Destiny Unchained (11 page)

He didn’t sleep in the nude that night. Like a
gentlemen, he gave Natalia the bed and curled up with a pillow on
the dingy floor.

Until he could find a daylight potion, and convince
the stubborn woman to use it, they were stuck sleeping during the
day and hunting at night. It wouldn’t be a hard flip. He’d been up
for three nights straight following her trail. He could fall asleep
under a noon sky in the Nevada desert. His eyes drifted shut as he
considered the day’s events.

He’d been controlling the impulse to grin like a fool
since Natalia had told him about the dying wolf. Even knowing it
would’ve helped her hunt the Slayer, she hadn’t touched the wolf’s
blood. And she’d shown the creature mercy. That was twice now he’d
seen her compassion. For all her hardness and ruthless exterior,
she wasn’t entirely inhuman. There was a heart in there somewhere,
and he was going to find it. If for no other reason than to prove
he could. This was by far the most puzzling, intriguing, sometimes
frustrating, woman he’d ever met.

She shouldn’t appeal to him.
She’s a vampire for Christ sake.
It
was absurd. Even if he fell in love with her – which was highly
unlikely – without a mating scent, his pack would never accept her.
He’d have so many dominance challenges he might as well resign as
alpha and go rogue.

A future with a vampire was impossible. It was only
his wolf nature that wanted to figure her out. He would indulge it.
The wolf in him would only claw at him if he didn’t. Maybe he could
help her heal. He smiled.
Yes, that’s it.
She needed to believe in goodness
again.

Someone had hurt her; that much was clear. A
werewolf? Their world was rife with violence. It wouldn’t be
unusual for a woman who’d lived as long as she had to have been
victim of violence. She’d said something about a werewolf beating
his mate, leaving her to die in front of his pack. Could that have
been her? Did she have a mate?

He wasn’t stupid enough to believe he could change
her mind about all werewolves. But maybe he could convince her
there was one who had some honor left. And he was just the man to
do it.

The bed shifted and a long, drawn out sigh sounded
from above him. “All right, come on,” Natalia said grudgingly. “Get
in the bed.”

Was he dreaming? She pulled the covers back to reveal
a fully clothed body and gestured to the empty spot beside her. No,
if he were dreaming, she’d have been naked. “Come on,” she
repeated. “I won’t bite.”

Why
not?
he wanted to ask. Instead he climbed into the bed and
chuckled quietly when she scooted as far away as she could without
falling off. He had the sudden urge to push her.

“Did you feel bad for me,
puiule
? Did your tender heart bleed
to see me suffering on the cold, hard floor?” He grinned into his
pillow.

“Invitation revoked,” she said without heat. “Get out
of my bed.”

“Too late now. I’m staying.” She kicked him in the
back of the knee and he grunted. “Be nice or I’ll come over there
and cuddle too. You still owe me a kiss.”

Her answering growl made him laugh out loud.

“How can you stand it?” Natalia asked, her nose
scrunched in disgust. “It doesn’t smell anything like Chinese
food.” The offending odor was called General Tsao’s chicken. It was
unlikely General Tso Tsung-tang of the Qing dynasty had favored –
or even eaten – fried chicken soaked in sickeningly sweet-smelling
syrup. Take-out Chinese food was one of the many atrocities that
made her glad to be a vampire. It was right up there with tanning
beds and sagging breasts.

“And how would you know what real Chinese food smells
like?” Cristian asked, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth.

They sat at the small table in the motel room, the
six o’clock news filling the background as they half paid attention
for clues. Sleep that day had been oddly refreshing, especially
considering she’d shared a bed with a werewolf. Not to mention he
was a blanket hog. “I spent a few years in the Kunlan Mountains
during the seventeenth century. I know what real Chinese food
smells like.” She opened one of the cookie packages and sniffed it.
“What do they make these out of? Cardboard?”

He grabbed the cookie from her hand. “Miniature life
lessons.”

“They make them out of miniature life lessons?”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “No, you’re
likely right about the cardboard. But it’s what’s inside that’s
important.” After he broke the cookie apart, he regarded the
fortune thoughtfully.

“Well? What’s it say?”

His brows furrowed. “A handsome blonde will enter
your life bearing words of wisdom and a big –”

“Head?”

He looked at her. “Not what I was going to say.”

She tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a smile. “Give
me that.” She snatched the paper from his hand and read it.

Love is for the lucky and the brave.

“So,” Cristian said, waggling his eyebrows, “feeling
lucky?”

She chuckled, wadded up the piece of paper, and threw
it at him. He beamed, likely proud he made her laugh. Gods only
knew why he was obsessed with it.

“Luck I get,” she said when they’d sat in silence
once more. “But why brave?”

He shifted in his seat then sat forward, his gaze
piercing through her. “Because, Natalia, love is a risk. Love from
the depths of your soul requires a certain amount of sacrifice. It
bids you to give yourself wholly to another. To allow someone to
view you like a prism, assessing you at every angle, examining
every flaw. You must lay yourself before them, open and bare, and
say, ‘here I am. I hold nothing back. I am yours, mind, body, and
soul.’ And all you can do is hope they don’t crush you.” He leaned
closer. “But the man who truly loves you will tend to your heart
like he tends a garden, nurturing it until it grows and blooms
under his hand.”

She was on the edge of her seat, her gaze locked on
him. Finally, she tore away and fiddled with her hands. Clearing
her throat, she forced herself to say, “Well said, Romeo.”

Inside, she soaked up his words. She’d sworn off
love. Not just love – affection, fear, hope, everything. Feelings
made her vulnerable. Vulnerability made her dead. And what Cristian
described was terrifying. Giving yourself wholly to another? Never
again.

One word stood out from the rest. Nurture. The word
made her feel uncomfortably warm inside. She used to yearn for
nurturance. Though some would doubt it, she’d been human once.
She’d grown to the ripe age of twenty-nine before she was turned.
In the twelfth century, that was downright old. Married to her
fierce but warm husband, Marcelo, they’d tried to conceive a child,
growing disappointed each year that passed in loneliness. Though
the centuries had changed her, she’d been a fierce human too.
Marcelo used to call her
misteriosa belleza
, mysterious beauty. Her father
had pushed her to marry above her class but she’d fallen in love
with the tall, dark, and charming carpenter. But it all fell apart
in just one night.

The first few centuries as a vampire she sought
freedom from her barren existence. That was why she’d run from
Marcelo, even knowing he’d turned for her. Not only did he
willingly turn into a night creature, the very thing he hated, but
she heard rumors he’d been searching for her all these years, never
losing focus of his goal. For almost eight hundred years she knew
this, yet she avoided him time and time again. Shame and regret
nagged at her –

She shook her head. Those were thoughts best left
locked up in a vault.

Cristian set his empty food containers aside. “Your
turn to talk. What made you hate werewolves so much?”

She stared at him, considering whether to answer.
Maybe if she told him the ugly truth, he’d understand she could
never love another man, especially a werewolf. Maybe his silly
crush would end. And maybe he’d finally leave her to hunt alone.
“Want the long version or the short one?”

“I want the truth.”

She inhaled a deep breath then slowly released it.
“My mate is a werewolf.”

His brows darted up but he didn’t look that
surprised.

“His name is Eli. We were together for ten years in
the late eighteen hundreds. We lived with a pack in the
Appalachians. They were wary of me at first, but they recognized
the mating signals and accepted me. At least I thought they did.”
She kept her gaze on the table. “Some of them I considered my
friends.

“Anyway, I hadn’t spent time with vampires before so
when I stumbled upon Julian, a wandering vamp I’d run into, I
wanted to learn everything I could about them.”

He flinched back. “You mean you’d never met another
vampire?”

She shrugged. “Here and there. But I didn’t pay
attention to them. I didn’t ask questions or learn from them.”

At his confused expression, she explained. “The first
night of my change, I was so scared and confused. I turned to the
only person I trusted. But when Marcelo looked at me like I was….a
monster…it tore me apart.” Did her voice just waver? She shook her
head. “Anyway, I hated myself. I hated what I’d become. I didn’t
want anything to do with my kind.

“But Eli…” she stared down at her hands, “he was so
comforting at first. He didn’t care that I needed blood to live or
could only go out at night. He said he loved me no matter what I
was.” Of course, all the warning signs had been there. She
recognized them now. Little bursts of temper with flowery apologies
after.

“So what happened?” Cristian prompted.

“He had a jealous streak. When he found out I was
spending time with another man, and a vampire no less, he just…lost
it.” She sat back in her chair, clutching one of the throwing
knives Cristian had given her then twirling it in her fingers. For
some reason, the habit calmed her.

Cristian’s gaze dropped to her hands then lifted back
to her face. “And he hurt you?”

She nodded. “That was before I was the fighter I am
today.” Her hand tightened around the knife handle. “He was bigger
and stronger and beat me within inches of my life. Then he left me
to die.”

Cristian’s eyes filled with compassion, his mouth
twisted into a frown. She flicked her gaze away, staring out the
window as she continued. “His pack knew I was there, dying in
agony. Eli made sure to leave me inside their territory where no
one could help me. Even Julian didn’t dare intervene. His pack just
watched me die.” She exhaled a humorless laugh. “I begged. I
pleaded for someone to at least take me out of the sun.”

“But…” his brows furrowed, “you can’t die from
injuries or even prolonged sun exposure.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “I can from fire.”

He stared at her for a moment then his eyes widened
as her words sunk in. Lips tightened, he clenched his fists and
cursed under his breath.

She spun the knife again. “I was pathetic. Screaming,
begging for mercy. I’ll never let myself be in that position
again.” She fisted her hand around the knife and slammed the point
into the table.

He looked from the knife standing on end then back to
Natalia. “You weren’t pathetic. You wanted to live.”

Yes,
though I don’t know why
. “I wanted it too badly.”

He shook his head. “There’s no such thing as wanting
to live too badly. You either do or you don’t. If you’re thinking
too hard about the consequences of what you do to survive, you
might as well lie down and take what life gives you. And I’ll tell
you one thing…life’s a son-of-a-bitch.” He sat upright in his seat
and pulled the knife out of the table. “You’re a fighter, Natalia.
You’ll never lay down and die.” He tossed her the knife, which she
caught easily.

She’d been innocent back then. Eli was her first
romantic relationship since losing her humanity. It had been all
about the sex at first. And he was damn good at it. Charming,
seductive, and with the chemical mating bond shared between them,
she didn’t stand a chance resisting him. Happiness could be built
on a mutual attraction, she’d thought. After all, the gods had made
them mates for a reason.

Her perspective on life had changed since then. Screw
the gods. Screw the universe. Natalia chose her fate and no one
else. Touching death had done something irrevocable inside her.

It hadn’t been her first encounter with death. She
thought back on that night in the lonely woods more than
eight-hundred-years ago. A vampire had attacked, biting fiercely
into her flesh. She’d thought the night creatures were a myth
superstitious peasants made up to keep their children away from the
forest. And though she’d managed to grasp a stick to defend
herself, one vicious strike from the vampire’s claw was all it took
and the world went dark. When she awoke, she’d been reborn.

But what Eli had done to her was different. Being
beaten with cruelty didn’t just injure a person physically, but
took a piece of their soul. Eli had opened Pandora’s box. It was
kill or be killed now. No hesitation. No mercy. No remorse.

“How did you survive?”

“A witch braved the pack and took me to her home. She
helped me heal.” But that kind of magic came at a price.

“What price did you have to pay?”

She smiled. So he knew about witches? “In exchange
for saving my life, giving me an immunity to silver, and the
ability to manipulate metal, I hunt rogues for her. As long as I
hunt werewolves, I keep my gifts.”

“Witches are mortal. Isn’t she dead?”

“The contract stayed in her bloodline. I work for her
great-great-granddaughter, Moira, now.”

His brows shot up. “You work for a witch? The
shadiest type of supernaturals?”

“We operate on a mutual distrust.” And dislike.

“So she gives you kill orders and you fulfill
them?”