Out for Blood (52 page)

She wiped her mouth and shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t say that. There’s no way that can be true. Not now.”

Velimai’s hands stopped moving and she glanced at Chrysabelle.
Sorry.

But somehow, Chrysabelle knew Velimai was right. She dropped the washcloth and folded her trembling hands over her thumping heart. Slowly, they slid down to her belly.

“Holy mother.” A debilitating weight settled over her. “I’m pregnant. How is that possible?”

“The plane…” Mortalis trailed off, looking slightly ill.

“I know
how
it’s possible, just not how it’s possible between Mal and me.” She covered her face with her hands for a moment as it hit her. “Holy mother. This is why comarrés aren’t supposed to sleep with their patrons.”

Velimai nodded.
He bit you, didn’t he? For those few moments, he was as mortal as you are.

Chrysabelle shook her head. “But it’s only been a week.” Her stomach rolled again and she swallowed.

You’re comarré. He’s a vampire. You both regenerate at an accelerated rate.
Velimai frowned.
It might not be too late to rid yourself of—

“No,” Chrysabelle shouted, her voice bouncing off the bathroom walls. She pushed to her feet even though she felt like collapsing. With a hand on her stomach, she stared down the two fae across from her. “I don’t want to hear another word about getting rid of it, and I don’t want anyone knowing what’s happening until I figure out what to do about this, understood?”

Mortalis and Velimai both nodded.

Chrysabelle walked out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed Mal had just vacated. “I’d like to be alone now.”

Nodding, they both left, closing the door behind them. She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Mal’s dark spice permeated her sheets. She rested one hand on her belly. Pregnant. With a cursed vampire’s child.

After what Tatiana had done to get a hold of Preacher’s child, what would she do when she found out Mal had fathered one with a genuine comarré?

Or worse, what would Mal do when he found out? He no longer loved her. She had no reason to believe a child would change that.

She covered her stomach with both hands as fresh fear iced her skin. One thing was certain. She would protect this child no matter how much blood she had to spill.

No matter who that blood belonged to.

Be on the lookout for the

next House of Comarré novel:

LAST BLOOD

Acknowledgments

The more books I write, the more my network of support grows. Each story raises new research questions, and answering those questions sometimes requires more brain power than my own, which is why I rely on my brother’s knowledge of ships, Kimberly Menozzi’s Italian skills, and Larissa Benoliel’s help with Portuguese. Everyone who’s helped me in some way deserves thanks, but inevitably I’ll forget someone. If that’s happened, please forgive me.

To begin with, I want to thank my Creator for the talents He’s given me.

As always, I must thank my agent, Elaine. She’s phenomenal and you should all be jealous. In truth, the whole TKA family is awesome and I’m so glad they’re part of my support group.

Of course, I am so thankful to my tremendous(ly scary) editor, Devi, who lets me write the stories I want no matter how crazy. Susan, her assistant, deserves props for all her hard work, too. (She does work for the most dread editor in the biz. Just saying.) The entire publishing team at Orbit, including Alex, Ellen, and Lauren, never cease to amaze me with their talents. So good!

I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank the Writer’s Camp chicks, Laura and Leigh. You should probably be getting paid for keeping my fingers on the keyboard. To Rocki and Louisa, thanks for sharing this journey and always being there.

To all my readers, you guys are the reason I write. You’re awesome!

Lastly, big thanks to my parents and brother for their unwavering support and to my husband for proudly pitching my books to everyone he meets. Even if he does think I use too much description.

extras

meet the author

KRISTEN PAINTER’s writing résumé boasts multiple Golden Heart nominations and praise from a handful of bestselling authors, including Gena Showalter and Roxanne St. Claire. A former New Yorker now living in Florida, Kristen has a wealth of fascinating experiences from which to flavor her stories, including time spent working in fashion for Christian Dior and as a maître d’ for Wolfgang Puck. Her website is at
kristenpainter.com
and she’s on twitter @Kristen_Painter and on
Facebook.com/KristinPainterAuthor
.

introducing

If you enjoyed

OUT FOR BLOOD

look out for

FULL BLOODED

Jessica McClain: Book One

by Amanda Carlson

It’s not easy being a girl. It’s even harder when you’re the only girl in a family of werewolves. But it’s next to impossible when your very existence spells out the doom of your race… Meet Jessica McClain—she just became part of the pack.

I
drew in a ragged breath and tried hard to surface from one hell of a nightmare. “Jesus
,” I moaned. Sweat slid down my face. My head was fuzzy. Was I dreaming? If I was, this dream hurt like a bitch.

Wait, dreams aren’t supposed to hurt.

Without warning my body seized again. Pain scorched through my veins like a bad sunburn, igniting every cell in its path. I clenched my teeth, trying hard to block the rush.

Then, as quickly as it struck, the pain disappeared.

The sudden loss of sensation jolted my brain awake and my eyes snapped open in the dark. This wasn’t a damn dream. I took a quick internal inventory of all my body parts. Everything tingled, but thankfully my limbs could move freely again. The weak green halo of my digital clock read 2:07 a.m. I’d only been asleep for a few hours. I rolled onto my side and swiped my sticky hair off my face. When my fingers came in contact with my skin, I gasped and snapped them away like a child who’d just touched a hot stove.

Holy shit, I’m on fire.

That couldn’t be right.

Don’t panic, Jess. Think logically.

I pressed the back of my hand against my forehead to get a better read on how badly I was burning up. Hot coals would’ve felt cooler than my skin.

I must be really sick.

Sickness was a rare event in my life, but it did happen. I wasn’t prone to illness, but I wasn’t immune to it either. My twin brother never got sick, but if the virus was strong enough I was susceptible.

I sat up, allowing my mind to linger for a brief moment on a very different explanation of my symptoms.
That scenario would be impossible. Get a grip. You’re a twenty-six-year-old female. It’s never going to happen. It’s probably just the flu. There’s no need to—

Without so much as a breath of warning, another spasm of pain hit clear and bright. My body jerked backward as the force of it plowed through me, sending my head slamming into the bedframe, snapping the wooden slats like matchsticks. My back bowed and my arms lashed out, knocking my bedside table and everything on it to the ground. The explosion of my lamp as it struck the floor was lost beneath my bona fide girl scream. “
Shiiiit!
”

Another tremor hit, erupting its vile ash into my psyche like a volcano. But this time instead of being lost in the pale haze of sleep, I was wide awake. I
had
to fight this.

I wasn’t sick.

I was
changing
.

Jesus Christ! You’ve spent your whole life thinking about this very moment and you try to convince yourself you have the flu? What’s the matter with you? If you want to live, you have to get to the dose before it’s too late!

The pain buried me, my arms and legs locked beside me. I was unable to move as the continuous force of spasms hit me one after another. The memory of my father’s voice rang clearly in my mind. I’d been foolish and too stubborn for my own good and now I was paying the price. “
Jessica, don’t argue with me. This is a necessary precaution. You must keep this by you at all times.
” The new leather case, containing a primed syringe of an exclusively engineered cocktail of drugs, would be entrusted to me for safekeeping. The contents of which were supposed to render me unconscious if need be. “
You may never need it, but as you well know, this is one of the stipulations of your living alone.
”

I’m so sorry, Dad.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. My genetic markers weren’t coded for this. This was an impossibility. In a world of impossibilities.

I’d been so stupid.

My body continued to twist in on itself, my muscles moving and shifting in tandem. I was locked in a dance I had no chance of freeing myself from. The pain rushed up, finally reaching a crushing crescendo. As it hit its last note, my mind shattered apart under its impact.

Everything went blissfully black.

Too soon, pinpoints of light danced behind my eyelids. I eased them open. The pain was gone. Only a low throbbing current remained. It took me a moment to realize I was on all fours on the floor beside my bed, my knees and palms bloodied from the shards of my broken lamp. My small bedside table was scattered in pieces around me. It looked like a small hurricane had ripped apart my bedroom. I had no time to waste.

The dose is your only chance now. Go!

The bathroom door was five feet from me. I propelled myself forward, tugging myself on shaky arms, dragging my body behind me.
Come on, we can do this. It’s right there.
I’d only made it a few thin paces when the pain struck again, hard and fast. I collapsed on my side, the muscles under my skin roiling in earnest.
Jesuschrist!
The pain was straight out of a fairy tale, wicked and unrelenting.

I moaned, convulsing as the agony washed over me, crying out in my head, searching for the only possible thing that could help me now. My brother was my only chance.
Tyler, it’s happening! Ty, Ty… please! Tyler, can you hear me? Tyyy…

Another cloud of darkness tugged at the edges of my consciousness and I welcomed it. Anything to make all this horror disappear. Right before it claimed me, at that thin line between real and unreal, something very faint brushed against my senses. A tingle of recognition prickled me. But that wasn’t right. That wasn’t my brother’s voice.

Dad?

Nothing but empty air filled my mind. I chastised myself.
You’re just hoping for a miracle now.
Females weren’t meant to change. I’d heard that line my entire life. How could they change when they weren’t supposed to
exist
? I was a mistake, I’d always been a mistake, and there was nothing my father could do to help me now.

Pain rushed up, exploding my mind. Its fury breaking me apart once again.

Jessica, Jessica, can you hear me? We’re on our way. Stay with us. Just a few more minutes! Jessica… Hang in there, honey. Jess!

I can’t, Dad. I just can’t.

Blood.

Fear shot through me like a cold spear. I lifted my nose and scented the air. Coolness ran along my back, forcing my hair to rise, prickling my skin. I shivered. My labored breaths echoed too loudly in my sensitive ears. I peered into the darkness, inhaling deeply again.

Blood.

A rumble of sounds bubbled up from beneath me and I inched back into the corner and whined. The thrumming from my chest surrounded me, enveloping me in my own fear.

Out.

I leapt forward. My claws slid out in front of me, sending me tumbling as I scrabbled for purchase on the smooth surface. I picked myself up, plunging down a dark tunnel into a bigger space. All around me things shattered and exploded, scaring me. I vaulted onto something big, my claws slicing through it easily. I sailed off, landing inches from the sliver of light.

Out.

My ears pricked. I lowered my nose to the ground, inhaling as the sounds hit me. Images shifted in my brain.
Humans, fear, noise… harm.
A low mewing sound came from the back of my throat. A loud noise rattled above my head. I jumped back, swiveling away, searching.

Then I saw it.

Out.

I leapt toward the moonlight, striking the barrier hard. It gave way instantly, shattering. I extended myself, power coursed through my body. The ground rushed up quickly, my front paws crashing onto something solid, my jaws snapping together fiercely with the force of the impact. The thing beneath me collapsed with a loud, grating noise. Without hesitation I hit the ground.