Reborn (Princess of the Blood Book 1)

by Jane Ederlyn

  A werewolf stormed in through the opening of the missing front door.

  Abby gasped and recoiled deeper into Odin. He wrapped his arms around her.”

  Egon shifted and held his hands up in the air. “Just me, Bee.”

  It was unlikely that Leidolf survived the blast to his heart, but if he had, Abby would never be safe. Odin sighed, weary to his bones. “Go to the living room and get the sword over the mantle. Take their heads.”

  Egon nodded and left the room.

  John moaned. They had both forgotten him.

  Abby wiped her nose on Odin’s shirt and pushed away from him. Before he realized her intention, she dropped to her knees to inspect John’s wound and the puddle of blood collecting underneath him. “He needs to go to the hospital,” she said.

  Egon returned, Marie’s French sword in his right hand, and they exchanged glances over Abby’s head. A full-fledged werewolf had bitten John on a full-moon night. Blood loss was not their top concern at the moment.

  “We’ll get him to the hospital, but first bring me clean towels so I can staunch the blood,” Odin said.

  With a task to do, she scrambled away.

  Egon took the cue, unsheathed the steel blade, and cut off the heads of the three werewolves. He wiped the blade and returned it to its scabbard. “God speed to Valhalla, brothers.”

  “You’ll be reunited with your wife now, Leidolf.” Odin sighed.

  They both dropped their heads, in respect for blood and pack.

  When Abby rushed back into the room, she glanced at the decapitated heads and dismissed them. “I’m glad they’re dead.”

  Odin looked up and smiled at her. “What a little warrior you are.” Marie would be proud, he thought, and a fresh wave of worry cursed through him. Where was she?

  “Get dressed, Egon,” he ordered. “Call Thorhild and tell him we need a cleanup. Warn him who they are and that he’ll need help. Then take John to the hospital where cousin Elliot works. He should be working tonight. I’ll let him know you’re on the way.”

  He turned to Abby. “Go with Egon. I don’t want you alone and I need to find Marie. If they ask you any questions about John’s bite, say you think it was a panther. They’ve been known to wonder into these areas. You found him in the yard and called a neighbor to help you take him to the hospital. Got it?”

  Abby nodded.

  Odin tore John’s blood-soaked shirt to get a better look at the wound. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle. He looked at Egon and nodded. John’s body was already changing and healing itself.

  “What if Marie comes back while I’m at the hospital?” Abby asked.

  “Leave her a note,” he said, trying his best to sound as if nothing were wrong.

  Egon lifted Abby into the passenger seat of his truck and secured the seatbelt across her body. “Okay?”

  She nodded. Her eyes had lost the dazed sheen, but she looked bedraggled. Chunks of thick hair escaped the ponytail band and lay askew around her face. Dried blood spotted her face and white shirt. “I can’t have you looking like this? They’ll think you’re the patient,” he said.

  She looked at him blankly.

  He leaned into her again and released the seatbelt. Casually he inhaled. His intention was to check for something wrong, instead his nose filled with Abby’s personal scent, a mixture of powder, lavender, and skin. On top of that, he smelled blood. The wolf in him liked it and he had to shake the momentary surge of animal that wanted to break through his skin and mark her as his.

  “Come on, Abby. Lift your arms so I can get your shirt off.” She did as he instructed and he slid the ruined garment over her head. Finding a clean spot, he folded it and used it to wipe her cheek and temple. “There, much better.”

  It wasn’t cold, but she shivered. He reached over her and took a shirt out of his gym bag. The T-shirt was too big on her, but would do. He smoothed down her hair and put it behind her ears. He tried not to breathe, not to draw in the smell of her again, but it was a fight he couldn’t win.

  “Marie is going to be all right,” she said, more a mantra than a question. “She’s going to be all right.”

  He swallowed. “Sure. Marie’s tough. Almost as tough as you are.”

  The corners of her mouth tipped up in a smile, but her eyes watered. “She has to be.”

  The hand lingering over her hair moved toward her face and the pad of his thumb caressed her cheek in gentle strokes. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly his mouth was hovering over hers, sharing her breath.

  John moaned from the backseat and reality hit Egon like a cascade of cold water. This wasn’t the time for this. “Let me get Sleeping Beauty to the hospital,” he said roughly.

  Chapter XL

  Marie bit back a scream as she was hurled into the coral rock fountain with such force her forehead ricocheted against the side. She grunted and wiped at the blood streaming down and drowning her eyes. All of the werewolves were faceless blurs, all except Deena, whose galling scent and dark features Marie would never forget. She pushed herself up on legs that wobbled, and managed two steps, before a hard boot struck her in the back and she flew forward into the fountain, her upper body plunging into water and her lower half hanging limply over the ragged edge.

  The gurgling water turned an opaque red. Earlier, she had drained at least a dozen werewolves, but the onslaught of automatic weapons pumping holes into her body made blood seep out faster than she could heal or replenish. Her lower abdomen, where Deena had stabbed and sliced her, gushed. She needed blood, lots of it, if she was going to survive. She bit down on the pain, willed herself up and out, and slid onto cold cement, the effort taking all of her strength.

  Her head lolled on her neck, taxed by the weight of her dripping hair. She tried to lift her arm to push it aside, but her limbs wouldn’t respond. Through the curtain of hair, she saw dark shadows coming at her on all fours. Not the blond, compound guards showcasing their artillery. They were Deena’s men and their thirst for her blood was more lethal. Dread filled Marie and she willed her body to move, but she was helpless.

  She wanted to be angry with Stormda for setting her up, but after two hundred years of fighting, she was tired. Stormda would get his due. Anton would be furious and avenge her. Odin would be disappointed, but the separation from Stormda would be good for him. Her precious Abby would pay the highest price, she would mourn at first, but eventually, in time, she’d settle down to live a normal life, away from supernaturals and without the self-imposed pressure to care for her. Perhaps her death was for the best.

  “Again,” Deena commanded.

  A dark wolf stood, his slouch more significant than Odin’s, Marie thought absently and then blinked in an effort to stay alert. The wolf howled then lifted a muscular leg. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact. It landed on her face. Something cracked, and pain shot through her head and vibrated through her body. A deafening ringing exploded in her ears and stars swam behind her eyes. Her mind wandered, floating above the pain. France. Starlit nights with Abby. Then her mind drifted beyond to her mother, the woman who had left her for God. The Daughter of France who had left a baby to grow up alone, so she could devote herself to God in recompense for the sins of her family. Was God angry with her, too? Was living too long a sin?

  “Enough!” Stormda bellowed, snapping Marie back into the present.

  “She isn’t dead yet.” Deena bent over her, lifting her by the hair to survey her swollen and bloodied face. “But she’s barely alive.” She dropped Marie’s hair and wiped her hands as if contaminated. “Finish her.”

  One of Deena’s dark wolves growled and stepped forward. A claw grabbed Marie’s shirt, lifting, and flattening her against a steely chest.

  “I didn’t give an order,” Stormda said, his voice thick with censure
.

  The Slovakian stilled.

  At such proximity to the wolf’s beating heart, Marie’s burning thirst roared to life and she summoned enough strength to clamp her teeth down on his shoulder.

  Blood spurted into her mouth, but he yelped and threw her off him before she could swallow more than a few gulps. He swung at her, but Stormda stopped him in mid-action.

  “I said enough.”

  The Slovakian backed away, head bent in submission.

  “Take her inside,” Stormda ordered.

  He hurried into human form and lifted Marie into his arms.

  “No, drag her in,” Deena snapped. “She’ll bite you again, idiot.”

  He looked at Stormda for confirmation.

  Deena stomped her foot. “I said drag her in.”

  Stormda rolled his eyes but nodded.

  Marie willed herself to move, but nothing responded. She needed blood. The wound in her stomach had slowed to a trickle, but it wasn’t closing. Not good.

  Deena’s man captured her hand with a grimace of disgust and dragged her across the garden, over cement and coral. Her torn shirt was little protection for her back and she left a trail of fragile, bloodthirsty skin. Her hair tangled in a shrub, and he yanked on her arm to free her, tearing a patch of hair from the root and dislocating a shoulder.

  The new pain of dislocation blended with all other aches, creating a massive entity so strong she couldn’t isolate what hurt more, and she simply prayed for a respite. She wanted it to stop. She wanted to die.

  Stormda pointed to the long oak table in the middle of the hall and he dropped her on it.

  Tears spilled from her swollen eyes, dripping down her broken nose and scratched cheeks like salty rivulets. Her hair was plastered against her head, matted with twigs, dirt, and coagulated blood.

  “Are you crying?” Deena circled the table. “Crying isn’t going to help you.”

  A fire blazed in the hearth, brightening the dark, brown room with its remnants of the past. Deena’s eyes sparkled and crackled like the flames devouring wood chips. The weather wasn’t cold enough for a fire, but Marie was grateful for the warmth.

  “Now you look like a corpse. I can’t understand what he sees in you. Without your pretty clothes, you’re nothing but a cold, barren shell,” Deena said.

  Marie humphed in defiance.

  Deena raised a hand to strike her, but Stormda captured it.

  “No,” he said.

  Deena glared at him.

  “Leave me.”

  “I have the right to watch.”

  “I said leave, woman.”

  She bowed her head and walked backward, not taking her eyes off Stormda. At the door, she paused. “Aren’t you curious why your son wants her so badly he defies you? She is still alive.” Bowing again, she slipped out and closed the door lightly behind her.

  Deena’s words crawled into Stormda’s thoughts and took root, exactly as she expected them to. He turned to Marie. “You are a mess, but I did try to warn you to stay away from my heir.” He pressed his face into hers and licked the blood on her forehead. “Mmm, not bad.” He studied her face before dropping his gaze. “You like lacey delicate things? Does my son tear them off you?” As if for emphasis, he ripped her tattered shirt and bra apart.

  “You have small breasts. Not to my liking. Let’s see what else you have.” With minimal effort, he yanked the remnants of her jeans off.

  Stormda was jealous of his son’s cock. His no longer worked as it should and it made him less of an authority in the eyes of those who knew his secret. But most of all, he was jealous of Odin’s youth, strength, and immortality. He was vulnerable to his son, and being at his mercy, anyone’s mercy, grated. At any time, Odin could slam the hammer on his legacy and claim it for himself, so he had to keep him on a tight leash. In time, he might be ready to step down, to live a quieter life, but not yet. Not now.

  What should he do with the corpse that obsessed his son into disobedience? Originally he thought a beating would suffice, but he found himself intrigued and not nearly satisfied. He couldn’t kill Marie. He had a bargain to keep, but there were things worse than death for a woman, even if the woman was a vampire.

  He spread Marie’s legs open, noting that her left ankle protruded out of her skin.

  She protested weekly but didn’t move, and he laughed. “I must see what my son sees, corpse.” His brow furrowed. “I’m sure this is how he takes you. Odin likes it simple, from what I hear.” He touched her calf, finding it cool and solid, but pliable. “Interesting.” His hand wondered upward to her thigh. “Very interesting.”

  He touched an enticing nipple and felt a prickle of arousal. Surprised, he rushed to unzip his pants and pulled her down until her butt rested on the edge of the table. He rolled her nipple and squeezed her breast with one hand while the other pulled on his penis.

  “No.” Marie squirmed and tears trickled down her face.

  Stormda ignored her, but despite the rough and zealous machinations of his hands, his penis wouldn’t harden. Exasperated, he gave up and tried to penetrate her, but he was too flaccid. He howled in frustration.

  Deena threw the door open and men rushed in, ready to attack.

  “Get out.” His face flamed with embarrassment, aware of the pitying and curious glances of his men and the lurking Deena. He turned on Marie. “You disgust me you cold, unnatural bitch. I will teach you a lesson.”

  Marie’s eyes were swollen and streaked with broken blood vessels that turned her irises purple, but they stared back at him, taunting and knowing.

  “Bitch.” He flipped her on her stomach and kneaded her buttocks. In three bursts that cracked the air, he shifted into his beast form and roared at the top of his lungs.

  The war cry echoed in the cavernous hall.

  “Take her, Master,” Deena egged him on, venom dripping from her voice.

  Stormda’s muscles thrived with vigor and his penis pulsed, though it wasn’t hard enough yet. It would be. He was sure of it. He raised his arms into the air and roared again.

  “Odin,” Marie croaked.

  Stormda flinched. With a snap, the bones of his face shifted, his teeth retracted, and his snout melted into human cheekbones and throat. “Odin? Where is he now?” He wrenched her legs open. He would show her.

  An explosion rocked the hall, followed by pops of automatic fire. Stormda looked up, surprised, and motioned for the guards to investigate.

  Deena closed the door after the last guard scurried out and sauntered over to Stormda. Leaning into him, she caressed his back with long strokes. “Do it. Then you can have me.” Her hand slipped, past his abdomen and dropped to enclose his penis. “You are so big.” She jerked his member. “So big it will tear her open. Finish it.” She squeezed.

  Despite her prompting, despite his tingling desire, he lost control of his wolf. Like an incontrollable tick, a current ran down his spine. He shivered then shrank back into human form.

  Deena’s eyes widened. He couldn’t bear the look on her face, but before he could explain, the door crashed open.

  Etienne leapt into the room and pounced on them. With the vampire entangled, Deena rolled away and shifted. Etienne hissed at her, but instead of attacking him, she overturned the table.

  Marie dropped with a grunt.

  He kicked Stormda and flew to her side, releasing a cry of agony, as he gathered the broken bundle that was Marie, gently into his arms.

  Deena circled the vampires, teeth bared in a furor.

  “Enough,” Stormda said, but his flat, defeated voice was weightless.

  Deena growled.

  “Enough,” said a quiet but commanding voice from the doorway. Anton stepped into the room, his platinum hair perfectly styled and wearing purple velvet
pants, a black tuxedo jacket, and white shirt. He was dressed as if ready for a cocktail party and lacked the bulging muscles of the werewolves, but power whipped around him. Stormda shrunk back in fear.

  Too enraged to sense Anton’s power, Deena leapt at Marie.

  Anton caught her by the throat and threw her into the air. She left a bloody imprint on the wall and crashed to the floor unconscious. “What has happened here, Stormda? I am not pleased.” Anton’s eyes shivered fluorescent green. “Take her to the car, Etienne.”

  Etienne rose with Marie safely tucked into his arms.

  “She initiated this,” Stormda accused.

  “I do not want to discuss this now.”

  “She killed a dozen of my men, including my youngest before they took her down.”

  Anton smirked. “She must have been distracted or none of you would have survived.”

  “She wouldn’t listen.”

  Anton’s voice lowered and its ferocity made the Alpha take another step back. “I told you she does not listen. I gave you permission to punish her, but you took this too far. I am not pleased.”

  Etienne tensed, but his face was expressionless. He started past her maker but was stopped by a casual hand on his arm.

  Anton leaned over Marie. “I will take care of everything, my princess.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then straightened and waved Etienne away.

  When Etienne was beyond earshot, the vampire hissed and in a flash of untraceable movement loomed in Stormda’s face. “I told you not to touch her face. I told you not to bleed her. Pray to your vulgar deities that I can heal her. I am not pleased.”

  In the car, Etienne inspected Marie. Her pallor worried him. Gunshot wounds peppered most of her body. Some closed, some still leaked. The werewolves had known the only way to kill her was to bleed her strength out. They also marred her beautiful face. Her jaw and nose were fractured, her head was lacerated, and she was dehydrated and shriveled, almost beyond recognition. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it delicately around her, cocooning her into him.