BloodSworn

by Stacey Brutger

  Someone like her.

  She followed the broad shoulders of the man in front of her, part of her wondering if she’d made a tactical error in coming here. In less than a day, both vampires and witches had stopped by.

  It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  She wanted to run, needed to run, but knew it would be the wrong choice. Instead, she curled her fingers into fists, took a deep breath and locked herself down tight until all the magic whirling around her faded.

  The lack of magic made her stomach pitch with vertigo. The heat in the hallway cooled. The near painful static dissipated. Tension eased out of Weston’s body, and he shot her a brief glance of gratitude.

  But not enough that he’d forget the fight she’d started, even unintentionally, in the mess hall. What had she been thinking to touch magic in a room full of shifters? First rule of magic was to be in control at all times.

  Not only would the men blame her for the extra training, Weston was in trouble because she hadn’t been able to move out of the way fast enough.

  Merrick blamed him.

  And Weston blamed her.

  Swell.

  Worry churned in her gut at leaving Merrick alone with the witches. Or that should have been what was on her mind. But it was the almost-kiss that hummed at the back of her thoughts. Not being kissed was worse than being kissed. At least if he kissed her, she could put the experience behind her. Instead, she was left wondering and aching.

  All hot and bothered and desperate for a distraction, she pulled the notes out of her bag and scanned her slanted handwriting as they walked. She wasn’t quite aware they’d arrived in the labs until Weston held the door open for her.

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded to the desk and chair, and Trina dutifully sat. Time disappeared. Someone brought her food, which tasted cold when she got around to eating. No matter how much she studied the blood samples, she couldn’t discern a pattern.

  She sorted the names by breed and then compared samples to those struck down with CreedMark. She’d love a DNA smear of each different shifter, but she had nothing to compare the results to. The equipment here could only get her so far. She needed scans, blood smears, cultures, CBC and more.

  She flipped through her notes, noticing an anomaly, a virus located in the shifter population. It was something akin to chickenpox, a herpes virus that almost everyone carried.

  She nearly dismissed it.

  Until she noticed the barely discernible pattern.

  Though the shifters had the virus in their system, most of them had a dormant version.

  A higher quantity of the virus was located in all the comatose patients.

  The same level Merrick carried.

  The virus wasn’t anything secretive; nearly ninety percent of the human population carried it and suffered no side effects.

  But the shifter immune system didn’t react the way it should. Shifters weren’t able to create enough antibodies to suppress the virus. They needed a vaccine, an inoculation, to prevent further spread.

  Viruses do not react to antibiotics, so without help, once the virus became active, it would continue to build in their system until they succumbed. But what set the virus into motion?

  Goose bumps raced up her arms as a deed chill entered the room. Her breathe clouded the air. The reaction was so sudden, so unexpected, it paralyzed her.

  The slide she held slipped, and she grabbed for it reflexively. Her mind screamed at her to stop, she knew better than to reach for it, but couldn’t recall her action. The glass cut through her glove, nicking the soft pad of her finger.

  “Damn it.” Trina snapped off the gloves, grabbed a rag and put pressure on the cut.

  The slide fell to the table with a clatter as she scanned the room. She inhaled, but detected nothing unusual.

  No threat.

  But her magic had never been wrong before.

  Stupid! She would’ve never been so careless had she been on her own. She’d relaxed around Merrick, and she couldn’t afford that if she wanted to stay alive.

  She tipped her head slightly and studied the room again, surprised to find herself and Weston all alone. She stood, careful not to make a sound. When Weston straightened from the wall in one smooth move, she held a finger up to her lips to indicate silence then pointed to the door.

  Weston, bless him, nodded in understanding. He skirted the room until he stood near the entrance, his back against the wall.

  Part of her anxiety eased, but not the taste of danger. If anything, the threat thickened. Coldness seeped down her throat, the air burning until her chest felt tight. She stared at the door as if she looked long enough, she’d be able to see through the metal. She retreated a step then stopped, refusing to be chased away.

  Trina groped for her blade, but encountered only air. Her gaze flew to the desk across the room where she saw the edge of the pommel peeking out of her bag.

  A stupid mistake.

  And now she would pay for it.

  She’d never felt so defenseless.

  She debated crossing the room, but Weston saw her intent and shook his head. That left her only one way to protect herself.

  Magic.

  If she allowed herself that luxury, she’d have no choice but to leave the Den. Swallowing hard, she lightened the pressure on the rag, feeling vaguely nauseous at the thought of not seeing Merrick again.

  Magic swirled in the air as if summoned by the fresh blood. She resisted the pull, almost successfully, but a tiny bit of magic settled over her.

  Weston gave a nod of his head and pointed her to the desk. Pretending nothing was out of the ordinary, Trina settled back down and slid the contaminated slide under the microscope with shaky fingers.

  She peered through the lenses with only half a mind, so it took her a few seconds to recognize the change. Her blood appeared to be acting as an antibody to the virus. She adjusted the settings and increased the magnification.

  No, it wasn’t her blood alone. It was her blood and the magic coating it.

  She wanted to study the slide closer, but the dropping temperature caused her eyes to tear. With every blink, they burned. She persisted, unwilling to be distracted from the discovery that could change everything for the shifters. As her cut healed and the magic faded, it stole the results as well.

  The danger became more of an annoyance.

  Just when she expected her killer to burst through the door, the temperature climbed back to normal. The abrupt change stung her skin like a flash of frostbite. She sat straighter and turned to Weston, excitement about her find made her dismiss the recent threat as unimportant.

  The doors flew open.

  Weston’s gun pulled free from the holster almost faster than she could track. The revolver rested comfortably in a two-handed pose that looked second nature to him.

  At the end of the barrel was Merrick.

  Trina sucked in a startled breath.

  Merrick and Victor froze just inside the door. That was twice in one day that her senses had picked out a threat and both times Merrick was near.

  Could he mean her harm?

  Were her powers trying to warn her that if it came to his people or her, Merrick would give her up in an instant?

  The alternative was just as unpalatable.

  That he planned to betray her.

  “Weston.”

  The man slowly lowered his weapon, but remained alert. “Did you come across anyone on your way here?”

  “No one.” Merrick narrowed his eyes and turned to her, his gaze studying her with an unnerving intensity.

  Weston slipped around the men and scanned the empty hallway, scenting the air. When he ducked back into the room, he only shook his head. “Too many scents to pick out a more recent one.”

  Merrick’s strides quickly closed the distance between them, and he grabbed her wrist. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, the spit gone from her mouth at his touch. If anything, each time he came near, her reacti
on to him grew devastatingly worse. It terrified her and made her want things she couldn’t have, especially not with him. Her heart ached with the knowledge that she would have to let him go before she’d ever had him.

  “What happened?”

  She pulled away and crossed her arms, but the distance did little good when his wild musk only followed her. “Someone was out there.”

  Merrick turned toward Victor. “The witches?”

  He shook his head. “They were escorted directly to the gates.”

  “The boy?”

  Trina flinched at Merrick’s sharp question. “Boy?”

  “A Familiarian. Temporary only. I want you to keep your distance from him until I can figure out how to get rid of him.” Merrick’s request came out more of a demand. “He should be down for the night.”

  “Down for the night? What time is it?” Trina rushed toward her desk, haphazardly shoving in her scattered belongings, trying to locate a clock in the room. She had the perfect excuse to get out of there and clear her head. “I’m going to be late.”

  “Late?”

  Trina nodded distractedly. “For work.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Trina didn’t stop, but scooped up her bag and headed toward the door.

  Only to find three men in her way.

  “It’s too dangerous. You can’t go out alone.”

  “Alone?” She jerked her head sharply to Weston. “That’s why you assigned me Weston and his guards, isn’t it?”

  “There are both vampires and witches wandering the city, searching for something. Why do I have a feeling that what they are searching for isn’t a what but a who?”

  His guess was so damn close to the truth, she pursed her lips. “How am I any safer here than out there with both witches and vampires dropping in willy-nilly?”

  Merrick crossed his arms. “They’ve been here and gone. They won’t return. You’re safe. That’s different outside of these walls.”

  Her temper rose at his attitude, like he had any input in her decision. “You also said I would not be a prisoner.”

  The big hulk leaned over until his face was close to hers. “You will not run because you’re scared.”

  Not to be distracted, Trina shoved him back, but the bastard didn’t even move an inch. Damn shifters.

  “I can’t just not show up for my job. Chuck would worry.”

  “Chuck?” The ominous way he spoke gave her pause, part of her anger dissipating when his very green eyes turn golden. “Who the hell is Chuck?”

  Trina licked her lips, uncertain why she was so nervous. She tightened her hold on her bag, but didn’t back down. If she caved now, her sister was as good as dead. “My boss.”

  Merrick inhaled, and she hadn’t realized how much he’d beefed up at the mention of another man’s name. She was starting to think he was more dangerous to her than any outside threat.

  Maybe her magic was right.

  The air around him seemed denser. When she squinted, she’d swear she saw his outline shimmer.

  In shape of a massive lion.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off the misty beast. She raised her arm, half-expecting her hands to pass clear through the thing. Instead, she met resistance. The air rumbled under hand, almost like the beast was purring.

  Startled, she stopped stroking him, and the nose bumped her arm, seeking attention. Soft fur brushed under her palm. She reached up to touch the fluffy mane of hair. Instead, the fur was stiff, coarse and so thick that her fingers couldn’t pass through. The purr was more of a rumbling, and she found herself charmed by it despite herself.

  Fangs the size of her fingers peeked out between his lips, but she felt no fear from the large pussycat. He wanted to play. A big tongue flicked out and licked her. She jumped at the texture and laughed.

  “Can you feel that?” When she looked up, Merrick’s golden eyes were locked on hers. She nearly swallowed her tongue, arrested by the raw desire.

  For her.

  She tore her gaze away, her face heating, only to pull up short to see Weston’s wolf. She reached out to the gray timber wolf.

  But quickly jerked back at Merrick’s growl.

  Weston, himself, flinched in a way you’d think she’d grabbed his balls and given them a vicious twist. He inhaled deeply, and the wolf vanished. “You have to turn off your magic.”

  Trina blinked. “I’m not using magic.”

  He only became more insistent. “You can see our animals. It’s a rare talent, a skill only a few witches every generation develop, but it’s very dangerous to touch the animal’s core. Animals are unpredictable creatures.”

  The lion butted at her hand, tempting her to linger and play. Distracting her. “What do you mean by dangerous?” The lion didn’t feel dangerous at all. She loved the warmth of him under her hand.

  “You are seeing overlapping existences, the real world and the magical plane. If you become too steeped in magic, it will consume the real world.” Weston glanced at Merrick, and the lion under her palm growled in protest. “You must turn it off.”

  Some of his urgency pierced her wonderment. The magic wasn’t her normal blood magic. It was like the spell from the lunchroom, only much stronger. She had no clue how to shut it down. “How?”

  “Think of magic as air. Every time you breathe, you bring more of it in your body.”

  She gawked at him wide-eyed. “So I’m supposed to stop breathing?”

  Weston stared at her in his intense way, ignoring her comment. “Inhale like through a mask, take in the air while filtering out the magic.”

  He made it sound so simple, but magic saturated the room, the sparkles dancing like dust motes. Instead of floating to the ground, the magic wafted toward her on a breeze she could almost feel.

  The tiny particles were beautiful. A small spark landed on her arm and melted like a snowflake. Her skin eagerly soaked it up as if starved for a taste. The light touch brushed sensually against her, tempting her to pull more down. Then pleasure turned to pain as it tore through her bindings, burning her in retaliation.

  “Trina.” The bark in Weston’s voice caused her to blink.

  “I didn’t summon it. I have no idea why the magic is here.”

  “Magic is attracted to magic. If you can’t turn it off, it will only continue to build.”

  And become more painful.

  Merrick shifted, and she saw the magic fall over his lion form, landing on the amorphous shape. At the contact, the particle flashed, and the image of his form sharpened for a few seconds until the magic was spent.

  The magic reacted to Weston differently. Like dandelion fluff, it brushed lightly over him, only to sail away, leaving him unaffected.

  She needed more than a mask, she needed a shield. Her medical training kicked in. What better protection than what centuries of evolution had manufactured. Trina called upon the magic in her blood and pulled it up through her body to wrap over the epidermis, letting it coat her skin.

  The next drop of magic fell on her arm before rolling off like a small grain of sand. The sting on her skin eased as if soothed by a cool pad. She thickened the coating, ignoring the way the muscles of her stomach trembled in protest at using magic to fight magic.

  When she looked about the room, everything appeared dimmer. No more sparks, no more urge to gather all the shiny mess toward her. She peered at Merrick, disappointed to see the lion had vanished.

  “It worked.” Her words were a croak, and she winced at the dryness in her throat. What felt like hours had only been a few minutes. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she’d come down with the flu in the last five minutes. Her body ached, and her head felt twice the normal size.

  Her legs wobbled alarmingly, and the room tilted like a mad tilt-o-whirl gone terribly wrong. Merrick leapt toward her, guiding her to the nearest chair.

  “Sit.”

  His big mitt pushed at the back of her neck, shoving her head between her knees. She had no choice but to
obey or end up sprawled on the floor.

  She searched the bindings and found them looser than they had been the day before, held together with dental floss and toothpicks. Her magic was still secure.

  For now.

  But for how much longer?

  If she called upon her magic one more time, the bindings could very well break.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Like her own knight in furry armor, Merrick scooped her up in her arms.

  “Your back.”

  “You weigh no more than a wet kit.”

  Indeed, he didn’t strain under her weight, but it was also a blow to be compared to a scrawny kid. She pushed away the sting of his words, battling the darkness that threatened to consume her.

  She had to tell him about the virus, but the details were fuzzy, slipping in and out of her thoughts. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

  The safety of his arms allowed her to lower her guard. The steady beat of his heart beneath her head lulled her, whispering for her to let go, that Merrick would protect her.

  Trina woke when the mattress touched her back, or maybe it was the lack of Merrick’s arms around her. She instantly missed his warmth.

  She struggled to sit, cursing the darkness, but wondered if she should be thanking it. If she could see, she would know where he stood and would be all the more tempted to pull him into bed with her. “We need to work on your back.”

  Back, not front, she reminded herself.

  “You’re exhausted. We can do that in the morning.”

  “We’ll lose progress. It will hurt worse if we wait.” But maybe he was right. In their current mood, one touch would ignite the passion that’d been brewing between them since they’d first met. Neither needed the complication of sex mixed in this mess. “Or you can take a bath in that mini pool you call a tub. Turn on the water as hot as you can stand it and soak for half an hour.”

  The lights to the bathroom flicked on. He pursed his lips, something that should’ve made him appear feminine or pouty. Instead, she wondered if they would taste as inviting as they looked. “I’ll make you a deal. You stay in bed and don’t move, and I’ll do as you say.”