blood 03 - blood chosen Read online

  Julia walked off, the two mile trek a welcome balm to the vampire who confused her and the Were whose self-hatred warred with his love for her.

  Julia was afraid the two would never meet.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tony & Jacqueline

  Tony's chest heaved, his change to human form wreaking havoc. It was always fucked up when he had to move between his wolf and human forms too frequently. This close to the moon, all but the least of the Were could change at will. But it was only the alphas who could recover the humanity on that one day per month that the moon eased them, without falling into a stupor. Still, his body protested the changing.

  He scanned the surroundings of the new place to which they'd escaped. His eyes moved to Jacqueline; Queen bitch. She was peeling the remnants of his change off her decidedly less fine wardrobe. Tony smirked. It was awesome how the little things could mean so much. And degradation toward someone who felt, that through their existence alone, they were somehow more- was especially sweet.

  Jacqueline as a Singer was just like any female, but for her telekinetic talent she'd been under his thumb, and maybe, his body.

  “Do not look at me like a piece of raw meat with a tasty bone in its center,” Jacqueline said impassively, plucking off great chunks of mummified flesh like shed snakeskin with a puckered look of distaste.

  Tony threw his head back and guffawed with relish. Oh... life was good.

  “I am so glad that in your reality you are so funny.”

  Tony grinned and replied, “I am. But it's you that's really a riot. Here you are,” Tony did a slow twirl in the middle of the wilderness, “tossed out on your ass from the Singer compound because you tried to kill that little bitch Rare One. That's rich.”

  Jacqueline's dark eyes were shadowed in warning, which he ignored. Tony could barely close his legs for the brass balls he held there. He knew it even if she did not. Jacqueline would eventually know, he vowed.

  She moved toward him, her long skirt ill-suited to the environment. Jacqueline stopped so suddenly in front of him that her skirt wrapped his ankles and Tony became acutely aware of two things: she was female and dangerous. A tandem combination he didn't ordinarily encounter.

  It was hot as fuck.

  He just didn't know how to handle it. How could you control a snake as its rattles shake? Tony didn't know but he was jonesing to find out.

  “It would do you well to remember that I am the one who holds the strings here, Were. It is only our mutual objectives that bring us together.”

  He grabbed his package, giving it a definitive squeeze and she snorted in disgust. “Yeah... but you need me, bitch.”

  The ring of her slap echoed in the open meadow of the forest and he grabbed her small wrist, subtly grinding those fragile bones together. “Don't start things you can't finish,” Tony warned, jerking her against himself.

  “You are a foul creature, Tony of the Were,” she stated softly, the proof of his arousal like a rigid pole between them.

  “Yeah I am. You might want to remember that.” He cocked his head, pegging her with eyes as dark as her own. “I don't notice you hitting me over the head with your talent to get me to stop.” He smirked in condescension, knowing his superiority- owning it. He jacked her arm up behind her back and she made a small pain noise and it amped his shit up even more.

  Jacqueline did the opposite of what he thought she'd do and that unpredictability was the very thing that Tony should have anticipated. Instead of struggling to get away, she allowed Tony to keep her pressed against him, her arm shrieking behind her, as she leaned deeply into his space. So deeply he could smell the soap she had used that morning.

  “There are other ways,” Jacqueline murmured against the shell of his ear and every fiber of his being relaxed, thinking that she symbolically offered her throat. That was always the trouble with Tony; sex scrambled his signals and his instincts misfired.

  She lifted her knee into his groin with a deft impact that caused instant nausea to roll in his gut, unfolding into a heated lump that roared up his throat. Jacqueline stepped back, sending him into a staggering sprawl to the forest ground with a perfectly executed flat-palmed shove dead-center in his sternum.

  Tony felt his fingers bite into the damp fragrant earth, comprised of coniferous needles, the rotting undergrowth of leaves and moss. The organic reek became the catalyst for what happened next. His vomit joined everything beneath him as he heaved his guts, his nuts crawling to safety underneath his cock.

  And all the while Jacqueline stood cackling in the background.

  That cunt would pay. And if it be with more than her life, that was just fine by Tony.

  *

  Jacqueline left the Were where he lay, the imbecile. Cunning though he may be, and necessary... horribly necessary; Jacqueline could barely abide their acquaintance. If she could but gain free passage, she could bring to Marcus the words from the Book of Singers that would exempt her. Then he would be forced to acquiesce.

  For the Rare One had not consummated. With her biological son, nor with the two that she must to close that loop Jacqueline desperately wished to remain open. Until such time, there was a fracture in the perfection of Julia's future rule. The Singers would lift her up, but Jacqueline's bid for her throne should have underscored that damning fact that, if it had not been for the Were and Vampire, she would be a dead Queen. Julia's indecision made her vulnerable. And where vulnerability lay, the Singers would never realize unity and freedom from the supernatural wars.

  Not that those things were a remote concern to Jacqueline. Power was.

  She strolled over to where Tony lay. His hands were latched onto his considerable nethers and she crouched down beside him, tucking her skirts underneath in an unconsciously ladylike gesture. Some things remained automatic. Bold as always, the hem of her skirt brushed the tense muscles of his arms.

  “Do we have an understanding, dog?” she inquired in a light mocking tone.

  Tony nodded. His reaction was all yes... but within those eyes something very like hate and plotting lurked. Jacqueline knew that their alliance would be tenuous at best... at worst- she would die by his hand.

  She straightened. “Let us come to terms then.”

  “You fucking kicked my nuts around my ears, lady... I think it'll be a minute before I can manage moving.”

  Jacqueline's lips curled. “As you were then.”

  She walked off as the eyes of someone who wished her the finest degree of harm followed Jacqueline into the shadow of the trees.

  *

  Julia

  Julia had felt despondent in the past... but still—there had been hope. Now she had turned her back on two familiar comforts. Jason, who had once been her rock and was now... someone who held nothing but scorn for her.

  Whore. His words came back like horse bites on her body, liquid quick, painful... and devastating.

  Fuck him, Julia thought, and the wolf he rode in on. She kicked a rock out of the way as she moved toward the compound, shoving her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, at least they'd been smart enough not to come after her.

  She didn't look up when the cavalry arrived. In all, it had been maybe ten minutes. They ran.

  That meant the Combatant had run five minute miles. Or maybe that was jogging for them.

  She looked up and met Victor's gaze. “My Queen.”

  Shit. “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Julia glared up at him. “No. I am not hurt, wounded, compromised or anything else.”

  Victor gave her despondent eyes and Julia wanted to scream. Instead, her eyes moved over the Combatant, minus Scott and she felt oppressed. Julia knew that it was her new duty to accept the title, see tasks and obligations through because of her new role.

  But Julia yearned for normalcy.

  She took a deep, cleansing breath and walked to stand beside Victor and he tucked her against his body. “You know that it is your safety that I mus
t secure.”

  It wasn't his fault, anymore than her being the Rare One was hers. Julia nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  However, Victor had the uncanny ability to speak for her. “All will be well, Julia. The vampire and the Were will come to terms that all can live with.”

  “I don't think so,” Julia said and he drew her away from himself enough to see her face.

  “I know that you do not.” His eyes met hers and she noticed again how beautiful he was. If a man could be called beautiful, it would be Victor. He gave her a small shake and it cleared her head. “But the Were is angry at circumstance... the vampire must fight his nature to be selfless. At the end of the day, it is you that they wish to have... to protect.”

  “Jason has a crap way of showing it.”

  If Victor was alarmed at how she expressed herself he didn't show it and she felt herself relax against him in stages as they walked back to the compound, a protective arm around around her shoulders.

  The others in the Combatant, having kept a loose circle around them, tensed, and Julia knew that Jason had caught up with them.

  Victor and Julia turned and faced him.

  It was a hard thing to describe, the expression on Jason's face was shut down, guarded. There were bruises on the face she had kissed, had loved.

  Did she still love him? Julia wasn't sure... now there was Scott and when they were together there was no one else. But she had loved him. What a mess, she thought.

  “Jules...”

  Julia put up her hand. “Let's get back to the compound,” she caught his eyes with her own, “and I'll see how Paul is doing. Then maybe we'll talk about what happened. Because as it stands right now, I don't know you anymore. And you sure as hell don't know me. That was clear with the things you said earlier.”

  Jason snapped his mouth shut, taking in her close proximity to Victor and stalked off, brushing by Julia so closely she could feel that energy that he possessed just below the surface of his human shell.

  Because she wasn't deluding herself on that.

  Neither one of them were really human.

  *

  Cyn

  Cynthia crossed her arms. There was her boss, Alan Greene.

  Werewolf. Check.

  Former Alaskan cop Karl Truman, now rare red werewolf.

  Check.

  Weirdness on a new level. Check.

  Cynthia sighed. “So...” she said slowly, “we've escaped tyrannical Tony and his bitch sidekick...” she put a fingernail to her lip, a habitual nervous habit, and thought about it all.

  “Jacqueline,” Adi supplied and Cyn snapped her fingers.

  “Yeah, her.” Cynthia looked at the group and her eyes went from Alan, who she was having big time trust issues with because he'd always been wolfy around the edges. Then Truman. Gawd... where to begin with him.

  Her eyes found him and she was relieved to note he'd thrown on a modicum of clothing. It was shredded but his male bits were in hiding for now. Happy day. “Okay... so, tell me what's doin' Truman.”

  Karl dipped his head, taking a deep breath. Finally, he looked at Cynthia. “I was tasked with finding you and hauling your skinny butt back to Homer.” He raked a hand through his hair, a hand without age spots and wrinkles, a hand that was once again nimble and perfect. “Now... well things are different. I got nailed by David and now I belong to a pack of...” Truman gave a sputtering laugh, “werewolves.”

  Cynthia crossed her arms and he raised his eyebrows.

  “Y'know how ridiculous it all sounds?”

  She smiled and laughed. “Totally. But I guess we have to believe in it to survive it.”

  “Hell yeah,” Truman said. “If someone told me last week I'd get bit by a werewolf, become one and reverse the aging process by twenty years I would've told them to pack sand.”

  “And now?” Adi asked, her intense eyes never leaving his.

  His unflinching gaze went to her. “Now I've jumped in with both feet. But I can't just disappear without repercussion. The boys in blue will wonder what happened to me.” His eyes went to Cynthia. “To her.”

  “We don't worry about human law,” Lawrence spoke for the first time.

  Truman nodded. “You can not worry about it all ya want. But it's going to worry about you. One of our people found proof because your boys got overzealous with Miss Adams and left evidence.”

  “Asshole Homer den,” Alan remarked and Cynthia could tell it was an old argument, an old sentiment.

  Adi gave a look to Lawrence. “Yeah, about Tony, Packmaster.”

  Lawrence's expression went from one of interest to cool indifference.

  “Yeah...” Cyn elaborated. “His ass needs to be euthanized. Like yesterday.”

  Truman snorted in the background and Lawrence's eyes narrowed on the Singer. “It is not your place to tell me how to handle my wolves, Singer.”

  “Well your 'wolf'...” Adi said, “is a rapist.”

  Every male stilled but only one looked surprised. Adi looked from one to the other. “What. The. Hell?”

  Cynthia studied their faces and said, “You knew. This sadistic prick has done it...” She couldn't say it.

  “... before,” Adi finished in the soft horror of realization, her mind touching on every instance of creeper behavior Tony had manifested in the past. It all made perfect sense now.

  “Yes, he has,” Truman said, giving Lawrence a level look.

  A full look.

  Lawrence hissed and Alan asked with soft anger lacing his voice, “Should I tell them?”

  Lawrence shook his head, opened his mouth. Closed it. “I was a new Packmaster, trying to lead the den by example in those days.” His eyes found the girls. “I overcame Tony as successor. It was a narrow win... between the two of us.” His eyes looked off in the distance to a point in his memory only he saw. “Tony was the obvious choice for second... an ideal enforcer. So when there was trouble in the Southeastern I sent Tony. I knew that he'd shore up their defenses.” His hard eyes found theirs. “We were sister dens so it made sense.”

  “What happened?” Adi asked softly, though I think they all knew, could all guess where this particular story would end. The truth was a river of boiling sludge, heard but not seen.

  “Lacey was in the heat of her adolescence... headstrong and determined to do whatever she pleased.”

  “That's no excuse...” Alan threatened and Lawrence nodded.

  “You're right, of course,” he agreed in a low voice and the two males looked at each other for a moment that swelled, fighting between forever and brief.

  Lawrence looked at Adi and Cynthia. “Tony showed interest and she shut him down. There were a few alphas in the pack who wished to fight for her, as all males do for an eligible female alpha and she conceded their call. But Tony... well, you know how he comes across.”

  Cynthia did. He was ten thousand kinds of dickness.

  “When one of the alphas fought in the rite... and won Lacey... won her acceptance, they were to be mated.”

  “But Tony couldn't stand another winning legitimately and took her... by force,” Alan grated out, his voice harsh, his hands in fists by his side.

  Cynthia turned to him. “What did you do?”

  Alan turned eyes which blazed with his wolf, his energy like small fire ants that trembled between them. “I made him wish for death.” His fist came up in a great boulder of flesh above his head and his voice trembled with the next word, “Wish.”

  “What about Lacey?” Cynthia asked, knowing that it was her that had been the wounded one he'd referenced. No matter how much he'd lied, he hadn't about her.

  “She never mated... but, took much time to heal from what he did to her.”

  “Why, Packmaster?” Adi cried, her voice vibrating with her contained rage. “Why was he not put to death for harming a female?” Her angry eyes widened. “That is what you extoll: how precious we are. It's all talk!”

  “I had no one else! Our pack was a young on
e and we could not afford to lose an enforcer of his caliber and compromise our den... weaken it when it was just beginning.”

  “So justice for Lacey was sacrificed for...”

  “Everyone else,” Lawrence finished in a slow ache of words.

  Truman broke the silence. “That was then. Now he's not needed. If he did this to a female of his own species, nothing will stop him. I've seen this again and again.” His eyes met each of theirs. “Laurent will never quit.” He let the eye contact continue. “Unless there's a permanent solution, he won't stop.”

  Alan gave Truman a speculative look, his eyes scanning his features. “How permanent?” Alan had turned over a plan for that bastard's death a thousand times inside his mind.

  Truman laughed without humor, a throat clearing, belly rumble of a laugh.

  “Let's kill the fucker,” Adi seethed then she walked over to Lawrence and shoved the much larger male in the chest. “I renounce you as Packmaster.”

  The silence fell like a great weight. “Adrianna, you don't know what you're saying,” Lawrence began.

  Slash watched the girl he loved wallow in sorrow and rage and could offer nothing. Do nothing.

  Adi swiped tears of anger off her cheeks and gave a single hard nod. “I do so... I very much know what the hell I'm saying. You sacrificed a female to that sadistic pervert. So you know what that told him? That he could do it again.”

  “A precedence,” Cynthia said and all eyes went to the Northwestern Packmaster.

  “Damn straight,” Adi said, giving Cyn a grateful look.

  “I find my conscience is on holiday since I've become a werewolf,” Truman said randomly but oh so succinctly.

  Alan gave Karl a sharp glance. “What does that mean?”

  Karl looked at the group at large. “That I'm no longer a sworn officer of the law. Justice is a whole other flavor folks.”

  Cyn met his eyes and they smiled in complete understanding.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Scott

  Scott moved toward the voices. He knew when they ceased that the mixed group ahead of them had discovered their presence.