A Cursed Bloodline
Page 83

“Please, baby, please,” Aric’s voice begged. “Just take the blood.”
I could hear how badly he wanted me to drink, but my pain was finally tolerable. I didn’t want it back. My body refused to return where it wasn’t safe—where it hurt. No. This was better.
Danny yelled. “Aric!”
“Damnit, man—no!” Koda growled. “Come back to us!”
Martin’s weary voice was barely audible. “There’s nothing you can do. He’s gone to join his mate.”
Aric took form across from me, smiling. “There you are.” A thick white sweater draped over his broad chest and tightened around the muscles of his arms. Dark jeans covered his long legs—the same clothes Misha had worn in my vision.
My breath caught. I wanted to smooth my hand over his perfect dark Irish complexion and graze the five o’clock shadow curving along his jaw. The intensity of his eyes brightened when he took me in. I followed his gaze as it traveled down my body, expecting to find our baby nursing from my breast. But my arms were empty.
I rose, searching frantically for our son. Aric stood with me, his voice breaking. “He’s gone, sweetness.”
A brilliant white light formed in the distance. A baby cooed from within. I moved toward the light. “He’s over there, Aric.” Every step I took to where my baby waited erased more of my pain.
Before I completely healed, Aric took my hand. “We can’t, Celia. There’s still much to do.”
I tried to pull him forward. “Aric, our baby needs us.”
Tears streamed down his face and fell against his sweater in thick drops. With his other hand he passed me a goblet filled with Misha’s diamond hearts and tears. “Take it.”
I lifted it from his grasp, unsure as to why I should do what he asked. “This is his. I only want you.”
Aric smiled though his eyes carried so much misery. “It’s not our time, my love.”
My gaze wandered to where the endearing sounds of our baby beckoned me. When I took a small step toward Aric, a horrible ache stabbed my belly. He released my hand and tucked me against him, except he couldn’t alleviate my pain; only our child could.
I stared at the goblet. It promised life just like it promised suffering. I didn’t want to hurt anymore and wrestled with my decision. Aric waited, saying nothing.
Finally, I raised the chalice to my lips. The diamond hearts and tears melted into a delicious liquid. I drank for Aric. Not because he asked. But because he’d allowed me to choose.
He held out his hand when I finished. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. My hand met his and we turned one last time to where our baby continued to coo. The lump in my throat tightened. “Will I ever get to hold him?”
Aric squeezed my hand. “Someday, we both will. I swear it.”
I believed him, which was why I ran with him, back to the place where our loved ones chanted and wept. I sank deeper into a quicksand of agonizing pain with every push of my legs. Tears leaked from the torture. Yet I didn’t slow; I raced faster, leaving the field and all its glory behind.
My body jolted from the feel of razors slicing their way across my body. I jerked up, choking in the middle of the demolished ballroom. The sobs from my sisters and wails of the Catholic schoolgirls drowned my cries of pain. Holding me were the strong arms of my mate, who even in death refused to let me go.
There was strength one could gather from anger.
But so much more could be achieved through love.
—
My memory of what happened upon my return from the field melded into a confusing blur. I remember being bathed and placed in a comfortable bed. IVs were started in both my arms. They bothered me so I yanked them out. Food was offered. I refused to eat. Nothing could fill the vast hollowness within me, so I didn’t bother. Voices cut through my fog. Most things I ignored. Some I remembered quite vividly.
Aric growled. “Why is she in so much pain?”
Martin answered him. “The evil one struck her with the sacred power from multiple Packs. Despite our combined efforts there’s nothing more we can do. It will take time for her to mend.”
“But she’ll heal, won’t she?” There was a pause before Aric asked more forcefully. “I want to know if she’ll heal!”
Makawee’s sadness continued to haunt her voice. “Aric, what the evil one did to Celia would have killed most. While I believe she will eventually stop hurting, children…are no longer possible.”
Shayna must have caught the cool tears sliding down my face. “She can hear you,” she whispered.
Aric went ballistic and yelled at everyone to get out. His strong arms pulled me into a tight embrace. My body curled against him, allowing him to release his grief while mine spilled across his chest. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. Life couldn’t be so cruel.
I don’t remember sleeping. I only remember waking. Someone opened the door to the room, only to be greeted by a snarling gray wolf.
Emme put her hands out. “Aric, please. We’re not going to hurt her. We just want to make sure Celia’s okay.” Her soft requests were met with more threatening growls. I sat up from the bed and wrapped my arms around his neck. His presence was unbelievably comforting, yet it failed to give me strength to emerge from my depression and relieve my physical agony. I stared blankly ahead, unable to form a single word.
Taran stomped forward. “Damnit, Aric. We love her, too!”
Shayna yanked her back. “Don’t, Taran, they need time alone. Emme, leave the food, we’ll come back when she’s ready for us.”
Aric returned to his human form when they left and retrieved the tray of food. I rolled away from it when he placed it on the nightstand. “Please, sweetness. You have to eat, love.”
Eventually I let him feed me, recognizing his overwhelming urgency to care for me and keep me safe.
Days passed like hours.
I allowed Aric to continue to dote on me. Every time my needs were met, he would change back into a wolf and resume his protective watch over me. He forbade anyone to enter our room. I was too weak to argue and in no mood to entertain, so admittedly, I didn’t put up much of a fuss. What concerned me was his need to remain as a beast.
I wasn’t sure what day it was, but I needed to leave the bed and tried to rise from my fetal position. It hurt. I didn’t want Aric to see how much. I scooted to the edge of the mattress and tried not to flinch. Aric’s wolf form was tremendous, but on the large, elevated mattress, he seemed mammoth. I stood and wrapped my arms around my belly, trying not to think about my empty womb. It was hard; my soreness centered around where my baby had thrived.