The Blood Bundle, Books 1-2: Blood Singers and Blood Song (New Adult Paranormal Vampire/Shifter Romance) (52 page)

Jason scowled at her, raking a hand through
his longish sandy colored hair. “God, Cyn, do ya have to bust my
chops here?”

She nodded again. “Totally. Now spill
it.”

“
This... den,” he gave Manny
and Tony hard eyes then shifted his gaze back to Cynthia, “kept me
penned up like an animal until they kidnapped Julia...”

When Jason finished his story Cynthia stood
there in shock. The worst news wasn't that he was a bona fide
werewolf. It was the attack on Julia. That somehow, in his
confusion of the moment, he'd lost who she was and now she was out
there thinking he wanted her... dead.

“
Hell, she thinks. She's gotta
think...” Cynthia began.

“
Yeah, I know.” Jason met her
accusing stare. “Don't you think I'd do anything to take it back?
Fuck, it's all I think about!” he yelled, stalking in a loose
circle, pacing.

“
Can't take back the deed,
man,” Tony said unhelpfully.

Cynthia looked at Tony. And making the most
immediate character assessment of her life replied, “You're ten
different kinds of dicks, aren't ya?”

Adi barked out a laugh in the background
with startled awe. She could totally see why Jules had dug Cyn. Adi
looked at the flushed red of Tony's face with barely suppressed
joy, it was almost painful. Her smile turned into a grin as Tony
knotted his hands into fists at the female that dared to call him
on his behavior.

Cynthia Adams dared. And Adi thought there'd
be a helluva lot more where that came from.

Cynthia and Jason stared at each other, Tony
stewing in the background with Manny's hand a staying force against
that big shoulder, the tension in the meadow outside the house was
breathable, it had weight, substance.

Tony glared at the new Singer. Now he had
two bitches to teach a lesson. Fine, he was all about the numbers.
His gaze went to Adi and he knew that he'd deal with that
nut-cruncher first. She was a female Alpha. But he was male. She
needed one supreme lesson. Tony knew just when to give it. Then he
looked at Cynthia Adams, checking her out from head to toe. She was
fine tail, that one. She'd submit too. He could be very
persuasive.

Finally, he looked at
Caldwell. The sentimental prick. Tony would end him. That would
effectively end the sap's torture over his
faux pas
with the Rare One. What Tony had never told him
(he never would) was that being Feral, being a turned Singer had
crossed his wires so badly it was actually a miracle he hadn't
killed Adi when he nearly tore her arm off. That he hadn't killed a
human when he first escaped... well, it was a level of finesse that
many in his shoes could not have managed and the very reason Julia
still lived.

Just another reason to hate Caldwell's
steaming guts. Yeah.

Cynthia looked at Jason, dismissing that
dickhead behind her for the moment. “You make me sick, Jason.”

Cynthia's lip trembled and she turned away,
shooting a withering glance toward the two Were as she passed them.
If looks could have killed, they'd be pushing up daisies.

As Adi followed Cynthia she heard Jason say
softly, “I make me sick too.”

Adi turned around and walked
backwards, catching his eye,
I'll talk to her,
she mouthed and headed off before she could see
his expression.

It was bereft.

Truman

Truman opened his eyes, the bald sky full of
fluffy clouds moving swiftly in the wind as they greeted him from
his supine position. He sat up with a groan and touched the knot on
the back of his noggin.

He looked around and gauged the time based on
the position of the sun. The damn place was so gloomy he had to
hunt for the light.
There
, he saw it and figured around
three in the afternoon, the cover of trees from the border of the
forest shadowing where he lay. Hell, who wore a watch anymore? Now
Karl almost wished he had. Who knew where his cell was? A
collection of shit had flown out of his pockets when that werewolf
had laid him out.

Werewolf,
Truman said to himself, letting
the oddness of the word roll out inside his mind. It was beyond
bizarre.

Karl Truman didn't know what he'd been
expecting. He'd envisioned big dogs the size of ponies.

These guys hadn't been anything like that. In
fact, not that he had a Handle on Lycanthropy but he was betting
they'd been in some kind of blended form. He couldn't wait to talk
to George. Yeah, Alexander would know more. He barked out a laugh
that returned to him hollowly from the open meadow and closed his
mouth with a snap as he tasted stale blood, his big ass sitting at
the edge of a field having been cold-cocked by a myth. He'd have to
come up with some defensive strategy. Understatement of the
century.

They seemed unstoppable, plucking Cynthia
Adams away from him like a ripe fruit ready to fall. God only knew
what they were doing to her. What they'd already done to Julia.

Could she be?
Truman
couldn't finish the thought, shoving it away.

It came back like a boomerang, smacking him
upside the head.

Could Julia Caldwell be a werewolf?
Was that small werewolf he'd seen in the meadow
where he sat on his keister... could that be her?

There were more questions than answers. As
Truman got unsteadily to his feet he determined to find out what
they were. He'd been tasked with the Adams girl's return and he was
a dog with a bone. No pun intended. He'd get it if he had to search
every back yard to find it.

Hell, he was great at digging.

Truman got moving, collecting his cell, keys
and coins where they sparkled all around him in the smashed pasture
grass like scattered bird seed.

He collected it all with a handkerchief and
there, on the corner of his cell was a nice fat print.

He wondered if the werewolves had a
record?

He knew it wasn't one of his. Too big. It
took up three times the size of a regular print.

Truman studied the whirls of the
fingerprint.

Patterns were one-of-a-kind. If the one that
had pawed through his stuff had a record, he'd find out.

After all, what was a federal pass for if
not to grant him access?

Truman whistled as he left, stuffing the
cell in his pocket as he went.

You can run, but you can't hide,
Karl thought.

*

Julia

Julia had never felt this level of awkwardness
in her entire life. Victor, advisor to Scott's natural mother, and
Scott of the soul-meld stood staring at each other. The tension was
so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

Finally, Marcus broke the fat silence, “Let us
go inside with the Combatant.” He looked at Jacqueline
significantly and she gave an incline of her head and they walked
off together.

Julia noticed they had a personal bubble that
was wider than most.

Frosty.

She didn't wait for Scott, she didn't need to,
Julia could feel him behind her. She could also sense the Combatant
behind her and suddenly wondered when her life got so weird.

Oh yeah
, when Jason died.

But then, he wasn't really dead, was he? Julia
let her mind wonder where he was for a moment, then just as quickly
let the thought float away. She had bigger things to think about.
Like independence.

Julia climbed the broad porch steps of the old
Victorian and the group made their way into the foyer and ended up
in the large, formal parlor. The furniture looked off. It was all
comfortable and the colors complemented one another but they were
not the age of the house, Julia noticed in her typical, off-handed
way but it was Jacqueline who commented, “I see you have not kept
the original furniture. I imagine it was...” she waffled her hand
as if she couldn't remember a name.

“Ruth,” Scott said from behind her and even
Julia could her the irritation in his voice. Julia watched
Jacqueline as she studied what was clearly a décor
blunder. Although there was a parlor in the house too small
to use with all these people that did have the old and
uncomfortable settees that would have been perfect, a century
earlier. She seemed so offended by their absence in this larger and
less formal parlor.

“Yes, Ruth. Of course, silly of me to forget
her,” Jacqueline stated in the most false voice imaginable.

Marcus frowned. “She thought the trappings of
that era stiff and formal.”

“However elegant,” Jacqueline finished.

“This is so relevant. This yakking about
furniture, but let's talk about Julia and the Combatant and the
Closing of the Circle,” Michael said and hearing no dissent from
Marcus he looked at his other sibling and Jen added, “By
blood.”

The murmurings began and Julia didn't know where
one person's voice began and another ended until Marcus held up a
hand and said to the general room, “Julia has been with us a mere
week. We have not had proper time to train her, test her
progression in her own Awakening...”

Julia held up her hand like she was back in
school. Instead of being bored in class and giving half her
attention, they had all of hers.

The room fell silent and Julia stood firm, even
against the unflinching stare that wasn't the least bit friendly by
Jacqueline.

“How long will this 'Awakening' take? I mean, I
have telekinesis... but I was supposed to have more...?” Julia
hesitated, not sure what the proper term was to insert there.

“Cool skills?” Brendan supplied and she gave him
a wan smile.

Julia nodded. “Yeah, that's about right.”

One of the Combatants came forward, jeans and a
tee shirt not hiding the ripped physique underneath the casual
attire, made that way through combative training.

He didn't take his eyes off her, Julia found it
unnerving but two years with the vampires had hardened a steely
core inside of her. She used that now to help her remain
unintimidated. Actually, her whole life had been a trial of sorts
and she was done being scared.

“Some of us knew we were Combatant. For you, you
have just learned your place amongst the Singers. For us,” he put a
fist above his heart, “we have always known what our place was in
the order.”

It left Julia speechless. And more than a little
bit ashamed. Here she was, plotting and scheming an escape and all
these people wanted was someone to unite the three supernatural
groups. But, they could theorize all they wanted. The reality was
different. Julia knew the reality, she'd lived it.

The vampires and werewolves were not really
human beings. Humanity had been left behind eons ago. They only
knew war, power and control. Those were the very laws they were
built on. Their precious books spoke to that, hell, that their
ultimate goals were kind of alike underscored that peace wasn't
possible.

Julia looked into the guy's eyes, so earnest,
forthright.

“Listen,” she began, “you're right, I
am
new here and I've been through a lot.”
Survived more,
she
added internally.

Images of Jason flashed in her mind, splintered
fragments of memories shuffled in a haphazard collision that she
pushed away.

Julia womaned up, going on, “I've been there,
lived amongst these groups. They're not like us.”

“Nonsense, they are supernaturals. That they
shift, consume blood? It is of no consequence. They will be brought
to heel like the animals they are,” Jacqueline said
dismissively.

Julia didn't roll her eyes. Cyn would have been
proud. “I don't think you understand.” Julia said slowly, like she
was speaking to a small child, “Their basic nature is animalistic
but they intellectualize very well. Never mistake what they can
do
for
who
they are.”

Jacqueline gave a sharp cackle and Julia felt
Scott stiffen behind her. “You say you are new, yet you speak as if
you hold omniscience in the palm of your hand,” Jacqueline said
strolling in a prowl toward Julia.

The Combatant moved forward and paced her.
Jacqueline slowed, finally stopping in front of Julia, then studied
the nine men at her back. “Look at how they shadow me as if I hold
a threat to our Queen,” she said, making the name
queen
sound like a loathsome thing.

“Tell me, Julia Caldwell, do you feel
threatened?”

Julia narrowed her eyes on Jacqueline.
“Always.”

Jacqueline gave a secret smile and turning away
said, “Your caution is good, it will make the Combatant's job
easier until you Awake.” Jacqueline turned her face so Julia only
saw it in profile. “And Awake you will... soon.”

Julia watched her graceful departure and knew
that Jacqueline was toying with her, her cryptic comments adding to
the feeling of unease. Julia's eyes swept the siblings, Marcus and
finally they fell on the Combatant. They were her Singer
contingent. For all intents and purposes, her guard. However, the
circle remained open. The uncertain timeline of her Awakening
prevented its closure. The blood-bindings with both Jason and
William impeded everything. Jacqueline's presence was a thorn in
the side of all.

What was she going to do?

Julia thought that if she was tired of everyone
and everything orchestrating her life she'd have to take charge of
it or leave.

In that moment she had the first true epiphany
of her young life. She
could
choose, she was not a bottle in
destiny's ocean, the violent current taking her wherever it wished.
She was the master of her own fate. Maybe Julia would end up at the
same end, but she could choose how she lived it.

She met the eyes of the Combatant, Victor's
specifically and said, “I don't know what I have to do to be...
Queen,” Julia self-consciously rolled her lip, nibbling on it and
Jen came to stand beside her, lending her strength, Scott's warm
energy that synced with hers so well an abiding comfort behind her.
“But I do want to... learn.”