Bad Blood: Bad Duology Book One

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Bad Blood: Bad Duology Book One Page 10

by Colt, Shyla

Finish her off. Spill her blood. The beast inside of her wanted carnage. Her senses alerted her moments before she was thrown off her feet by a shoulder to the gut. Pain exploded through her body. She landed in a heap of weakened limbs. There was magic behind that hit. Peering up through her tangled curls, she dug her fingers into the ground as she spotted the male.

  “Demarcus.” She growled at the suave, black-haired man with a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and shoulder-length dreads. He stood in front of his mistress.

  “What have you become?”

  “Your worst mistake.” She leapt at him, letting the beast take control. Her mouth ached as fangs pushed up from her gums and she went for his jugular. Her teeth scraped his flesh as Crewe’s nails raked down his side.

  “Get her!” He moved toward the Priestess. A bright flash of light blinded her. She stumbled back, throwing a hand over her eyes to shield them. A second later, the witches were gone. Spitting his blood onto the ground, she scrubbed her mouth, horrified. Her chest grew tight, and her stomach rebelled. Bending over, she emptied the contents of her belly. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “What am I?”

  He wiped her mouth with his sleeve. “Powerful.”

  “I’m a freak.”

  He glanced around. “What’s to keep them from returning?”

  Sniffling, she drew on the energy generated by the fading storm and wove a complex ward around the property. Dripping the blood from her healing lip onto the ground, she sealed it with her blood.

  “Your wards are powerful, but we were blood bound once. It gave them the ability to find me regardless of where I was.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, they can’t.” Numb, she rocked back and forth, wishing the rain beating down could wash away the confusion clouding her mind.

  He reached out for her. “Come. We both need rest.”

  “How could I sleep after that?”

  “The first time you use your fangs is always traumatic.”

  Brows furrowed, she tossed her hands in the air. “Fangs is what’s wrong in this situation, Crewe!”

  “Perhaps this is a part of your witch’s plan, melding us.”

  “I could do without being the prototype,” she snapped.

  “Nakeeta?” He grabbed her wrist, stopping her just inside of the door.

  “Yes?”

  “You did bloody excellent out there.”

  She couldn’t help but grin at his praise. He didn’t give it lightly. “Thank you.”

  Twining their fingers, he brought their hands up to his lips. It fixed nothing, but it showed her she wasn’t alone. With the darkness clawing at her insides, begging to be unleashed, it would have to be enough.

  * * *

  CREWE

  He sipped the honeyed mead and observed the other knights digging into their food. They were celebrating a victory. That meant a fresh round of baths, wenches, and all of the food they could manage to fit in their bellies. When things were good, they lived like kings. These were the moments he’d left home for.

  “I can’t believe I’m forced to come back to this wretched time. As if living through it once wasn’t enough.”

  “Peace, sister. This is the easiest way.”

  The voices stood out amongst the merriment. He turned to see the strange women dressed in long, black gowns. They weren’t tavern wenches, and a lady of nobility wouldn’t be caught here. Tall and regal with flowing hair the color of spun straw, and night, they studied him.

  “He noticed us,” the golden-haired beauty said with a welcoming smile.

  “Yes. He’s stronger than I anticipated,” the other said. Her gaunt, oval-shaped face, thin lips, and upturned nose exacerbated the pinched expression she wore.

  “It is the bond. Fear not, brave knight. We brought you here in sleep to speak to the male we’ve entrusted the future with,” the blonde said.

  This was more than a dream.

  “Buried in your memories, we can speak freely without being tracked. I am Angele, and this is Moll.”

  “What do you want from me?” he asked, suspicious of the witches distorting his memories and entering his mind. The power it took to manage that on one as old as he was vast.

  “To see if you are worthy,” Moll snarled. Her dark eyes were hostile.

  “It appears you’ve already made up your mind.” He leaned back in the cathedral style seat with its high arched back and oversized armrests.

  “Brave,” Angele conceded.

  “Or stupid,” Moll said, unimpressed.

  “Nakeeta has chosen you, and you have chosen her. Are you willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe?” Angele asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Even if it means going against your own kind?” Moll questioned further.

  “I understand what’s at stake.”

  “Yes, but what are you willing to give to succeed?”

  “My life if necessary.”

  “You vampires, all about death. Never understanding the power to be found in living.” Moll shook her head. “What if we require the opposite from you?”

  “Then you’ve come to the wrong creature.”

  “So quickly you give up,” Moll accused.

  “Moll.” Angele rested a hand on her shoulder. “He is not the enemy.”

  “So that automatically makes him the one?” Shaking her head, Moll jabbed her finger at him.

  “You come into my mind and insult me?” He pounded his fist on the table and stood. “Enough with your veiled comments. If you wish to ask something of me, do so. Otherwise, I kindly bid you exit my dreams.” His tone was terse, but he chose his words carefully. They were all precariously balanced on a razor’s edge. Each needed the other to survive, yet the misunderstandings and mistrust ran deep.

  The women exchanged a look. “She doesn’t need you to die for her. She needs you to live,” Angele whispered.

  Witches and their cryptic messages.

  They stepped toward him, and he took a giant step back, evading their touch.

  “Not so stupid,” Moll whispered.

  “Be still, vampire. We’ve decided to give you a gift.”

  “So you claim, yet you’ve explained nothing.”

  “We can’t tell you. Being here is bending the rules. There is a thin line between keeping the balance and manipulating the outcome nature has decided. We cannot speak it aloud, but we can even the odds,” Angele said gently.

  “Will you trust us, for her sake?” Moll stepped forward.

  Everything in him screamed trap. He should work on casting them out and strengthen his mental barrier. Except a lot of things he thought to be fact had been disproved. “All I ask for is a sign of good faith and intention.”

  “A witch’s oath, sister?” Angele asked.

  Moll inclined her head. “Yes, that will do.”

  The women moved to face one other, clasping hands. “We vow on our lives that no harm shall come to you from our hands. Every action taken will be for our common goal.” A ripple of power filled the air. A golden hue surrounded them. He felt the spell settle in.

  “Is that enough for you, vampire?” Moll asked with a sneer.

  “That remains to be seen. Regardless, I’m willing to take the risk.”

  “Why?” Moll asked.

  “For Nakeeta.” He met her hostile gaze with an unflinching stare of his own. His prior ties had shifted. Nakeeta would come out of this alive. The mission had changed.

  The women stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulders. “Hold tight.”

  His teeth slammed together as his body convulsed. Pain exploded from every pore of his body. His knees buckled, and his vision went black.

  * * *

  “Crewe.” He heard his name called from a long distance. The pain made him want to swim back toward the blackness. “Crewe.” The distress in the sweet voice urged him to fight. Embracing the agony, he struggled toward the light at the end of a long tunnel. It felt like moving through hardening m
arshmallow. One step at a time, he watched the glowing circle grow larger. His bones and joints ached. Every nerve ending fired at once. It took everything in him not to give in and sleep.

  He peered into the circle, that acted as a portal, showing him Keeta bent over his prone body. How can I see this? What did those witches do to me? She placed her hand, palm first, on his chest. A streak of power yanked him from the darkness and back into his body. His back arched and his body shook as his consciousness realigned with the present.

  “Crewe?”

  “Keeta?” he rasped. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. You started to glow, and then you wouldn’t wake up.”

  He pried his heavy lids open and focused on her distraught face. “You were worried about me then?”

  “Yes. And now I’m starting to regret it.”

  He chuckled as he sat up. “A few of your witches paid me a visit.” He tried to think back to their words.

  “What did they want?”

  “Funny, it’s hard to remember now. I think it was to prove I was worthy of you.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “How odd. We don’t dream you know. I haven’t experienced anything like this since before I was turned.”

  “What happens when you rest?”

  He shrugged. “We turn off.”

  “That sounds rather terrifying.”

  “It’s not as if I’m afraid I won’t wake up,” he stated, and rubbed his face. “You said I glowed?”

  Sitting back on her knees, she nodded. “I woke up because I thought you’d turned on the lights, but you were levitating off the bed, emitting this bright white light. I had to squint my eyes to look at you. I tried to reach you, but there was a barrier.” Her voice cracked. “I thought Genevie was retaliating.”

  “What changed your mind?” He raked his hands through his hair

  “The inherent sense of goodness that came from the light. I just knew. It’s hard to explain. It’s a witch thing.” She tugged at her earlobe.

  “And yet not having dreams is strange? You are an odd breed.” He propped the goose-feather pillows against the solid wood headboard, and leaned back.

  “You never seemed to object to me.” Balanced on her elbow, she searched his face.

  “You, no. Everything with you has been different. The trust I’ve placed with you is personal, not linked to your kind.” He ran his fingertips over her velvet skin, tracing her shoulder.

  “You still distrust us?” Her plump lips turned down.

  “Have your feelings changed on vampires?” He smoothed the red sheets down over his lap.

  “No, but I’m willing to give them a chance to prove—”

  “You shouldn’t. It’s dangerous and likely to get you killed.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “Then why are we even doing this?”

  “Because we must. I did not say it was impossible, only that it will take time and proof. We aren’t swayed so easily by words.”

  “I’m not a freakshow doing demonstrations for the crowd who pays for tickets.” She wrapped her arms across her chest.

  “You said you’d do what it took to convince others. It may come to that. We’ve been around long enough to see the start and end of many things. Rumors are ignored, and the things we see with our own eyes are picked apart.”

  “Because you want to be miserable?”

  “Our nature is a suspicious one. It comes with the territory when your survival depends on staying hidden. You have evolved to live in the open. Us predators never could.” He shook his head. “We’d be hunted to extinction. Humans fear what they don’t understand, and if it’s more powerful, they only learn enough to snuff out its life force or enslave it.”

  “Things have changed.”

  He chuckled darkly. “It’s their very nature. Coded in their DNA. That’s why we’re in this mess in the first place. We didn’t look like them, so we were monsters, spurned and hunted. We had to become predators to survive and find an acceptable existence.”

  “That was a choice your people made.”

  “As opposed to dwelling in dark, damp caves?” he challenged, rising to his feet. “Would you call that life?”

  “You’ve earned your reputation.”

  “And witches are saints?”

  “We try to keep the balance, not upset or take from it.”

  “Some. Not all,” he said.

  She ground her teeth together. “This isn’t helping either of us.” She exhaled.

  “No,” he agreed, curbing his temper. After centuries of defending them, he felt protective over his people.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “You tell me.”

  Nodding, she held out her hand. Magic tickled his skin like the top of a feather as she scanned him from head to toe.

  “I can’t detect anything unusual. If you begin to feel strange, let me know immediately.”

  He gave a nod. “We need to get back to training. Every hour is precious.”

  “Stubborn mule,” she mumbled.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, witch.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “You really shouldn’t. I’ll meet you at the maze. I’ll warn you, I’m feeling rather lucky.”

  “I didn’t figure you for the type to kick a man while he was down,” he called to her retreating form as she left his room.

  “What man?”

  Her words made him roar with laughter. They were forming an understanding. It took time to overcome centuries of prejudice and distrust. Soon, they’d be placed under a microscope. Any sign of weakness would be exploited and used against them. There were a lot of holes that needed patches before they came under the scrutiny of his people. She was fire. Hot, passionate, savage, and responsive. His people were more like ice. Cool, level-headed, and manipulative. They played the long game. Letting loose on your tight reign of control, meant the beast inside took over, and then no one was safe. A middle ground must be discovered fast, or we’ve lost before anyone has a chance to win.

  Chapter Eight

  KEETA

  They stood outside of the maze. Today she was pulling out the big guns. Rolling her neck, she relished the satisfying cracks. She could feel a danger coming in on the wind. Things were shifting, and their safe haven would become a thing of the past soon. Before that happened, she needed a win.

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” Crewe asked cockily.

  She couldn’t wait to watch that smug expression leave his face. Arrogant bastard. He had cause to be. He’d gotten used to being faster, stronger, and smarter. It would give anyone a superiority complex. He’d been teaching her his secrets as she learned to manage the changes happening to her body. Today she’d show him what a fast learner she truly was. For weeks, she’d suffered through a grueling training session, late night library searches, and constant corrections. It’d been a blow to her confidence.

  Nothing she did felt right. Exhaustion became a way of life, and it was a struggle to keep the constant disappointment from becoming depression. They’d yet to discover the map or the notebook she’d seen in her vision. Every bit of information they’d gleaned about their situation felt like speculation or told them more of what they already knew. The situation was fast becoming dire.

  Sorrow settled in her chest, a persistent ache like a bad cold one couldn’t shake. Channeling her frustration, she pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded.

  “Go.” The words hardly left his mouth when she froze him in place.

  His eyes widened, and she laughed as she took off, leaving an icy trail behind her on the ground. Gale force winds stirred her hair and clothing as they created a barrier between her and Crewe. Eyes on the prize, she leapt the hedges, pushing her body to the limits. The height of her jump stole her breath away. The blood had given her a strength that still frightened her.

  Landing on the ground, she stumbled forward toward the white flag. She sensed Crewe closing the distance between them. Not today. He
r fingers caught the stick. His scent flooded her. Snatching up the flag, she spun.

  “And Bob’s your uncle.” Sweat dripped into her eyes and her lungs felt fit to burst, but she waved the white flag triumphantly.

  “Proud of yourself, are you?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Bested you, didn’t I?”

  “One captured flag does not a victory make.”

  “Oh-ho, who’s a sore loser now?” she chuckled.

  “Incorrigible.”

  “And you love it.”

  “Confident.”

  “Isn’t that what you’ve groomed me to be? Like you?”

  His mouth opened and closed as he faltered. “Is that how you feel?”

  “Yes. How else could I walk in your world? You’ll always be an enigma to me. Your brains are wired differently. I think the passage of time and the fact that you’re all born when things were so different plays a part. I couldn’t understand it if we weren’t bonded.” She shook her head.

  “Do you see us differently, then?” The hopeful tone made her stomach tighten.

  “I see you differently.”

  He opened his mouth and tensed.

  “The wards have been breached.” She sent her power out. “They yielded to the visitor.” The scent tickled her nose—oakwood, moss, and masculine musk.

  “Dregan is here.”

  A prickling made her hackles rise. “Magic?”

  “He brought the witch,” Crewe whispered. “Come.”

  “Like this?” She peered down at the sports bra and leggings.

  “Yes, follow my lead.” His nerves threw her off kilter. This wasn’t the cool, calm, and collected man she’d grown used to. “Remember everything I’ve taught you about our culture.” His switch to their mental link raised the alarm. He didn’t want Dregan to hear.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Now is the time to prove ourselves. He’ll be watching our every move. The fact that he brought his witch concerns me.” He took off before she could ask anything more, and she followed suit. They approached the gates of the property and Crewe went down on one knee, bowing his head. She followed his lead and fell into a low sweeping curtsy, head to the ground. They were like wolves in that way. You didn’t meet their gaze like you were an equal.

 

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