The Blood Bundle, Books 1-2: Blood Singers and Blood Song (New Adult Paranormal Vampire/Shifter Romance) (31 page)

“Nothing,” Michael expounded but was terrible at
hiding a smile.

“And, she was held by both factions: Were and
vampire?” When he looked for confirmation Brendan nodded.

“Then,” he began to pace the wooden planks of
the covered deck and some squeaked with age as he passed, “she is
kidnapped by her own people, told she is queen, then treated
abominably by my eldest son.”

“Twice,” Marcus said, looking at Scott who
glowered back, the barest hint of shame creeping into his
expression.

Scott folded his muscular arms across a chest
that proved his time on the mat. “Okay, I guess I could have
handled it better,” Scott said, still trying to stop his guts from
churning. His entire body yearning to get back to
her.
He hated it, the loss of his independence as he
saw it.

“
Ah... duh!” Jen said. He
glanced at her and she continued. “Unless anyone objects, I suggest
you get your dumbass up there and apologize!”

Marcus scowled at his daughter's use of
language but let it go. From all accounts, Scott had behaved badly.
And to a female Singer! The Queen, no less. It could hardly have
been worse.

He nodded and Scott said, “I hate feeling
trapped. She made me feel...”

“
Complete?” Brendan asked with
just a hint of envy. Why couldn't it have been him? He'd have been
happier than a pig in shit to have Julia. Hello? The Queen of the
Singers... his soulmate? Yeah, kind of a nice gig.

Scott thought about it. Yeah,
he guessed she had; but she'd blind-sided him. He'd been totally,
no...
completely
unprepared for a
soul-meld. But dammit, he had reveled in his independence, refused
to go on the wild goose chase of an acquisition for another Singer.
Let his hot dog brothers and sister do it.

And look what the cat had dragged home.

He looked up at the window of her bedroom,
feeling miserable. How could he fix it? Did he want to? He realized
belatedly he may have misjudged her. Badly. Scott remembered those
huge amber eyes looking up at him in anger... wounded by his
careless words. He'd fallen right into them, as soon as she was
inside the circle of his arms, he couldn't think of anything but
her. And the protection of her. He sighed and began to walk toward
the front door.

“
Wait,” Marcus said and Scott
turned, a question on his face.

“
She needs extra protection
from this Were.”

His children turned to him. When he had
their full attention, he resumed, “You understand how dangerous a
turned Singer is. The Queen will be like a homing beacon.”

Brendan nodded, understanding. “He'll be a
problem, alright.”

Scott's heart began to speed, his intuition
kicking online. Already his thoughts were on Julia. Where was she
at this very moment? He was instantly pissed that he gave a rat's
ass. He felt like his mind was tearing in two. His intellect
rebelled against what his soul was compelled to execute...
feel.

Julia
, it
screamed.
Where is Julia?
Scott
shook his head to clear it from the fuzziness of the duality of his
nature.

“
Why?” Scott heard himself
asking despite himself.

Michael hadn't paid attention to this part
of his training and shrugged but Jen had been an apt pupil like
Brendan and she said, “It breaks the mind of a Singer turned. His
mind is gone. He'd want to belong with us, but wouldn't know
how...”

“
He'd hurt Julia if he got his
hands on her,” Brendan said. “Those Singers that have been turned
are crazy-as-hell.”

Marcus wanted to refute that but knew he
couldn't. As descriptions go, it was a good one.

Scott's hand clenched the solid brass knob
of the screen door and it creaked in protest under his abusive
grip. “So... let me get this straight, this... feral werewolf was
once a Singer, got nailed by a Were attack and is now scenting
after Julia.”

“
Yeah,” Brendan
said.

Scott scoffed, “Let it try. I'll rip its
paws off and scratch his own ass with them!”

Michael laughed. He might be able to do it.
Scott was the strongest male Singer in their group. He got a visual
and Scott's eyes narrowed on him.

“
What's so damn funny?” Scott
asked.

“
A couple of things, I'm
guessing,” Brendan said.

“
Enlighten us, please,” Marcus
said in his droll way.

“
First,” Brendan held up a
finger, “Scott didn't give two shits and an eff about Julia, hated
her as a matter of fact.” Brendan waited for a dissenting comment
or grunt. When none came, he continued, “Second, the visual of you
tearing off the Were's paw that we saw at the compound, and
scratching its...” Brendan shook his head. “No pal, sorry. He's
big-time feral in his pants.”

“
And just big time?!” Jen
agreed, adding, “he's the biggest Were we've ever seen... red,
different.”

Scott frowned like,
so?

“
In other words, it may take
more than your pissed off attitude to subdue this fella!” Michael
agreed with his siblings.

“
Ah!” Marcus began and they
all looked at him. “That's where you're wrong...” he had them again
and said slowly, “when a soulmate's partner is threatened, there
may be more in the arsenal than what the Singer was bestowed with
at birth.”

Scott's hand dropped from the knob. “What do
you mean, Dad?”

“
I mean that it is your
singular purpose to protect and nurture her.” Marcus' eyes speared
Scott's. “She is in the gravest danger right now, the most
vulnerable. Until this feral is caught and disposed of, he will not
stop until he has her.”

“
Will he kill her?” Jen
asked.

“
I do not know. But, ask
yourself this,” they leaned forward to hear his last words, “does
anyone want to find out?”

Hell no! A primal yell sounded from deep
within Scott and against every intellectual imperative his feet
strode through the doorway and flung him up the stairs toward her
room.

Toward Julia.

Julia threw branches away as they scraped
past her, crashing through the brush that threatened to stab her
viciously. She was furious. The more she walked the angrier she
became.

It was useless though. Being angry didn't
matter, letting go of the Singers and what she was, did. Every step
she took was a greater distance between she and Scott and in her
mind she was happy.

But her heart grieved. She
felt a little like she had after Jason died. But how could that be?
She didn't even
know
Scott! In
fact, he'd made a point of being an ass!

Julia rounded the bend of a stand of trees,
having utterly forgotten the one that sought her when she stopped
in her tracks. A massive Were stood in front of her, his green eyes
pegging her intensely. She hauled in a lungful of air to scream and
he was on her, his hand that had talons twice the length of her
fingers wrapping her mouth and tickling her ears.

Julia's vision grew dim, her fear making her
bladder burn for release. As her world faded to gray the last thing
she saw were those emerald eyes staring at her.

Julia lost consciousness and the feral
pressed her light body to his. He turned, covering more ground than
she could have on her own, his half-wolf form perfectly suited to
the dense conditions of the forest.

He ran, the burden of the female an abiding
comfort. It was the only instance he had felt a sense of peace
since he Became.

Whatever he was now.

Scott put his hand on the multi-faceted knob,
the crystal a solid weight under his palm and turned it. The five
panel door swung inward, the momentum of it carried by its own
weight. His eyes swept the sunlit room, missing nothing.

Julia was gone.

His heart thudded to a stop, the words he'd
spoken crashing back with the weight of the ages into his mind. His
eyes found the flaw in the room.

The window was open a crack, maybe two inches.
The white curtains, like billowing fingers of smoke, fluttered with
the breeze allowed in by the opening.

He walked to the window, his siblings entering
Julia's room behind him. He stood at the window, the low sill
pressing against his upper shins. Scott could clearly hear the
voices of various people from a distance, the strange acoustics of
the oddly formed bay accentuating the noises.

Amplifying them.

Julia would have heard everything he had to say
about her down below.

His disinterest.

His hate and disrespect.

Scott hung his head, clenching his hands into
tight fists. He understood now that she would have left before he
had wrestled his emotions into some kind of basic order, prepared
to right his wrong, give her some neutral deference.

Now she was gone. Possibly in danger.

Grave danger.

Scott turned, his back to the window. He spied
something of hers and picked it up. It was a hoodie. He crushed it
to his nose, inhaling the scent of Julia, his chest tightening with
recognition.

Soul recognition.

His deep brown eyes flashed to those of his
siblings and father.

“She's gone,” he said. Guilt rode him
mercilessly.

“Great,” Jen said.

“You pushed her away,” Brendan accused.

“Ya think?” Scott replied. His eyes were twin
holes of burning fury. At himself. “I screwed up, I got that. But
now's not the time for talk,” he speared his brother with a look.
“Can you find her?”

“Absolutely,” Brendan said. Then paused for a
heartbeat. “The better question is, has
he
found her?”

They were all quiet for a moment then with
silent agreement, they turned and rushed out the door. Julia's
hoodie was gripped in Scott's fist like a lifeline. He had never
been so focused in his life. He needed to find her. All the
bullshit legends of his childhood that he'd discounted, Singer
Royalty, soul-melding, all of it... was no longer legend.

It was his new reality.

They ran down the back stairs, the very ones
Julia had used but a mere hour before. Bursting out of the back
door, Brendan tracked Julia to the forest's edge. His grave stare
focused on Scott.

“What?” he asked. For the first time, terror
sunk its teeth into his psyche. Scott had never had need of fear;
it was an alien emotion for him.

Until now.

“The feral's in these woods,” Brendan said,
using the very words that Scott had not wanted to hear.

“Does he... has he...” Scott asked, his grip on
Julia's sweatshirt making his knuckles turn white.

Brendan nodded, once.

Scott yelled, his rage-filled bellow heard by
the sensitive ears of the feral who swiftly widened the breach
between the Singers and himself.

The feral picked up his pace, the girl in his
arms unaware of who carried her.

Or who followed.

****

Were

Adriana felt like her ass had been handed to
her. As usual. She always felt that way when she got done
“visiting” with Lawrence. She kicked a rock on the way out of his
chamber. Which wasn't really accurate. His quarters, as she
preferred to think of them, were huge, she'd never been in his
actual bedroom. They always met in his cavernous library, his great
desk a mighty wooden anchor in the center of a sea of books. She
always felt like her ship was sinking.

Like now.

He'd reamed her up one side and down the other.
Tony had come up smelling like a rose... like always. In fact, she
wanted to kick his ass too, the list was growing. It really rubbed
Adi the wrong way that she was every bit the fighter he was but
when it came down to talon to talon, he'd best her. Her fists
clenched. She had twice the heart that he had. But he was just that
much bigger than she. If skill and training were equal, someone
with all those pounds and muscle would be victor. It was the
opposite of fair.

Sometimes she hated being female. Adi liked the
one thing she had over him though.

Ironically, it was her gender.

He was destined to mate with a female Were. He
was second to her brother, Joseph, the most powerful Alpha in their
region. Because of his station within the werewolf hierarchy, she
should have looked at Tony as top on the list of potentials. That's
how he'd looked at her until she made it clear he was a Loser with
a capital L. Now, his choices were limited. But Tony didn't really
want a mate. No, he wanted a female Were trophy, squiring her about
under the snouts of all the other male Were that couldn't be mated
to a female Were. There were too few. She smiled.

Adi enjoyed bristling his fur with that every
chance she got. He was so full of himself. Like today. He'd painted
his role in the escape of the feral in such a way it made it sound
like she'd been irresponsible. Not the truth. That he'd put off a
difficult chore on a female at the worst point of the month? The
feral had showed her a kind of mercy. Tearing her shoulder out of
its socket yet not killing her. Not so crazy after all.

Then there was the other question about the
feral.

Who was he? Really?

Why the interest in the Rare One? Because no one
could convince Adi differently, if he'd wished for escape earlier
he could have. No. He'd wanted Jules. She'd stake her life on
it.

Tony followed her out with a smirk,
whistling.

The asshole.

Then Joseph came, casting a look her way. She
waited and he walked over to her. “You know, if you'd be a
little...” he rolled his eyes skyward, searching for the perfect
word, “
softer
with Tony, he'd cut you some slack.” Her
brother shrugged.