Blood Destiny

by Tessa Dawn

  "Marquis," Nachari whispered, softening his censure this time—as if a gentler approach might have more effect.

  "Braden was successfully converted. There's no question about that. But he was raised as a human, and for them, the first five years are very formative—kind of like our first one-hundred. His body contains all the instincts of our kind, but his brain fights against it, insisting on using old neuro-pathways and other no longer useful...yet still automatic...brain patterns. It's a constant fight for him to do what comes natural for us."

  Nachari gave Braden a comforting smile then. "And like most humans, Braden is impatient. He doesn't understand that these things take a great deal of time and practice...but, he'll get there."

  Braden's face lit up.

  Jocelyn frowned, confused. "I don't understand. How could Braden's mother...transform...without any problem, while Braden has had such difficulty? I mean, they both spent their formative years as a human, right?"

  She obviously wasn't asking about Lily. The bottom line was, she had spent her entire life as a human, too, and needed to hear that a vampire's destiny always transformed successfully. Always.

  Nachari looked at Nathaniel as if to ask permission to speak.

  Marquis didn't bother. "Because Braden's blood was only part Celestial—half Lily's. The other part was human—half his biological father's."

  Jocelyn raised an eyebrow, still not understanding.

  "Lily's blood was never the exact same as other humans' to begin with. She was created for Dario, so she was born...compatible," Marquis explained.

  Jocelyn turned the enormous male's words over in her head. "What are you saying? How could our blood be different? I'm human. My blood is human." For the first time, she forced herself to hold eye-contact with the fierce vampire's intimidating glare.

  "It means that while you might find much to question about our species, you're already closer to it than you think," he said bluntly.

  Jocelyn blanched, appalled at the idea, which obviously irritated Marquis.

  "You are not as fully human as you believe you are, Jocelyn! That is all." Marquis's voice was strong and unwavering.

  "Marquis!" This time, Nachari, Nathaniel, and Kagen all said it in unison.

  Nathaniel brushed his hand softly through Jocelyn's hair, twirling a small handful of tresses in his fingers. "Celestial blood means sacred blood, Jocelyn. Chosen by the Ancient Ones. It means that you were born different...special...destined. That is all."

  Jocelyn sighed and turned her attention back to Marquis, who turned his attention back to Braden. "Well, I still think something went wrong. I've never seen anyone actually want to be a vampire so badly, or be so ghastly awful at it!"

  At that, Braden stood up, his feet shoulder's length apart, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. To everyone's amazement, a small, in-tact vampire bat appeared. Flying over to the corner of the room, he turned upside down and just hung there, his back turned to all of them.

  Marquis looked afraid to ask, but he obviously couldn't help himself. "What the hell is he doing now?"

  Nachari just sighed. "He's pouting."

  I'm in the bat cave! Braden argued, broadcasting the thoughts loudly.

  With Nathaniel's hand resting firmly on her arm, Jocelyn was able to hear the telepathic words as clearly as everyone else in the room. She shook her head, just watching the drama unfold.

  "The bat cave?" Kagen spoke aloud.

  Yes, you know: a bat plus a man equals a bat man! Like Batman and Robin!

  Marquis had clearly had his fill of the strange child. He rose and glided directly over to the hanging bat. "Batman and Robin were not vampires, Braden!"

  With a graceful flow of hand motions, he placed an impenetrable barrier around the little hanging rodent, locking him into his chosen corner like a prisoner in a cell...blocking all transmission of sound or thought along with him. And just to avoid having to see the nuisance for a while, he cloaked him in a shield of invisibility, rendering him completely inconsequential.

  Nachari started to get up—to go to the young boy's aid—when suddenly he stumbled back as if he had been struck in the chest by an invisible hand, his rear-end landing right back in his seat. When he looked up, Marquis was glaring at him with cold, vacant eyes, a fierce, guttural growl of warning emanating deep within his throat.

  "I am through being chastised by a child," he growled.

  "The boy is silly, disrespectful, and horribly undisciplined. And if he wants to hang out with real vampires, he had better learn his place."

  It was abundantly clear that Braden would remain in the corner until Marquis released him.

  Nachari took one good look at Marquis's face and folded his arms, sinking deep into the chair.

  No one else dared to say a word.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was late in the evening when the stranger arrived.

  Although they had moved outside to the upper deck in order to enjoy the crisp night air, the four brothers were still talking, catching up on one another's lives, and reminiscing about old times. Young Braden had fallen asleep in his...bat cave...where they had safely left him, still hanging upside down, while Marquis, Kagen, and Nachari lounged comfortably in lawn chairs, and Jocelyn leaned against the railing. Nathaniel stood slightly to the side of her, his powerful frame locking her in, just in case she got any more wild ideas about trying to leap over the banister.

  "Excuse me, Senor Silivasi?" The hurried voice of Nathaniel's housekeeper drew his attention from Jocelyn.

  "What is it, Alejandra?"

  "The county sheriff and another gentleman are here to see you." Her keen eyes flashed with worry as she gestured toward the two men standing slightly behind her.

  Before Alejandra could move out of the way, both gentlemen strolled onto the deck. They brushed against her as they passed by, stopping a few feet in front of Nathaniel and Jocelyn. The housekeeper huffed, rolled her eyes, and muttered something in Spanish as she turned and went back to her work.

  Marquis, Nachari, and Kagen instantly stood up, but it was Jocelyn who spoke first: "Tristan! What on earth are you doing here?"

  Nathaniel quickly spun around and placed his body squarely between his destiny and the tall, husky man who stood like a tower next to the local sheriff. There was a sinister air of authority swirling around him, a tainted aura of power.

  "You know this man?" Nathaniel asked, his eyes carefully assessing Jocelyn.

  She nodded, her mouth falling open...her face suddenly growing pale.

  "I'm really sorry to bother you at home like this, Nathaniel," Sheriff Thompson said, "but I'm afraid we're going to have to ask your lady friend some questions."

  Nathaniel had known Jack Thompson for many years, and unless it was a matter of great importance, the sheriff always gave him and the rest of the Silivasis free reign over the valley. "What is this about?"

  "Oh, just a question or two about her visit." He glanced at Jocelyn and then nodded at Marquis. "Good to see you, Marquis."

  Marquis inclined his head toward the sheriff but said nothing.

  "And you, Kagen."

  Kagen followed suit.

  The sheriff sighed, obviously aware of the mounting tension between the Silivasi brothers, the startled-looking woman, and the tall blond stranger. "It's good to see you home, Nachari." He averted his eyes. "I was sorry to hear about your loss."

  Nachari nodded, showing no emotion. "Thank you, Jack."

  Nathaniel, he said telepathically, break your connection with Jocelyn.

  Nathaniel immediately shifted his body, breaking contact with his destiny. The situation was about to become explosive, and the brothers needed an open line of communication without having to worry about Jocelyn overhearing their conversation.

  As soon as Nathaniel had shifted, Nachari finished his thought. The golden-hair is a hunter!

  Nathaniel nodded, almost imperceptibly. I am well aware of this fact, Nachari.

 
; A low growl rumbled from the far end of the deck. He's lycan, all right! I can smell him from here. Marquis was already moving into a combat ready position.

  Nathaniel held up his hand, cautioning his brothers to stand down. "You two know each other?" he asked Jocelyn, eyeing the tall blond male with a clear, unmistakable warning in his eyes.

  The hunter smiled, seemingly unconcerned. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans; scuffed, tan cowboy boots; and a plain black button-down shirt. His hair was a wild mane of blond curls hanging halfway down his back, with gold and auburn streaks scattered throughout like the crown of a lion. His eyes were a strange, haunting hazel, and they shifted between piercing yellow and deep amber...even as his gaze swept far too possessively over Jocelyn.

  Jocelyn continued to stare at the large male with stunned recognition as if she were afraid to answer the question.

  "We...we...work together. Tristan is my partner back in San Diego."

  Nathaniel and Marquis exchanged inquisitive glances. Why does this hunter know your woman? Marquis asked telepathically.

  Good question. "Tristan?" Nathaniel repeated the name, waiting for an introduction.

  It was the sheriff who took the liberty: "Nathaniel, this is Tristan Hart. Tristan, Nathaniel Silivasi."

  The hunter smiled a sly, wolfish grin. "Pleasure to meet you...Silivasi." His voice was a low growl, and he folded his arms across his chest as opposed to extending a hand.

  "Likewise, I'm sure," Nathaniel hissed. His back and shoulder muscles rippled in a series of involuntary contractions, his lips twitching in an effort to hold back his fangs.

  The sheriff eyed both men apprehensively, drawing in a deep breath. His short brown hair began to dampen around his forehead just below his brimmed hat as he clearly realized there was going to be trouble. "Tristan here was concerned about—"

  "Jocelyn," Nathaniel supplied. He was well aware that Jack Thompson was no fool; the sheriff had to know he had just walked into a powder keg.

  "Jocelyn..." the sheriff repeated, flashing a tentative smile in her direction. He brushed his chin with the back of his hand and regarded all four brothers with his dull brown eyes, clearly trying to take inventory of each man's level of agitation. Then he cleared his throat and tapped the toe of his standard-issue, hard black boot against the deck, patiently watching to see how Nathaniel was going to react.

  Nathaniel relaxed his body on purpose. "How long have the two of you worked together?" He spoke directly to Jocelyn.

  Jocelyn blinked as if coming out of a trance. "Almost three years now." Her voice was barely audible.

  Once again, Tristan smiled with far too much satisfaction.

  "Long enough to know my partner wouldn't run off to some mountain resort and take up house with a total stranger." His eyes swept to Jocelyn. "Joss, I came with the sheriff to escort you out of here."

  Nathaniel felt his stomach muscles clench. He stilled his mind and regulated his breathing, when what he really wanted to do was rip the arrogant male's larynx from his throat.

  Jocelyn paled, her eyes immediately meeting Nathaniel's.

  Marquis pressed forward then and stood next to his brother. Nachari flanked him on the opposite side, and Kagen glided noiselessly to stand in the door frame, his powerful, muscular body blocking the only exit.

  The sheriff's eyes darted nervously from one male to another as he silently released the leather strap at the top of his gun holster. "All right now, men...let's just...everyone calm down."

  Tristan smiled, threw back his wild mane, and coughed in what could only be described as a cross between a deep, feral growl and a territorial grunt. Immediately, the surrounding forest lit up with an eerie sound: There was a series of long, plaintive howls as an answering chorus of wolves echoed Tristan's call from one end of the canyon to the other.

  He has filled our valley with hunters! Marquis scowled.

  The people are not prepared for an attack like this, Nachari warned.

  Nathaniel glared at Tristan and bared a lightning quick flash of savage fangs. "My lady needs no such escort. So why don't you just turn around and see yourself out." He was offering him an exit...just one exit. He turned to the sheriff.

  "Jack, I would expect you to know better."

  Jack Thompson sighed. "Nathaniel, if a citizen makes a report, I have to follow it up." The uneasiness in his voice was apparent.

  "What kind of report?" Kagen hissed.

  "Uh...missing persons," Jack answered reluctantly, his voice faltering with embarrassment.

  "Well, as you can clearly see, no one is missing." Nachari's tone was low, steady, and dripping with venom.

  Jocelyn pushed her hair behind her ear and looked down at her feet nervously, her shoulders visibly shaking. Nathaniel gently brushed the pads of his fingers over her cheek and frowned when her body stiffened in response to his touch.

  Tristan followed the subtle interaction with his eyes and glowered at Nathaniel. "I think the lady can speak for herself."

  Nathaniel growled a warning.

  Jack looked down at the ground before regarding Nathaniel squarely. "Nathaniel, you won't mind if I speak to...Jocelyn...directly, will you?" His eyes were practically pleading. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can leave you fellas alone."

  Nathaniel slowly tilted his head from side to side, popping his spine as he stretched his neck. He was struggling to calm the rising beast within him, wanting to remain objective. He could not discern the age of the lycan, but a male his size would be a formidable enemy. Depending on how quickly the male could shape-shift, protecting Jocelyn might be impossible...should Tristan choose to strike her first in order to weaken Nathaniel. Even with his brothers so near, the male was far too close to his woman. Partner or not, Tristan was a hunter, and he would do whatever was necessary to take down his prey. On top of that, a dead or injured sheriff was not the kind of thing they needed in the valley, and there would be no time to consider the human if Jocelyn's life was in jeopardy.

  Nathaniel shared his thoughts with his brothers: If this lycan is Jocelyn's partner, then he must have smelled her Celestial blood the moment he met her and attached himself in hopes of being led to one of our kind.

  Nachari made eye contact with Nathaniel. It has been nearly a century since the last pack of lycans made their way into our valley.

  The vampire race was always extremely careful to keep their existence hidden from their natural enemies—human societies and werewolves. And the Silivasi brothers all had terrible, vivid memories of the last time their valley was overcome. Nathaniel forced himself to keep his attention in the present.

  From the sound of the answering call in the forest, Nachari continued, I would estimate at least twenty males. Tristan is obviously their Alpha, and he has placed soldiers strategically throughout the valley in order to insure his safe retreat with Jocelyn. For what reason, I'm not sure: she's done her duty, led the hunter to his prey—why take the woman now?

  Perhaps he has no intention of starting a war, Marquis offered. Perhaps he came only to assassinate Nathaniel. If he can take Jocelyn and...dispose of her...he'll take down Nathaniel with her. Perhaps that is enough for him. The death of one Ancient Master Warrior would be a great feat. And a high honor within the Lycan Society.

  That is my thought as well, Kagen agreed. The lycans do not wish a war with us anymore than our Dark Brothers wish a war with us; the beta males are no match for our warriors.

  In fact, it would take half his soldiers to bring down Nathaniel, alone. No, even a skilled lycan hunter attacks with strategy first. This one seeks to pick off one Ancient Warrior in the easiest way possible...by taking his female.

  The unspoken implication lingered in the air....

  Shelby.

  Nathaniel looked squarely at Jack Thompson. "Ask whatever you like, Sheriff."

  Jack Thompson cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to bother you, Miss...Jocelyn...but your friend here seems to think you're being held without you
r consent."

  Jocelyn swallowed hard, obviously contemplating her options; her worried eyes darted back and forth between Tristan and Nathaniel as if she were trying to calculate potential outcomes. And Nathaniel could smell her fear as she took a step back. "No, Officer...I'm fine." Her voice was shaky and unconvincing.

  "Are you sure?" the sheriff asked, catching her hesitation.

  Jocelyn nodded, her eyes focused downward. "Yes...of course."

  Tristan moved forward then, and all of the brothers almost sprang at him. Sheriff Thompson drew his gun from his holster. "Step back, Tristan: The lady says she's fine."

  Tristan ignored the sheriff's warning, stopping just short of touching Jocelyn on the shoulder as he looked into her eyes.

  His own golden pupils narrowed with intensity. "Jocelyn, listen to me very carefully: You can walk out of here safely. I know exactly what you fear, and I am telling you, on my life, that you will not be stopped. You do not need to fear for my safety." He looked directly at Nathaniel, then over at Marquis, Nachari, and finally Kagen, before turning back to Jocelyn.

  "My blood will not be shed here tonight, and neither will yours. Trust me."

  Nathaniel bared the full length of his fangs and snarled a low, guttural hiss, uncaring of the stunned look on Sheriff Thompson's face: He would wipe the human's memory later.

  The sheriff yelped and jumped back, palming his gun with a sweaty hand. His eyes shot frantically around the deck, eyeing each of the Silivasi brothers in turn. "What the hell!", he shouted.

  Okay...maybe now was in order: Nathaniel waved his hand and erased the sheriff's memory, taking him back to Tristan's question.

  "Come with me, Joss," Tristan repeated.

  Jocelyn hesitated, and for the first time, Nathaniel saw the indecision in her eyes. She was wringing her hands together—clearly trying to weigh the enormity of the past forty-eight hours in a matter of a few seconds—her growing bond with Nathaniel warring with her powerful sense of self-preservation.

  Marquis's eyes flashed red, and he shifted his heavily muscled body. "Don't be so sure of yourself, hunter." He was wound as tight as a coiled snake and just as likely to strike.