Cecy Robson - A Cursed Embrace

Aric’s deep tenor voice tugged at my heart, yet a nod remained my only response. When I said nothing more, he fell to one knee and examined the body. The were who’d driven the pickup—a tall male with military-cut black hair and ebony eyes—hustled to his side.

Commando Guy shook his head after taking a sniff. “Not one of mine.”

“Lone?” Aric asked.

Lone were, he meant. I was right, this were hadn’t belonged to a pack.

Commando nodded. “Yeah. And not from the area. I keep track of the few lones around here. Who found him?” He scowled. “And why the hell do I smell vampire?”

I stepped forward. “I found him, and, uh . . .” Hmmm, how to explain why the vampire family of Aric’s enemy was here?

Before I could ease Aric into knowing Misha’s keep arrived ahead of him, Edith Anne leapt onto the porch in her muddy boots. “Can I go now?”

Edith returned Aric’s glare with a smile that clearly said, Why, thank you, I’d love a bite.

I groaned. “Yes, Edith Anne, please go.” The last thing I needed was another dead thing on my doorstep. Thank God the porch rails and potted plants hid the view from our nosy and evil neighbor.

Edith twisted her body playfully as she twirled the edges of her long hair. She kept her eyes on Aric when she spoke. “Okay, Celia. Be sure to wear something sexy for dinner. The master has arranged for a cozy meal and looks forward to seeing you again.” Her smile widened as the burning scent of Aric’s shock and anger singed my nostrils. “Oh, I’m sorry, mutt. Didn’t you know Celia and the master have been spending time together? Why, just the other night—”

“Good-bye, Edith!” I hissed.

Edith tossed her hair back and strutted to her candy-apple red Mercedes. She blew one last kiss Aric’s way and sped off. Where was something sharp and pointy when you needed it?

Aric turned back to me once Edith disappeared. “Paul, this is Celia Wird. Celia, this is Paul Nalis, Leader of the Raccoon Gaze in the area.”

Paul stepped over the threshold and held out his hand for me to shake. His grip was strong, yet lacking the challenge Alphas notoriously threw in the faces of unknown preternaturals. So why did Aric’s brow knit into a tight frown as he watched us?

“Good to meet you, Celia,” Paul said before releasing my hand. “Could you tell me what happened?”

I focused on him, rather than Aric. “My sisters were sitting down to breakfast and I was getting ready for a run. I heard something hard smack against the door while I was tying my shoes. When I opened it, he fell through.” My head angled back toward the were . “His skin was barely warm when I touched him, and his heart had stopped. He bled out in puddles of blood and pus. I’d never seen anything like it.”

Paul huffed. “Yeah, that much gold in a were ’s system will have that affect.” He stuck his black boot beneath the raccoon’s chin and lifted it, lolling his head side to side. “The dagger used to cut him was gold, too. You can tell since there’s no evidence his body had tried to heal him.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” I’d seen gold mess up a vampire. Preternaturals couldn’t even hold the stuff without making them want to hurl. Except I’d never seen damage to this extent. The poor guy had been brutalized.

“Did you hear the shots or see anything suspicious?”

I shook my head.

“What about them?” He motioned to my sisters.

“Celia’s inner beast is a golden tigress. If she didn’t sense anything, the others wouldn’t have, either.”

Aric didn’t typically answer for me. And it would have bothered me had I not picked up on the underlying protectiveness of his tone.

Paul gave me the once-over. “But she’s not were .”

Aric’s tone grew more of an edge. “No. She can’t heal.”

The corners of Paul’s lips curved into a smile. “What a shame.”

Judging by the way Aric leapt over the body and wedged his way between us, Paul didn’t pity my lack of healing abilities. “Watch it, Paul.”

Paul cocked his head to the side. Something he saw in Aric forced the smirk from his face. “Jesus, Aric,” he said.

I glanced at both of them, confused about what had transpired.

“Just get him out of here,” Aric growled.

Paul leaned against the wall and whistled. Two more wereraccoons appeared sporting thick rubber gloves—the kind I suspected could be found at any local nuclear power plant. We moved out of the way. One of the weres grabbed the legs and the other the wrists. On the count of three, they lifted. The air rippled and translucent waves pushed against my face.

And that’s when the body exploded.

A sonic boom blasted my eardrums. I landed on the couch face-first, Aric on top of me, shielding my body with his. Something hit the wooden floor and glass shattered. Thick, polluted air tightened my chest the moment I attempted to take a breath. It was like inhaling muddy water through my lungs. And the stench—good Lord, a toxic waste dump smelled rosier. I coughed, the sharp smell stinging my eyes. I tried to rise. Aric kept me down. He adjusted his position on top of me so I didn’t bear the brunt of his two-hundred-plus form, allowing me to turn my face enough to see . . . blackness. Or should I say, a solid mass of green?

“Stay down.” Aric’s voice sounded strained. My sisters gagged and hacked. Someone threw open the windows and the sliding glass doors leading out to our deck. Horrible retching ensued from the direction of our powder room.

Outside, Taran voiced her concerns. “Son of a bitch! What the hell is this shit?”

The good news was my skin didn’t melt, my bones remained in one piece, and no funky thing with tentacles attempted to birth through my belly. One never knew what one might have encountered in the supernatural world.

I tried to slow my breathing, not wanting to inhale more of the foul odor than necessary. If only the rising heat between Aric and me allowed it. My tigress, hell, she thought Aric on top was hot stuff and that we should make out with him while we waited for the air to clear.

I didn’t agree.

I twisted a little, hoping to ease him off me. All that did was rub his body against mine and send quivers jetting to my already alert girl parts.

Oh . . . crap.

I’d promised myself I’d keep it together the next time I saw Aric—I was tough, strong, formidable . . .

“Try to breathe through your mouth.” Aric’s instructions came out in panted whispers.

I was in trouble, that’s what I was. “Okay,” I moaned like an idiot.

Aric’s soft growl rumbled against my back. I refused to purr in response. And I didn’t.

Until his head fell against mine and his nose nudged playfully against my ear.

Aric froze when my beast purred to come hither. Damn it. Whose side was she on anyway?

Neither of us moved, despite the intensity of warmth we shared. And just like that, the moment quickly turned from unbearably sexy to horribly awkward. My house reeked of swamp butt, and there we were, acting like two unsupervised hormonal teens.

Slowly, like molasses sliding into water, the dense air thinned out. As soon as the first gulps of fresh air hit my lungs, Aric leapt off me, pulling me with him to stand. Except instead of releasing me completely, his arm slid around my body, keeping me close. I didn’t fight it, welcoming the affection I’d longed for the past week.

A thin haze lingered around the expanse of our large open family room. Similar to when something burns in the kitchen and the remnants hang on despite the opened windows. Nothing appeared stained or destroyed—strange, especially since the force of the explosion hit harder than a truckload of sweaty sumo wrestlers.