A Cursed Bloodline
Page 15
Numbly, I did as he asked. I barely flinched when his incisors grew and punctured my vein. Ying-Ying opened Bren’s mouth while Misha squeezed my blood into him.
“Martin is on the phone, Master,” a female vampire told him.
Liz ripped the phone from her grasp and shoved her away. “Fool! Do not interrupt the master during the blood rising.”
Misha’s lick to my wrist sealed the wound and warmed my body enough to soothe my sobs. Ying-Ying tore open Bren’s shirt, exposing his chest, while Misha bit into his own arm with ferocious aggression.
Misha poured his blood over Bren’s torso, dripping it directly in the center. “Let the blood of my body and that of my bride return your soul completely. Corpo. Vivo. Mente. Cuore.” The droplets of blood swirled around and formed what resembled a lowercase “r.”
Misha repeated the process three times more. Each time the symbol he formed grew thicker and darker with his blood. “Uruz,” Agnes whispered. “The rune of strength and healing.”
Nothing happened for a long while. I wasn’t sure how long I lay against the cold asphalt, but an eternity could have passed without my knowledge. No one spoke in the deafening silence until Misha stood and offered me his hand. “My darling, his spirit is beyond my reach.” I didn’t move. “Celia, he has left the earth.”
I clutched Bren’s unmoving form as my tears spilled across my cheeks. “You’re supposed to stay and make me laugh. Who will do that if you’re gone?”
Time marched forward again without my consent. But then the whisper of a soft breeze tickled my skin. Slowly, very slowly, the scent of magic surrounded Bren’s body. I blinked, unable to believe what I saw. Fragments of bone lifted from the ground and realigned into his skull. His scalp knitted itself across the wound, closing it shut. Hair follicles grew in twists and lengthened to match his mop of curls. I jumped when his flaccid limbs abruptly snapped back into place. My hold on him tightened. He’s healing. He’s coming back. His lids flickered shut and his chest expanded with one deep breath after another. Still, his body remained terrifyingly cold.
I glanced up at Misha. The Catholic schoolgirls busied themselves licking the trailing blood from his healing wounds. “Consider this a wedding present,” he said. “Now come to me so I may tend to you.”
There was so much sexual connotation in his voice, it brushed against my face like a lover’s touch. Ying-Ying and Chang urged me toward Misha while they took over Bren’s care and covered him with a blanket.
Misha had saved Bren’s life. I owed him, but I refused to repay him the way he intended.
I stood to face him. The Catholic schoolgirls smiled, pleased that I had seemingly come to my senses. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, but my nervousness at confronting Misha made my motion overly aggressive. I reopened the large gash in my cheek. The cut was deep. Anara had literally punctured a hole in my face.
Misha took my face in his hands in one motion and began to feast. I don’t think his tongue stroked me more than twice before I shoved him away.
Misha’s eyes widened with confusion while his breath released in short bursts. His taste of me had aroused him. Perfect timing, seeing how the Elders had finally arrived, with Aric.
Aric broke away from Martin and rushed to my side. His wild eyes took in my injuries and blood-smeared clothing. There was nothing I needed more than to fall into his arms and cry, but when he touched my arms, I shrugged him off.
Makawee stepped forward, her pure white hair blowing in the breeze. “What’s happened, Celia?” she asked in her calm voice.
I backed away to where Misha waited. “Bren and I were attacked, by the same wolves who caught me at the house.”
They frowned as if they didn’t understand. Martin’s voice boomed above us. “He’s over here.”
It was only when Martin spoke that they noticed Bren. Makawee hurried toward him and touched his face. Aric watched me closely before joining his Elders. “Brendan is injured, but not healing,” Makawee said. “Celia, please explain what transpired.”
Anger slowly dissolved my fear. I lifted my chin. “We were walking to the car when we were attacked. Bren was…was shot in the mouth with gold bullets.”
Aric bent and lifted Bren’s head to examine it. “If he was shot with gold, where’s the exit wound?”
Misha closed the distance between us. “It sealed when I mended his soul.”
The three wolves exchanged glances. Martin removed the blanket covering Bren’s chest, exposing the rune created by Misha’s blood and vampiric magic. “You performed a blood rising…on a wolf,” Martin said slowly. Disbelief shadowed his dark skin. “Why?”
Misha smiled at me. “My love wished it so.”
Although Martin held on to Aric’s shoulder lightly, there was tremendous power behind his gentle grip. “How many wolves were there?” he asked, keeping Aric in place.
I recalled the echo of all those howls. “It’s hard to tell, at least a dozen, maybe more.”
Martin rose, the hint of suspicion deepened his voice. “I scent the wolf pack you claim attacked you, but not their blood—only yours and Brendan’s. Did you fight back?”
“No. Bren and I were helpless. There was nothing we could do.”
Bren and I were tough fighters. The fact that there were no other dead bodies or limbs strewn about riled their doubts. Yet they knew I spoke the truth when I admitted how powerless we were. I began to ask questions before they could catch me in a lie. “Can you tell me why he’s not healing?”
Makawee stroked Bren’s head gently. The deep-set wrinkles in her forehead creased further the longer she stared at him. “Tell me what you see, my Omega,” Martin said.
Makawee shook her head. “He’s not allowing himself to heal. It’s as if his wolf wishes to die.”
Even if I hadn’t been present for the attack I would have known Makawee was wrong. Bren wasn’t suicidal—and neither was his wolf. Anara was restraining his wolf from healing him. Misha’s power had only allowed him to live.
I bit my bottom lip and tasted my blood. “What’s going to happen to him, Makawee?”
“Until he chooses to heal, he’ll remain in this state.”
A coma. That bastard Anara had left my friend in a goddamn coma.
“Martin is on the phone, Master,” a female vampire told him.
Liz ripped the phone from her grasp and shoved her away. “Fool! Do not interrupt the master during the blood rising.”
Misha’s lick to my wrist sealed the wound and warmed my body enough to soothe my sobs. Ying-Ying tore open Bren’s shirt, exposing his chest, while Misha bit into his own arm with ferocious aggression.
Misha poured his blood over Bren’s torso, dripping it directly in the center. “Let the blood of my body and that of my bride return your soul completely. Corpo. Vivo. Mente. Cuore.” The droplets of blood swirled around and formed what resembled a lowercase “r.”
Misha repeated the process three times more. Each time the symbol he formed grew thicker and darker with his blood. “Uruz,” Agnes whispered. “The rune of strength and healing.”
Nothing happened for a long while. I wasn’t sure how long I lay against the cold asphalt, but an eternity could have passed without my knowledge. No one spoke in the deafening silence until Misha stood and offered me his hand. “My darling, his spirit is beyond my reach.” I didn’t move. “Celia, he has left the earth.”
I clutched Bren’s unmoving form as my tears spilled across my cheeks. “You’re supposed to stay and make me laugh. Who will do that if you’re gone?”
Time marched forward again without my consent. But then the whisper of a soft breeze tickled my skin. Slowly, very slowly, the scent of magic surrounded Bren’s body. I blinked, unable to believe what I saw. Fragments of bone lifted from the ground and realigned into his skull. His scalp knitted itself across the wound, closing it shut. Hair follicles grew in twists and lengthened to match his mop of curls. I jumped when his flaccid limbs abruptly snapped back into place. My hold on him tightened. He’s healing. He’s coming back. His lids flickered shut and his chest expanded with one deep breath after another. Still, his body remained terrifyingly cold.
I glanced up at Misha. The Catholic schoolgirls busied themselves licking the trailing blood from his healing wounds. “Consider this a wedding present,” he said. “Now come to me so I may tend to you.”
There was so much sexual connotation in his voice, it brushed against my face like a lover’s touch. Ying-Ying and Chang urged me toward Misha while they took over Bren’s care and covered him with a blanket.
Misha had saved Bren’s life. I owed him, but I refused to repay him the way he intended.
I stood to face him. The Catholic schoolgirls smiled, pleased that I had seemingly come to my senses. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, but my nervousness at confronting Misha made my motion overly aggressive. I reopened the large gash in my cheek. The cut was deep. Anara had literally punctured a hole in my face.
Misha took my face in his hands in one motion and began to feast. I don’t think his tongue stroked me more than twice before I shoved him away.
Misha’s eyes widened with confusion while his breath released in short bursts. His taste of me had aroused him. Perfect timing, seeing how the Elders had finally arrived, with Aric.
Aric broke away from Martin and rushed to my side. His wild eyes took in my injuries and blood-smeared clothing. There was nothing I needed more than to fall into his arms and cry, but when he touched my arms, I shrugged him off.
Makawee stepped forward, her pure white hair blowing in the breeze. “What’s happened, Celia?” she asked in her calm voice.
I backed away to where Misha waited. “Bren and I were attacked, by the same wolves who caught me at the house.”
They frowned as if they didn’t understand. Martin’s voice boomed above us. “He’s over here.”
It was only when Martin spoke that they noticed Bren. Makawee hurried toward him and touched his face. Aric watched me closely before joining his Elders. “Brendan is injured, but not healing,” Makawee said. “Celia, please explain what transpired.”
Anger slowly dissolved my fear. I lifted my chin. “We were walking to the car when we were attacked. Bren was…was shot in the mouth with gold bullets.”
Aric bent and lifted Bren’s head to examine it. “If he was shot with gold, where’s the exit wound?”
Misha closed the distance between us. “It sealed when I mended his soul.”
The three wolves exchanged glances. Martin removed the blanket covering Bren’s chest, exposing the rune created by Misha’s blood and vampiric magic. “You performed a blood rising…on a wolf,” Martin said slowly. Disbelief shadowed his dark skin. “Why?”
Misha smiled at me. “My love wished it so.”
Although Martin held on to Aric’s shoulder lightly, there was tremendous power behind his gentle grip. “How many wolves were there?” he asked, keeping Aric in place.
I recalled the echo of all those howls. “It’s hard to tell, at least a dozen, maybe more.”
Martin rose, the hint of suspicion deepened his voice. “I scent the wolf pack you claim attacked you, but not their blood—only yours and Brendan’s. Did you fight back?”
“No. Bren and I were helpless. There was nothing we could do.”
Bren and I were tough fighters. The fact that there were no other dead bodies or limbs strewn about riled their doubts. Yet they knew I spoke the truth when I admitted how powerless we were. I began to ask questions before they could catch me in a lie. “Can you tell me why he’s not healing?”
Makawee stroked Bren’s head gently. The deep-set wrinkles in her forehead creased further the longer she stared at him. “Tell me what you see, my Omega,” Martin said.
Makawee shook her head. “He’s not allowing himself to heal. It’s as if his wolf wishes to die.”
Even if I hadn’t been present for the attack I would have known Makawee was wrong. Bren wasn’t suicidal—and neither was his wolf. Anara was restraining his wolf from healing him. Misha’s power had only allowed him to live.
I bit my bottom lip and tasted my blood. “What’s going to happen to him, Makawee?”
“Until he chooses to heal, he’ll remain in this state.”
A coma. That bastard Anara had left my friend in a goddamn coma.
