The Bloodline Series Box Set

by Gabriella Messina

  Hudson seemed very aware of his effect, too, as he leaned closer to her, his British accent stronger as his voice became a low rumble.

  “I don’t ‘play’ doctor... I take it very seriously.”

  Sam turned slightly, bringing their bodies nearly into a provocative alignment. “What do you want, Jack?”

  His smile faded slightly as he broke eye contact and took another sip of his drink. “Have you spoken with Vincent recently?”

  “With? No.” Sam drained the remains of her glass and plopped the strawberry end back into the glass. “To? Yes.”

  “When?”

  “This morning.”

  Hudson nodded, his jaw tense. He drained his own glass and tossed several bills on the counter by the two glasses.

  “If you do see him, Sam... Tell him I need to see him... Soon.” He started to step away, then stopped. “You need to come see me, too.”

  Sam raised her chin, a small gesture of defiance even as she smiled. “And why would I want to do that?”

  “You probably don’t, but...” He trailed off a moment, his face softening slightly as he looked at her.

  “But?”

  “You need to, love. Soon.” At that, Hudson pushed away from the bar, his large form moving quickly through the crowds. He jogged quickly up the steps leading outside and disappeared into the cool night.

  5

  SAM WALKED ALONG QUICKLY, the slight buzz remaining from that glass of Prosecco giving her wings. She’d faked a headache to get out of there, and she was pretty sure they had figured out she was lying, too, especially Connolly. Ronne had been concerned and it had taken a lot of convincing to keep him from walking her home. Sam took a deep breath, letting the cool air rush into her lungs, clearing away the foggy feeling in her brain for a moment. Another breath in... and she stopped.

  She wasn’t alone.

  Sam turned slowly, taking in the streets around her, the illuminated streetlights and traffic ahead on Houston, the edge of the cemetery on Second Street... a group of... She sniffed the air deeply, focusing her attention on the figures gathered along the sidewalk near the cemetery. There were four of them, all broad-shouldered and athletic, their musculature clearly visible even in the moonlight and at this distance. Maybe students from the university, and definitely all men... Well, sort of. Sam took another deep breath, her sensitive nose sorting the components of the scent into human and werewolf in seconds.

  At that moment, the wind came up, lifting Sam’s long ponytail and whipping it forward against her face. She quickly smoothed it back, her gaze returning to the group of “frat-wolves” ... and she froze.

  The wind must have carried her scent straight to them, because the four were now looking at her, were focused on her, and she could feel the shift in the air, the tension building and releasing as their bodies began to move, as they started to walk toward her.

  Oh shit...

  Sam scooted across the street, her pace steady and quick. She didn’t want to run... she might need to soon enough and while her condition gave her extra strength and stamina, she wasn’t invincible and there was a real possibility she would have to fight these “boys” off if she couldn’t get back to the apartment in time.

  Sam jogged across Houston Street and onto Chrystie. Three blocks... three large city blocks... She glanced back to see where they were and spotted... two. Before her brain could really process that two of the “frat-wolves” were missing, she saw one out of the corner of her eye, coming across Chrystie from the west... they were trying to herd her into the park. Sam slowed slightly as Number Four jogged across the street a block ahead and began walking north towards her. She glanced around again, feeling the twinge of adrenaline beginning to pump through her body, the fight-or-flight response. She couldn’t fight them off alone, and they were cutting her off from home...

  Sam quickly turned and headed along the bike path and into Roosevelt Park. She walked quickly through the basketball courts, glancing back several times. Two were still behind her, following her in... no, three... but where was Number Four? As she crossed into the soccer field, Sam began to speed up, still not running but getting very close to it. The “frat wolves” sped up as well, settling into a sort of trot.

  Sam could see the Rivington Street crossing ahead... One more large city block and she would be home. As she crossed the path that dissected the park in-line with Rivington Street, she saw the moment from the corner of her eye. Number Four, coming in from Chrystie Street and flanking her. Sam heard the other three speed up even before she glanced back, and Number Four broke into a run as well.

  Sam grumbled as best as one can when running down a path through a park at top speed. Jerk-offs making me run...She could see a dark wall up ahead and, recognizing the L-shaped building, she started to bear left toward the path leading out toward Delancey Street. It was the long way around, but Number Four was coming up on the right side and she didn’t want to get trapped against the building.

  Sam sprinted along the side of the building, the sounds of the other feet pounding behind her, and getting closer. She could see the “city trees” up ahead, the darkness giving them the appearance of growing straight up out of the pavement. She took in the low fencing running along the edges of the park entrances... easy enough to jump if she needed to as they were low to the ground, but the jump time would slow her down, allowing those “frat-wolves” to get too close for comfort.

  Suddenly Number Four was in front of her and Sam pulled up quickly, nearly skidding on the pavement and into the closest tree. She quickly maneuvered herself with her back to the tree, closing the rear position of attack. Her thoughts moved to the standard procedures when faced with a potential attacker... Her options for a weapon were beyond slim, with no sticks or sharp objects within reach and her grandfather’s old Lorcin, which she used to carry on her, sitting in a bag in a drawer in Internal Affairs somewhere... still.

  Number Four stood a few feet away from her, just looking at her. Sam could see the movement of his chest under his tight tee shirt... He was breathing hard, his exhalations visible in the chill night air. Sam kept one eye on the other three arriving on the scene as she assessed him. Number Four was short, no more than a few inches taller than her, but he was well-muscled and attractive. He rubbed a hand over his scruffy growth of beard and smirked. It wasn’t a menacing smirk, or even a you’re-about-to-die kind of smirk... It was more of a hey-baby-wassup kind of smirk. Sam felt her stomach clench again... it was bad enough facing the very real inevitability of fighting for your life, but protecting your “virtue,” so to speak... She had a brief flashback to that night six months ago, Franco’s hands on her, his breath on her, his words... She shivered visibly, and Number Four’s smirk transformed into a smile... a predatory smile, but still a smile.

  “Hey, baby... Wassup?” Oh my God, did he actually just say that? Sam chuckled and saw the puzzled frown crease Number Four’s brow. “What’s so funny, honey?”

  Sam’s eyes moved quickly between the four “frat-wolves.” While they may not know she was a cop, albeit off-duty, there was no question in her mind they knew what she WAS. In fact, the three to the right were sniffing and snuffing the air like she was a cat in...

  Heat.

  Sam looked back to Number Four, noting the glint in his eye, the turn of his smile, the smell of the pheromones raging in the air. Oh, yeah... these were some horny werewolves. Great... just what I need... Frat-wolves on the make...

  Number Four took a single step toward her. “So...” He never got to finish that thought, though, because the other three growled suddenly, a vicious, guttural sound that made the hair on Sam’s neck stand up. Her acute hearing picked up on the sounds of running feet just as one of the “frat-wolves” yelled, “Wolfmordor!” and a dark shadow raced into the area.

  Vincent.

  Sam gasped and plastered herself against the tree as she watched Vincent vault over the low fence near the handicapped ramp and plunged amidst the three
“frat-wolves.” Even Number Four was distracted from her for a moment... at least until the wind came up again, blowing by Sam and pushing her scent right in his direction. Number Four turned and smiled again, his grin far more predatory than before. He started to step toward her, and Sam felt her joints lock up. She needed to move... She needed to MOVE!!!

  She heard three pops to the right, but she didn’t dare turn toward the sound and take her eyes from Number Four. One-on-one she had some chance at least, although she wished she had a weapon on her, even if it wasn’t one of those nice H&Ks Vincent carried around, fully-loaded with mercury-filled bullets. Sam wondered for a moment if that was the sound, she had heard, wondered if the three musketeers over there were going all melty, when suddenly she felt Number Four take a hold of her arm, his grip like a vise. That’s going to leave a mark...

  He opened his mouth to speak... There was another pop sound and then his eyes went wide. Number Four tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound escaped as another pop sounded, propelling him forward into Sam. She could feel the warm wetness, as what she rightly assumed was blood sprayed onto her. His grip on her arms released, and she struggled out from under his collapsing form and stumbled away from the tree.

  Sam turned back and strained in the darkness to make out the scene before her. Number Four’s body had begun to shudder, the anaphylactic reaction of the mercury upon his altered DNA causing the cellular structure of the body to disintegrate. Though she’d seen it happen before, at least a dozen times, there was something always shocking and somewhat nauseating about watching it. Beyond in the clear area the other three bodies were nearly gelatin, the last remnants of skeletal structure collapsing down into the pavement, only the clothing left behind.

  Sam gasped and swallowed hard, trying to will the chunks of vomit back down to her stomach where they belonged.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Sam frowned and turned to the voice... “What?”

  Vincent sighed with exasperation. “Did he hurt you?”

  Sam blinked, looking up into those deep, dark brown eyes, ignoring the furrowed brow and tightness in his jaw. She shook her head slowly, swallowing hard again. Number Four was almost gone.

  “Did any of it get on you?” Vincent reached out for her jacket moving the fabric to and fro as he looked for blood she assumed.

  Sam shook her head. “Blood? Now I don’t think so.”

  “Not blood, darlin’... Mercury.”

  Sam blinked rapidly again, trying to bring herself out of this daze she’d descended into. “Um, no. It wouldn’t matter anyway, remember? I’m immune.” She shrugged his hand off her shoulder, suddenly annoyed by his concern for her. “So, are we, like, talking now, or something?”

  Vincent’s gaze narrowed, though the frown relaxed a bit. “What do you mean?”

  “Really?” Sam’s annoyance increased to irritation level. “You’ve been avoiding me for months, you barely speak to me when we do run into each other...”

  “It’s for the best.” His frowned faded away completely, leaving an almost sad look on his face. “I harm, I kill...” His mouth turned up in a smirk of a smile. “You don’t want to be anywhere near me, darlin’.” Vincent reached into the pocket of his duster, pulling out his cigarettes and a lighter. He jerked his head toward Delancey Street. “You best be getting home. It’s not safe out here.” He quickly lit his cigarette and turned to walk away.

  “You’re here.” Sam called after him. “Why wouldn’t it be safe?”

  “Because... I am here.” Vincent’s answer drifted back to her as she watched him walk away until he faded into the shadows and out of sight.

  6

  SAM SWUNG HER FEET back and forth, her heels hitting the edge of the stool’s steel legs with a clump, clump... She looked down, crossing her eyes slightly in a vain attempt to read the thermometer in her mouth.

  “Uh, Dack?” She almost laughed at the sound of the words coming out of her mouth. It wasn’t easy talking without the use of your tongue. “Ith dis wewwy nec—”

  “Hush! I want an accurate reading!” Hudson scowled at her, though his mouth twitched with a latent smile. He glanced at his watch, then reached for the thermometer, pulling it gently from Sam’s mouth and looking closely at the indicator. “Your temperature is normal. You said you’ve felt unusually warm?”

  “No. Cold.” Sam shivered slightly as she said the word. It seemed like she was cold all the time anymore, and it was “bone cold,” too... The kind of cold that gets into your joints and bones, making your legs feel like they’re made of wood, your muscles aching from the shakes and shivers... She shivered again and looked longingly at the coffee pot sitting on the file cabinet by the window. Coffee would be wonderful... warm, wonderful...

  “How have you been sleeping?”

  Ripped from her caffeine reverie, Sam turned to Hudson, who was now seated behind his desk. He frowned slightly, his arms folded across his chest... His solid, strong, carved-from-marble –

  “Sam?”

  “What?”

  “Sleeping. How have you been sleeping?”

  Sam shrugged. “Alright, I guess.” She looked at Hudson, who was staring at her, still frowning, still arms-crossed. He knew she wasn’t telling him everything. Sam hopped down off the stool and scooted over to the chair in front of the desk, sitting down and pulling her legs up and hugging herself into a tight ball. “Truth?”

  Hudson’s lips twitched again, then he answered, “Yes, please.”

  “I’ve been having a lot of... dreams. Really vivid dreams.”

  “What kind of dreams?”

  Sam looked up at him, using her instincts, natural and honed, to search his face. Her eyes narrowed. “I think you already know.” She watched his mouth twitch again, as if it couldn’t decide whether to smile or reply. The twitch was his only response, though. Sam sighed, shifting in the chair. “Let’s just say they have been really intense...with a decidedly ‘R’ rating.”

  Hudson arched a dark eyebrow. “Only an ‘R’?”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Fine, okay... Maybe more of an ‘NC-17’, then... With a bit of ‘X’ action as well. But that really isn’t a new thing, I’ve been a bit charged since last year... Wait a minute, why are we talking about this?”

  The smile that had been lurking finally broke through and Hudson chuckled. “Have you noticed your senses are sharper than usual? That you can smell pheromones from a greater distance, say? Or that they are more intense?”

  “Yeah. Overwhelming sometimes. And... it seems like maybe mine are stronger?”

  Hudson nodded. “Probably.”

  “Okay, cryptic man, what the hell is wrong with me?”

  Hudson chuckled. “Not a thing, love. It’s just... hormones. Is you’re cycle regular?”

  “Oh, c’mon, Jack!” Sam stood up and started pacing back and forth. “What does that have to do with anything?” Hudson just looked at her, his face impassive, his gaze intent. Sam sighed dramatically. “Okay, you want details? Fine. I finished my most recent period about a week ago. They are more regular than they were prior to my infection, and I’ll probably be ovulating next week. Anything else you want to know?”

  Hudson cleared his throat, stood up and came around the desk. He perched himself on the desk and smiled. “No, nothing else, thank you.”

  Sam walked back, crossing her arms and standing in front of him. “Well? Am I alright?”

  Hudson nodded quickly. “Of course. It’s just the effects of your transformation... Another aspect of your body’s abilities and functions being...amplified...by the virus. Your body temperature is a bit low, as is your blood pressure, but not unusual considering where you are in your monthly cycle. Essentially,” Hudson paused a moment, trying to stifle his smile, “you’re... going into heat.”

  Sam arched one of her dark eyebrows. “Heat?”

  “For lack of a better word, yes.”

  Sam blinked rapidly, unfolding her arms and plunking back down in h
er chair. “Oh boy...”

  Hudson frowned. “What?”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you... The past couple of months... My ability to... scent... certain... people... has gotten stronger.”

  Hudson’s frown faded, and his voice was soft when he asked, “Can you scent him now?”

  “Vincent?” Sam sighed. “No, but when I leave here, if he’s anywhere in a ten-block radius... I’ll know.”

  Hudson smirked, then nodded. “It will get even stronger... the closer it gets to the Full Moon, which happens to fall...” He got up from the desk and moved to the calendar hanging on the wall behind his desk. He rans his finger along the days, stopping on the twenty-second. “I thought as much. Full Moon falls on the Vernal Equinox this year.”

  “So, basically, you’re saying in addition to having to fight off the pull to change, I also have to fight off my urge to hump everybody’s leg. Great. Super. Thank you.”

  Hudson chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it. Are you having trouble holding the change off?”

  “No.” Sam shook her head. “Sometimes, I feel...”

  “Like you want to let it take you.”

  Sam could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she nodded. “Sort of. It was... awful... Shit, awful isn’t even the right word for what it was... Excruciating, horrific, agonizing, exquisite, all the above... But once I was there... It was... Everything felt peaceful... Simple...” She sniffed, quickly wiping under her eyes.

  “Funny,” Hudson said quietly, a soft look on his face Sam had seen before when he helped her get Ivan out of the hospital... Her grandfather’s final trip home.

  “What is, Jack?”

  Hudson’s smile was wistful. “That was almost exactly what Vincent said after his first time.”

  “You knew him? All that time ago?” Sam frowned, her shock at Hudson’s disclosure evident on her face.