by Cecy Robson
“Thanks, dude.” Shayna skipped toward the plane as if we were going to a party.
There was a lot I wanted to say to Misha then, but there was also a lot that could be misinterpreted. I thought I could get away with giving him a quick hug, yet he clutched my arm, refusing to release me. “Please wait. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”
Shayna rushed back to the limo when she heard Misha beckon me to stay. She stopped skipping and creased her brow when she saw Misha holding me. “I’ll be on board in a minute. Go on,” I insisted when she didn’t move. She left slowly after Hank shut the door.
Misha stared at me, all of his usual wicked humor absent from his face. “I would like you to drink my blood.”
“Huh?”
He smiled. “You heard me.”
“Ah . . . why?”
“What awaits us in Chaitén could mark the end of the war. I am needed.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Tahoe’s magic abandons me from such a great distance. I cannot take its power with me, but you can take mine with you. Ingest my blood, Celia. It will transfer you a portion of my strength. I must warn you—it will last only a few days.”
“But won’t that also transfer some of your essence?”
His smile widened. “Yes, and therefore more of my strength.”
“Misha . . . I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Celia, I cannot accompany you to help keep you safe. At the very least allow me to provide you with a little more . . . command, shall we say?”
Why the hell did everyone feel the need to protect me? Hadn’t I kicked enough of evil’s ass? “I can take care of myself, Misha. Trust me.”
“You don’t know what you’ll face. Why would you deny yourself something that may make a difference in saving your life or that of your beloved sisters?”
I smirked. “You really know how to make someone feel guilty. Did you have an Italian grandmother for lunch or something?”
Misha laughed. “Yes, and she was also Catholic.”
“Will this create another bond between us? Seriously, we just pooh-poohed the marriage one. I don’t want to have to divorce you again.” He didn’t answer me. “Misha?”
“Yes, but like the bond you created it will dissolve itself in a few days.”
I willed myself not to strangle him. “Damn it, Misha. That’s not the point. I can’t do this. Aric will rip out your innards!”
Any other preternatural would have thought twice about angering my boyfriend. Then again, Misha wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill bloodsucking master vampire. “The wolf will excuse your actions should my blood protect you.”
I swore up and down. In the end I gave in. Misha was right. I needed all the help I could get. And I needed to protect my family. “Fine. What do I have to do?”
Misha’s smile was so sinful, I absentmindedly covered my nipples. “Bite me with your fangs and drink from me. The more you take, the stronger you shall be.”
My stomach did a mini flip, and possibly a split. Despite the constant presence of my inner tigress, I didn’t crave blood. In fact the scent repulsed me. I grimaced the more I thought about it. “Okay . . . I’ll try—but don’t expect much. Tasting blood gives me the willies.”
“I assure you, you shall be willy-free.” His eyes danced down my body. “Unless you prefer otherwise.”
I rubbed my face. “If you’re going to be a pain in the ass, I’m not going to do this.”
Misha chuckled and unbuttoned his collar just enough to expose that sculptured chest of his. He pulled me onto his lap. When he pushed his long hair away from his neck, I realized none of this would make Aric happy. In fact, he’d probably prefer I take my chances. I jerked away from him and rose as much as the limo would allow. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s necessary to straddle you. I’d rather do it standing up.”
The gleam in Misha’s gray eyes made me want to bolt. “Whatever position suits you, my darling.”
Aric’s growls echoed around me. My gaze searched for him, expecting him to have magically appeared in the Hummer. Instead, an image of his rabid beast filled my thoughts. I misinterpreted it as guilt until Misha smirked. “Your connection to that mutt has strengthened. His wolf recognizes that another seeks you as his, and is making it clear you belong to him alone.”
“If you know this, it’s more a reason to let go of me and find yourself a nice girl to settle down with.” I thought about it. “Preferably someone less sluttish than you’re used to.”
Misha ignored my comment and addressed my matehood with Aric. “You are neither were nor human. Did you ever think that just because you are the mongrel’s mate, he may not be yours?”
That was a slap in the face I didn’t need. My tigress eyes fixed on Misha. “There’s no doubt in my mind I belong with Aric. No matter what happens.”
“Then prove it.” Misha leaned back into the leather seat, exposing his neck and chest.
I concentrated hard on my emotions and imagined my hands smoothing over the thick dark fur of Aric’s beast. I’m doing this only to help me on my quest and to return to my lover’s arms. The growling stopped, but his wolf didn’t appear any less ferocious. I love you, Aric, and your animal side. Trust me to do the right thing and my tigress and I will be with you soon. Ever so slowly, his wolf’s vicious image disappeared. I’d like to say it was replaced by a vision of a happy wagging wolf. Then again, I’d also like to win free Doritos for life.
I sighed and tried to relax. “Okay, Count Chocula. Here I come.”
I leaned over Misha and exposed my fangs. My body trembled with fear despite my best efforts to convince myself Misha’s blood could mean the difference between life and death. I took a breath and plunged my fangs deep into Misha’s neck. Misha gasped as a small trickle of blood dripped into my open mouth. I forced myself to taste it.
Oh . . . my . . . stars!
Misha was delicious! Every decadent dessert I’ve ever had coated my tongue with each sweep—brownies with ice cream, death by chocolate, New York cheesecake . . . Oh, and fried Twinkies. My fangs dug deeper and my tongue moved fast, refusing to allow one drop to escape. Misha writhed and moaned beneath me. My sugar high reasoned that he liked those desserts, too.
Somehow I ended up on top of him with my knee pressed firmly against his groin. The reason I knew this was because the feel of his erection growing against my leg snapped me out of my foodie-induced insanity. I retracted my fangs and scrambled back to the other side of the limo. Both our faces flushed and we breathed heavily. The tremendous bulge in his pants warned me, though, that it was obviously for very, very different reasons.
The rest of Misha’s shirt had been torn open. I prayed up and down that he’d done it himself. That probably wasn’t the case, given the fiery red claw marks raking across his muscular chest. Shit. It was like Misha’s blood was catnip and his body the damn scratch post. I watched with horror as the grazes closed and the fang marks healed. Then I scowled and pointed at him accusingly. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”
Misha continued to stare at me with feral eyes. “Had I known, I would have taken the Italian grandmother for lunch much, much sooner.”
“I have to go.” It was horrible. I couldn’t believe I’d let Misha talk me into this, this S&M blood-slurping fiasco. I leapt toward the exit and inadvertently ripped the handle and part of the door off when I wrenched it open. I gawked at the parts like an idiot and then at Misha. He stared at the remains of his door. “It appears the process worked,” he mumbled.
I slipped out and tried to fix the door back into place. Instead, I accidently broke it free from the hinges. Rather than wrestling with it and risking more damage, I shoved it into Hank’s not so willing arms. He hissed at me—surprise, surprise. I ignored him and faced his master. “I’m so sorry, Misha. You can take it out of my paycheck.�
�
Misha suddenly stood on the asphalt with me, holding my face gently in his hands. “Do not apologize. Just promise you will return to me safely.”
Misha was many things: selfish, overconfident, and kind of a man-whore. Obvious erection aside, he was also my friend and honestly cared for me. “I promise I’ll do my best.”
He kissed my forehead and I waved good-bye.
When I entered the plane, I was momentarily taken aback by its extravagance. Unlike the plane we’d taken to Nicaragua, this was designed for the very rich. A set of four lavish chairs faced another set, with a table in between. Plush couches snaked around the perimeter and a minibar took up the far right corner. The light cream, sage, and burgundy decor suggested tranquillity and relaxation, while the rest screamed party time—both welcome feelings considering our destination.
My sisters and wolves engaged in a conversation about the plane and all its perks, buzzing about all the high-tech gadgets and who’d sleep in the large bedroom at the rear of the plane. The excitement of traveling in such luxury thrilled my loved ones and momentarily extinguished their anxiety.
Tye, if anything, appeared bored. He stretched his long body on one of the couches as if sunning himself on the boulder where Rafiki presented Simba. His white blond hair fanned out over the microfiber and his chest rose and fell as he napped. Typical lion.
The captain and copilot were a nice couple who came out to greet us and explain our flight plan. When they disappeared, Bren cornered me. “What took you so long?” He sniffed. “And why do I smell Misha all over you?”
I’ll just tell them the truth. After all, I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not like I had sex with the guy—hell, I hadn’t even kissed him. All I did was try to give us some leverage on this suicide mission. What’s wrong with that? I mean—
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Emme asked.
“I drank Misha’s blood.”
That drew everyone’s attention; even Tye sat up. Their brows creased in unison. I steeled myself against the inevitable bombardment of questions, screams, and “Why did you do it?”s. Danny came to my rescue before the first stone was cast. “That’s a great idea, Celia. It will help make you stronger on the trip.”
Thank the Lord everyone considered Danny a supernatural expert. His comment mollified everyone’s fears. I sat and attempted to join their conversation. Danny and Emme invited Tye to join us. They were nice like that. I wasn’t.
Tye of course parked his cocky ass right next to me and flashed one of his sexy grins. It was all I could do not to smack him with a barf bag. My claws protruded when he inched closer and leaned into me. Had it not been for the sound of the plane door opening, I would have sliced that damn dimple clean off his face. I almost fell off my seat when I saw who stood there.
Misha had sent reinforcements.
Ying-Ying and Kuan Jang Nim Chang boarded the plane with backpacks and wide grins. Ying-Ying said something in Mandarin at the same time Chang fired off some Korean. Everyone looked to me as if I was the translator.
Shayna bent forward and whispered frantically in my ear. “Do you think he brought his balls?”
“We all need balls to survive this mission,” Bren answered for me.
I stood and bowed to them. “Welcome. Please join us.” I motioned to the chairs with a slight giggle. Team Aric comprised of Taran and the were equivalent of Special Forces. Team Celia consisted of a brand-new wolf, a former lone, a horny lion, three weirdos, and two non-English-speaking sadists.
And let the adventure begin.
We departed Tahoe sometime after eight. The flight to Amsterdam alone would last nine hours. Bren suggested a poker game to pass the time. I hated playing poker with him because he always won. This time, Tye gave him a run for his money and so did Ying-Ying. It was a real exciting game and kept everyone involved even after most of us folded. Kuan Jang Nim Chang repeatedly gave Bren advice in Korean.
Bren pointed to his cards. “That shit won’t work, Chang. If I place these down, he’ll get me here.” Chang squinted at his cards and patted Bren’s back apologetically.
Shayna stopped looking at Ying-Ying’s cards to crinkle her pixie face. “You understood him?”
Bren scratched his scruffy beard. “Hell no. But I got the gist.”
Shayna’s phone rang, and I didn’t need to hear Koda’s voice to know it was him. Her smile lit up the cabin right before she stole into the back bedroom to speak with him.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when Bren tossed his cards on the table. He took Shayna’s place and sat next to Ying-Ying, at first to help her with the game. It didn’t take him long to flirt, tease, and charm her. Ying-Ying giggled at Bren’s attention. I shook my head. Leave it to him to charm the yoga pants off someone without even speaking her language.
Emme sat next to Tye. He patiently explained his strategy to her while she listened closely and tried to understand. He wasn’t being inappropriate with her, so I couldn’t be mad; in fact, he was actually very nice to her. He caught me watching and smiled. I ignored him to stalk to the refrigerator and grab us more drinks. I’d just filled my arms with water bottles when an uproar erupted from the table. Ying-Ying had won with Bren’s tutelage and walked off with over two hundred dollars.
“Great job, Ying-Ying,” I said. She asked me something in Mandarin. All I understood was Bren’s name and made the mistake of nodding. Her whole face beamed and she bowed back excitedly. I realized I’d done something terribly wrong when she grabbed Bren and led him to the rear of the plane.
Bren saluted me before they disappeared. “Thanks for the good word, Ceel.”
Shayna screamed and raced back to the main area with her hand clasped over her mouth. “They’re, like, going to do it.”
I ignored Emme’s blush and handed Tye a water bottle. “You don’t drink?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Occasionally, but since we’re headed for Africa I figured we need to hydrate.”
“Nice to see all the Girl Scout training has paid off.”
“Mmm. I was never a Girl Scout. We’ve never even been camping.”
Tye almost choked on his water. “Tell me you know how to build shelter and fire.”
“Nope.”
“You do hunt, though, right?”
“No. I eat meat, but I like animals too much to kill them.”
Tye glanced around the cabin, horrified. “What can you do, then . . . any of you?”
My tigress barreled to the surface. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Emme frowned. It always impressed me how she oozed cuteness even while fuming. “I’ll have you know we’re all excellent fighters—”
“Well . . .” Danny interrupted.
Emme’s blush returned. “Except for Danny, but he’s smart and an excellent researcher.”
My head jerked toward the bedroom. “Um . . .”
“And, well, Ying-Ying, too.” Emme’s blush deepened.
Tye appeared ready to vomit. “Ying-Ying can’t fight, either?”
Shayna held her hands out. “No, man. But her yoga skills are . . . superb.”
“She’s here to do yoga?” Tye let out a string of swearwords. “This is a nightmare! How are we going to get the stone if I’m busy babysitting?”
“We’re not inept,” I hissed. “We’ve fought our way out of many dangerous situations.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, sister.”
“I am not your sister.”
Tye growled. “No. You’re not. You’re just the one I’m destined to be with.”
Tye grabbed a blanket and pillow and threw himself across the couch with his back to us. Turned out he wasn’t so impressed with me after all.
Chang muttered something in Korean as he watched Tye get comfortable. I nodded at him, agreeing. “Yeah, I know. What a total asshole.”
>
I turned on my heel and prepared for bed. Sometime around one in the morning West Coast time, I woke up. Emme and Shayna lay in bed with me. To my surprise and relief, Shayna hadn’t woken up screaming. She sometimes twitched and whimpered, but she would settle and return to sleep.
I moved slowly to avoid waking my sisters and slid open the window shade. From what I could see out the window, it appeared we’d just landed in Amsterdam. A team of men in safety orange suits rushed to the plane and prepared to refuel the jet. Our captain stepped out and spoke to one of the workers, smiling. His pleasant demeanor reinforced that all was well.
Next stop: Tanzania.
“Why do you sleep with them?” Tye sat on the couch opposite us, his clear blue eyes appearing to glow from the subtle light in the cabin.
I didn’t understand why he was asking, but I answered anyway. “There’s not a lot of room considering Bren and Ying-Ying hogged the back.” I covered Emme’s back with the blanket when she shivered. “Besides, it’s not a big deal. We grew up sleeping together.”
Tye leaned forward, causing the sheet around him to slide to his waist. “Didn’t you have your own rooms?”
“No. Our parents slept in a pullout sofa in the living room when we were little, while we shared a bed in a small bedroom. In our first foster home we were separated . . . but that just made us want to be together more.” I didn’t elaborate and hoped he wouldn’t ask for details.
“You were in foster care?”
I nodded.
“What happened to your parents?”
“They were killed during a home invasion.”
Tye’s frown relaxed into something that resembled shock. I guess no one had bothered to tell him anything about me, except that we should have cubs together. “You said ‘our first’—how many foster homes did you end up in?”
“Just one more. Ana Lisa, our foster mom, kept us and gave us a real home. Her house had only two bedrooms so we went back to sharing a room.” My fingers traced along the sill in an attempt to distract myself from my rising discomfort.