Cursed by Destiny (WG 3) (3 page)

“I know this, Misha, but I can’t.” The purr from his Hummer limo filled the awkward pause between us. Hank, one of Misha’s bodyguards and driver, leapt out of his seat to open the door.

Misha motioned with his hand. “After you,” he said quietly.

I nodded. The conversation of becoming bedmates was over. At least for the moment.

I placed my foot into the monstrosity of a vehicle. The aroma of dried crushed herbs and magic smacked me in the nose and sent a stabbing pain into my skull. I whipped around and lunged at Misha and Hank,
shifting
us the moment my knee connected with the slate. I dissolved my body and that of the vampires into minute particles, easily and swiftly passing through the frozen soil and in the direction of the garden. The earth rumbled above us. We traveled fast, but I didn’t get us far. I hadn’t taken a sufficient breath and my lungs demanded air. I surfaced near an old redwood just as a second explosion sent the limo door spiraling toward us like a giant baton.

I
shifted
us down to our waists as the rim embedded into the redwood above us like the blade from an electric saw, missing our heads by less than a second. Chunks of bark and broken glass peppered my scalp. I surfaced enough for us to crawl away from beneath the dented door. We were knocked onto our sides when a third blast pulverized what remained of the vehicle. I stared blankly at the roaring inferno.

Holy crap. Someone just tried to kill me.

CHAPTER 2

The good Catholics practically shoved me out of the way in their urgency to reach Misha. I limped around Agnes Concepción, ignoring her vicious hiss when I accidently stepped in her way. Hank barked orders at the male vamps. “Search the premises.
Now
. Whoever cast the witch fire may still be here. Tim, check the digital recordings on the surveillance cameras!”

The vamps disappeared like a passing breeze. I hobbled toward Hank, who focused with deep loathing at the bright orange flames encasing what remained of the Hummer limo. The heat grew stronger as I drew near. The intensity of the fire irritated my green eyes and sent streams of tears trickling down my heated cheeks. There was no smoke, just odd orange flames and the increasing aroma of drying herbs. Hank had called it witch fire. To me it seemed more like multiple grenades packed with a mystical combustion. But then, he’d know more than I.

“Did you sense anything when you climbed in, Hank?”

“No. Nothing. I didn’t feel shit until you approached.” He looked me up and down before taking hold of my arm. He pulled me toward the flame. Or, at least, he tried.

I jerked my arm free. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Just trust me. Will ya?”

I threw my hands in the air. “Hank, you hate me. Explain to me why I should trust you to lead me toward a blazing magical inferno.”

He scoffed. “I don’t deny you’re a pain in the ass. But you know the master will stake me if I hurt you.”

That much was true. Still, that didn’t mean I’d allow him to lead me around like a wimp. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just take two steps toward the Hummer.”

I took one step forward. The flames intensified. I took another. The flames screamed. Screamed like a premenstrual woman in serious need of chocolate. That’s when I took four hurried steps back.

“Shit,” Hank muttered. “Just as I thought. You’re the goddamn trigger. Take off your shirt.”

“Um. No.”

“Your pants?”

“No!”

“Fuckin’ A, Celia. They’re ripped anyway.”

I jabbed my finger in his chest. “They’re ripped because I banged my knee when I saved your sorry undead ass!” Hank glared at my finger, then at me. I sighed, ripped a section of my pants off, and tossed it to him. “There. Is that good enough?”

Hank snatched the cloth from me and sniffed it, smiling when he caught a whiff of my blood. No, that wasn’t creepy or anything. He neared the blaze and flung the cloth like a Frisbee. A static charge of orange light crackled above the fire and the aroma of herbs built until it coated my tongue with a nasty film. Sections of flames raced inward toward the fabric like small fire entities. They leapt on top of one another in their attempt to reach the disintegrating cloth, but instead of growing stronger by uniting, they extinguished one by one.

All that remained of Misha’s ride was a warped, ash-covered frame. “Someone tried to kill you, Celia,” Hank muttered, his tone one step shy of a hiss. “This witch fire wouldn’t have gone out unless it was satisfied its target had been eliminated.”

I pushed my long wavy hair away from my face. I didn’t want to be right. And Hank had a point: the witch fire mojo seemed satisfied once it tasted my blood. Awesome. Just one more evil critter wanting to take a bite out of me.

The heat rose around me from Hank’s rising temper. It would have been sweet if he was angry that some big bad nasty had tried to murder me. But I knew better. Hank was furious that he’d almost been burnt to toast. As a master vampire, Misha would have survived the blaze and the impact. Hank . . . not so much. He would have been the vampire equivalent of a gasoline-soaked matchstick. “How did a witch get in here to cast such a spell? The entire compound is warded against an attack.”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Misha walked toward me appearing to any human as calm and collected. The way his family spread out to give him ample space and the bitter scent of fury that alerted my tigress suggested that his pissed-off-o-meter had reached a record high.

Hank bowed. “We will find who did this, Master. And when we do, I’ll rip his kidneys out and feed them to him.”

Knowing Hank, this wasn’t a gross exaggeration. Misha crossed his arms and took in my knee. “You’re hurt.” Behind me a phone rang. Edith Anne quickly silenced it.

“I’m fine, Misha. It’s just a scratch.”

Another phone rang. Another Catholic schoolgirl turned off the ringer.

“May I heal you?”

I backed away. “No, Misha. It just needs some ice.” Maria raced toward the house. Another cell phone rang, then another, and another. Misha and I turned to the group just as someone’s “I’m Sexy and I Know It” ringtone filled the cold night. “Who’s calling?”

Misha’s vamps exchanged glances, appearing afraid to reveal the identity of the caller. Maria hurried back with a sandwich bag stuffed with ice. God knew a vamp could haul serious ass when motivated by her master. Her phone rang next. She hurled the packet of ice at my face. I caught it and almost launched it back at her until I saw her gaping at her phone. She swallowed hard and raised her chin. “It’s one of de mongrels from de pack.”

My body stiffened.
Okay. Which one?

“Answer it,” Misha snapped.

The moment Maria touched the screen a thunderous growl erupted on the other end of the line. “Put. Celia. On.
Now!
”

Koda. My oh so gentle and loving brother-in-law. I reached for the phone and hissed at Maria when she wouldn’t hand it to me. “Give me the damn phone!” Following a nod from Misha, she threw it at me with as much love as she had the ice pack. “Koda, it’s me.”

His growls silenced. “Are you hurt? We know about the explosion.”

Koda was the techno-savvy guy. Either he’d hacked into Misha’s security cameras or he’d put someone on watch near the compound. It shouldn’t have shocked me, but that didn’t mean I liked it. “I’m fine.” I took in the wreckage. The engine collapsed with a loud bang. “Nothing to worry about.”

Koda paused, obviously having heard the engine’s last hurrah. “There was witch fire, Celia.”

“So I’m told. Don’t fret. The vampires are looking into it.”

Another rumble erupted. This time it wasn’t Koda. I froze when I recognized it as Aric’s growl. He was there, in the room with Koda. “I’m fine,” I repeated once more, my voice shaking from surprise. Aric didn’t sound satisfied. He hated me living with Misha. But he’d made a choice, and so had I.

Another sharp snarl cut through the phone. I closed my eyes and pictured his light brown eyes, the sexy five o’clock shadow that covered his strong jaw, and the grin that never failed to stop my heart. My raspy voice softened, just as it always had in his presence. “I scraped my knee, but it’s nothing. Please don’t worry, wolf.”

I no longer spoke to Koda, but rather Aric. His protests abruptly stopped. In the quiet that followed, I could hear him taking deep, controlled breaths. “Okay,” Aric answered in his deep timbre. “Be safe.” A door opened and closed in the background, letting me know he was gone.

Koda’s voice brought me back to the moment. “Do you need us to come for you?”

“No . . . thank you. I’ll see you at the house tomorrow.”

When I disconnected, all eyes were on me. And, go figure, no one seemed thrilled. One by one, Misha’s vampires dispersed. I wrapped my arms around myself. Now that the witch fire had vanished, the air grew cold and dense. “Come,” Misha finally said. “Dinner awaits.”

Misha slipped his arm back around my shoulders and led me to the house. A team of vamps appeared with saws, sledgehammers, and dirty looks. My body trembled. But the vampires weren’t the cause of my discomfort. Moving into Château de Misha had never been about becoming chummy with creatures so self-absorbed I had to work not to smack them. In fact, I was almost used to their snide and catty remarks. What I wasn’t used to were attempts on my life, even though I’d experienced my share since being “outed” to the mystical community. I also wasn’t used to hearing Aric’s voice anymore. All it had taken was his familiar deep tone to tug on my heartstrings and send me into a state of misery.

The scent of roasting duck filled my nose. I squinted a little as my eyes adjusted to the brightly lit European-inspired kitchen. Misha must have used his vamp mojo to put Chef on dinner duty. Chef raced between the industrial steel stove and the tan marble counter, slicing, dicing, stirring, and swearing in French. Out of all the vamps in Misha’s keep, Chef was by far the moodiest bastard. “
Merde
,” he muttered the moment he saw us.

Chef lived—well, in death—to prepare meals almost too pretty to eat. I ignored him and shuffled toward the table, feeling more chilled than I should have in the warm kitchen.

“I shall discover who attempted to kill you, Celia. Do not fear for your safety in my home.”

I must have appeared pathetic for Misha’s anger to resurface. “I know, Misha. Don’t worry. I’m fine.” I was getting tired of repeating myself, mostly because I wasn’t “fine.” I was merely forging ahead because, damn it all, there was evil afoot.

My new life as the vampire’s weapon was probably the most dangerous path I could have selected, and yet it felt right. I’d almost lost a sister to the Tribe and watched countless innocents suffer as I stood helplessly by. But I wasn’t helpless, and while I was far from perfect, I could be the perfect weapon . . . at least where Team Dracula was concerned.

My powers were unique and strong, even in a world packed with supernatural muscle. My ability to
shift
underground unscathed made me difficult to track and conquer. My inner beast also made me formidable against anything with fangs or claws. Pure light could sear a demon and detonate an average vamp, but it had no effect on me. Misha’s legion of undead couldn’t say the same.

Weres
matched me in strength, but they’d made it clear they didn’t want me. So in my quest to rid the world of the Tribe, I chose to help the vampires, just as Aric had chosen his pack above and beyond me.

Crap
. I rubbed my face. In the end, my thoughts always returned to Aric.

Misha watched me closely. The silence between us grew longer and filled with tension. When he spoke, his light Russian accent dripped with frustration. “You must forget about the beast, Celia. Even if that mongrel does love you, he is obligated by blood and pack to breed with his kind. There is nothing you can do. Your relationship with him is over.”

Misha had recognized Aric’s snarls just as I had. I’d heard them a thousand times out of fear for my safety. Misha had heard them on the receiving end of Aric’s wrath. I’d definitely experienced the cuddlier side of that werewolf. I sat slowly. “Do you realize that you only call me Celia when you’re being serious or when you’re angry with me?” I smiled weakly. “Which is it now?”

He sat across the table from me, frowning in a way that would have sent his family scurrying in fear. “Perhaps it is a little of both, since you fail to come to your senses. You could be with a more deserving male.” He paused. “You could be with me.”

His comment hitched my breath. For once, he wasn’t merely asking me to bed. “Are you asking me for a commitment?”

Misha’s jaw tightened. “Perhaps.”

I stood and walked to his side and brushed his long blond hair away from his face. His expression softened when he caught my smile. “I think you’re the one who needs to come to his senses. You deserve better than what I can give you.”

I meant that. For a vampire, Misha was a tremendous catch. In addition to his incredible masculine beauty, he was smart, funny, and enjoyable company. And, for anyone who cared, he was also obscenely wealthy. I think he owned Canada.

Misha regarded me with complete tenderness. It was a look he gave me frequently since I’d inadvertently returned his soul. His expression was one of kindness and compassion I’d never seen him demonstrate to anyone, and it warmed my heart. He reached out and stroked my face. “Thank you for believing I’m a better man than I am.”

I squeezed his large hand with mine in time for Hank to appear. “Did you find the culprit?” Misha asked without looking at him.

Hank shook his head. “No, Master. We’ve searched the house and the grounds, and the digital recordings taken over the last twenty-four hours have been reviewed. No one but your family and feasts have entered the premises.”

Which meant either the limo had been booby-trapped during an excursion . . . or Misha’s family hated me more than I thought. My thoughts played across my Latina features like a violin. “None of my family would dare harm you,” Misha said. He turned to Hank.