Cecy Robson - Cursed By Destiny

When we arrived, three small backpacks with the essentials had already been prepared for us by the schoolgirls. I was almost afraid to peek inside and hoped they’d opted to fill it with protein bars and matchsticks as opposed to edible undergarments and ball gags. We had a quick meal and then headed for the airport. Misha accompanied us to the landing strip, where a lavish private plane awaited. “Safe journey,” he told us.

Emme stepped out first. “Thank you, Misha,” she said softly. “We’ll see you soon . . . hopefully.”

“Thanks, dude.” Shayna skipped toward the plane as if we were going to a party.

There was a lot I wanted to say to Misha then, but there was also a lot that could be misinterpreted. I thought I could get away with giving him a quick hug, yet he clutched my arm, refusing to release me. “Please wait. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Shayna rushed back to the limo when she heard Misha beckon me to stay. She stopped skipping and creased her brow when she saw Misha holding me. “I’ll be on board in a minute. Go on,” I insisted when she didn’t move. She left slowly after Hank shut the door.

Misha stared at me, all of his usual wicked humor absent from his face. “I would like you to drink my blood.”

“Huh?”

He smiled. “You heard me.”

“Ah . . . why ?”

“What awaits us in Chaitén could mark the end of the war. I am needed.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest. “Tahoe’s magic abandons me from such a great distance. I cannot take its power with me, but you can take mine with you. Ingest my blood, Celia. It will transfer you a portion of my strength. I must warn you—it will last only a few days.”

“But won’t that also transfer some of your essence?”

His smile widened. “Yes, and therefore more of my strength.”

“Misha . . . I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Celia, I cannot accompany you to help keep you safe. At the very least allow me to provide you with a little more . . . command, shall we say?”

Why the hell did everyone feel the need to protect me? Hadn’t I kicked enough of evil’s ass? “I can take care of myself, Misha. Trust me.”

“You don’t know what you’ll face. Why would you deny yourself something that may make a difference in saving your life or that of your beloved sisters?”

I smirked. “You really know how to make someone feel guilty. Did you have an Italian grandmother for lunch or something?”

Misha laughed. “Yes, and she was also Catholic.”

“Will this create another bond between us? Seriously, we just pooh-poohed the marriage one. I don’t want to have to divorce you again.” He didn’t answer me. “ Misha? ”

“Yes, but like the bond you created it will dissolve itself in a few days.”

I willed myself not to strangle him. “Damn it, Misha. That’s not the point. I can’t do this. Aric will rip out your innards!”

Any other preternatural would have thought twice about angering my boyfriend. Then again, Misha wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill bloodsucking master vampire. “The wolf will excuse your actions should my blood protect you.”

I swore up and down. In the end I gave in. Misha was right. I needed all the help I could get. And I needed to protect my family. “ Fine . What do I have to do?”

Misha’s smile was so sinful, I absentmindedly covered my nipples. “Bite me with your fangs and drink from me. The more you take, the stronger you shall be.”

My stomach did a mini flip, and possibly a split. Despite the constant presence of my inner tigress, I didn’t crave blood. In fact the scent repulsed me. I grimaced the more I thought about it. “Okay . . . I’ll try—but don’t expect much. Tasting blood gives me the willies.”

“I assure you, you shall be willy-free.” His eyes danced down my body. “Unless you prefer otherwise.”

I rubbed my face. “If you’re going to be a pain in the ass, I’m not going to do this.”

Misha chuckled and unbuttoned his collar just enough to expose that sculptured chest of his. He pulled me onto his lap. When he pushed his long hair away from his neck, I realized none of this would make Aric happy. In fact, he’d probably prefer I take my chances. I jerked away from him and rose as much as the limo would allow. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s necessary to straddle you. I’d rather do it standing up.”

The gleam in Misha’s gray eyes made me want to bolt. “Whatever position suits you, my darling.”

Aric’s growls echoed around me. My gaze searched for him, expecting him to have magically appeared in the Hummer. Instead, an image of his rabid beast filled my thoughts. I misinterpreted it as guilt until Misha smirked. “Your connection to that mutt has strengthened. His wolf recognizes that another seeks you as his, and is making it clear you belong to him alone.”

“If you know this, it’s more a reason to let go of me and find yourself a nice girl to settle down with.” I thought about it. “Preferably someone less sluttish than you’re used to.”

Misha ignored my comment and addressed my matehood with Aric. “You are neither were nor human. Did you ever think that just because you are the mongrel’s mate, he may not be yours?”

That was a slap in the face I didn’t need. My tigress eyes fixed on Misha. “There’s no doubt in my mind I belong with Aric. No matter what happens.”

“Then prove it.” Misha leaned back into the leather seat, exposing his neck and chest.

I concentrated hard on my emotions and imagined my hands smoothing over the thick dark fur of Aric’s beast. I’m doing this only to help me on my quest and to return to my lover’s arms. The growling stopped, but his wolf didn’t appear any less ferocious . I love you, Aric, and your animal side. Trust me to do the right thing and my tigress and I will be with you soon. Ever so slowly, his wolf’s vicious image disappeared. I’d like to say it was replaced by a vision of a happy wagging wolf. Then again, I’d also like to win free Doritos for life.

I sighed and tried to relax. “Okay, Count Chocula. Here I come.”

I leaned over Misha and exposed my fangs. My body trembled with fear despite my best efforts to convince myself Misha’s blood could mean the difference between life and death. I took a breath and plunged my fangs deep into Misha’s neck. Misha gasped as a small trickle of blood dripped into my open mouth. I forced myself to taste it.

Oh . . . my . . . stars!

Misha was delicious ! Every decadent dessert I’ve ever had coated my tongue with each sweep—brownies with ice cream, death by chocolate, New York cheesecake . . . Oh, and fried Twinkies. My fangs dug deeper and my tongue moved fast, refusing to allow one drop to escape. Misha writhed and moaned beneath me. My sugar high reasoned that he liked those desserts, too.

Somehow I ended up on top of him with my knee pressed firmly against his groin. The reason I knew this was because the feel of his erection growing against my leg snapped me out of my foodie-induced insanity. I retracted my fangs and scrambled back to the other side of the limo. Both our faces flushed and we breathed heavily. The tremendous bulge in his pants warned me, though, that it was obviously for very, very different reasons.

The rest of Misha’s shirt had been torn open. I prayed up and down that he’d done it himself. That probably wasn’t the case, given the fiery red claw marks raking across his muscular chest. Shit . It was like Misha’s blood was catnip and his body the damn scratch post. I watched with horror as the grazes closed and the fang marks healed. Then I scowled and pointed at him accusingly. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”