Cecy Robson - Cursed By Destiny

Which meant either the limo had been booby-trapped during an excursion . . . or Misha’s family hated me more than I thought. My thoughts played across my Latina features like a violin. “None of my family would dare harm you,” Misha said. He turned to Hank.

Hank backed out of the room as if Misha was wielding a flamethrower. “No . . . of course not, Master.” He jerked his head toward me. “We would never think to hurt our lovely Celia.”

It was all I could do not to roll my eyes. Sure. Yup. Whatever . “How long can a spell like that stay dormant? I haven’t ridden in the limo in over a week.”

“At least a month, under the proper conditions. The longer it’s inactive, the more dangerous it becomes. Its hunger for its destined prey fuels the accelerant.”

My inner tigress sat up and pawed at me irritably. We didn’t like being referred to as prey; it enticed our need to hunt and made our claws itch to fight. “So either a witch is after me or someone hired one to cast a spell.”

“It would appear. Such magic is ancient. It continues to be created in a cauldron and poured into a vial upon its completion. Since the magic targets a specific subject, anyone may carry the specimen without risking injury and dispense it wherever he pleases.”

My tigress grew restless and paced within me. “I’m picturing witch fire lying around the compound like land mines. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

Misha shook his head. “Witch fire is potent, yet easily destroyed when exposed to the elements. Those few who can cast such a spell rarely choose to. Their magic is squelched to give the spell its strength, and often it fails to return.” His hand covered mine when he sensed my doubt. “Trust me, my dearest. Witches hoard their power—they’re not ones to gamble something considered so precious.”

“Unless the witch was desperate enough to take me out, or someone forced her.”

“Or filled her pockets. Such magic costs more than most American homes.”

Whoa.

Another apprehensive vamp entered the kitchen with her head lowered. “Master, your dinner is ready.”

Misha sighed, annoyed. “She can wait. I will be with her when I finish my meal with Celia.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. The supernatural world was a twisted laugh riot, doubly dipped in a gravy boat full of crazy. Where else would anyone refer to dinner as “he” or “she”?

“What’s on the menu tonight, Misha? Blonde, redhead, or brunette?” I asked.

I wouldn’t have joked if I thought any of the vamps were going to harm their dinner guests. Vampires kept their beauty, their youth, and their bodies functioning by taking small amounts of blood from humans throughout the day. Between their supermodel good looks and the seductive pheromones they emanated, humans flocked to them. It also didn’t hurt that the blood consumption process was the equivalent of multiple emotional orgasms. Misha especially seemed to be a remarkably great eater. I could usually hear his meal screaming for Jesus and all his disciples clear to the guesthouse. Oh, yes, being a so-called creature of the night didn’t suck; most spent their days tanning.

But even though I knew vampires weren’t as scary as Bram Stoker claimed, their “feasting” was not something I could comfortably observe. The vamps ate away from me. Since my arrival, Misha usually ate his non-stiletto-accessorized meals with me first. I suspected it was his way of bonding with me, especially since he consumed food because he could, not because he needed to. Only blood could keep him alive and young.

Misha smiled. “Do you truly desire to know the specifics of my entrée?”

I grimaced a little. “No. Not really.”

Chef interrupted by placing a beet salad with mandarin oranges in front of me. The wine-colored liquid from the beets pooled at the bottom, smearing the elegant white china and robbing it of its purity. It reminded me of blood. My blood.

I moved the slices around, wondering if I’d be able to stomach it now that I’d made the comparison. “Misha, why would anyone try kill me? My assignments have been carefully concealed and the vamps and I haven’t left any witnesses following our battles.”

Misha placed his fork down and leaned back in his chair. His gray eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite interpret and his voice lowered to an ominous tone that sent goose bumps racing across my flesh. “I’ve told you, the lake whispers to me the secrets carried in the wind. The dark ones see you as a threat. But one in particular perceives you as the key to its destruction. I caution you, Celia: it won’t stop until your death.”

Virginia stood in the hall, watching as Misha and I ate our red velvet cake. She was possibly the most striking redhead I’d ever met. Her skin was flawless and milky white. Her eyes were a beautiful blue and always lustful when fixed on Misha. She was human, but she made me strangely uncomfortable.

At one point in her life, she’d been an extremely successful attorney. She’d originally met Misha at a charity ball, where they had snuck off together and had a moment. According to what Hank told me, Virginia had been obsessed with Misha ever since. She was now a “regular,” allowing Misha to frequently feed and have sex with her.

Every now and then, a master of vampires chose to let a human become aware of the vampire society. This was allowed only because humans could be hypnotized into keeping their secrets. In this case, Misha chose Virginia. She no longer practiced law; pleasing and seducing Misha became her full-time job.

I leaned forward and spoke softly. “Virginia is standing in the hall.”

Misha didn’t bother to glance up from his plate. “I am aware of her presence.”

“Would you like her to join us?”

“No.”

I dipped my fork into the thick cream cheese icing and dabbed Misha’s nose with it. “Why?”

Misha paused and attempted to glare at me, but he couldn’t hide the sparkle in his gray eyes or his wicked grin. He wiped his nose with his white silk napkin before placing it back on his lap. “My darling, this is our time together and she will only prove distracting.”

Virginia slid her outrageously long tongue across her collagen-injected lips. I felt sorry for her in a way. She didn’t have friends. Misha was her universe. “Um. Maybe she’ll tone it down some if you ask her nicely.”

Misha let out a frustrated breath before turning to address Virginia. “Virginia, come in here, please, and do try to restrain yourself.”

Virginia glided in, panting in anticipation. By the time she straddled Misha, her blouse was completely undone and she’d forgone wearing a bra. She licked Misha’s ear and gyrated on his lap. I sat there gawking at them, a fork still poised in my hand. Misha rolled his eyes and gave me an “I told you so” glare.

I pushed back my chair. “All righty. I think I’ll head back to my place.”

“That’s not necessary, kitten. Virginia was just leaving. Weren’t you, Virginia?”

Virginia stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. She stamped her foot, then made a dramatic and riveting exit. I continued to watch the doorway even after she’d left.

“I thought for sure she’d obey you when you told her to behave herself.”

“She did behave, kitten. Did you fail to notice I’m still wearing my trousers?”

I glanced under the table just to make sure. Virginia struck me as the kind of gal who could remove pants with her toes. “Has she always been this . . . obvious?”

“She has become worse as of late, since insisting I turn her vampire.”

I straightened a little, surprised by the news. “Do you think you will?”