by Cecy Robson
Anger extinguished my fear, and now my inner beast prowled, restless to prove herself, but as I entered the property, my trepidation returned once more. Blue slate lined the double-wide driveway. We crossed over a stone bridge before finally circling an enormous fountain. Water cascaded over the beautiful stone waterfall and into the fountain’s pool. I drove most of the way around the circle and parked facing the exit in case we needed a quick escape. We stepped out to the monstrosity Misha called home.
The exterior of Misha’s compound resembled a well-manicured park, and the house was a three-story, Mountain Craftsman–style masterpiece. The soaring wood trusses at the entry and art glass doors drew me to the rustic elegance. The rooflines were layered with deep eaves and ornately carved gables. The foundation of the house appeared to be stacked stone, and the facade was either cedar shake or timber. I shook my head as I gawked at the porch supports built with stone bases and massive hewn-wood columns. Crap, did he take down a forest to build it?
“Dude,” Shayna whispered. “This has to be a lodge. He can’t possibly live here.”
I couldn’t blame Shayna for thinking that. There must’ve been a lot of money to be made among the bloodsucking elite.
Petro rushed down the front stairs as I stepped out of the car. A few of his family trailed behind him. My God, he looked awful. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and perspiration drizzled down the sides of his face. He hurried to my side and gripped my hands. “My brother seeks to destroy Zhahara.”
“I know, Petro. That’s why I’m here.”
His jaw slackened before a glimmer of hope flashed across his terrified face. “Will you help him, Celia?” He glanced back at my sisters. “Will all of you?” Tears welled in his eyes. “Misha cannot defeat such an opponent alone, but he considers me weak and refuses my help.”
I took in Petro’s crumbling state. It was a wonder he could stand with how badly his anxiety battered his small form.
Petro’s voice cracked. “Please help him, Celia. I don’t want to be alone.”
Emme gasped softly behind him. Yeah. Petro seemed to share our same fears. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not making any promises.” The hope he carried slowly faded from his features, but he nodded and released me. I watched as his family helped him into the limo, wondering whether Misha had played a role in keeping him alive all these years.
My sisters followed my lead up the stone steps to a set of massive carved doors. Two more vampires appeared. They pushed open the doors and we stepped into an elegant foyer with a cathedral-style timbered ceiling and floored with huge blocks of bluestone.
I continued forward with Taran to my right. Shayna and Emme followed no more than two steps behind us.
Misha approached with five vampires behind him, wiping his bloodied hands on a thick white towel. Deep-set lines shadowed his beautiful face, and the scent of a fresh kill lingered on his clothes. A female vampire meekly approached and took the soiled towel from his hands. She kept her head low and quickly scurried away, careful to avoid Misha’s increasing rage.
I let out a breath. “How many did you kill tonight, Misha?”
“Five. Not including the three killed by wolves this evening…And the one who just revealed herself to me.”
“You’re down twenty-one vampires.” It wasn’t a question. I could do the math.
Misha answered with a stiff, furious nod. “Again, forgive me for not taking your call when you first sought me. My priority at the time was to hunt those who attempted to escape.” He motioned to a large entryway on our left. “Ladies, if you will join me in the next room.”
Misha escorted us to a dining room roughly the size of Delaware. Four vampires dressed like naughty Catholic schoolgirls offered us food and beverages. We declined. And not just because of their creepy outfits.
The air carried a thick layer of dread interwoven with Misha’s rising anger. Ten vampires convened at the enormous dining room table. We perched at the end. Misha sat to my left, and although five empty seats remained, Hank and Tim, from court, stood behind him.
Misha leaned back on a chair that resembled a throne. He slowly motioned around the room. “With the exception of my men at the gates, these vampires represent the last of my family. I have until tomorrow night to decide our fate.”
I placed my hand over the smooth stone table. “Misha. How certain are you that Zhahara is the one behind the bloodlust?”
A faint sparkle of hate flickered in Misha’s hard gray eyes. “After I killed the fifth of my keep, I sent three of my best spies to investigate Zhahara’s compound. I destroyed two of them days later. The third went absent and I have been informed he drained seven women tonight.” He stared at me for several seconds. “My time is up, my darling Celia. I must account for these murders or prove them to be the work of another master.”
Shayna glanced back at me before addressing Misha. “I don’t mean to ask a stupid question, but…have you spoken with Zhahara directly about it?”
Misha’s eyes never left mine. “Zhahara has not been heard from since our time in court. Yet my remaining spies insist she returned to her compound and has not emerged. My plan is to storm her home tomorrow and find the evidence I need to exonerate me.”
Taran crossed her arms. “What if it’s not her?”
Misha leaned back. He likely wasn’t accustomed to anyone challenging him. His lush mouth tightened into a firm line before curving into a small smile. “Zhahara remains my only lead to saving my family. I have no choice but to act.”
Taran said nothing more, but I knew she saw his point. Otherwise she would have argued until Misha died or she needed to wear Depends.
“Have you reached your decision?”
I didn’t acknowledge my sisters when I answered. “I think I have. I’ll give you my decision by morning.”
Misha nodded slowly, but said nothing more. No witty comment, no flirtatious demeanor. Nothing. Just a vampire desperate enough to seek help from strangers.
I stood. So did Emme and Taran. Shayna pointed to the two antique swords mounted over the mantel of the dining room fireplace. “Can I borrow those, dude?”
A vamp scrambled to retrieve them following a small gesture from Misha. Shayna grinned upon feeling the weight of the ancient swords in her hands. “Cool.”
“I fear they are not as sharp as they once were,” Misha said slowly.
Shayna’s blue eyes sparkled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make them work.”
We headed into the foyer when an oh-too-familiar voice boomed from behind the thick doors.
“I’m not asking for an audience,” Aric growled. “I’m telling you, he will see me!”
The wide wooden doors crashed open, and my big, badass wolf stormed through, flanked by the wolves from the club, a few unfamiliar weres, and oh, yeah, the blond she-wolf with the Victoria Beckham bob. I don’t know who was more shocked, them or us.
Oh, crap.
“Son of a bitch,” Taran muttered when she noticed Gemini.
I’d forgotten about Blondie, but she remembered me. Her eyes glared almost as fiercely as Aric’s when she saw me.
Almost.
Aric stalked toward me. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t wait for me to answer and fixed his scowl on Misha. “What is she doing here?”
For the first time since our arrival, Misha actually smiled. Although I wished I could say it lacked any malice. He snaked his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “Celia is a friend. She is considering helping me in my quest to prove my innocence.”
I’d never seen a wolf implode. But I almost did then.
Aric grabbed my arm and yanked me from Misha’s grasp.
And that’s when all hell broke loose….
CHAPTER 10
Everything happened at once. Emme screamed as werebeasts and vampires collided like a herd of angry buffalo. Growls and hisses erupted in a furious staccato, rattling the windows, framed paintings, and crystal chandelier. The she-wolf’s
fist jetted toward my face. I ducked. She would have nailed Aric in the chest had Misha not tackled him through the wall and into the library. I shot after them, but the she-wolf seized my waist and launched me across the foyer. The bones of my back cracked when I bounced off the opposite wall. My ears rang, but not loudly enough to muffle a high-pitched squeal, the crunching of plaster, and the demolition of furniture.
I landed hard on my knees, more pissed than hurt, ready to rumble. I pushed off the floor and stomped toward the she-bitch, momentarily stunned by her appearance.
She lay near the massive hole Misha had made with Aric’s body. Her short blond bob stood on its ends, tips smoking. Taran must have jolted her with lightning in retaliation for taking me for a ride.
Sadly, she didn’t seem happy with her new look. “Ugly freak,” she spat. “This is all your fault!” She clambered to her feet and heaved a Victorian hall stand at me.
She misjudged my speed.
She also misjudged my sword-wielding sister.
Shayna leaped into the air and spun with ballerina elegance befitting her thin frame. Light reflected off her swords as she used her gift to transform the dull blades into deadly sharp weapons. With a piercing whoosh she sliced through the giant stand like a sheet of paper. Two perfectly even pieces crashed to the floor as she landed on one knee, arms outstretched. She twirled the swords as she rose, her tense muscles screeching for action. “Don’t touch my sister!” she hissed.
A small smirk found its way to my lips. Luke Skywalker could suck it. He had nothing on Shayna.
Frustration and rage pervaded the blond wolf’s bellow as she bounded toward Shayna. I leaped in front of my sister, believing one good toss deserved another. My fingers grasped the wolf’s crispy hair and pant leg as she pounced. Her screams wafted throughout the foyer as I pitched her through the large oak doors and into the great outdoors. Blondie’s butt dug a straight line across Misha’s meticulous lawn. Good thing that tall aspen was there to deflect her skid; otherwise the little cutie might have kept going.
My feet barely made a sound as I barreled toward her. She charged, her features contorted with fury, her hot breath visible in the cold night air. She snarled. I roared. The moment we connected we hammered blow after blow.
My strength surprised her; so did my ruthless strikes to her face and stomach. She’d learned to fight. Raised on tough inner-city streets, I’d learned to survive. Her aggressive offense quickly changed to defensive blocks and retreats. I wanted to knock her out, furious she’d put her hands on me. Despite my anger, I allowed her to draw back. The fight riled my beast, yet that didn’t mean I’d allow her to kill.
This time.
I slammed into the crushing embrace of a werebear, his grip fracturing at least one of my ribs. This time I couldn’t silence my shrieks.
“Do you want to take her?” the bear growled.
The she-wolf’s eager grin widened. She stopped smiling when I broke the bear’s nose and cheekbones with my rapid head butts. The bear dropped me with a spew of curses and a crapload of negative comments about my mother.
The moment my feet touched the cold ground I shifted down and behind him. He pivoted around as I surfaced, his lids peeling back when my fist met his groin. Other than a little gurgle, no sound escaped.
I finished breaking to the surface. My hands held my broken rib as I fractured his left knee with my foot. He collapsed, gripping his man parts, and threw up.
Children obviously weren’t in his foreseeable future.
I lunged at the wolf, angry as all hell that she would have attacked me had I not broken out of the bear’s viselike grip. I may have fought dirty, but she was a dirty fighter. We fell onto a wrought-iron table set. I punched her a few times in the face before another wolf hauled me off by the hair. I rammed my elbows wildly and broke her ribs before picking up a chair and knocking her into Misha’s wooded property.
I tossed the chair aside and returned to face Blondie. She backed away, hands up in surrender and blood dripping down to her skimpy designer blouse. I kept her in my sights, debating whether to knock her out, but Emme’s screams had me bolting back to the house.
God, I was furious. Bloodlust plagued Tahoe. How the hell had we become the enemy? I needed to help my sisters and find Aric.
Something hard whipped me across the legs as I leaped toward the entrance. I crash-landed on the stone steps. The sharp edges sliced me across the breasts and shins and knocked the air from my lungs in a painful rush. My fractured rib slid torturously beneath my skin, but if I wanted to live, I needed to move. Fast.
I flipped onto my back, holding tight to my side. Pieces of wood lay by my feet. It seemed Blondie had found a nice thick branch to hurl against my legs. My eyes trailed from her soiled black dress pants to the sharp, pointy shard of wood she aimed at my heart. I rolled out of the way and kicked her in the skull. She shook her head and struck again, but my next blow to her noggin made a snapping sound and ass-planted her onto the walkway. I yanked her up by her skimpy shirt and rammed my finger into her chest with each word I growled. “You’re. Pissing. Me. Off!”
Granted, I was beyond pissed from the moment I saw her touching Aric. But she didn’t need to know that. Besides, my tigress preferred to intimidate at every given opportunity. Especially when someone tried to kill us.
I shifted her underground and jetted into the house. My ribs hollered in protest as I dove onto the floor to avoid the sizzling were Taran shot overhead with her lightning. “Eat shit, Snoopy!” she yelled from down the hall.
Emme stood in the center of the demolished foyer, next to what remained of the chandelier. She fought to separate Liam and a vampire using the full potency of her force. Liam’s growls cut amid the escalating chaos, rattling the chandelier’s crystals and Emme’s fragile nerves. His muscles tightened beneath his torn shirt, geared to change and release his beast.
The vampire snapped her vicious fangs, impatient to bite. “I can already taste your blood, mutt,” she sneered. From her knife-length nails hung the shredded pieces of Liam’s shirt.
Their shared hatred thickened the air, making it hard for me to catch my breath. One of them was going to die. I knew it. And apparently so did Emme. Sweat glistened on her brow, and her fair skin deepened to red. The opposing forces circled each other, but neither could get through Emme’s power. They thrashed and beat against her hold, ready to draw blood.
Emme’s strength wouldn’t last much longer, but she wasn’t in immediate danger. Shayna was. She balanced on an oval table in the great room, splattered with blood, her swords at the ready. Three enormous werewolves in their powerful beast forms circled her with fangs bared. She shifted her weight from side to side, her long, sleek ponytail whirling behind her. Determination strengthened her pixie face. She wouldn’t allow them to take her down.
And neither would I. Time to come out and play, baby.
Like a ripple of water flowing across my skin, my tigress emerged, tripling my petite stature into an awesome body of dense muscle, fur, and razor-sharp claws.
My T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers fell in tattered threads at my colossal paws. The change didn’t typically hurt, but my injuries caused the already sore areas to stretch painfully and my broken rib to separate further. I collapsed, struggling to push past the relentless stabbing at my side.
I forced myself onto all fours, but not before a five-hundred-pound red wolf lunged past me and jetted toward Shayna.
Fear for Shayna turned to shock as he struck the other wolves like a mighty sledgehammer to a set of bowling pins. The wolves rolled away, their claws scratching against the stone floors as they quickly scurried to their feet and attacked once more. But the red wolf’s deep rumble forced them back. The others exchanged glances and snarled, yet none appeared willing to take on the herculean wolf.
The red wolf communicated to his pack through thunderous growls in alternating pitches and subtle twitches of his body. I didn’t speak wolf, but I understood him to mean,
“Back the fuck up. Now!”
The wolves slowly abandoned their target. They paused to glower at me before hustling to the back of the house, where Aric and Misha continued their supernatural smack-down.
The red wolf turned his back to face Shayna. His body changed. Fur retracted and bones and tendons contorted, transforming the limber figure of a beast into the formidable body of a man. A sea of black satin hair spilled over rock-hard muscle and rust-colored skin. The wolf disappeared. In his place stood the gargantuan Koda.
Shayna slowly lowered her swords, her jaw falling open with an audible pop. Koda gripped her waist and gently lowered her to the floor with as much effort as it took to hold a pen. He kept his hands at her hips and twirled her caringly, sniffing at the bloodstains and examining her for injuries. Shayna appraised him, too.
Just not in the same way.
Her already wide eyes narrowly missed falling out of their sockets once they headed south of Koda’s waist. Koda’s thick brows set with concern. “Did they hurt you?”
Shayna shook her head, but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t blame her. Koda’s butt cheeks were tight enough to crush wood with a single clench. I couldn’t imagine the frontal view was any less impressive.
“Son of a bitch!”
My paws tore down the hall toward the sounds of Taran’s not-so-ladylike insults. I skidded into the immense kitchen, where she stood on the countertop, gripping a cabinet door to keep her balance in her damned platform pumps. More wolves had arrived. Taran jolted them with lightning as they neared, but her strikes weren’t as effective. The wolves yelped and twitched, yet continued to advance. Taran was almost out of juice. But she wasn’t out of attitude.
She slumped a little when she saw me and shot the wolves a siren grin. “You’re so screwed,” she declared. “My sister is going to kick your asses!”
There were many moments throughout our lives when I wanted to slap the snot out of Taran. This was one of them.
The wolves’ hackles collectively rose as they set their diabolic sights on me. They moved as a single unit away from Taran and toward their newest prey.