Blood Enchantment (4 page)

Slash nods. “I can feel my feet.”

“Asshole.” Truman's eyebrows jump. “Where's Adi?”

Slash's chin dips to his chest, and a frustrated exhale squeezes out. “I rejected her so she'd leave.”

He whistles. “
Ouch
! Didn't want that Alpha to come back and hurt Adi when you couldn't protect the new mate?”

Slash nods; there are no secrets with the nose Were possess. Glad someone understands the logistics of being a male who loves his female more than taking his next breath. Slash answers in a curt voice,  “Yes.”

“Well, you want the good news or bad?”

Fuck.
“Bad.”

“Zeke's dead.”

Shock rips through Slash, though his surprise is short-lived. “Tramack?”

“Who?” Truman's eyebrows jump again.

“He's the fuck from the Western.”

Truman's hands go to his hips. “Listen, I got changed by the Northwestern and don't give a good goddamn about keeping track of who's who and all the political bullshittery.”

Slash blinks.

Truman goes on, “So an Alpha who's not from here killed Zeke, though he managed to wipe out some of them. That's what that garbage smell is.” Truman cups his chin.

There were even more?

Truman nods slowly. “Yeah, little posse of Were. Here. For what?” He spins in a circle, coming to stop in front of Slash. “Don't know. Don't give a ripe shit.” He taps his nose. “They're presently after the two girls that you and Zeke had just picked up. And the two males from Region Two?” Truman barks out a laugh of pure disbelief, shaking his head.

Slash's eyebrows drop and his gaze narrows on Truman. “Tell me.”

“Those bozos are fucking demonic. Tails—the whole nine yards.”

Gooseflesh ripples over Slash's skin. His beast begs to change, though without a full moon, that’s only a painful wish.

“I can't make this shit up.” Truman shrugs.

His eyes meet Truman's. “What now?”

“I drag your fucked-up ass to the mansion, locate your bride, and kick some foreign Weresʼ ass,” he recites calmly.

Truman's simplicity is somehow perfect. He doesn't understand enough to worry about it.

It is simple: find the bad guys and eliminate them.

Point and shoot.
Slash wishes the process could be that simple.

Julia

All the rooms are the same. Julia doesn't know what she was expecting.

“They're like crypts,” she whispers.

Victor's beautiful, dove gray eyes stare into her own.

“They are sound-proofed and meant to be similar to the humans’ catastrophic nuclear strongholds.”

Ground zero.
Julia shivers, and after studying the rows of metal doors leading to compartments for Singers, she turns back to Victor. “You mean if a nuclear bomb went off?”

He gives a solemn nod. “In theory, our bunker can withstand it.”

Scott squeezes her fingers reassuringly.

Julia is thoughtfully silent for a few seconds. “We're not deep enough.”

“True.” Victor strolls to a door like all the others. However, this one has a security pad with numbers. Victor taps a series of numbers into the lighted keypad.

Julia flinches when it beeps like a whining siren.

Victor opens the door, and crisp, slick stainless doors butt together. Only a dark, slim seam marks the center.

Elevator.
“Where does that go?” Julia asks.

“Deep,” Victor replies.

Julia turns to Scott. “You knew?”

He nods. “It's not like we hang out in the bunker all the time. The royal blood lines all have a safe place to be. Never even thought to give the shaft any thought. No one anticipates nuclear holocaust.” Scott shrugs.

“Somebody did,” Julia replies softly, her attention shifting to the elevator once more.

“Yes.” Victor closes the innocuous door, and the elevator disappears behind it, blending in with all the others.

Victor leaves them at the farthest reaches of the bunker. Julia estimates the size to be, on all one level, as large as the mansion above it. She didn't think to ask what the “shaft” size was.

Victor rounds the corner but turns at the last moment, giving them a level stare full of meaning.

His looks seems all for Scott.

“Your quarters are already assigned.”

Julia feels her eyebrow lift.
Assigned?

Victor interprets her puzzled expression perfectly and knots his hands together. “In the event of a need to use the bunker”—his eyes rise to hers then briefly flick to Scott's—“each royal family member would each have their own accommodation. That still remains the case. As it happens, Marcus had no official spouse during his reign as Region One king.”

Official?

“But I do,” Scott says from behind Julia.

“Yes.” Lifting his chin, he gives Scott a significant look.

“What, guys?”

“What Victor is too polite to mention is that you are meant to be my wife, but until we do the deed, it's sort of a hollow, unfinished union.”

A pale-pink blush spreads across Victor's cheeks. “Not as I would have put things, but accurate enough.”

Julia says nothing. She knew it would come to this.

“Julia.”

She turns around and faces Scott.

He takes her chilled hands in his warm ones.

Lowering his face to be level with hers, he asks, “Is sleeping with me a fate worse than death?”

Julia bursts out laughing. “No. I-I don't know. Everything's moving too fast.” Her heartbeats pile up on each other, her palms dampening.

“I will be in the main area near the vault,” Victor announces quietly.

Neither of them replies, but his departing footsteps echo hollowly back as Julia and Scott stare at each other.

“I
am
sorry about Jason.” His dark eyes search her face. “But I'm not sorry that he sacrificed himself to allow you to live. I'm just gonna keep saying the truth over and over again. No guilt, baby.” Scott cups her face, and she sighs.

He's so warm.

Present.

Hers.

Julia feels the rightness of the meld between them. Like warm water it molds to their bodies, reaching every bit of her. Their bond isn't conflicted, and she shouldn't be, either.

Scott waits in the silence pregnant with their emotions.

He wants her as a man wants a woman. He also wants her because the Combatant inside of him knows she'll have a net of security that would be very hard to strip if they finalize their union.

Julia nods, and Scott's shoulders drop, the tension of their tethered hands lessening, growing supple.

His eyes move to the door that simply has a musical note finished in a shining red enamel.

The color of blood. The global symbol for a melody.

Blood Singers.

*

“Don't get pissed,” Scott says, and her eyes move to his.

She was looking around the room. Julia didn't feel pissed; she was stunned.

The space must be something special for the bunker.
It's unadorned and so plain, it's almost medicinal—except for a huge bed in the center of the oversized bedroom. An old-fashioned quilt graces the top, and four body-sized pillows round out a metal headboard. Two awkwardly narrow nightstands flank it, matching lamps softly glowing on top.

Julia shivers.

Scott notices, and his fingers part from hers.

He moves to the door then closes and locks it. Julia flinches as the deadbolt slides home.

His fingers twirl the thermostat to a higher temperature. Scott turns, and she's overwhelmed anew by his size, flushing at the thought of being with him.

This is gonna happen.

“Better?” he asks quietly.

She nods, looking down at her feet.

Julia shifts her weight nervously, and Scott's larger feet come into view, dwarfing her Converse sneakers.

“Scott,” Julia begins, her voice breathy.

He wraps his strong arms around her.

“I'm scared.”

Scott pulls away, cupping her chin and tilting it up. Gravity pulls the tears from her eyes.

“Don't, Julia. I would never hurt you.”

She nods, blinking.

His thumbs wipe the tears away. “Why are you crying?”

Her exhale trembles. “So many reasons.”

“You think I'll suck in the sack?” His lips twist.

She laughs, and they move apart. Julia smiles, appreciating the way he breaks the ice.

“Better?” he asks for a second time.

She nods. “I don't—I'm not thinking about that.”

“I know,” he says softly, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear. “Then what is it?”

Julia gives him a look of pure disbelief, folding her arms. “Jason just died. Our people are in danger.”

“And we have to be down here for nearly two days,” he states logically.

She snorts. “So we might as well screw because what else is there to do?” Julia sounds bitter.

“Yup!” Scott says, angrily pacing away from her. “Can't wait to have everyone in danger and die so we can hop into bed together. Right. So sexy.”

Julia hangs her head. “I guess it sounds pretty dramatic.”

“Yeah.” He sounds pissed. His entire body is one long line of tension.

It has to be her; he won't push. He's made his case. Victor's made it.

Julia walks to him slowly.

Scott doesn't move a muscle, showing her his profile.

She flattens her palm against his chest, and a sigh escapes them both. “I'm sorry,” she whispers. “I don't mean to be a bitch.”

His long fingers cover hers. Still looking away, he speaks to the flat gray wall. “You're not. Any human being would feel the same right now. You've gone through hell in the last three years, Julia.”

“I'm not strictly human, Scott.”

“Yeah.”

They look at each other, their heartbeats syncing.

“That's so weird,” Julia says with a tremor in her voice.

Scott knows what she's saying; it's all over his face. “Not to me.”

“That's because you were groomed for the possibility of the soul-meld.”

“Yes, but it's still surreal—our bodies knowing each other, wanting that constant physical contact. And if you remember, I wasn't exactly on board.”

Sadness tightens her chest. “I was a girl from Alaska two years ago. Now I'm a queen of a bunch of paranormal people and part angel and—”

Scott presses a finger to her lower lip.
“And you're the woman I love.”

Julia kisses along the side of his finger, and Scott inhales sharply. She stares into his eyes, drowning.

“Julia, if you want to back out of this, do it now, because, baby, I can't stop.”

She shakes her head, releasing the guilt and shame, the ownership of things she shouldn't keep.

Scott shudders, wrapping her against him. “Do you trust me?” he asks against her hair. Their bond is a rubber band of comfort, security, love, and lastly, good, old-fashioned lust.

“With everything I am.”

“Then let me take care of you, Julia. For the love of all that's holy, let me be the one to take care of you.”

Julia wraps her arms around his waist, laying her cheek between the hard muscles of his chest. “Yes.”

*

The room is warm.

Julia is hot.

Scott begins to undress, his eyes glued to her. He jerks off his T-shirt and tosses it onto a folding chair against the wall.

“It's creepy that there's a chair there beside the bed. What? Is there an audience, possibility?”

“No,” he says, voice deep.

She swallows her nervousness, trying not to ramble on anxiously. Again.

“Not even a remote chance of interruption.”

Julia nods, dumbstruck.

Scott is a beautiful man. His large hands go to his hips as he stares at Julia. A handful of seconds squeeze by as they regard each other.

Then his fingers close on his belt buckle.

He slides his jeans down before kicking them off in the direction of the creepy folding chair. When Scott is clad only in socks and boxer briefs, Julia closes her eyes.

Her mind supplies the rest: Six feet, three inches of heavy muscles. Narrow hips. Broad shoulders. Legs like tree trunks. Soon she'll see all that she's imagined in the flesh. Julia calms her breathing and opens her eyes.

Scott stands before her. A little “eep” flies out of her. Her eye roam his naked body. She'd missed the unveiling but she's all eyes now. He's so much more than her imagination could have ever conjured.

Julia grins. “You scared me.”

Scott's smile broadens.

“What are you smiling about?” she asks in a huff, keeping her eyes on his face with an effort.

“You.”

Julia gives a tense little laugh. “I guess it's—”

“Let me, Julia.” His eyes shift to her clothing.

She nods, her heart thumping, and lifts her arms above her head.

Scott strips the T-shirt and throws it onto his pile of clothes. His hands move to the waistband of her jeans and slide them off slowly.

Julia doesn't cover herself. What they're about to do doesn't seem sleazy.

It feels right.

Before guilt has a chance to form, she rolls to her tiptoes and tilts her head for the kiss she knows he'll give her. His intent pounds through their meld.

Julia's not disappointed.

His hands land on her bare back, rolling over her skin. Her flesh pebbles beneath his fingertips, and a little sigh escapes her lips.

Julia becomes aware in stages that her panties and bra joined his clothing on the floor.

Scott scoops her from the floor, his dark gaze tied to her face.

The emotion in his eyes heals her. His body undoes her.