The Blood Bundle, Books 1-2: Blood Singers and Blood Song (New Adult Paranormal Vampire/Shifter Romance) (42 page)

The smile stayed in her eyes and she
repeated, “Julia,” more softly and without the force of her earlier
answer. Then she looked up at him through her ginger-colored
lashes, “Besides, I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

She pivoted in the opposite direction,
walking ahead on the well-worn trail.

Had she just flirted with him? Nah...
impossible
, Scott thought. But as he watched
her walk away, all his female navigation skills going up in smoke
when it came to her, he thought maybe she had.

Hope sprung to life.

Scott grinned, following her small feminine
form, the flame burning brighter as he did.

While in the deepest part of the woods,
vampires slept under cover of forest debris.

Waiting.

*

battle

William took the first two easily, gutting one
with a well-placed talon, his entrails getting wrapped in the
process. He slung the pearly rope of flesh against his mate's neck,
and pulled with about half his strength, spearing the vampire in
the fleshiest part of his jaw as he fell forward.

William tore the talons out of his victims,
flying over their bodies and colliding midair with the next vampire
who engaged him.

There were many.

They overwhelmed William. A puzzling trend
emerged, they fought talonless, he had single-handedly brought down
ten when the remainder held him.

No one was more surprised than he when their
leader pulled out a weapon that William had never seen used before
in any battle in which he'd participated.

A gun.

The leader lifted it, leveling it on William's
chest while a vampire weighed down each of his limbs, and pulled
the trigger. It pierced his chest with a meaty thwack and William
felt himself go liquid and boneless as he lay there. A strange
floating euphoria descended on him and he was paralyzed.

“Finally, damn. Gabriel said to take twenty and
I almost dismissed his numbers.” William heard their voices
casually discuss him as he lay there, frozen by a paralytic drug of
epic proportions. Much would be needed to freeze a vampire into
paralysis combined with consciousness.

The leader stepped over William and raised his
fist high above William, the shadow of his bunched hand like a
small moon above him. “This is a closed discussion, runner.” With
that comment, he struck, hard and quick.

William's consciousness slipped away and
blackness replaced his thoughts.

The vampires took him, his limbs swinging and
flopping uselessly as he was carried over the shoulder of one of
the survivors.

*

perseverance

William blinked awake, the stone that his body
lay on was cold even to his vampiric indifference. He knew where he
was even as he willed it not so.

Torture chamber.

William looked around the dank stone walls and
his eyes came to rest on the male in partial shadow in the corner.
He stepped into the crude light that made its way inside the
stained and foul-smelling room William found himself in, his mask
hiding his identity. No surface remained unstained by the gore of
others. Their struggles. In vain.

No matter.

He was vampire, with vampire strength and
speed.

And ingenuity.

William was in grave danger.

“Why?” he asked the vampire who was his brother
in arms, from different covens, with the same precepts as his
own.

The vampire rolled massive shoulders into a
shrug, and in a voice like polished rock replied, “It is nothing
personal, Singer.”

“I am not fullblood. I am just a runner. It is
them I seek.”

“Yet, you found her.” The eyes in the mask bored
into William's. “You are the one that discovered the Rare One. Made
her partially yours with the blood-share.”

A horrible terror gripped William. It was Julia.
They would weaken her through him.

“I see that you understand our objective.”

“Do not do this!” William growled in a low
voice, jerking the chains of silver that held him fast against the
slab.

His torturer gave a grim smile. “You will heal,
my friend. We will gain a prize. One day, you will forgive us this
transgression.”

“Never,” William promised, his gray eyes turning
into a storm in his face. He felt burning hatred for his home kiss,
having made William the sacrificial lamb and it was unlike anything
he had ever known.

“We shall see,” the torturer said, moving
forward with blurring speed, the barbed whip striking William in
the chest, tearing his flesh to the bone in a blinding and
skin-tingling shock of pain so acute and numbing William was silent
in the aftermath of the strike, his words stolen.

His breath.

The next thirty strikes put him under.

When the icy water struck his face, William
wished for death. Prayed for it.

If God watched over his kind, he remained silent
witness to William's pleas.

For they remained unanswered.

His blood ran red, dripping into shallow
copper-lined troughs that ran the perimeter of the stone slab that
he lay upon.

It was collected.

Every drop.

And taken elsewhere, for use on the Singer.

Julia's fragile connection to William had been
discovered and turned into her Achilles' heel.

She remained unaware, but not for long.

*

Northwestern Pack

Adi grinned at Manny when he walked by but his
expression remained solemn, her presence unnoticed. She chased
after him, tugging on his sleeve. He turned, his face lighting up
when he saw her.

“Hey, got any good gossip?” she grinned.

He shook his head. Adi was quite a handful. But
she was a wonderful female alpha. He regarded her. Manny knew that
it would take a formidable male to appreciate someone like her.
Just as he thought it, Tony strode into the narrow hall that
traveled between the great library and the gathering hall, where
meals, socializing and yes... gossip transpired.

Not that male,
Manny thought. In fact, he
was the most eligible wolf in the pack but the females shied away
from Tony.

Adi didn't. Unfortunately, she enjoyed needling
him.
Foolhardy and provocative at best, dangerous
at worst.

Manny stepped slightly in front of Adi and
Tony's eyes tracked the subtle gesture. Tony smiled, looking at the
second.

Tony thought Manny was a sucker for the old
ways. Treasure the female wolf, guide her, protect her.

Blah fucking blah.

How about a good domination and
plundering?
Tony thought. Now that was what he was talking
about.

His eyes narrowed in consideration of the
Packmaster's second.

Maybe it'd be a twofer? Possibly he'd get rid of
two pesky rivals in one fell swoop.

Tony wasted a moment self-congratulating. He
always came up with the best ideas.

“What do you have?” Tony asked in a brusque
tone, giving Adi a once over that made her blush.

Not with embarrassment over his brazen lust, but
with anger.

She'd love to give him a go. It just rankled her
ass he could kick hers. Adrianna wished she had a defender. Adi
gave an internal shrug; that'd take all the fun out of it. She was
just bloodthristy enough to want to feel his bones crunch under her
fists, his skin shift and split by her own assault. Wipe that
stupid grin off his face.

Along with a couple of teeth.

Some of what Adi felt must have shown on her
face because he stepped nearer to her.

Manny didn't even try for subtlety. “Tony,” he
said in a low voice that was full of command, fueled by
integrity.

Tony flicked his eyes to Emmanuel's, then Adi's.
He'd felt that bitch's battle lust like an invitation.

Tony made a promise to himself then and there.
When Adrianna had no one around to defend her, he would take his
chance with her.

He would take her.

Tony wouldn't stop with her either, his mind
touching on the Rare One.

Julia Caldwell was the ultimate for him. Nothing
would keep him from her, not even that red Feral cocksucker. Once
he mated Julia, there would be nothing anyone could do to reverse
the process once begun.

Her willingness was not a prerequisite
,
Tony thought.

The Packmaster could delude himself into an
early grave if he thought that Tony would allow that Feral to get
his red paws on the Rare One. It was a joke. Tony knew that Manny
would uphold whatever stupid one thousand year old law the Were
possessed. He was such a fucking choir boy.

Tony would be careful, he stepped down with an
effort. Emmanuel's posture relaxed when he saw Tony back down.

Emmanuel glossed over his odd behavior toward
Adi but noted it for future reflection. “We train one week for the
mission, traveling the week after for the strike.”

Tony gave a curt nod, then turned to Adi. “Will
you train, little wolf?” he goaded her with a gleam in his eye.

She used werewolf speed, latching onto his
nutsack, exerting just enough pressure to let him know she was
serious, but not enough to maim.

The restraint Adrianna used was not pretty.

Tony grunted, his eyes widening in surprise and
Emmanuel looked down and away, trying to contain his laughter with
an almost painful effort.

“You bet your hairy ass,” she said, leveling
unhealthy dominant eye contact, and gave a subtle squeeze that made
his eyes tear up.

He met her stare, his most tender area held in
her small hands.

Tony's anger became rage, his earlier promise to
himself becoming a vow.

Soon
, he seethed, the ember of the
eternal flame of his ferocity permanently stoked.

the blood

Region One

Marcus watched the two come and although they
would not see it or consider it, just their mere physical presence
was a study in contrast. He gazed through the old glass window
pane, their images wavering as they drew nearer, Julia all golden
light and fragility, his son all dark towering menace. Marcus
sighed. He knew that the aborted conversation from a few days past
would need to be finished.

How did he reveal the secret he'd hidden from
his own children? It had been a necessary falsehood but as he
watched his son draw closer, a Singer warrior, he knew the truth
would not be well-received. It didn't matter. Scott needed to
understand what was behind the soul-meld. It wasn't just
chance.

It was providence.

Marcus noticed that Scott had worn his gloves.
Good.

They walked inside and it was with a lightness
that Marcus had not noticed from his eldest in some time. He
realized it was the benefit of the soul-meld. Even if Scott would
not admit that he was more complete with Julia than without, it was
so.

“Father,” Scott began.

Julia's smile faded and Marcus hated to see it
go.

“We need to finish our talk,” Scott said simply
and briefly squeezed Julia's shoulder, stripping off his gloves
afterward. Scott sat on the overstuffed parlor furniture that went
with the age of the house but hurt his ass. Julia sat in the
loveseat opposite him, hesitated, then moved somewhat closer to his
position in an adjacent chair. The cabbage roses of the material
were a true burnt tangerine, the color exactly matched the deepest
tone of her hair.

“Scott?” Marcus raised a brow, watching his
focused eldest become distracted with just her presence. He was
slightly relieved that he was free of soulmate status. It would be
quite something to combat.

Or just give into.

Marcus felt the latter would be the better of
the two.

He paced, folding his hands behind his back
carefully, while their eyes followed him.

Finally, he turned to face them. “Scott, you are
a Singer from a special bloodline.”

Julia almost groaned out loud. If she heard
“blood” one more time, she was going to slit her own wrists. It
seemed that it was the only thing that mattered to anyone. Couldn't
they just... she didn't know, talk about anything else?

Apparently not
, she thought, watching
Marcus' grim face.

“I know what blood line I'm descended from,”
Scott said in a flat voice, nonplussed.

Marcus shook his head. “No. You know what I've
told you. Or in this case, the truth by omission.”

Julia thought this was sounding bad.

Marcus suddenly smiled. “I know that Singer
Studies wasn't your strong suit.”

Scott barked out a laugh, he could have given a
shit about school. He was always too active to want to sit and
learn. Now fighting skills, combat training? That's what he'd
gravitated toward.

“There's a reason why you're the top Singer
defender in our region.” Marcus' eyes met Scott's. “You are a
descendent of The Combatant.”

Scott's mind seized. “Wait a sec, Dad... that
can't be...”

“It is.”

“They're extinct!” Scott roared in obvious
denial.

“Obviously not,” Marcus gave him a significant
look.

Marcus knew the instant Scott understood what he
was. What his purpose was. Before Scott could answer, Marcus quoted
scripture out of the Book of Singers:

The circle of The Combatant will close
around the most guarded treasure of Singers, one that holds the sun
in her hand, the moon as her guard.

“
I'm a Combatant?” Scott asked
incredulously. All the puzzle pieces and differences that had been
so stark as he matured came to the surface of his consciousness, at
once making sense.

At last.

It was troubling. It was a relief. It was
all of that.

Julia jumped in, “Wait a sec,
guys,” she began. When she had their attention she continued,
“First, what's the Combatant? Second, why do you guys both look
like a flock of ghouls have landed in the yard?” She gave that more
thought. Maybe she shouldn't say that like it wasn't possible?
After all, there were vampires and werewolves... and her. Before
she could give it too much introspection, Scott answered her, “It
was legend. That there was a special...,” he waved his hand out,
still dismissing what he obviously hadn't believed.
Like
her as Queen
, he thought suddenly. Then
continued, “group of warriors, The Combatant. They would come from
the four corners of the world to protect the prophesied Queen of
the Singers. They would all have royal blood,” Scott said, making
airquotes.