A Cursed Bloodline
Page 3

“…anyway, I’m taking her to Emme. She’s at the master asshole’s house.”
“Let me talk to her.”
I shook my head frantically and grabbed my throat when he tried to pass me the phone. Liam nodded his head in supposed understanding. “She can’t talk right now, Aric. I think her larynx is partially crushed….” My jaw dropped and I clutched my heart in shock. For once in his life, I wished Liam would shut his trap. Instead he smiled. “Aw, Celia, that’s so sweet—I’ll tell him. Aric, Celia sends her love.”
If my head wasn’t already pounding, I would have banged it against the window.
“Tell her I love her, too. I’ll meet you at the leech’s house.”
No!
Liam disconnected before I could protest. The rest of the way to Misha’s my mind raced with what to say. Vampires were just as good at sniffing lies as wolves, but even if they weren’t, Misha knew me well enough to tell the difference.
Liam turned onto the mile-long path that led to Misha’s estate at warp speed, stopping only to slam on the brakes in front of the colossal wrought-iron gates. A vampire immediately abandoned his post and sneered at Liam through the window. “What do you want, mutt?”
“To smash your damn fangs in, asshole. Let me in. Celia’s hurt and needs her sister.”
The vamp did a double take when he saw me. “Oh, shit.” He yelled to the group of vampires that had gathered behind the gate. “Let them through—it’s Celia. Tell the master she’s wounded!”
The gates had barely parted when several vampires disappeared toward the immense Mountain Craftsman mansion. Liam powered through the entrance and over the bridge. He swerved onto the circular stone driveway just as Misha sprinted down the stone steps, followed by Agnes, Maria, Liz, and Edith. The she-vamps wore their usual Catholic school uniforms. I always thought they looked creepy, but most males found it hot. Misha wore only black suit pants. I had probably arrived at a bad time.
My seat belt had just slid across my chest when Misha flung open the door and lifted me from the seat. Misha was about one hundred and forty years old. He normally didn’t swear much, but, boy, he did then. His light Russian accent clipped every four-letter word.
Liam leapt out of the car and stormed toward us. “Keep your hands off her! She’s only here for Emme.”
“Shut up, hound. Emme is out, I will tend to her.”
The schoolgirls blocked Liam when he charged, hissing through their elongating fangs. Daylight or dead of night, it didn’t matter, the vamps were always ready to fight—especially weres who threatened their master.
“Don’t hurt him,” I croaked.
Misha responded in an ultra-deep, pissed-off voice. “No harm shall come to him so long as he knows his place.” His eyes softened as they took me in. Without turning from my sight, he motioned to the crowd of vampires. “You three—locate Emme Wird and bring her back, now.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeaked out my words. “Misha, I don’t want anything to happen to Liam.”
Misha caressed my throat. “Rest your voice, my love. All will be well.”
I glanced at Liam one last time before Misha rushed us inside. Liam hated vampires. As a member of the Alliance, he’d fought alongside them and the witch clans to help destroy the Tribe. They’d worked together because they had to—not because they enjoyed it.
We entered Misha’s chambers faster than I could take my next breath. Two sultry and very naked women lounged on his mammoth bed. “Leave us,” he told them.
Misha shouted orders before his dinner and dessert could bolt. Edith removed my boots and socks while Misha carried me into the bathroom, her master’s stress making her anxious. Maria filled the round tub and added salts that sizzled with hints of dry mint and thyme—the aroma of witch medicine.
Liz swept in, her arms packed with the first-aid supplies Misha had requested. As a former nurse, I thought Misha would allow me to dress my wounds. Sometimes I could kick my own ass for being so naïve. Misha tore off my clothes in one hard pull. As I stood there wearing only my tiny panties, I had the feeling he’d done this before.
I tried to cover my breasts with my arms and long hair. “Misha, what are you doing?”
“Get on your knees.”
“Excuse me?”
“Kitten, you must round your back. It’s the only way to remove the glass embedded in your skin. Now do as I ask.”
I sighed and looked to my closest Catholic schoolgirl. “Maria, may I have a towel, please.”
She stopped in the middle of adding more salts and frowned. “For what?” she asked in her thick Brazilian accent.
“To cover myself.”
My request seemed to confuse her. “Why? It’s not like de master hasn’t seen you naked before.”
My face heated. “Just pass me a damn towel!”
Maria rolled her eyes and handed me a large cream bath towel to placate me. Had Misha not been present, she would have thrown it in my face. She might have dressed the part, but she was not a good Catholic.
I covered my chest and rounded my back, jumping when Misha removed the first large shard. Warm fluid spilled down my cold and sensitive skin. At once Misha’s tongue ran over my open wound. He sealed it instantly, but wouldn’t stop. Suddenly, I was no longer in pain—I was in trouble.
When vampires fed, both the sucker and suckee experienced emotional orgasms. As the “suckee,” who’d been body-slammed against a wall and pummeled into hamburger, I couldn’t feel more than unease. Judging by Misha’s deep intakes of breath as he continued to lick my skin, not only was he in the mood, he was full speed ahead.
“Misha, don’t.”
“I must,” he groaned. “You are injured.” Misha extracted another shard of glass near my right shoulder. His arms wrapped around my waist and his tongue moved in slow, seductive circles. My eyes widened, but it was a sound from his bedroom that had me bolting away.
Misha hissed. “What is it, Edith Anne?”
“Forgive me, Master. I was just trying to help.” Edith fled the room as Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” boomed over Misha’s sound system. It appeared Edith’s “help” consisted of “mood” music.
I stood at the opposite end of the bathroom when Misha turned back to me. The ravenous gleam etching its way across his handsome features made it clear I hadn’t run far enough. I held out my hand when he took a step forward. “No more, Misha.”