Sealed with a Curse
Page 7

“The bloodlust infestation forced me to wrongfully seek vengeance. For that I am truly sorry.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s kept you up at night.”
I could almost see Misha’s anger dissipate. A slow smile spread across his handsome face. He placed his lips close to my ear. “I only did as you would have done in my place, my darling,” he murmured.
His breath tickled and gave me chills. I dismissed it as part of his vampire charm. “You don’t have to get so close. I can hear you from where you’re seated.”
Misha’s mouth parted; he was apparently confused as to why I didn’t immediately straddle him and shove my tongue down his throat. Geez, hasn’t anyone ever told this guy no before? I stole another glimpse at him. A lock of hair rested against his perfect skin, while his gray eyes sizzled enough to fry my thick lashes. Okay. Maybe not.
Misha resumed his more serious demeanor. “Consider this, Celia: Do you think Zhahara will stop after the fall of my family? How many others will she infect, and how many of those will go on to kill innocents? Hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives may be lost—not just vampire, but human, as well. When David attacked Taran, he had just trace beginnings of chronic bloodlust. Were your family merely human, he would have killed you all.”
I stood to leave. “This isn’t our problem, Misha. Give Destiny a call. Maybe she’s free.”
Misha motioned for me to sit again. I did so only because his gesture seemed more of a request than an order. “My maid’s death and the escalating level of bloodlust within my family obliges the court to prosecute me, despite their conceivable involvement. I have until the next full moon to unearth and eliminate the perpetrator.”
I froze. “And if you don’t?”
“I will be left with two choices: Kill all my family—infected or not—to eliminate the plague or be condemned to death.”
Good God. “So it’s either your life or those of your family?”
“Yes.”
Whoever cursed Misha’s family was hell-bent on destroying him. I glanced back at the photos, understanding why it could easily be one of the judges. Misha’s death sentence would be at their hands, therefore granting them his power. If Misha killed his family, he’d also be vulnerable for attack. I didn’t know how to respond. If roles were reversed and there was no other choice, I would sacrifice my life to spare my sisters without hesitation. And while masters didn’t regard their servants with the same love, there was no mistaking Misha’s remorse and fear. It would destroy him to kill his own. Still, all sympathy aside, Misha had no right to drag us into his mess. “What about Petro? You think of him as your brother. Can’t he be of help?”
Misha stilled like I suggested something asinine. “Vampires are only as strong as their masters. He and his keep would be devoured like lambs.”
He didn’t think Petro would be of any help. And he didn’t want to jeopardize his existence. Yet he would chance ours. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. But I won’t risk my sisters’ safety.”
Misha’s gray eyes darkened. “They are already at risk, Celia. You just fail to see it. My downfall alone will not end the bloodlust.”
Hank, the vampire witness from court, came to stand by us. At first, I thought he was attempting to strong-arm me into helping Misha, but he didn’t even glance in my direction. “Forgive me for disturbing you, Master.”
Misha kept his eyes on me. “What is it?”
“Aric Connor is on the phone. He wishes a word with you.”
“The mongrel can wait. Do not interrupt me again.”
The “mongrel” apparently heard him. Cursing and growling in a strangely familiar timbre erupted from the cell phone. My inner beast jerked and I rubbed my chest, expecting it to hurt. I didn’t know this Aric guy, but he obviously didn’t fear Misha.
Hank disconnected the call and stalked away. Misha leaned back in his seat, unaffected. He tapped a finger against the table, apparently considering what to say. Several awkward seconds passed before he spoke again. “Celia, you are so young. You cannot fathom what it is to watch your family die.”
I swallowed hard. “Actually, I can.” He frowned, but his eyes softened upon taking in my appearance. My back was rigid, my fists clenched, and I readied to pounce. Everything about me screamed, Fight, attack, maul—everything—except my eyes. Recalling my parents’ deaths betrayed the sadness I always kept hidden, an emotion I refused to allow Misha to witness. “You put us through hell, Misha. You can’t expect flowers and gifts and flirting to erase such a threat. Just as you can’t expect us to drop everything to help your cause.”
I stood to leave, but not before Misha clasped my hand and kissed it. “Make certain the decision you reach is a just one,” he whispered. It wasn’t a threat—at least, I didn’t take it that way. They were more the words of a desperate man, or, as I reminded myself firmly, a desperate vampire.
CHAPTER 6
My sisters arrived home from the hospital shortly after my run. I failed to find the wolf again. Any other gal would have moved on. But I wasn’t any other gal. And those dreamy brown eyes belonged to no mere man.
Taran yanked off her scrubs in the middle of our family room, anxious to get out of her work clothes. I’d once overheard a coworker making fun of us for being nurses. “God, they are so codependent,” she’d complained. “They can’t even have separate careers.”
Screw her. She didn’t know becoming nurses at a young age helped Taran and me gain custody of our sisters following the death of our foster mother.
Emme moved slower than usual, appearing lost in her thoughts. “You okay, Emme?” I asked.
She nodded. “Mr. Luther died today.”
Emme cared for the terminally ill. She used her gift to grant her patients a peaceful good-bye. And with her honey blond hair, fair skin, and soft green eyes, perhaps her patients envisioned her as their own personal angel welcoming them into heaven.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.”
“It’s okay. He’s been telling me he was ready to go and see his wife.” She lay on the couch with me and leaned her head against my shoulder as I hugged her. “Shayna had a delivery today. It’s a reminder, you know. Life does go on.”
Shayna grinned my way. “The family said you delivered their first child and wanted me to tell you hi.”
Shayna’s positive and cheerful personality made her the ideal person to help women through the stress and pain of labor. My favorite part was the delivery. I loved babies. The best part of my job was handing a mother her child for the first time. But it also made me a little sad. Children in my future didn’t seem possible without a father.
Taran swore as she undid her hair. “If I ever consider working an extra shift, just shoot me. Some idiot overbooked the cardiac lab by three patients. And I was the only one who could start an IV. Seriously, what are they teaching these bitches in nursing school these days?” Out of all of us, Taran seemed an unlikely Florence Nightingale. But she knew her stuff. And after taking care of our foster mother, she had a soft spot for the elderly.
Taran took the last pin out of her hair and fluffed her dark waves against her shoulders. “What did you do today, Ceel?”
“I went out with Misha. Bloodlust has plagued his home. He’s had to kill twelve of his vampires, but not before one drained his poor human maid. He has until the next full moon to discover the cause or be sentenced to death. Oh, and get this: He wants me to help him kill the master vampire he thinks is responsible.”
Nothing like a little supernatural drama to shut up a bunch of chatty girls.
“Well, shit,” Taran finally said. “I think we could all use a drink.”
Between the tripped-out supernatural paparazzi, the severely deranged infected vampires, and my fixation on a steamy werewolf, the last thing I wanted to do was party. But seeing as I was actually considering helping one master vamp kill another, then yeah, a few beers might not be a bad idea.
I preferred to dress for comfort rather than fashion. Yet I’d allowed Taran to shove me into her Rodeo Drive–meets-Vegas clothing and adorn me with cosmetics—just to get her off my case about possibly helping Misha. It worked.
She and Shayna happily glided ahead of us through the sea of gyrating bodies at the Watering Hole. I wrapped my arm around Emme and led her through the rough crowd. Humans naturally avoided the path of a tigress, despite my five-foot-three-inch frame, but these selfish drunks would trample anyone as tiny and passive as Emme.
Dance music pounded harder than the feet hitting the floor to Gaga’s latest. We ambled to the rear bar, where Bren was talking to two women. He winked one of his blue eyes when his werewolf nose picked up our scent. “Hey, babes. Take a seat!” He motioned to a booth a buxom brunette and her male escort had just abandoned.
“My goodness. That girl is so popular. Every time I see her, she has a different date.”
I supposed Emme missed the dance party in the guy’s pants. “She’s a prostitute, Emme.”
Emme did a double take. “She can’t be. She dresses nicely and lives in Tahoe.”
Taran laughed. We’d caught up and were close enough to be heard. “That’s because the skank charges more than we make in a week, Emme. Her biggest problems are sore knees and her growing immunity to penicillin.”
“Why would her knees—”
Emme’s deep blush told me she figured it out. Thank God. I wasn’t a “you can ask me anything” type of gal.
We were about to sit when two girls jumped into the booth. I wouldn’t have cared as much if they hadn’t knocked Emme aside in the process. The closest one paled as she caught sight of me. She yanked her friend’s arm and quickly found someplace else to be. Bren joined us, drinks in hand. He handed me a Corona with a lime before taking one for himself and having a seat next to me. “Nice scowl, Ceel. I think you actually made the brunette mess her pants.”