The Blood Bundle, Books 1-2: Blood Singers and Blood Song (New Adult Paranormal Vampire/Shifter Romance)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  Julia looked at Marcus next and leveled her stare on him, never wavering. “You know the Singer history, right?”

  He smiled like of course.

  “Well, let me tell you about theirs. They have their own Books. Their own laws. And their own rituals.” Her eyes did the circuit and captured each person's eyes until they found Marcus' once again. “You must know that just because I'm not a vampire, I'm not a werewolf... it doesn't matter to them. I have a value to them and the future of their races. With me,” she paused significantly, “with my blood, they have a chance to break the bonds of the moon, the sun.”

  Victor nodded, giving Scott a look of disdain. Scott's returning glare was just as fierce. When he spoke, Julia was struck by how different the two males were from each other. Where Scott was concise and to the point, rash and virile, Victor was cultured and elegant. But there was no masking the underlying fierceness of the two. They were cut from the same genetic cloth, born to fight, born to protect.

  Born for her.

  “She is quite right. If they get their hands on our Queen, it will be more than losing her to another supernatural group. It will give them the advantage that goes beyond nature.” His eyes grew grave and more solemn with each word. “There is a reason why the Were may only change with the moon's fullness. There is a purpose for the vampire, that they only roam the night, when the sun is hidden. If they steal our Queen and through rites of their own, capture her essence and evolve through using this unnatural process...” Victor spread his hands wide.

  “It could mean the end of humanity as we know it,” Marcus said.

  “The precarious balance of all the species,” Victor continued, lacing his strong and tapered fingers together, “irrevocably upset. And make no mistake,” his eyes took on the room at large, “we may mimic humans but we are not. We are Blood Singers. We are more.”

  Julia smiled. Victor had made her point for her. “So boys,” she began and the intense eyes of the Combatant drilled her to the spot, “let's play nice.”

  They stared for another moment then gave her a salute that seemed almost choreographed.

  Their right hands were fisted and held in the center of their chests and it looked like a vow.

  When they spoke the words she wasn't surprised but she was moved beyond words of her own.

  For Singers, for hope, the Combatant fight for peace through blood and sacrifice, may our hearts align with yours and beat as one.

  They closed their mouths, all the males pounding their feet in unison on the soft wood with a mighty thud, the beat of it startling Julia.

  Waking her.

  In a burst of heat and energy, Julia's Awakening morphed, taking her breath, stealing motion.

  Witnessed by all.

  CHAPTER 14

  Cyn & Jason

  Cynthia stalked back inside the house she'd fled under the imminent threat of violence, so pissed she couldn't see straight.

  Jason's apathy about Julia made her seethe. She wanted to kill him herself. Didn't he give a shit about her? Why wasn't he racing to her known location and insisting they like... have a Do Over? What the hell?

  She walked into the bedroom, with the debris from the skirmish all around and stood at the bay window, the whole of the compound spread before her. Cynthia wasn't really seeing it, she was zoning out, her mind in another place and time. She thought that if she ever saw Jules again she'd be stoked like a chimney on fire.

  Cynthia was stoked alright.

  She folded her hands over her chest, huffing. The deep emerald beauty of the woods was completely lost on her.

  When Adi's voice came from behind her, Cynthia didn't turn, she just continued to stare ahead.

  “Ya know, it could've happened to any of us,” Adriana began.

  “What? Spouse abandonment?”

  Cynthia heard the female werewolf sigh and huffed a frustrated sigh herself.

  “He is a Singer, it's amazing he even thinks now. Singers aren't meant to be turned. It's unnatural.”

  Cynthia turned at the tone in her voice, finally facing her.

  “What's this 'Singer' thing,” Cynthia asked, unconsciously coming forward.

  “They're supernaturals like the Were and vampire.”

  “Vampire?” Cynthia said in a whisper.

  “Oh... my bad,” Adi said without apology, “listen Cyn, there may be even more... supernaturals. But those are the two other groups besides the Were that I know about.”

  Cynthia's mind was reeling. Okay, she had seen the werewolves first hand. She got that. But vampires? That sounded like horseshit to her.

  Of course, werewolves did too. Until you saw them dismember your boyfriend. That was a real convincer.

  She shuddered and Adi smiled, misinterpreting the gesture.

  “Yeah, they're effing creepy.”

  True, Cynthia thought but she'd been shuddering because... well sensory overload for sure. Blood suckers and wet dog.

  Yuk.

  Great mix. “Okay, so what are Singers?” Cynthia asked, dismissing the vampire revelation for the moment. Gawd.

  Adi rolled her eyes. The finer stuff of the groups was just boring. As long as she was included in battles and wasn't made to mate Tony the Asshat, that's all she really cared about. But as Cyn stared at her, she recognized that Cynthia hadn't been raised with all this stuff as normal.

  “Well, all you humans, you're not all the same. There's a percentage of you that have special blood, genetics. And the vamps need you guys to like, breed with the general population and make their food more yummy.”

  “It is an issue of sustainability for the vampire race,” Emmanuel interrupted from the doorway.

  “You're fine where ya are,” Cynthia said, eyeing him up.

  “I do not pose a threat,” Manny said in a vaguely insulted voice.

  “Yeah, uh-huh. You guys were non-threatening back in Kent, and were very non-threatening a few minutes ago when you destroyed this room. Yes. Very non-threatening.” Cynthia looked at him, pale blonde brows hiked in disbelief as Adi snorted in the background.

  She looked at the werewolf and decided he was kinda hot. Well, when he wasn't all wolfy. But he was hotter over there than closer to her. Yup.

  Manny restrained a growl. Very ungrateful girl. Would she have preferred he allowed Tony, of the lack of preemptive thought, to have gotten a hold of her? Manny thought not. He glared at her. It certainly did not help that she was quite pretty, if awfully pale to be a Singer.

  He turned a hard look to Adi, who had not paid attention to the Werewolf lore of his people. He sighed, raking a hand through his nearly black hair and turned all of his attention to Cynthia Adams. Adi was not prepared to fully explain things in their true light to the Singer.

  “What Adi says is essentially true,” he gave her a look and continued, “however, there are degrees of blood quantum.” Emmanuel raised a brow, allowing her to pose a question if she couldn't follow.

  “I'm blonde but I do have a brain,” Cynthia said, crossing her arms across her chest, clearly pissed.

  Manny felt embarrassment heat his face. This young woman made a klutz of him and he was keenly aware of it. It was a foreign emotion.

  “I didn't suggest... I,” Manny began.

  Adi did a slow grin. She'd never seen Manny get all boxers-in-a-wad. “Can it, Manny. She's just sayin' she's got it,” Adi said.

  Emmanuel silenced her with a look. “Okay... geez. Chill out.”

  “Adrianna,” Emmanuel warned.

  “Argh! I give up!” she huffed, stalking over to one of two things not wrecked and flopped herself down on the bed.

  Cynthia kept her smile hidden with an effort. Adi seemed to get the males all wound up like spinning tops. A violent group, it was kinda funny really.

  “In any event, it is a very small percentage of the human population that manifests these properties and we are in a constant search for fullbloods and...”

  “Blah, blah, blah! Manny, tell her abou
t the powers,” Adi said, flopping back down on the bed.

  Emmanuel glared at the Tasmanian devil that laid on the bed and went on, “The Blood Singers are a group who possess some extraordinary abilities.”

  “Me?” Cynthia asked, putting everything together instantly. Remembering she'd been referred to as Singer a few times since she'd been taken.

  He nodded. “I do not know how much. But enough for us to scent. Actually, we were on reconnaissance to get you for answers and intel of Julia. That you were also of Singer descent was a bonus. As a point of fact, their seems to be a substantial nest in your region.”

  What? Like a flock of gulls or something? Cynthia didn't like being the bonus. It creeped her but she didn't let on. Instead she posed a question. “Okay,” she said thoughtfully, “how do Jules and Jason figure into all this?”

  Adi lifted her head enough to meet Manny's eyes and he looked at Cynthia. “Julia Caldwell is quite rare. In fact, she is the prophesied Rare One. She who will free the Were from the call of the moon.”

  Cynthia couldn't help it, she guffawed, right then, right there in front of the two werewolves.

  She was gasping and they were glaring. “You guys...” she howled helplessly, clutching her sides, “you're slaying me with this. I know Jules! She's... I don't know, her! You know: Ordinary.” Flunker of Math, Wearer of Atrocious Shoes....

  “She is not, Singer. She would be a queen amongst your people. She is a pure blood. It would not surprise me if her parents had been eliminated for the sole purpose of manipulating her future.”

  That sobered Cynthia up in a hurry. He couldn't know about Jules' parents.

  Manny smiled at her shock. “Did I hit upon it then?”

  Cynthia nodded dumbly .

  “Who... I mean... Jules thinks it was an accident,” Cynthia said lamely.

  “Yet, she bears the mark of the Rare One,” Emmanuel said.

  “What? Where?” Cynthia asked.

  “She's got that crescent-shaped scar at her temple,” Adi said, tapping her own to emphasize the point.

  Oh my God, Cynthia thought. She knew that scar, she'd seen it a thousand times, covered it with make-up. Cynthia never thought about it before but it was the shape of a moon.

  Cynthia sat there for a few heartbeats, assimilating the info. “Okay. So let's say Julia is the 'Rare One',” Cynthia paused. “So? I mean, why is there all this fuss. Why did those psycho wolves kill Kev? Why did they tear Jason's throat out and do the sacrilegious changeamatic? Huh? Why do they give two shits about Julia... you guys aren't vampires.”

  Emmanuel hated to showcase how the Were were like a franchise, it was a point he'd never liked. They were all Were but governed very individually. Each pack had a packmaster who was different from one pack to the next. The Alaskan pack had always acted independently from the Northwestern pack that Lawrence presided over.

  “The Alaskan pack are asshats.”

  “Adrianna,” Emmanuel started then realized she was ultimately correct. “What she says is true, if crude.”

  “I can take crude,” Cynthia said, meeting his stare.

  Emmanuel let a growl percolate from deep in his throat, her rude dominance something his wolf could not tolerate.

  “Ooh... I like this,” Adi said. “She got ya by the tail, Manny?”

  “What's the problem?” Cynthia asked, not looking away.

  “Drop your eyes, female,” Emmanuel commanded.

  “No,” Cynthia said and popped him the bird, her middle finger up like a stiff flag.

  He flashed to her and Cynthia yelped. “Do not force me to subdue you. I am trying to be civilized but my wolf feels no such compunction.”

  “Well, Try. Harder,” Cynthia said, staring into eyes that were so much spun gold, the orbs utterly not human, a color found in nature but absent in humanity.

  Emmanuel dipped his head against the exposed throat of the female Singer and wondered how he'd slid down the hill of barbaric. Had he not, just moments ago been explaining a heritage she was unaware of?

  “Hey Manny!” Adi yelled. “You're making the Alaskan wolves look pretty good right now.”

  He moved his nose away from her intoxicating scent. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. Scents he could stand forever.

  Straightening, he put her away from him with an effort that bordered on ugly.

  “Ah... why did I get the wolf treatment? Control issues-much,” Cynthia said, her guts knotting.

  “He's losin' it 'cuz of your Singer blood!” Adi chortled.

  Emmanuel glared at Adi. “Deny it, big guy,” Adi teased and he found that he could not refute it.

  “If there be enough blood quantum, it causes a Were's blood to heat. Emotions surface that would otherwise lay dormant.”

  “I guess so,” Cynthia said, trying to put this whole event in a box for later reflection. Of course, it was a shade of weird that wouldn't fit so it just kept staying weird instead. Wonderful.

  “To answer your question, if Julia completed the Ritual of Luna she would, by her mere presence, free many of us of the moon's summons.”

  “Ah, what does this ritual thing entail?” Cynthia asked.

  “A bunch of Alphas fight to the death and then she mates with the winner, has a litter of pups and they grow up to be fully moonless changers.”

  Emmanuel shook his head at Adrianna's recital of the facts and added his bit, “Perpetuating their unique genes for many generations to come,” he added, hoping to balance Adi's starkness.

  Cynthia backed up until her ass hit something solid and sat down, staring at the two.

  “Hey,” Adi snapped her fingers and Cynthia gave her a sluggish stare. “Earth to Cyn.”

  “Yeah?” Cynthia asked, dazed.

  “Do ya get it?”

  Cynthia nodded. “I get that I'm being held by a bunch of crazy-ass werewolves that want to make my friend have puppies.”

  “It's not so bad, Cyn. You can have puppies too,” Adi said in an excited note.

  Cynthia felt the world tilt, heat infusing her feet and rising to the top of her head. “Oh shit, I think she's gonna faint! Manny, do something!”

  Emmanuel rushed over to the Singer, her pale skin like a sheet of parchment and put her head between her legs as she perched on the only piece of furniture, aside from the bed, that still remained intact.

  Cynthia felt better. From between her legs, she could feel the heat of the male werewolf on her nape and asked, “Do I have to have puppies?”

  Silence met her question and she slowly lifted her head.

  Her eyes met Tony's. The Prick of the Pack, Cynthia was guessing.

  “Yes. Every eligible female for the Were will be paired with the ideal mate.”

  Cynthia stood, Emmanuel a solid presence beside her.

  “Well, I'm just going to say the words: we're not a very good match, hair ball. I mean, fur ball.”

  Tony's expression darkened and he replied, “That's okay, toots. I got my eye on another prize.” His gaze slid to Adi and she met his stare head on.

  Cynthia noticed she never dropped her eyes.

  Not once.

  *

  Truman

  Truman tapped his foot, waiting for the call from his liaison. The feds were being oh-so-helpful and it was killin' them. They hated working with a statie. Especially from the renegade north. There was just something about being Alaskan that made people think that they were a separate country or something.

  Truman raised his hand and felt around in his shirt pocket, paused then let his hand fall. He'd given up smoking years ago, having caved only one time recently. But when the stakes got high, he found himself missing it like an old lover. The memory better than the reality.

  His cell vibrated and he jerked it out of the front pocket of his blazer.

  “Truman,” he barked and the forensic guy answered in a blasé voice, “It's Tom Harriet.”

  Karl grunted an affirmative and that was enough to get Harriet blabbing. Actu
ally, with as unfortunate of a name as the guy had, he did okay, shooting details to Truman like bullets.

  “Listen, detective, I have to say I've never seen anything like this.”

  Right, and he probably never would again, Truman thought.

  “You're the fed's boy, right?” Truman asked by way of answering.

  “If you mean that I work as lead forensic for this jurisdiction, yes.”

  “So, you know what we're dealing with here?”

  There was a silence so long Karl opened his mouth to end it when Harriet spoke, “This is not a secure line. I have been asked to give you a message and a contact name.”

  Well, well, Truman thought, the cloak of secrecy. His hand wandered to his front shirt pocket again and he forced it down with an effort.

  “Okay, shoot,” Truman said, going to the same pocket again and plucking out a small notepad and his Bic.

  “Anthony Daniel Laurent.”

  “He the perp?” Truman asked.

  “He's the one,” Harriet confirmed.

  “Give me this guy's stats.”

  “We have him on file from a fluke. He was pulled over in 1979 for a speeding ticket and when all the records were switched over after the computer age came online,” he chuckled at his own pun and Truman suffered through it, “they transferred it there.”

  “A print for a speeding ticket?” Truman scoffed, disbelief creeping into his voice.

  “No, there was a warrant for rape.”

  Ah, Karl Truman paused, his mind shuffling through the memories of the werewolves in the field. The one who had been hard, that had cleaned his clock with one swipe. He was the violent sort, no surprise there.

  Against women. Real charmer.

  “Did the vic press charges?”

  “That's the funny thing. He had a big family. They all showed at the pre-trial, it's here in the notes. And when the girl showed, she recanted her testimony.”