Highland Blood Moon: A Cassidy Edwards Novella - Book 3.6

by Carmen Caine

  She looked up at me with her big puppy eyes and fluttered her tail apologetically.

  Yeah. This one wasn’t going to survive on her own. She was far, far, far too timid.

  I glanced around. Well, at least I could offer her a bit of advice. “Look, just stay in pup form and get caught by the humans. You’re little and cute. They won’t hurt you. They’ll just stick you in some wildlife rehab and then dump you out in the wild when you can hunt.” Not the best choice for the wolf kindred. It was as close to prison as you could get. But, at least she’d survive. “Now, scram. You’re on your own.”

  I walked away without looking back. I didn’t want to see her sad, liquid brown eyes. My heart tugged. Was that a guilty conscience? I scowled and forced all thoughts of her out of my mind.

  I had a job to finish and revenge to plan.

  The museum had closed for the night and the security guards were out in full force, but there are many ways inside even the most secure buildings. The security guard had returned to his booth, so I headed to the back and finding the nearest door, picked the lock. Soon enough, I strode through the Met’s darkened marble-lined hallways, zeroing in on Anya’s scent.

  I found it in the stairwell. Her footsteps led me to a room in the back hidden behind a windowless, gray metal door marked ‘private’ in white painted letters. A hum of voices whirred on the other side. I paused, taking a deep breath and detecting at least a different dozen aromas floating past my sensitive nostrils, Anya’s among them. Vampire. Witch. Sprite. Maybe even a wiggin. I hated wiggins, disgusting wormlike creatures almost impossible to kill.

  Footsteps sounded at the end of the corridor. I tilted my head and sniffed. Human. A security guard on patrol most likely. Quick as a flash, I disappeared back into the stairwell, deciding to hit the outside and peer through the window instead.

  Retracing my steps, I stepped into the cold, night air. Clouds covered the sky, reflecting the city lights back down to the snow, making it almost as bright as day. I had more of a chance being noticed as a human. As a silver-tipped wolf, I could blend into the environment easier—and sing whatever Magi song I might need should the occasion arrive.

  Disappearing behind the nearest tree, I quickly changed forms and emerged as a Wolf of the Mists.

  I kept low to the ground, moving in the shadows to the back where the old and new glass-plated buildings merged and then glancing around to make sure no one watched, leapt to balance myself on the stone molding beneath the first-floor windows.

  Traffic zoomed just a few feet away. A group of teens laughed near the picnic tables across the street, behind the rod-iron fence. But protected by a row of trees, no one noticed the wolf slinking alongside the building. At last, I paused before the window where Anya had set up shop.

  Someone had pulled the blinds down, but that didn’t stop me. Balanced on the window’s ledge, I hummed a low howl. It moved the blinds precisely as I wanted. I flicked my ears and, narrowing my eyes, peered inside the room.

  Tables spanned the room, littered with various objects d’art from wooden Madonna statues to rusted iron modern art sculptures and a few easels cradling Renaissance oils. Obviously, it was some kind of art restoration place. Black shelves filled with tiny glass jars of paints and chemicals lined the walls. There was much, much more buried in all that clutter but I didn’t really notice. My eyes had snagged on a life-size portrait placed on a pedestal on the right where a handful of Charmed creatures—including Anya—crowded at its base.

  I bit back an exclamation of surprise.

  Lord Lucian Rowle’s image peered down from the canvas, appearing strangely alive. His silver-blue eyes glowed and his lips seemed to be moving along with his chest, almost as if he were … breathing.

  My mouth dropped open then.

  The likeness was breathing. Even from where I huddled outside, I could see the canvas moving in an even, steady tempo.

  “This isn’t good,” a gray-haired witch bending close to the portrait said. She straightened, revealing a magnifying glass in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. “Something is still eating our spell. The paint is deteriorating at a far more rapid rate than usual.”

  Hisses circled through the other Charmed folk gathered close.

  “Then try this,” Anya said, holding out a small glass jar, about the size of a Gerber baby food jar.

  I squinted.

  The contents of the jar moved. Spiders. Spiders with long, impossibly thin, sweeping legs.

  “A brush made from these will lock the spell,” Anya continued, her voice filled with conviction. “He still feels something for me. It will work.”

  I cocked a brow at that. Yeah. I was sure Lord Lucian Rowle felt something for her, but not the kind of ‘something’ she had clearly deluded herself into thinking.

  “I suppose it cannot hurt,” the gray-haired witch agreed with a sigh. “At this point, I’m desperate.” She hesitated, then added, “We should really tell … him.”

  Again, the collective hiss circled the group.

  “No,” Anya said firmly. “It’s nothing. Most likely, you made a mistake.”

  “No,” a new voice of dissent arose from the group. From my location, I couldn’t get a good look at the speaker. “It started when he met that Cassidy. Cassidy Edwards.”

  Anya didn’t like hearing that. Her nostrils flared, making her look more like a monkey than ever. “Coincidence,” she snapped.

  “I don’t think so,” someone else muttered. “It’s only getting worse the more time he spends with her. It’s—”

  “Well, father will take care of that,” Anya cut in. “He has plans to separate them. Soon.”

  “Then he better hurry,” the gray-haired witch assumed control of the conversation. “That engagement was a mistake. It’s breaking Lucian’s spell—”

  “It’s not a real engagement,” Anya countered forcefully. “He feels nothing for her.”

  The gray-haired witch shot her a skeptical glance, but switched subjects. “Fine, I’ll try those.” She snatched the jar from Anya’s hand and tossed it to a vampire hanging silently behind the others. “Make the brush. Be quick.” Turning back to Anya, she added, “You shouldn’t come to us anymore. If he’s as close as you say, you might lead him right to our doorstep. Such a thing would be … disastrous. He cannot discover the source of his control.”

  Anya nodded, her lips flattening into a proud, self-important smile. “He is mine, Francis. I will control him. Do not fear.”

  Yeah, that was one seriously deluded witch there, no doubt about it. I wondered if Lucian knew just how loose of a cannon she was. Whatever. None of it really concerned me. I had my own problems. I just had to drop the ensorcelled nanos on Anya and I could get back to my own business.

  A group of German-speaking tourists approached, heading my way.

  Yeah, it was time to go.

  I leapt to the ground, landing on all four paws and bounded for the cover of the surrounding darkness.

  Anya should be leaving soon. Hopefully, she’d exit out the side door, but I had to figure out how to drop the ensorcelled nanos on her before she got back into her SUV. I wouldn’t have much time.

  I smelled them then. Two vampires. Coming at me from deep within Central Park, fast—but not fast enough.

  I whirled, opening my jaws wide to howl a Magi death strike, but before I could sing the first note, something struck me from behind. Hard. I grunted and fell to the ground, jarring my teeth.

  Another vampire? I hadn’t even smelled her approach. Just how many of these stealthy, ancient creatures did New York City harbor? And what was up? They’d never bothered me before.

  My attacker struck me again before I could even scramble to my feet, pummeling me back into the ground and crushing my ribs with the heel of her black leather boot. The salty taste of blood flooded my mouth.

  I opened my mouth to howl, but before my lips had parted more than a millimeter, she’d slapped a muzzle over me—a spelled one. Its
magic rolled over me in a flash, rendering me mute and incapable of moving, even shifting back to my human form.

  This wasn’t good.

  Picking up my limp body, she dragged me further into the park, stopping under a black old-fashioned lamppost on the edge of a path. Spelled, I couldn’t resist her.

  “Well done, younglings,” the female vampire addressed the two vampires as they arrived, her voice low and musical. “The art of distraction is your friend. Remember it well.”

  “Yes, Violette,” two soft voices chorused in reply.

  “Tell Emilio that I have caught his Wolf of the Mist,” she said, grounding her heel deeper against my chest. “Go now. I’ll bring her right along.”

  They vanished, as ordered.

  “I’ve caught many wolves in my time,” Violette said, turning her attention to me and bending over, caught me by the nose. She was gorgeous, but then, most vampires were. Smoky-eyed with glossy, red lips, she’d pulled her jet-black hair back in a tight ballerina knot. She held my snout in a vice grip, looking deep into my eyes before dropping me with a sigh of disappointment. “I must say, as a Wolf of the Mist, I expected much more of a fight.”

  “Then shall we?” a familiar voice inserted itself.

  I couldn’t do much more than blink with astonishment as Jacques appeared behind her, elegant, graceful, and still shirtless, seemingly impervious to the December chill. His dark, expressive eyes along with his carved abs were a distraction. But then, maybe he’d counted on that. Violette obviously couldn’t resist ogling him herself. It was her downfall. One moment, she hovered over me, dominant. The next, she lay flat on her stomach by my side, her perfect cheek biting the gravel and her glossy lips puffed out like a fish.

  Still, she didn’t seem to mind all that much. “Jacques,” she moaned, almost like a lover. “It’s been a long, long time.”

  “Believe me, Violette,” he snorted sounding anything but happy to see her. “Not long enough.”

  Her lashes fluttered in irritation and she sat up.

  “You can tell Emilio this wolf is mine,” Jacques continued, hardening his voice. “She is under my protection. Attack her, and you’ll have the entire Terzi clan breathing down your back.”

  At that, Violette leapt to her feet. “What is it with you and these wolves?” she spat in derision. “This one isn’t even related to the descendants of your pack. She’s from the Lower Reaches—or was, anyway. Now, she’s a bonepicker. A reject, Jacques. A reject!”

  I couldn’t deny the truth of her words, but I objected to them coming from a snooty, snippy vampire’s mouth. I tried to snarl, but the spelled muzzle prevented me from even making that much of a sound. I just lay on the ground, twitching.

  “She’s a blight on Charmed society,” Violette continued, apparently only warming up her litany of insults. “Unwanted and—”

  “Unwanted?” Jacques interrupted, silencing her with a raised hand. “I don’t think so.” With a hiss, he extended his fangs and allowed his eyes to flash a deep, wolf gold. The scar on his cheek stood out, making him appear all the more dangerous as he added with a dramatic flair, “She’s wanted by me, Violette. And I claim her as mine.”

  Whoa! Hadn’t seen that one coming. While I didn’t know exactly what he meant by that, I didn’t really care since it ticked Violette off enough to leave. Snarling, she tossed her head and vanished into the night.

  Yeah, and good riddance, I shouted in my head.

  Jacques stood on the alert a few moments, his lips drawn back and with both magnificent fangs exposed before finally dropping to my side on one knee.

  “Allow me, ma belle louve,” he murmured, slowly caressing my cheek with the back of his hand before sliding his fingers under the spelled muzzle.

  The way he touched my fur made my senses blaze to life, and being of wolf origin, he had to know that. I flattened my ears, wondering what game he played, but his dark eyes only crinkled in amusement.

  “There, there,” he whispered, unclasping the lock.

  As the charmed muzzle fell from my snout, I transitioned back to my human form in one second flat.

  “Thanks,” I said gruffly. Damn, he was gorgeous. Why didn’t he find a shirt? I couldn’t resist dropping my gaze in a quick inspection of his chiseled torso, before adding, “We’re even. You can quit following me now.”

  “Never,” he murmured so softly I wasn’t quite sure I’d really heard him.

  The next thing I knew; I was in his arms. Who had moved first? I couldn’t really say. Yeah, I had things to do, a witch to mark, and yeah, he was ages older than me and a vampire to boot.

  But I clearly wanted to kiss him as much as he did me.

  His mouth sealed over my lips in a possessive, hungry kiss that mirrored mine. As far as kisses went, this was definitely on the Clash of the Titans scale. He didn’t waste time but immediately thrust his tongue into my mouth with the unchecked virility of a wolf. Extending his fangs again, he brushed them against my growing canines, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. I growled into his mouth with pleasure and raked the skin on his back with my nails as, with one swift move, he freed my hair from its ponytail and threaded his hands through my midnight black locks.

  For being an ice-cold vampire, I found his touch electric.

  I pushed myself into him, consuming his kiss, matching his tongue stroke for stroke in a frenzied passion. Something stirred deep inside me, a longing, a desire, something that made me want to claim him as a wolf even though he was one no more.

  He ran his hands up my spine, leaving my lips to lick a trail down my neck in a move nothing short of mastery. If I’d been a cat, I would have purred. I melted against his chest, enjoying the feel of his chiseled abs beneath my ribs, but then wanting to feel his tongue inside my mouth again, fisted my hands in his hair and yanked his head away from my neck and back to my lips. Lost in a red-hot desire, I drove my tongue between his teeth, curling the tip around his fangs. He liked that. He splayed his hands low on my hips and pulled me hard against him before tossing his head back and groaning loudly.

  I could almost hear the wolf inside him howling, and I shivered at the wild sensuality of it all.

  He dropped his mouth on mine once again, but this time took my lips in a softer, gentler kiss, but a kiss with such raw intimacy that it scared me.

  Breaking the contact, I stepped back, panting.

  His lip crooked in a smile, his hands falling to his sides as he leaned over and whispered, “Farewell, ma belle louve. Farewell—for tonight.”

  And with that, he left, leaving me standing there with kiss-swollen lips and hair in disarray.

  Right.

  I took a deep breath and quickly switched gears. I didn’t have time to waste. I had a job to finish. I didn’t need to think of Jacques. Now … or ever again.

  Shaking my head to drive thoughts of him away, I swept my hair back into its ponytail and, vaulting over a row of black, shiny parking benches, sprinted towards the Met. By the time I’d arrived, I felt under control.

  I hadn’t seen nor smelled Anya leave—but then, I’d been hella distracted with Jacques’ hot mouth. Damn. Was I thinking of him again? I scowled. Tonight was shaping up odd on all accounts. Refocusing on my target, I stalked towards the side door.

  I must have been scarcely twenty feet away—and still not smelling any fresh scents—when the door opened and out came Anya.

  I didn’t even blink. I kept striding down the sidewalk. After all, I was already out there. I couldn’t very well run. It would only draw her attention. I could only hope she wouldn’t recognize me.

  But this time, she did.

  And at that same moment the group of German tourists returned.

  I pressed my lips into an irritated line. I couldn’t ambush her now with all the witnesses out and about. One of them might notice. Rankled, I watched her approach the blue-shirted guard and gauged the distance. He’d be back in short order with her SUV before I could make it ov
er there, judging how fast the tourists were moving.

  No, I was going to have to tag her right under everyone’s noses, including hers.

  “I need a distraction,” I muttered, glancing around. Something that would push the tourists her way where I could hide among them long enough to do my job.

  A tawny streak of fur caught my eye then, bursting out from the bushes by my feet to make a straight beeline for Anya.

  I think it registered just who it was at the same precise moment Anya screeched in pain, attempting to shake her foot free of the wolf pup glomming onto her ankle like a piranha.

  I broke out at a run.

  The German tourists swarmed Anya’s direction, but I got there first.

  I couldn’t deny it. It was the perfect opportunity to drop the ensorcelled nanoparticles. Anya was so busy with the pup that she didn’t even notice me. She swore, her gray eyes furious and her honey-blonde head wagging from side to side, trying to free herself. She obviously wanted to cast a spell that would, no doubt, turn the wolf pup to stone at best, but with all the tourists rushing her way, her hands were tied.

  I heard the SUV pulling up out of the underground garage, but I had time. In one smooth motion, I grabbed Lord Lucian’s crystal and dropping it on her exposed flesh, grabbed Brandy by the scruff of the neck, yanking her free. I couldn’t help but grin, feeling strangely proud and darted away.

  “Need help?” the security officer asked, rushing to Anya’s side.

  “I’m fine,” she grated, limping to her car.

  Nice.

  In the hubbub, she hadn’t even noticed me or the nanoparticles now lighting her up on Lord Lucian Rowle’s radar.

  “That your dog?” someone asked me then.

  “It’s dangerous,” another voice accused. “Better get it checked for rabies.”

  “I’m animal control,” I lied, lifting Brandy up by the scruff of the neck and giving her a little shake. “I’ll take care of this now. Out of my way.”