A Cursed Bloodline (WG 4) (5 page)

I jerked up and scanned the colossal suite. “Why am I here? Why aren’t we at the guesthouse?”

Emme placed her hand on my shoulder. “Misha is really worried, and so am I. I’m afraid if we don’t wake you every two hours you’ll slip into a coma.”

I leapt out of the bed. “Good idea. Let’s head back to the guesthouse. You can set your cellphone to wake me every two hours.”

“Celia, I don’t think you should—”

Misha’s footsteps approaching the door put me into crazy mode. I shot out to the deck, jumped off…and landed on top of Hank.

Hank provided me with a surprisingly cushy landing. I rolled off him and stood on the cold wet ground. “Sorry, Hank.”

Hank stumbled to his feet. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Ahhh.”

His head snapped up. “Did you just jump off the goddamn deck?”

“Well—”

“I always knew you were bats, but this is nutty even for you!”

Considering he was trying to get into my little sister’s pants, he had a lot of nerve acting pissy with me. “Bats? Did
you
just call
me
bats, Dracula?”

Hank bared his fangs. “You have a lot of goddamn nerve. You land on me and now you’re making racist jokes. I oughta—”

I rammed my finger in his face. “You oughta what? I’ve had a bad day, Hank. If you want a piece of me, just say the word.”

“Hank?” Emme peered over the stacked stone deck. “You’re making a big mistake by taking on Celia.”

Hank flashed her his fangs. “Don’t worry about me, baby. I can take her.”

“Um, she’ll pound you, Hank. But I’m more concerned about Misha.”

A breeze blew in from the lake small enough to chill my bare shoulders…and send Misha’s aroma downwind. We hadn’t noticed him before, but we did then. He emerged from the shadows. Hank and I swallowed hard. Me, because I wasn’t ready to face him, and Hank, well, because Misha might just kill him.

Misha stepped between us, sending Hank scurrying back. “You have sorely tried my patience today.”

Hank bowed his head. “I apologize, Master.”

“Your requests for forgiveness have grown tiresome.
Leave
.” Misha clutched my arm when I tried to bolt. “Not you, Celia. There are matters we need to discuss.”

My shoulders slumped. “Fine.” I didn’t want to do this now, or ever, but it wasn’t fair to keep him waiting and wondering. “Can we talk back at the guesthouse?”

“As you wish.” He bent to lift me, but I leapt from his grasp.

“What are you doing?”

“My darling, your feet are bare. Although the rain and sleet have subsided, I can hardly allow you to walk as you are.”

No way in hell was I letting him carry me over the damn threshold. I sped ahead of him. “I’m fine, Misha. My inner beast has me covered.”

Misha, of course, kept up with ease, chuckling despite my erratic behavior. The frozen slate chilled my soles, but sure enough, my metabolism made it doable. I crossed through the garden and reached the guesthouse in record speed. Misha opened the thick wooden door before I could reach the handle. I never locked the door. Vampire bodyguards with the ability to tear limbs like dry grass were all the supernatural security I needed.

I reached for a kitchen towel and wiped my feet. The moment I tossed it in the laundry room Misha pulled me to him and tried to kiss me. I whipped my head back. He managed to reach my cheek, but not much more.

Misha laughed against my ear. “My darling, at this rate we shall never conceive our children.”

I broke from his hold and backed away. “Misha, we’re not having children.”

Misha crossed his arms, the edges of his lips curving into a patient smile. “You cannot deny the future we saw today. We will have children, and you—you will finally love me.”

I buried my face in my hands and willed myself to calm. I didn’t understand the vision—why I’d had it, why he’d seen it. None of it made sense. I loved Aric, and knowing I carried his baby kept my feet firmly placed in reality. I dropped my hands to my sides and took a breath. Misha was my friend, and the last thing I wanted was to cause him pain. But I wouldn’t lie to him just to spare his feelings. “Misha, I don’t love you. The vision we saw isn’t real.”

His smile faded, but he refused to admit defeat. “Perhaps now, but in time—”

I shook my head. “Aric is who I love. You’ve known this from the start.”

Misha took my hand in his and brushed his lips over my knuckles. “If that is so, why did you have me send the mongrel away?”

I froze. Misha’s smile widened, pleased by my silence. He brushed a curl away from my face. “Will you join me in bed tonight?”

My jaw dropped open. “No, Misha. I told you this isn’t real.”

Emme’s soft footsteps had me turning toward the door. She stilled when she saw us in the kitchen, Misha holding tight to my hand. Her cheeks reddened to a bright pink. “Am I-I interrupting?”

I pulled away from Misha, my own face heating. “Of course not, Emme.”

Emme slowly walked in and slipped out of her cream wool coat, keeping her gaze away from mine. “It’s not what you think, Emme,” I insisted.

I might as well have been talking to the door. Misha kissed the top of my head. “I will have dinner brought to you. My love, if you decide to join me in bed, call the main house. Otherwise the women who wait to pleasure me will still be present.”

“Gee, thanks for the heads-up,” I told him.

Misha laughed. “Do not fear, my darling. Once we marry, I will no longer have need for other bedfellows.” He paused and thought about it. “Unless, of course, it’s what you desire.”

My unamused, perturbed, and partially psycho expression must have told Misha exactly how I felt about his bedfellows.

—

I laid into the buffet Chef delivered like my life depended on it. I couldn’t remember ever being so hungry. Halfway through my meal I caught Emme staring at me. “What’s wrong, aren’t you going to eat?”

Emme folded her hands on the wooden table. “I would, Celia, but you took my plate.”

I waved my fork around. “Chef brought four over, take one of those.”

Emme sighed and tried to gather her thoughts. “I did, Celia…and I put food on it, except you took it from me and added it to your piles. You’re eating from all four plates.”

I glanced at the almost empty plates in front of me. “Oh.” I polished off the contents on one plate and handed it to her. “Here you go.”

She took it to the sink and washed it, but when she returned a frown shadowed her soft features. “Celia, what’s happening between you and Misha?”

I shrugged. “He thinks he loves me and is convinced I’ll eventually love him back.”

“Is there more?”

“No, Emme!” I hissed. Even though I’d already consumed what most linebackers ate in a day, I was strangely irate that she was interrupting my chewing and digesting process. When she reached a hand toward me, I growled and gathered my plates closer.

“I was just reaching for a spoon.”

I felt terrible for frightening her, except obviously not enough to stop eating. “Sorry, Emme,” I said through a mouthful of food.

It was only seven at night when I finished devouring everything I could get my hands on, but I thought it best to turn in. I remember brief periods of Emme waking me, otherwise I slept soundly. Perhaps the emotional strain of the day had taken its toll, because I don’t remember dreaming. I just remember a wave of nausea hitting me strong enough to jolt me awake.

I raced to the bathroom and was immediately sick. My stomach continued to do flips as I cleaned up. When I exited the bathroom, Emme sat on the bed. Her troubled expression convinced me she suspected my pregnancy. I leaned against the door and tried to assume a relaxed pose. “What is it?”

“Um, Celia. Misha and I are very worried about you. He’s asked Chang and Ying-Ying to help relieve your condition by doing a combination of Asian mystical treatments.”

My fingers nervously picked through my hair. “When you say ‘condition,’ what exactly do you mean?”

She puckered her brow. “Well, your concussion, of course.”

“Of course.” Relief washed over me until I sensed something more was up. Having everyone believe that I had a concussion should have helped explain my symptoms. I didn’t understand why she appeared so frightened. Concussions were common. I was coherent, and God knew I was eating enough. “Don’t fret, Emme. I’m fine. I don’t need Ying-Ying and Chang’s help.”

“Celia,” Emme said slowly. “You’ve been asleep for two days.”

“What?”

“Everyone is worried sick. I’ve been trying to keep them calm, but it’s hard when I’m scared myself.”

I shoved away from the frame and sat next to her, trying my best to smile. “I’m just tired and need to sleep, Emme. That’s all. Call the others and tell them there’s nothing to worry about.”

Emme covered my hand with hers. “Don’t you want to talk to them yourself?”

I turned my head to look at the time. Two o’clock. Damn. I’d slept for almost forty-eight hours. “I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“Not even Aric?”

“No.” I stood and gave her my back, unable to face her blatant disappointment in me. “Could you give me a moment alone? I’d like to shower.”

“Sure, Celia,” she mumbled.

I checked my phone messages when Emme shut the door quietly behind her. There were several from our other sisters and a couple from our werewolf BFFs, Bren and Danny. Most were from Aric. His voice was so different, and not just because the scarring to his lips and jaw limited his enunciation. His deep timbre, once so strong, lacked the conviction that made those he led stand and take notice.

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.