd have to take charge of it or leave.

  In that moment she had the first true epiphany of her young life. She could choose, she was not a bottle in destiny's ocean, the violent current taking her wherever it wished. She was the master of her own fate. Maybe Julia would end up at the same end, but she could choose how she lived it.

  She met the eyes of the Combatant, Victor's specifically and said, “I don't know what I have to do to be... Queen,” Julia self-consciously rolled her lip, nibbling on it and Jen came to stand beside her, lending her strength, Scott's warm energy that synced with hers so well an abiding comfort behind her. “But I do want to... learn.”

  Marcus smiled and came forward. “I know that it has been quite a bit to take on.”

  Julia almost laughed and he saw her expression and smiled in response, subtly acknowledging the understatement of his words. “However, timing is critical and I have not lived all this time to lose sight of the instincts of our enemy.”

  Julia gave him a sharp look.

  He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair in a nervous gesture. “They will come. Both the vampire and your... husband.”

  “She is wedded?” Victor asked incredulously.

  Oh boy, Julia thought. She so didn't want to explain this whole thing. Again. Or ever.

  Scott came forward and before she could shut that whole conversation down he said, “He was turned into a Were.”

  “He was a Singer....” Marcus began and Victor's gaze fell on Julia with weight. “You married a Singer?”

  “Can't we?” Julia countered and his gaze darkened.

  “I didn't know about any of this,” Julia swung her arm around her, indicating the general compound she found herself in. Region One, they'd told her.

  “I see,” Victor said but clearly acted as if some fault rested with her. Well screw that.

  She walked to where he stood. Just paces away and poked him in the chest.

  He didn't move, he was a literal mountain of muscle.

  Julia didn't care.

  “Don't you dare blame me. I didn't know what I was, I didn't know what he was. We were just a couple of high school sweethearts trying to carve out some existence on this blue marble we call earth. When every stinking weird-ass scenario came into play and bit us in the ass,” Julia said, her body shaking with her anger, her memories, her voice ending on a low note of keening ineffectual rage.

  Victor's expression softened and he grasped the finger she pointed at him and that flame between the two of them flared to life. Before she knew what had happened, his massive hand was pressed against the small of her back and was pulling her near, his face buried in the crown of her head.

  “I have waited an eternity for our true Queen, I would never lay false blame at your feet, Julia.”

  Oh. Dear. Baby Jesus, Julia pra
yed, this could not be happening to her.

  Mayhem broke out and she had Jen pulling at her. A knife flashed in the light and then she heard Victor grunt. Julia cried out, “No!” on a low command, torn from her heart, from her soul.

  If she was a part of more bloodshed, more violence, Julia truly didn't know if she could manage it.

  The tip of Scott's blade lay buried in the underside of Victor's jaw, a stream of blood cascading down.

  Julia got pissed, turning on Scott. “Put that away! He is one of ours, Scott! What is your stupid problem?”

  “His fucking hands on you,” Scott ground out.

  “Scott,” Marcus said in warning.

  Julia didn't think, her anger propelling her ability, she hit the blade in a sharp thwack. Not with her body, with her mind. It spun, embedding behind them inside of the ornate molding that surrounded the doorway, making an unpleasant twang when it landed.

  Scott's eyes widened.

  “That's right bucko!” Julia said, stabbing him with the same finger she'd just nailed the misbehaving Victor with who was currently being restrained by two other Combatants. “Nobody gets to stab each other! Especially over me!” Julia huffed, her chest heaving. “I'm not that important,” Julia began and when four mouths opened to protest she put up a palm to stop their protestation.

  “I get it. I'm the Queen,” Julia dropped her fingers from the airquote at the title that still sounded so awkward it hurt. “But I'm just a woman. I haven't had enough time to become accustomed to the idea and I will certainly not be fought over.”

  “Yeah, I'm on board with that,” Michael said from the corner with a laugh. Julia smiled gratefully at him, his attempt at levity was welcome in the emotionally charged atmosphere.

  Jen rolled her eyes and Scott glared at his younger sibling's attempt at lightening the tense situation.

  “If what you're telling me is true, we have two dangerous groups coming to stake their claim on me,” Julia put her palm on her chest, her eyes steady on those gathered. “If our Combatant is fighting each other then they can't protect me from anything. You guys will be so busy beating the crap out of each other that they will get all stealthy and I will be gone.” She lifted her hand and fluttering her fingers, mimed her spirit floating away in the breeze.