Angelic Blood (#5): Alpha Warriors of the Blood (The Blood Series)
Page 20
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CHAPTER ONE
Tessa
Tramack's claws stop his forward momentum abruptly.
Exhaust from the suburban plumes toward him, and Tessa sees his effort to stifle his violent reaction to the nauseating smells of gasoline. Fossil fuels act like poison to a werewolf.
But Tramack is Alpha, so he can withstand a lot of unpleasantries, like the rogue female Alpha who has outfoxed him for two decades, leaving a legion of Were corpses in her trail instead of bread crumbs.
Nevertheless, he's followed the trail, and here he stands. Tessa can't believe Tramack's finally gotten off his ass and stopped sending lackeys to get their butts handed to them by a female.
She shoots a covert glance at Lazarus.
He's calm.
Hot, but Zen. His skin emits a subtle vapor, in the same way hers holds a layer of anxiety-laden sweat.
“Tessa,” Tahlia calls from inside the truck. Her tone says it all. But if that weren't enough, Tessa tastes her own trembling fear on her tongue.
Fuck.
Tramack's dark brows drop like bushy caterpillars over eyes the color of flat pewter as they fall on Lazarus. “Go to hell, demon.”
Lazarus smiles, his eyes alternating between an icy blue and the palest shadow of gray. “Make me.”
“What are we? Three?” Tessa mumbles. But inside, her guts flip-flop like overdone pancakes.
Tramack's wolves circle their Alpha, flanking him in practiced smoothness.
Tahlia guns it. The fumes from the vehicle make Tessa cover her mouth to keep herself from puking. Fucking Chevys always burn rich.
Tramack coughs. “We have no quarrel with you, demonic. Leave the female—she belongs to me.”
Tessa gives an indignant snort. Lying asshole.
Lazarus turns to regard Tessa as though counting every pore of her skin, then turns his attention back to Tramack. “I do not see a label of ownership, dog.” A lazy smile hovers at Lazarusʼs mouth.
Tramack growls.
“Do not think it, mutt,” Lazarus says. “Tessa is my Redemptive, and as such, she has certain inalienable rights.
I do? “Oh… boy,” she mutters.
“Nonsense,” Tramack states as though whatever drops from his mouth is absolute fact.
For him, it is.
“That is a myth. Demons stay in hell, and the Were roam the earth unimpeded by your kind. You are not allowed to play in this realm.” Tramack's large hands fall to his sides.
Lazarus cocks his head to the left, appearing to contemplate Tramack's justification bullshit. Lazarus raises a finger, and Tess is mesmerized by his skin tone.
Who knew sunburnt skin could look sexy? She shakes her head. Murderous Were are on the prowl, bearing down on them. Lazarus’s little chat with Tramack is just a verbal dance. Tramack will spring. He'll kill Lazarus then take Tessa. She needs to think of contingencies. For example, Tahlia is already in a running car. Tessa sights the positions of the other Were as they move wide of Tramack. They're too close to the Suburban. They'll pounce. Tessa shudders. She can't stand the thought of Tahlia falling into the hands of the Western pack.
“Normally, that is true,” Lazarus says, “but we've been given a certain latitude from the Master for a time.”
“I don't give a ripe, hairy shit how flexible the devil has been. This is where we live, feed, and fuck. So, go to hell.” Tramack's lips pull back from his teeth, and icy fear slides down Tessa's spine.
The other three Were growl low in their throats.
This is getting saucy. Tessa quarter-changes to wolfen instantly, grimacing slightly at the rapid shift.
Her head whips in Tahlia's direction.
Burning eyes like silver discs rotate slowly in a return stare. A voice like gravel grinding together says, “Time to go, Tessa.”
Shit! Tahlia's already wolfen—and ready to drive a vehicle.
Tessa begins to back away from Lazarus. He's on his own.
Lazarus whirls to face her, his eyes like mercury-laced glacier blue.
Her eyes widen.
His gaze changes to obsidian. “Do not leave my side.”
“They'll kill us,” Tessa blurts. “Lazarus!” she screams as Tramack flings himself forward, landing on Lazarus.
Tramack is dirty, through and through.
Tessa breathes through the pain, bursting to wolfen in a slide of tendons and bone-breaking shift of her quarter-change form to half-werewolf.
Hurts, her beast says.
The first wolfen male comes for her, and she tamps her fear. Despite her alpha-female status and awesome skills, she's outweighed and outreached.
She growls, crouching low, and flicks her hands out. Talons fling the residual skin from the change like strips of sloughed snakeskin.
He follows through in a hard charge, wrapping his arms around her like steel bands.
Tessa gasps, struggling for oxygen.
Fuck breathing. She swings her head forward, head-butting the large male in the forehead. Stars burst, and Tessa groans. Fantastic.
His hold loosens, and she plunges all eight talons into his back, unwittingly marrying the two of them together.
He roars, jerking backward and taking Tessa with him.
She flips over the top of him and corkscrews her talons with a turn of her wrists.
Scrambled muscles! Tessa jerks her talons out, staggering backward. Another Were attacks from behind, but she's ready, throwing her skull back into his face.
He howls. This time, she gets lucky and he drops her.
She lands with bone-jarring impact. The exhaust pipe is right in front of her face, but the engine's no longer running. Oh shit. A huge shadow passes over her head. Tessa knows it's not a cloud.
A bird of prey hovers, legs like stiff planks as it sails down in a spiraling circle of speed, talons spread.
Here comes Tahlia.
A scent she can never forget swamps her nostrils, and her beast rebels. Tessa's tossed over onto her back.
A look of triumph covers Tramack's ugly face, his dark-pewter eyes spinning. “Bitch.” He grates, all teeth.
“Douche!” she screams, trying to crawl away.
Tramack grabs her ankles, half-flipping her. She stabs the ground with her talons, arresting her backward progress, and turns to her side, throwing her forearm in front of her face.
A pale-red appendage bursts through Tramack's torso. A ghostly worm of intestine slips out of Tramack in a slimy loop. He releases her ankles, and she yanks her legs away.
“Ahh,” Tessa says, adrenaline surging through her body as she scuttles in a backward crab walk.
Tramack's eyes go round as the fleshy weapon exits his body with a meaty suck.
Her gorge rises. Don't have time to puke, Tessa.
Tramack falls hard on his ass, hands grappling with his slippery guts. He can't quite manage to collect his intestines and drops them with a slapping smack.
Dirt and debris coat the pulsating organ.
She looks up from the sight, swallowing vomit as gravel and grass jam into the tender flesh of her palms.
Lazarus stands above Tramack, surveying the destruction of the Alpha Were and his writhing posse, his tail rising above his head. Tessa's eyes catch on strings of gristle and a tendon.
“Any takers?” he asks casually and Tessa makes a small sick sound.
His eyes laser to hers. Coal black softens to a pale gray then flips to a sky blue.
“Ahh,” Tessa says again.
The bird of prey lands to peck at Tramack's exposed intestine. He looses a high, keening scream.
Lazarus nods in apparent approval.
Tessa's mouth opens and closes as if she’s a fish out of water.
Beady black bird's eyes turn and survey Tessa's stupidity. They blink like two bottomless wells of oil, then the bird goes back to pecking.
Tramack’s bellows fill the air.
“Ahh,” she says with so
ft redundancy. Tessa's been reduced to a one-word vocabulary.
Lazarus studies her for a moment, frowning. “We do not have time for a breakdown, Tessa.” He reaches for her, and she beats at his hands, her talons automatically retracting. With a sigh of pure frustration, he scoops her off the ground. His tail, mercifully, is gone.
Tramack begins to howl in earnest, trying to swat at the bird while his body furiously heals the wound Tahlia inflicts in her bird from.
New skin grows over the dirt and the intestine.
Tessa looks away before she barfs. “What is that?”
Lazarus looks more human. His pale-blond hair is a perfect complement to what a human being would recognize as a ruddy complexion.
Then the tail rises above his head once again.
So much for human. Tessa gulps back the lump of crazy in her throat. The ball of fear settles in her stomach, spreading out in dangerous tendrils of hysterics.
“This?” Lazarus asks casually. The tail flicks.
Tessa nods, hiccupping. She claps a hand over her mouth, unable to take her eyes off the perfectly formed hammer head at the end of a six-feet-long reddish tail.
Tessa tries to ignore the chunk of intestine that Tahlia slurps down her throat like a succulent oyster.
Caw.
“Oh Jesus, let me down.”
Lazarus bends slightly and sets Tessa on her feet, smoothly kicking the twitching Were trying to heal at his feet. He makes the wound more severe, and brains leak out where only a fractured skull had been before.
Tessa runs to the bushes and heaves her guts into the greenery, never more thankful she’d worn a braid. Leaning on a tree trunk, she stands, wiping a shaky hand over her mouth.
Turning, Tessa sees the Were are repairing themselves. Tramack looks at her with hate.
Tahlia is back to wolfen now, but she’s still covered in the grime of her deeds as a bird of prey. A pure-ebony feather lies at her feet.
Tessa shudders. Gross.
“We need to go,” Lazarus says.
Now he wants to go somewhere?
He looks at Tramack with utter indifference. “But first we kill this Were,” Lazarusʼs tail swishes above his head like an agitated feline appendage.
Tessa looks at the tip. How can that plow through a body? Do I want to know? Tessa turns, her long braid flopping at her back as she clenches her eyes shut.
She should be happy that the misery of Tramack will be at an end. She can leave and be free of him. Avoiding the inevitable skirmishes while traveling as a rogue female would be nothing if he weren’t after her.
“What in the hell are you doing, Lazarus?” roars a voice that sounds as though it's on fire.
Tessa's eyes fly open. A man stands at the edges of the mess, as shouts and screaming begin to filter toward their position.
It's that other guy—the one who came with Lazarus. But he looks nothing like he did in what she could only call a human costume.
He's tall, like all male supernaturals. But there, the similarity ends. Sleek deep-red hair, a shade or two darker than his skin, is slicked back from a high, broad forehead above merciless eyes so black, she couldn't find the pupils if she tried. Black horns sprout from his head like bony flower stems without heads.
Then she gets a load of the tail. Tessa backs up a step.
Lazarusʼs eyes flick to hers then back to this new threat. She'd thought Lazarusʼs tail was something.
But this guy—this guy…
His tail whips above his head, and spikes, all black, extend from a deep-red bulbous end. The tail end looks like a f fleshy medieval flail.
Tessa backs up another step, burning to turn and see how far the Suburban is from her present position. She flares her nostrils, trying to locate safety that way.
“I have the Blooded One contained. We only need kill who we can then proceed to wipe her out of existence. Why you are wasting your time with antagonizing”—his nose wrinkles, vapor exits his nostrils in smoky spirals that drift away, and a strangled sound of fear squeaks out of Tessa—“these ridiculous beasts?” He tsks, a forked tongue flicking out at the last syllable. “You are not staying on task, Lazarus.” The snakelike tongue snaps back into the black interior of his mouth.
Oh, baby Jesus, a forked tongue.
His inky brows come together in a clear frown of chastisement. He takes in the bleeding but healing Were at his feet. Then he stomps Tramack’s head into the ground, crushing his skull instantly. Brains ooze out from underneath his shoe.
Lazarus doesn't even flinch.
These demon guys mean business. Tessa dares turning, seeking Tahlia. As if in total sync, Tahlia bleeds back to quarter-change and races to the passenger side of the Suburban. Tessa breaks, ignoring the demon interaction, and runs to the driver's side. She hops in, starting the engine.
“Or are you doing something else?” the other demonic asks Lazarus. His voice sounds closer.
Tessa tries to squish the panic. Could this dude be even worse than Tramack? She can't unhear their conversation. She closes her eyes, remembering the feel of Lazarusʼs hands on her body and his mouth on hers.
“Come on, Tessa—what are you waiting for?” Tahlia hisses.
Tessa pauses, noting a string of gristle dangling off Tahlia's chin.
“I need to know he's going to be okay,” Tessa says.
“What!” Tahlia shouts. “Leave him. He is a horned one!”
I can't.
The other demonic stands before Lazarus, who is shaking. The other one has him around the neck by the tail. His face intent, he squeezes Lazarus around the throat like a python.
“Tell. Me.” He shakes Lazarus.
Nope. Can't do it. Tessa exits the car, stepping over Tramack. His hand snakes out, grabbing her ankle, and she kicks him. He grunts.
“Don't, Tessa.”
“Fuck off, Alpha,” she replies without glancing at him.
The second demon's eyes move to her, unnerving and flat black. Soulless. Obviously.
Tessa shivers.
Evil radiates from him, coating her through the layers of skin, muscle, and organs, making her insides quake in revulsion. Still, Tessa moves forward against the horribleness of the creature before her.
His black eyes widen in surprise. “Who is she?” His tone is somewhere between shocked and affronted.
“Get your tail off him, jerk!” Tessa shouts.
The demon smiles. Black teeth.
He slowly unwinds his tail from Lazarusʼs throat. A mark like a rope burn twines around his neck.
Lazarus drops to his knees choking, clawing at his throat.
That pisses her off even more. Why can't anything ever go right? Why can't fucking males just leave me alone?
And, for the love of the moon, why must she do the white knight shit? And the one male, albeit a demon, who's actually treated her decent, is busy getting his assed kicked by his own kind.
No. Something deep slips inside of Tessa, like a mudslide in her brain. She rushes forward, red-hot.
Lazarus bellows, “No!”
And then the demon is on her, wrapping her with his tail. That's fine. Tessa's talons are at the ready.
She slices off his dick.
All guys have one.
#
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SHIFTER
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Copyright © 2015 Tamara Rose Blodgett
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s publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
www.tamararoseblodgett.com
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Cover art by: Willsin Rowe
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SHIFTER
An Alpha Claim Brief-Bites® Novelette
Episode 1
New York Times Bestselling Author(s)
MARATA EROS
TAMARA ROSE BLODGETT
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2015 Marata Eros
Copyright © 2015 Tamara Rose Blodgett
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
www.tamararoseblodgett.com
TRB Facebook Fan Page
Marata Eros FB Fan Page
Cover art by: Willsin Rowe
Proofed by: Corinna
1
Call me old-fashioned. But I'm probably the last counselor in the world who uses a pad and pen.
Everything is Brain Impulse Technology now—thought-to-device driven.
Any other counselor would have their pulsepad out, ready to record their thoughts and insights directly.