by Cecy Robson
After making my waves as presentable as the laws of big hair would allow, I traded my pathetic ensemble for workout clothes. My plan was to go for a run after our chat. I was running more—a lot more—hoping for another glimpse of that sexy wolf.
I drove to the Kings Beach Cafe and slipped into the booth where Misha waited. Two waitresses rushed to our table. I thought they were going to fistfight to see who would wait on us—or should I say, wait on Misha. The waitress with the most robust figure won.
“Good afternoon. I’m Tiffany. Would you like to hear the specials?” That’s what she said. Judging by the way Tiffany’s breast casually brushed against Misha’s arm when she handed him a menu, she really meant, “I’m not wearing any panties.”
Misha gestured to me with a subtle wave of his hand. “Perhaps you should start with my lovely companion.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have. Tiffany did a double take and huffed. In her preoccupation with Misha, she’d failed to notice me. I smiled and gave her a pinky wave. “Just a chai tea latte, please.”
Misha kept his eyes on me. “The same for me as well.”
Tiffany returned in record time…and braless.
Hello. I’m still here, Tiff.
Misha smiled at my scowl. “Would you like anything else, my darling?”
“No.”
I’d meant to sound annoyed. I blamed Misha for taking away our anonymity. And yet, as Tiffany flounced away, I found it increasingly difficult to feel anything but curiosity. Misha sported yet another designer suit. This time he’d tied his long blond hair back from his shoulders. He may have dressed for the corporate world, but there was nothing nine-to-five about him. Misha was model perfect. And Misha knew it.
So then what was he doing with me? Hell, I didn’t even wear makeup.
He’d selected a corner booth where the sun peeked through the shades. I couldn’t help but smile. Bram Stoker had it all wrong. Sunlight had no effect on preternatural beings. Only sunshine created through magic could do them harm. Crucifixes didn’t work either: Many vampires were devout Catholics, although they usually snacked on the priest following confession. Vampires did, however, drink human blood. That much was true. Blood preserved their youth, enhanced their beauty, and kept their organs functioning. And while vamps took their fair share, it was less than humans donated to blood banks. Unbeknownst to humans, though, vampires ran most blood drives. Guess that explained all the shortages.
“So what do you want?” I finally asked.
Misha’s face turned grim as he quietly explained. “The morning following vampire court, I killed my second in command. He had been a member of my keep for the past hundred years.”
Suddenly, tea with Misha sounded like a very bad idea. My claws crept out, digging into the underside of the wooden table. “Why did you do that?” I asked, hoping he had a damn good reason.
“My family and I woke to the screams of my maid. It took us mere moments to reach her, yet we were too late. Andres had drained her completely.”
Oh, God. “Bloodlust?”
He nodded.
“Misha, how is this possible?”
Misha shook his head. He reached for his tea, but changed his mind. “It shouldn’t be. I manage my family carefully. They feed well.”
If it wasn’t a lack of feeding, then it had to be magic. “Then some whack-job witch obviously cursed him.”
“I believe you mean cursed them.”
My eyes widened. His menacing tone told me he meant more than Andres and Taran’s hell date. “How many are we talking about, Misha?” He gave me a hard stare. “Misha! How many?”
“Twelve.”
Vamp court had been just a week ago. My mouth went dry. “Twelve vampires in seven days.” I blew out a shaky breath. “All yours?”
“Yes.”
“Have you discovered the witch who cast the curse?”
“No. I am not certain a curse was cast.”
I took a drink from my cup, trying not to think about an army of vampires stalking through the streets and thick forests of Tahoe. Ski season was over, but summer was quickly approaching. That meant thousands of tourists shopping, golfing, swimming, rock climbing, camping, and hiking. Not to mention the year-round residents.
I paused, realizing what Misha said made no sense. “What do you mean, you don’t think a curse was cast? Isn’t that how the bloodlust pendulum swings?”
“The blood of my vampires is linked to mine. Had a curse been cast, I would have felt it here.”
Misha placed my palm over his heart. Hard muscle tensed beneath the smoothness of his silk shirt. His steady heart beat rhythmically. Bump, bump. Bump, bump. Mine was more of a pitter, patter, thump, crash, thunk.
It had been a long time since I’d touched anyone. And touching Misha made me uncomfortable.
Misha must have felt my trepidation, because he released my hand before I could snatch it away. His head tilted with amused interest, but he spared me further humiliation by continuing. “Witch magic is playing a part, yes, but how remains obscure. I suspect a rival master is the key behind the attack against my family.”
“Why a master and not just a witch?”
Misha motioned to one of his goons, who handed him a large manila folder. “Celia, there is tremendous upheaval in the vampire world. Masters are seeking any excuse to challenge one another to the death.”
I leaned on my palm. “Okay…but why?”
“A master’s death at the hand of another master transfers all power to the victor.” He flashed a cheerless grin. “My kind seeks power and wealth obsessively, sometimes at any cost.”
I nodded. “You are a bunch of greedy bastards.”
Misha paused at my brutal honesty before chuckling. “The victors in Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia have emerged. Through a mutual agreement, they have decided to stay in their respective regions, unwilling to go to war. Yet the leaders of the Americas have yet to be determined.” He placed six photos in front of me and pointed to the first four. “Antoinette Malika, Zhahara Nadim, Sofia Rocio, and Roberto Suarez.”
The judges from court. I nibbled on my bottom lip, a sense of unease building deep within me. “All masters in the area?”
Misha nodded. “All the masters on the West Coast have settled near Tahoe. They are energized by the magic of the lake.”
I rubbed at my arms, knowing what he meant. Tahoe both enlivened and settled my beast. My eyes focused on each photo, only to widen at the picture of a fair-skinned vampire with crew-cut blond hair and dark brown eyes. “Petro. Petro…is a master?” I picked up the photo and examined it carefully. Petro remained vampire pretty, yes, but something about him seemed so nerdy. It was probably due to his awkwardness. And the damn bow tie didn’t help either. I placed the picture back on the table, shaking my head. “He didn’t feel strong to me.”
Misha stroked his chin. “You are correct. My brother is not as strong as he should be.”
That got my attention. “You’re brothers?” When Petro had said they were of the same family, I presumed he meant Misha had sired him.
“We share the same master.” Misha focused on his picture, hints of sadness and shame finding their way into his strong voice. “Petro is not like the others of our station. The only power he appears to possess is the ability to create the undead.” He flicked the edges irritably with his fingers. “The grand master considered ending his existence decades ago, embarrassed by his…inelegance. Petro’s keen intelligence is the only thing that spared him.”
Feelings of not belonging poked irritably in my gut. I could relate. So could my sisters. But that didn’t mean I’d make Misha aware. “Which grand master?”
Misha pointed to the last picture. “Uri Heinrich. He turned me and Petro vampire.”
Uri smiled pleasantly in the photo. His short dark hair and well-trimmed beard made him appear dashing, despite the honest-to-God olive green opera cape he wore. Yet a sense of power danced around his photo. If a mere picture
did this, his presence would likely knock me out of my sneakers. “Why would your own master try to kill you now? He could have easily stolen your power upon your creation.”
Misha leaned back, hurt reflecting from his ominous gray eyes. “It is possible I have lost the grand master’s favor.” His gaze traveled to each of the pictures, falling lastly upon Uri’s. “In the last century, I have gained the potency it took my rivals several centuries to achieve. The wealth I acquired for the grand master and his fondness for me may not spare me from his desire to attain a greater power.” He tapped the photo. “And yet if he chooses to strike, I do not believe it would be now. The grand master is patient. He would likely wait until the others and I finish ourselves off so that he may take the champion’s collective power.”
I went through the pictures again. “Can a vampire cast a bloodlust curse?”
Misha shook his head. “No vampire can work such magic. And as I mentioned, I would have felt it.”
My brain searched for a possible solution. Bren had educated us on the supernatural world based on his personal experiences as a werewolf. Prior to meeting Bren, Danny advised us by studying old magic chronicles. Still, there was so much we didn’t know. I played with the edges of my hair. “Can a vampire influence another preternatural?”
“Our control works only on humans. And magic from different mystical races cannot be combined. It clashes, with the dominant power ultimately extinguishing the other.” He drummed the table impatiently. “I sought an audience with the leader of the local witch clan, but she denied any involvement. Had she lied, I would have sensed it.”
I slowly sipped my tea. No matter how I sliced it, Misha was screwed. As a master, he was responsible for the actions of his family. He had no choice; he had to kill his infected vampires.
But he also needed to figure out the cause of the infestation.
I waited to see if he would say more. He didn’t. “Why are you telling me this?” I finally asked.
“The first stone has been cast. It is my belief it was done by Zhahara Nadim. She is my closest adversary in both power and business, and maintains the company of a former head witch. Zhahara despises the earth I stand on and has sworn to ruin me any way she can.”
I remembered how eager she seemed to dig her vindictive fangs into Misha. Yet, I couldn’t hide my grin. “Did you dump her or something?”
Misha didn’t answer, but his one-sided smile spoke volumes.
“You did, didn’t you?” I shuddered. I’d heard of Zhahara, even before being graced with her wicked bitch presence in vamp court. She was considered the Doris Duke of Lake Tahoe—very rich, very elusive, very much someone you stayed away from. “I guess hell hath no fury like a preternatural female scorned.”
Misha chuckled. “Is this a warning, my dear?”
“Unless you plan to date me, too, no.”
Misha didn’t deny it. Uh. Oh.
I cleared my throat. I wanted to date a master vampire as much as I wanted to get declawed. “You said you needed my help. What can I do?”
“You can help me invade her home and kill her.”
CHAPTER 5
“Why do you regard me in such a manner?”
The “such a manner” Misha referred to included my jaw scraping the floor and my eyes bulging out of my skull. I blinked back at him. “Oh. I’m sorry. I just didn’t realize you were nuts.”
Misha leaned toward me. “Celia, if Zhahara is behind this, it is now within my rights to destroy her.” His body seethed with rage. “I will not submit to anyone.”
My entire body straightened. Inside me my tigress came to her feet, ready to emerge. The scent of my tension must have reached Misha. He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Forgive me. My anger has nothing to do with you.” He focused hard on the photos. “I am certain Zhahara threatens my family. Yet I do not have enough vampires left to fight her. You and your family have no ties to the supernatural world. You’re the only ones I can trust. Help me destroy Zhahara, Celia. Help me end the bloodlust.”
I leaned away from him and crossed my arms. “What makes you think we could be of any help?”
He paused. His gaze bore into mine with uncomfortable intensity. “Celia, I can feel the power dripping down your body.”
I suddenly felt naked again and had to cross my arms over my breasts before speaking. “Why should we help you? You’re nothing to us and you almost got us executed.”
“The bloodlust infestation forced me to wrongfully seek vengeance. For that I am truly sorry.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s kept you up at night.”
I could almost see Misha’s anger dissipate. A slow smile spread across his handsome face. He placed his lips close to my ear. “I only did as you would have done in my place, my darling,” he murmured.
His breath tickled and gave me chills. I dismissed it as part of his vampire charm. “You don’t have to get so close. I can hear you from where you’re seated.”
Misha’s mouth parted; he was apparently confused as to why I didn’t immediately straddle him and shove my tongue down his throat. Geez, hasn’t anyone ever told this guy no before? I stole another glimpse at him. A lock of hair rested against his perfect skin, while his gray eyes sizzled enough to fry my thick lashes. Okay. Maybe not.
Misha resumed his more serious demeanor. “Consider this, Celia: Do you think Zhahara will stop after the fall of my family? How many others will she infect, and how many of those will go on to kill innocents? Hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives may be lost—not just vampire, but human, as well. When David attacked Taran, he had just trace beginnings of chronic bloodlust. Were your family merely human, he would have killed you all.”
I stood to leave. “This isn’t our problem, Misha. Give Destiny a call. Maybe she’s free.”
Misha motioned for me to sit again. I did so only because his gesture seemed more of a request than an order. “My maid’s death and the escalating level of bloodlust within my family obliges the court to prosecute me, despite their conceivable involvement. I have until the next full moon to unearth and eliminate the perpetrator.”
I froze. “And if you don’t?”
“I will be left with two choices: Kill all my family—infected or not—to eliminate the plague or be condemned to death.”
Good God. “So it’s either your life or those of your family?”
“Yes.”
Whoever cursed Misha’s family was hell-bent on destroying him. I glanced back at the photos, understanding why it could easily be one of the judges. Misha’s death sentence would be at their hands, therefore granting them his power. If Misha killed his family, he’d also be vulnerable for attack. I didn’t know how to respond. If roles were reversed and there was no other choice, I would sacrifice my life to spare my sisters without hesitation. And while masters didn’t regard their servants with the same love, there was no mistaking Misha’s remorse and fear. It would destroy him to kill his own. Still, all sympathy aside, Misha had no right to drag us into his mess. “What about Petro? You think of him as your brother. Can’t he be of help?”
Misha stilled like I suggested something asinine. “Vampires are only as strong as their masters. He and his keep would be devoured like lambs.”
He didn’t think Petro would be of any help. And he didn’t want to jeopardize his existence. Yet he would chance ours. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. But I won’t risk my sisters’ safety.”
Misha’s gray eyes darkened. “They are already at risk, Celia. You just fail to see it. My downfall alone will not end the bloodlust.”
Hank, the vampire witness from court, came to stand by us. At first, I thought he was attempting to strong-arm me into helping Misha, but he didn’t even glance in my direction. “Forgive me for disturbing you, Master.”
Misha kept his eyes on me. “What is it?”
“Aric Connor is on the phone. He wishes a word with you.”
“The mongrel can wait. Do not interrupt me
again.”
The “mongrel” apparently heard him. Cursing and growling in a strangely familiar timbre erupted from the cell phone. My inner beast jerked and I rubbed my chest, expecting it to hurt. I didn’t know this Aric guy, but he obviously didn’t fear Misha.
Hank disconnected the call and stalked away. Misha leaned back in his seat, unaffected. He tapped a finger against the table, apparently considering what to say. Several awkward seconds passed before he spoke again. “Celia, you are so young. You cannot fathom what it is to watch your family die.”
I swallowed hard. “Actually, I can.” He frowned, but his eyes softened upon taking in my appearance. My back was rigid, my fists clenched, and I readied to pounce. Everything about me screamed, Fight, attack, maul—everything—except my eyes. Recalling my parents’ deaths betrayed the sadness I always kept hidden, an emotion I refused to allow Misha to witness. “You put us through hell, Misha. You can’t expect flowers and gifts and flirting to erase such a threat. Just as you can’t expect us to drop everything to help your cause.”
I stood to leave, but not before Misha clasped my hand and kissed it. “Make certain the decision you reach is a just one,” he whispered. It wasn’t a threat—at least, I didn’t take it that way. They were more the words of a desperate man, or, as I reminded myself firmly, a desperate vampire.
CHAPTER 6
My sisters arrived home from the hospital shortly after my run. I failed to find the wolf again. Any other gal would have moved on. But I wasn’t any other gal. And those dreamy brown eyes belonged to no mere man.
Taran yanked off her scrubs in the middle of our family room, anxious to get out of her work clothes. I’d once overheard a coworker making fun of us for being nurses. “God, they are so codependent,” she’d complained. “They can’t even have separate careers.”