A Cursed Bloodline
Page 10

In his first message, I could detect his fear for my well-being, yet I also caught an underlying note of rage. “Celia, call me. I need to know you’re safe.”
The next demonstrated escalating worry. “Look, I don’t care what happened between you and the vamp in his room.” There was some fumbling and swearing, before he continued. “That’s a lie—I do care, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you. Call me, love.”
Aric’s third message broke my heart. “Sweetness…I haven’t heard from you. I know a lot has changed. But I still love you. Please know that I love you.”
There were a few more threatening to disembowel Misha if he was keeping me from him, but those weren’t the ones that triggered my tears. I caressed my stomach softly, feeling so alone—and knowing there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. My hatred for Anara grew, burning deep within me until it pained me physically.
I dropped my head and tried to slow my breathing. No. There wasn’t anything I could do. For now…
Someone knocked on the door. I wiped my eyes as Emme spoke. “Celia? Misha is here with Ying-Ying and Chang.”
I groaned, in no mood for company. But when it came down to it, everyone meant well. So I stood and marched toward the door. Besides, how bad could mystical Asian treatments be?
I froze when I saw what awaited me. Apparently they could be pretty bad. And sticky.
“Misha, is this really necessary?”
I lay in my bathtub covered in a paste made from hundred-year-old dry herbs while Ying-Ying floated in lotus pose above my body. Chang sang in Korean, an offbeat ballad I was convinced he made up as he went along.
“My darling, do try to relax so the remedies will help you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How can I relax? I’m covered in glop and it feels like something is crawling on me.”
“I think it’s just Ying-Ying,” Emme offered.
“Chang, I believe Celia is having difficulty calming her spirit. Perhaps she would benefit from some He Huan Hua.”
Chang stopped singing and regarded Misha like it was the greatest idea ever. While he mashed up more goo, Ying-Ying assumed entertainment duties. Chang’s baritone was as low as a deep bass drum. Ying-Ying’s voice was as high as the strike of a triangle. In key, yet sharp enough to cut designs into glass.
Misha and Emme fled in an obvious attempt to save their hearing. I tried to cover my ears, but I inadvertently shoved the Shu Di Huang slime into the canals. It was surprisingly soothing and helped block Ying-Ying’s high soprano yodeling. It was not, however, enough to prevent me from hearing what Emme rushed back to tell me.
“Celia, Aric is here to see you.”
Chapter Five
In my haste to jump out of the bathtub, I completely forgot about poor Ying-Ying hovering above me. I slammed into her and sent her flying into the tiled wall. The impact broke her concentration and she crash-landed on the floor. Anyone else would be swearing and cursing me, and maybe she did. But after a couple of short phrases in Mandarin, her maniacal laugh bounced off the walls with an echo. Chang pumped his fist triumphantly and said something to her in Korean. Apparently both believed they had “cured” me.
I hauled her off the floor. “Sorry, Ying-Ying.” She resumed her lotus pose and floated out the door after Chang. My head jerked back and forth from the door to Emme as I completely panicked.
Emme pointed to the door. “Should I have Aric wait in the living room?”
“No. I don’t want to see him.”
Emme crinkled her freckled nose. “It shouldn’t take you long to clean up.”
My eyes trailed down my slop-dripping form. Was she kidding? I resembled something that had just emerged from the trenches of a Staten Island landfill. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me. “I told you, I don’t want to see him.”
Emme played with her hands nervously. “Celia, Aric is hurting. He needs you.”
“Don’t you think I know that!”
I didn’t mean to snap at her. And I didn’t mean to cause the tears that welled in her soft green eyes. I should have apologized then, except Aric’s deep growls had me darting into my room. I grabbed my cellphone off my dresser and hid in my supersized closet. I skimmed through my contacts until I found the Alpha I needed.
Aric’s Alpha.
I hated calling Martin, except there was no other choice. Out of the two remaining Elders, Aric was closest to him. He’d been one of his father’s Warriors and had helped raise Aric following his father’s death. Aric would probably still be reprimanded, but it would spare him from Anara’s wrath.
“Hello?” answered a deep baritone voice.
“Martin, it’s Celia Wird. Um, you probably heard I was attacked a few days ago.”
“Yes. We are looking into the matter. You have my word the wolves responsible will be taken care of—”
“That’s not why I’m calling.” I took a deep breath, still unsure whether my actions were the right ones. I banged my fist against the door. “Aric’s here…at Misha’s house.”
He paused, probably either furious at Aric for disobeying him or questioning why I’d ratted him out. “I see,” he finally said.
“He probably only wants to make sure I’m safe,” I added quickly. “But since he doesn’t get along with Misha he might need help leaving.”
“Indeed he might,” he said quietly. “I’m in the area. I’ll be there shortly.”
The closet door swung open as Martin disconnected. I jumped. There stood my love, in all his battered glory. He’d shaved what had remained of his hair. His face was unreadable, frozen from the deep scars that crisscrossed his face like reptilian scales. The slit that had allowed his left eye to see through the battered flesh was larger. His right, completely sealed just days before, was now visible. I couldn’t see his baby browns well. But I saw they remained intense, healthy, and beautiful.
He inhaled deeply, taking in my scent as he often did when we’d been apart. His nostrils were incapable of flaring, from the severity of the tissue damage, but it didn’t matter. It was his subtle way of demonstrating he’d missed me. Aric didn’t seem to care that my aroma was masked by an array of Asian herbs; he just wanted to feel close to me.
I reached out and touched his hard, jagged face without thinking. He leaned into my hands and rubbed against them. The show of affection was so strong in such a small gesture, I lost my breath.