Alpha Blood

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

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  Warning - Spoilers!

  Character Index:

  Blood Singers/talent:

  Julia - Queen of the Singers; Telekinetic/Telepath

  *Jason - Singer/”Feral”/Red Were

  Scott - Royal Singer Blood; Deflector/Combatant

  *Brendan - Tracker/Pyro

  Michael - Illusionist

  Jen - Telekinetic

  Cyrus - Healer

  Paul - Negator/Amplifier

  Angela - Feeler

  Marcus - Region One

  Jacqueline - Royal Singer Blood; Region Two Leader

  *Victor - Region Two/Combatant; Boiler/Flame of Blood

  Lucius - Combatant

  Cynthia “Cyn” Adams - Rogue/Healer

  Heidi - Reader

  Trevor - Deflector

  Northwestern Were Pack:

  *Lawrence- Packmaster

  *Emmanuel “Manny” - Beta to Lawrence

  *Anthony “Tony” Daniel Laurent - Second to Lawrence

  Adrianna “Adi” - Alpha female

  Stewart

  Hob

  Darian “Dare”

  Sebastian

  Quillon “Quill”

  Nova

  Jenni

  Southeastern Were Pack:

  David - Packmaster

  Alan Greene - Alpha male

  Lacey Greene - female Were, Alan’s sister

  Buck “Slash” - Alpha male

  Karl Truman - former Homer detective

  Ford - Alpha male/ FBI agent

  Reagan - Moon Warrior, Lacey’s daughter

  Southeastern Vampire Kiss:

  *Merlin - Coven leader

  *William - New coven leader

  Brynn - New leader of the Southeastern

  Northwestern Vampire Kiss:

  Gabriel - Coven leader

  Claire - William’s cousin

  *William - Runner/Shifter/Singer blood

  New Vamp Scout

  Unseelie Sidhe Fey:

  *Queen Darcel - Sidhe

  Tharell - mixed Sidhe warrior

  Cormack - Sidhe warrior

  Domiatri “Domi” - Sidhe warrior

  Rex - Sidhe

  Kiel (key-ale) - dragon shifting Sidhe

  Celesta - Sidhe warrior

  Lachlan - Sidhe warrior

  Nirvana - Sidhe

  Starr - Sidhe

  Delilah - Vampire, third to Julia, Scott’s half-sister

  Rogue Reds:

  Ezekiel “Zeke”

  Rogue Alpha female Were:

  Tessa

  FEDS:

  Tom Harriet

  Tai (tie) Simon

  Western Were Pack:

  *Tramack

  [the] Lanarre:

  Drek

  Bowen

  Tahlia

  Neil

  New Characters:

  Devin

  Bray

  Ella

  Marley

  Jake

  Howard “Howie”

  Tom

  Earl

  Billy

  *Deceased

  Music that Inspired Me During the Writing of ALPHA BLOOD:

  Interstellar by Hans Zimmer

  CHAPTER ONE

  Julia

  A t first, there’s nothing but molten agony. Julia feels nothing, scents nothing, and sees nothing. Yet, the sensation of the flesh of her body peeling from her bones in great slices of scalding meat is as real as anything she’s ever known.

  Opening her mouth to scream, she gags. Liquid heat flows inside, drowning her and encapsulating her in wet fire.

  The spore that’s inhabited the center of Julia’s body for over a year begins to expand until her body is no longer able to hold the seed of evil. It explodes from Julia’s body like the ticking time bomb it was.

  The pieces of her human form fly, splattering the tomb-like catacombs of hell in gory chunks. They slide down the glistening black walls. And the evil that was the spore forms a dark bubble around her.

  The pain dims her mind, allowing Julia to ignore the raging fire, and for a brutal moment, she’s only an atom in the universe. No longer alive. No longer a person. Not anything.

  Frozen nothingness halts her spirit and mind as Julia floats suspended in the spore’s bubble, torn apart in the fires of hell.

  When the miracle happens, Julia’s consciousness slams back inside the vessel of her body.

  The spore that tore Julia apart bursts around her like a frozen, paper-thin capsule. Translucent and undulating around her body, the once-evil seed of hell forms perfectly around every bit of Julia, sealing her from the pool of hell she’s leaped into.

  Scott. She tosses out the mental call before rough hands grip her.

  However, they can’t gain purchase on Julia’s corporeal form—the spore that was her nemesis has now secured her body in a shield.

  The place where the spore blew out of holds the sensation of icy heat.

  Am I dying?

  Victor, or the person she thought was Victor, rounds the jagged confines of the molten quicksand, seething. “I said”—he enunciates exaggeratedly, speaking to the crimson creatures trying to hold her—“seize her, fools.”

  But Julia slips out of their deft grips.

  Their scarlet tails whip in agitation. “Dark Master,” says the one at her elbow, “we cannot seize what is cold.”

  Julia resists the urge to touch where the spore tore out of her body. She’s not dead yet, so something beyond her understanding just happened, especially since she’s treading molten lava and not burning in it.

  Steam escapes Victor’s mouth as his hate-filled gaze locks onto her.

  But Julia sees the thing that’s actually stuffed inside Victor’s body. Dark Master, as the demon referred to him, now appears to be wearing Victor like an ill-fitting suit. A Victor suit.

  The demons continue to grab at her frantically, their fingernails etching her protective shroud like fine knives on glass.

  Eventually, if enough of them touch her, they’ll break through.

  Julia yelps, diving away from the mess of seeking fingers, moving to the opposite side of the pool of fire and slapping her palms against the rough wall. Hoisting herself out, she lands in a graceless heap on the hot stone floor. Steam rises at the contact.

  Ignoring Dark Master and his entourage, Julia crawls away toward Scott, who lays unmoving on the ground a few yards from her.

  She mentally reaches out, using the tether that holds their soul-meld together.

  Nothing.

  Stealthy footsteps, the whistle of tails, and hot vapor escaping evil mouths is a symphony of desolation that follows her.

  Julia blinks, her eyes sweeping the area and coming to rest on Lachlan, his body sawed in half.

  Her gorge rises, but she beats the sensation down. No matter how much she wants to freak out, she doesn’t have the luxury of being sick because of the sights and the void of her soul-meld.

  Lachlan is fey. He will heal, she tells herself.

  “I must always do everything myself. Damage her, idiots.”

  His voice is so close.

  Rolling onto her back, Julia concentrates on the approaching demonics. Sucking in a breath, she tries to ignore her immediate future.

  To disown her fear.

  They walked four hours into the depths of hell to
get rid of a spore, which has now become a strange shroud that covered and healed her body in one fell swoop. That knowledge is too much to take in—to believe.

  But Julia’s alive, so no matter how surreal everything is, it’s the new reality.

  The demon warriors who approach are built like the male combatants of her people, and their intent to rip her limb from limb is obvious. The creatures would have been beautiful in their own way if they weren’t trying to kill her.

  Throwing out her palms, Julia shoots her telekinetic talent at the warriors.

  The warmth of her power begins to melt the protective coating of what was the evil spore.

  Using my power compromises the shield, Julia realizes.

  Doesn’t matter. She’s got to clobber the creeps or risk something worse happening. She holds the hope that if she can get out of this mess, she can save Scott.

  If he can be saved.

  Her talent puts the first wave of the warriors against the wall stained by her blood and flesh. The deep scarlet of their bodies explodes against the unforgiving stone.

  She dispatches the second group, and their corpses join the others.

  The coating begins to slip away from Julia’s fingers, and they redden instantly from the nearby pool of churning, fiery soup.

  Dark Master strides toward her, wearing his Victor suit, though the eyes are not the fine light steel of the Victor she knew, but the blood red of the sulfurous stones surrounding her.

  They drill her with their dark purpose.

  Julia prays for time, strength—and salvation.

  A whisper-thin thread of power feathers softly through her, starting at where the spore had resided. Its tendrils extend to all areas of her body, including the exposed fingers of her left hand, where Julia felt the power leave her body when she attacked the demons.

  Dark Master kicks the chunks of his guard aside as he makes his way to her. His ragged breaths blast steam from a mouth, blackened and deadly.

  Julia gasps, jerking to a stand. She turns to run and trips, slapping her palms on the burning floor to arrest her fall. Flipping onto her back, she crab-walks backward, screaming as her palm sinks into warm gore.

  She’d placed her hand in the middle of Lachlan’s torso, where only gristle secures the top and bottom of his body together.

  Her hand is in the middle of him. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  Julia hiccups back barf, but just as Dark Master reaches for her, the spore shield spreads to Lachlan. His silver eyes flick open, and Dark Master hesitates.

  The shroud of the spore runs over Julia’s exposed fingertips like icy water, encapsulating both her and Lachlan.

  Julia and Dark Master stare at each other for a frozen moment. Steam escapes from his nose, ears, and—though Julia doesn’t want to notice—his ass.

  Then they become aware of the same thing, leaping for Scott simultaneously.

  Julia reaches him first, gripping his short hair.

  Scott groans at the harsh and awkward hold. The soul-meld kicks back online, and sudden feeling like fingers and toes waking up after falling asleep thrills through Julia.

  Julia’s grip on Scott tightens. Her other hand is in the middle of a gored Sidhe warrior.

  I will not think about where my hand is right now.

  As a tail rises behind Victor, Julia lifts her gaze, eyes widening as a tip forms at the tail’s end.

  A tip like a dagger. The base of the tail is a fat stub at his lower back, but the tail tapers to a slim point with a foot-long serrated spear at the end.

  Dark Master wears an awkward smile on Victor’s face, an expression she never saw Victor make.

  “You can protect your companions, but not without cost, Rare One. Heal this.”

  Faster than Julia can track, Dark Master brings the tail’s end down in a decisive strike, slashing through her shins.

  Julia screams as bone and tendon separate.

  Dark Master amputates her feet, his low chuckle underscoring her screaming.

  Scott’s bellow echoes hers, as the event is happening for them both.

  The demonic swarm, eating the noise of Julia’s distress like food.

  Dark Master

  Walk out of Below with no feet, Rare One, Dark Master muses with an internal glee he’s not managed for some time. If he needs to take pieces of the queen angelic for her to remain in the care of his tender mercies, so be it.

  He does not let his disquiet take hold, though the apparent metamorphosis of the spore of Hades now clearly offers her protection.

  Hands fisting, he has but one thought: Hades is mine. This is the realm of the demonic, not the angelic. His will would prevail.

  The Rare One should have burned ceaselessly until meeting her unnatural end.

  His predecessor had not conveyed there was any being from any realm, except He Who Shall Not Be Named, who was capable of withstanding the Pit of Fire.

  Apparently, though the Rare One, Queen of the Blood Singers could do so. That did not mean she could withstand the type of harm Dark Master intended to mete out.

  He would rob Julia of everything. Freedom. Life. Contentment. And lastly, her ability to rule Between. The only one who should rule Between is the demonic, of course.

  He grins, and steam momentarily obscures the wonderful vision of blood pouring from the stumps of her legs. His happy expression becomes a frown, though, as her grip does not disengage from her angelic mate or the ancient Fey.

  She holds on more tightly, appearing to draw a type of sustenance through the physical tether.

  Julia takes a deep, shuddering breath, and with eyes that blaze like golden fire, she abruptly lets go of the two males. Rising from her prone position, she latches onto Dark Master’s ankles.

  And what does she hope to accomplish? he has time to wonder before her icy grip burns through the thin clothing his host body wears. Then her touch becomes acid on his skin, with lacy whips of cold the likes of which he has never known, driving as an escaped bullet straight to his nuts.

  Dark Master bellows his rage and fright, dropping to his knees, boiling vapor pouring from his body.

  Their eyes lock for a terrible moment of equality. Her expression is feral and fierce.

  Dark Master attempts to strike the Rare One where she holds him, but her touch sweeps over him, sucking his strength. Dark Master feels true terror for the first time in his existence.

  “I will walk out of here,” the Rare One states, her fingers sliding upward, dangerously close to where his balls pulse their grief at being frozen off his body.

  “Watch me,” Julia whispers, clamping onto his cock, which has unfortunately hardened from sheer proximity to the Rare One.

  Like dancing sugar plums, exquisite thoughts of raping and torturing her swirl through Dark Master’s head. He has a fantasy of low demons torturing her king while keeping him revived enough to watch the show of his perfect mate being debased before him.

  Those thoughts are driven from his consciousness in a nanosecond, though. His prick becomes hard—not from the deviant arousal he had anticipated—but from the subzero temperature of her touch.

  The spore has turned against him. That piece of Hades he rendered unto her body has now become a protector instead of the Trojan horse he had assumed it would be.

  And rather than succumbing to her injuries, the Rare One is claiming him piece by piece.

  Dark Master would not go down without a fight.

  Whipping his tail around, he winds it around Julia’s slender neck.

  Giving a fierce smile at her bulging eyes, Dark Master exerts more pressure.

  Die.

  His cock breaks off from his body, shattering as the tube of his flesh falls between them.

  Gritting his teeth, Dark Master cinches the noose of his tail, mentally compelling the demonic fleet who remain near to offer blind assistance.

  They do not respond soon enough, for when the Sidhe’s magic steel bites into the side of his neck, sweeping his head from
his shoulders, Dark Master’s last cognitive thought is: Who will succeed me?

  Then the final vapor he would ever witness descends like a red veil of mist, and Dark Master is no more.

  Julia

  My feet!

  The pain is even worse than the lava pit. Clenching her jaw, Julia comes to a numb realization. What she does next is sick, but she has to do it. Her touch is ice against his flesh.

  Their eyes lock and Julia falters, what she must do warring with her very nature.

  Julia needs to kill. The impulse to finish Dark Master is impossible to deny. Through sheer instinct, Julia walks her hands up his legs, pushing aside the agony of her amputation.

  Grimacing, she clutches his testicles. Clearly, this will hit him hardest.

  Bellowing, Julia listens to the echo of his mental summons to the rest of the demonic.

  She doesn’t have much time. Her fingers go higher, circling his penis, and with a vicious twist, she yanks the cold shaft from his body like slamming a gearshift into fifth.

  The appendage drops between them, shattering like fragile glass.

  Julia falls back, panting, and tips her face up to look at him at the same moment Dark Master’s tail winds around her throat, ceasing oxygen flow.

  Julia can’t hang on. Her feet still feel like stubborn ghost appendages, and he’s strangling her with a tail still dripping with her own blood.

  Suddenly, Lachlan is standing behind Dark Master, his ancient sword held high, a healing scar bisecting his torso.

  Her eyes burn with tears. Lachlan’s blazing white eyes are determined.

  For the first time since Julia entered Hades, she has a vague sense of hope.

  The sword whistles the music of its descent. A blur of mercury in the dim light, it crashes into Dark Master’s neck, relieving him of his head.