Blood Ecstasy (Blood Curse Series Book 8) (19 page)

Hell’s minions, he was hanging onto his sanity by a thread.
 

Rebecca didn’t get it.

This fool had threatened his
destiny;
he had threatened Julien’s life, and by extension, he had threatened the house of Jadon. Everything in him—vampire, tracker, and possessive male—was wired instinctively for the kill.
 

Rebecca gulped. “This is getting out of hand, Julien.” And then she did the only thing she could apparently think of, the one thing that might capture his undivided attention. She rose to the tips of her toes, cupped his jaw firmly in her hand, and pressed a short but tender kiss on his mouth, breathing him in like a prayer.
 

He blinked several times and gawked at her in surprise.
 

“Julien,” she whispered, now that she had his attention. “I know you can wipe everyone’s memories, and I know you’re going to have to do exactly that, when this is over, but”—she sighed heavily—“I really don’t want you to have to wipe mine. I don’t ever want that kind of deception between us. And I don’t want to see this…this execution…unfold in my house.”

Julien paused to measure her words, trying to make sense of their meaning in his amped-up state. Was his
destiny
making a reference to the two of them…
together
…as a couple?
 

Like she actually saw a future?
 

Or was she just playing him for a fool, trying to manipulate his emotions in order to get her way?
 

He snatched both of her wrists in his hands and tightened his fists around them, not enough to hurt her, but hard enough to warn her. “Do not toy with me, Rebecca. I am not some teenage boy you can wind up, play with, and set back down. Don’t offer something you cannot back up, later, down the road.”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her top lip, and she slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean…” She immediately changed tactics. “Julien, all I’m asking is…
please
, don’t kill him in front of me. Don’t do it in front of the women. I don’t want to carry that image in my mind for the rest of my life, and I don’t want you to take my memories.” She lowered her voice to a heartfelt plea. “Please, tracker. As a point of honor. Please.”

The VOSU women looked positively petrified as they watched the scene unfold.

Trevor, on the other hand, had just released his bowels in his pants.

Julien turned his nose up in disgust. “Very well,
ș
oarec micu
ț
, but do not move from this spot.” With that, he lunged forward, snatched Trevor by the scruff of his shirt, and hoisted him off the floor. Traveling as quickly as possible so the fool didn’t soil Rebecca’s carpet, he sprang out the door, dove over the railing, and flew to a nearby empty alley, shoving Trevor, violently, up against the nearest grimy wall.
 

The human literally quaked in his boots, and in that instant, Julien Lacusta grew inexplicably calm, as placid as a hidden mountain lake.

Pinning the disgusting human to the bricks with an unforgiving stiff-arm, he stared deep into his eyes. “I want to know something,” he murmured, his voice a velvet promise of death. “I want to understand your mind. What were you thinking when you terrorized Rebecca so many years ago? What were you thinking when you followed her from state to state, in direct opposition to her wishes, in flagrant violation of your human laws? What the hell were you thinking when you stroked yourself on her bed?”

Trevor stuttered like he had an affliction. “I-I-I…oh, c’mon, man…p-p-please. Can we…w-w-we…talk this out?”

Julien slapped him crisply across the face, breaking his jaw and dislodging a handful of teeth. “Mm,” he drawled wickedly, “I think the time for talking is over.” He shook out his wrist, as if the slap had stung him; held up his right hand; and absently studied his nails. And then he extended two fingers forward, forming a perfect V with the digits, and held them in front of Trevor’s eyes, pressing the pads of both fingers against the idiot’s tear-stained glasses.

Trevor tried desperately to kick at him, but Julien was far too fast. He simply widened his stance, leaned into the bastard, curled his lip, and laughed. “I so want to kill you slowly, but I’m afraid that I cannot.” With that, he shoved both fingers forward, shattered Trevor’s glasses with the thrust, and impaled both of his eye sockets, in concert.
 

He continued to tunnel beyond the temporal lobe.
 

He hooked his fingers in his cerebellum and yanked.

He curled his digits around a thin, bony mass and retrieved Trevor’s spinal cord with a single tug, pulling it back through his eye sockets, where he held it like a trophy in his trembling hand.
 

As he released the bastard’s body, allowing it to slump to the ground, he turned the slimy, meat-like carnage over in his palm and frowned. “Whatever were you thinking?” he asked the curious mass of bone and brains. And then he hurled it against the wall, splintering what was left of Trevor Rainer into a dozen grisly pieces.

His thoughts immediately turned back to Rebecca and her living room, full of guests, the memories he still needed to wipe…

And that lingering kiss.
 

Gods knew, he was trying to handle this Blood Moon with a semblance of objectivity, with some sort of decorum, if not reason, but the entire affair was becoming a treacherous game, at best.
 

And it was quickly
spiraling out of control.
 

Julien knew the deal: Rebecca had no intentions of staying with him, not a moment longer than she had to, not a moment longer than it took to fulfill the Curse. Julien had seen this truth in her eyes all along. And gods forgive him, he had allowed it because somewhere deep inside, in that place that terrified him the most, that place where he buried his rage and suppressed it with liquid O, he had also doubted his own staying power.
 

He did not believe he could sustain a long-term relationship with his
destiny
…with any woman, really. He did not believe he had what it took to maintain a lasting relationship with a mate. Yet this encounter, Rebecca’s courage and the tenderness she had openly displayed in that kiss, had been more than a little bit disquieting.

It had shaken him to his core.

He wiped the gruel off his hand, onto the wall, and shut his eyes.

Dearest celestial gods
,
what was he going to do?
 

In many ways, Rebecca was as broken as he was: She was as equally determined and strong. She was defiant, single-minded, and resilient, and he was growing to respect her. But she was also susceptible to the
compassion in her heart, curiously lost and alone, even as she pretended to be in control. She surrounded herself with the illusion of support, hiding within a community of victimization—yes, it was a powerful way to heal and move forward, but only for a time. As the years passed, for anyone, it could become an enabling identity. And for Rebecca, in particular, it had become a means to an end, a way to hide from herself.

Was his
destiny
capable of
trust
, even if it was tentative and fragile?

Was he?

That kiss had said that…maybe…she was.
 

And
gods be merciful
, her vulnerability was like a lure, dangling in front of his starving soul, just begging to be taken…consumed…devoured.

Oh, hell: Julien Lacusta had no intentions of letting this female go.
 

Not ever.

He had not lied to Trevor Rainer when he had said,
Rebecca is mine
. And he had not come to Denver because he did not possess the power to claim her, to take her, to bend her to his will, back in Dark Moon Vale. He was nearly an Ancient, a primordial vampire, and he could command his
destiny’s
compliance with nothing more than the strength of his mind. No, something far more primitive and distant had awakened in the depths of his savage soul, in the wake of that singular kiss.

Perhaps hope?

Perhaps a chance—a
real
chance—for change?

Julien opened his eyes, leveled his gaze on Trevor’s mangled corpse, and set about incinerating his body with infrared heat. And then he took a generous step back, all the while trying to adjust to this new revelation.
 

Come hell or high water,
Rebecca Johnston belonged to him.
 

And it was high time that he made that clear and started acting like he
wanted
her.

Because he did.
 

seventeen

“Braden, have a seat.”

Nachari Silivasi had allowed the kid to sleep for the rest of the night, and then he had waited most of the day to approach him, while thinking things over. He had carried the envelope around, trying to divine more of its energy, trying to make sense of the cryptic words before finally speaking with Deanna about the precarious situation: If Braden had a friend, and the boys had a secret, as peculiar as that may be, Nachari did not want to disrespect his privacy or lord over his decisions. Beyond that, he knew that Braden’s parents were a sensitive subject—they just didn’t afford him the time or attention he deserved. They never had. And their curious absence in his life grew more and more glaring as each month passed. So if Nachari could’ve figured the whole thing out without showing Braden the letter, the envelope with his parents’ Hawaiian return-address on it, he would’ve.

But he couldn’t.

There was just something too troubling about the whole situation.
 

Something too amiss.

There was a distinct taint of darkness embedded in the ink, a contrary vibration in every loop of the pen, and even though it niggled at the wizard’s subconscious, for the life of him, Nachari could not identify the origins of the perversion. The energy was so peculiar, so eclectic; it held remnants of Italy, Romania, and Greece, yet there was also a modern North American feel to the missive. The contaminate was faintly familiar, almost like the tarnish of a Dark One, but the letter also held a trace of celestial…
etiology?
...like a stamp from the house of Jadon.
 

It truly made no sense.
 

And the actual invitation, the purpose of the letter? Well, it was odd at best, disturbingly intimate, almost prurient in motivation, for lack of a better word.
 

It just didn’t sit right.

None of it.

And why had this peculiar male, whoever he was, sent such an invitation to Braden?

Greetings, my auspicious friend,

I have discovered nine perfect stones down by the stream, near River Rock Road, and I believe I have fashioned five perfect citrines, three perfect rubies, and one flawless diamond ~ all for my newfound acquaintance. Alas, I am still biding my time—you will keep our secret, won’t you? Meet me by the river, Sunday night. Same place as before.

I am in great need of familiar company.
 

Grigori.

Now, as they sat in the elegant, sophisticated living room of the brownstone, Deanna on the soft leather sectional; Nachari to her right; and Braden across the room at a diagonal angle, sinking comfortably into a large upholstered armchair, Nachari held the card up in his hand. “First and foremost,” he began, “I want you to know that I had no intentions of violating your privacy by opening your mail. You know that I respect you, that Deanna and I both trust you, or we would not have bought you a car.”

“That’s right,” Deanna chimed in, “and Nachari would never open your mail…except…he truly felt like something was alarming this time, like there was something really strange, not right, going on.”

Nachari nodded. “The other night, while you were sleeping, I had a fairly disturbing dream, something that woke me from my sleep and caused me to shift into panther form, even before I awakened.”
 

Braden drew back in surprise before curiously leaning forward in his chair. “Okay,” he muttered cautiously, growing visibly impatient. “Nachari, what’s this about?”

Nachari handed him the envelope and waited while he read the card.

Braden shrugged and then he sighed, seeming much less perturbed. “Oh,” he said in a casual voice, “yeah, the dude’s kind of weird. My friend. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Nachari cocked his eyebrows. “So you know this person, the male who sent this card?”

Braden pursed his lips together and nodded. “Oh yeah. I mean, kind of.”

Nachari exchanged a wary glance with Deanna. “And he’s obviously a vampire…from the house of Jadon…correct?”

Braden smiled sheepishly. “I’m not really supposed to say anything, but if it makes you feel any better, yeah.
Yes
. Definitely. Like I said, he’s just kind of odd.”

Nachari held his tongue.
Yes, definitely odd, and just a little bit…evil.
He considered his next words carefully. “Braden, where did you meet this vampire? Does he attend the Academy with you and your friends?”

“Oh no,” Braden said quickly, and then he just as promptly tried to set the wizard at ease. “Seriously, Nachari; I’m not supposed to tell. It’s a secret, and once everyone knows, it’ll be real cool. Promise. Trust me; the guy’s just really,
really
weird. Everything’s all right.”

Nachari regarded the youngster politely, wanting to tread forward with respect. “Braden, the energy I picked up the other night was anything but cool. And the vibration coming off that envelope is anything but all right. Don’t you feel it, son?”

Braden sank back in his chair and turned the letter over in his hand, reading the script a second time.
 

“He used your parents’ return address—you don’t find that strange?” Nachari asked.

Braden dropped the letter in his lap, turned the envelope over, and stared at the return address. “Damn, that is kind of strange.” He sat forward in his chair. “But I’m telling you, the guy is just weird. He’s kind of like a foreigner.” He shrugged his shoulders, cocked his head to the side, and frowned. “I mean, yeah, the energy is kind of funky, but honestly? That’s his vibe, even in person. I dunno. I think maybe he was just trying to be secretive, like he just wants to keep his secret or something.”