Her Vampire Husband (26 page)

C
HOOSING THE CORRECT SPELL
was paramount. They could not make werewolves’ blood poisonous to the vampires, or vice versa. There was to be no violence this time, as there had been during the war between the witches and vampires. None from the two nations must suffer because of the spell, or the Council would not condone it.

A love spell was out of the question. That would be the utter opposite of a poison spell like the Protection, and could have more dire results. Manipulating the wills of either werewolves or vampires was also too malicious to consider.

Dez and Ravin finally came up with a sort of repellent spell. When a vampire or werewolf approached the other with hatred or violence in mind, an auralike field would form around both, repelling them from each other.
Neither would be hurt. They could make a go at each other yet never succeed in violence. Once the repellent spell touched them, their anger would dissipate. It wouldn’t change the opposing parties’ minds about the other; it would simply make them indifferent.

It was manipulative, but the least of all evils they had considered.

That also left the floor clear for attraction. The spell would not affect those whose feelings were amorous or even simply friendly toward one another. (They highly doubted that would occur.)

It also would not detect falsehoods, one who purposefully chose to deceive, but that was a glitch that could not be avoided.

Dez was elected the witch to perform the spell. She had eight centuries on her, and was the keeper of the Book of All Spells. Her magic was powerful, the kind needed to encompass the world.

They’d chosen a field twenty miles from the nearest suburb and miles from any home. It edged an Indian reservation, yet was not held by a private owner, as far as Lucy’s research of city records showed. The grounds needed to be neutral.

Ravin first blessed the grounds with a simple spell, then stepped back to join the others around a great bonfire, to wait.

Dez conjured and whispered for over an hour.

Creed arrived, and was greeted with hopeful wishes for the spell. He fixated on the burning pyre, yet his heart beat with the vivid memory of Blu in his arms. In his blood now. He could still taste her, feel her rush through his veins. What a gift she had given him.

When the blood hunger struck her she need only drink from him. She need not seek others; he would not have it. Blu would be relieved surely.

When finally Dez spread her arms and commanded it so, the night fell still. All Council members turned to the witch to see what would happen.

Flames burst fifty feet into the air, sending sparks across the field. Like fire sprites, the sparks danced through the plowed dirt as if live entities.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Ivan called to his wife.

“Not sure,” Dez said, joining the group, spell book tucked under an arm. “There’s…someone out there?”

Indeed, from amidst the fire stepped someone—or something.

“Ah-ah-ah, my pretties.” The dark figure stomped toward them in a flaming veil that formed from its very body. Black horns curled tight against its head. Fire sprites congregated around the beast in dancing reverie. “It’s not going to be so easy as all this.”

Ivan was the first to recognize it. “Oh, hell.”

“I’m not even going to look,” Dez said. She squinted at her husband. “Is it?”

Ivan nodded. “Himself.”

B
LU HUNG UP THE PHONE
just as Creed walked into the bedroom and hugged her. She could feel his strength claim her, yet also his exhaustion in the sigh that whispered over her ear.

He shivered as he sucked in a breath. “Didn’t work,” he said.

“What happened?”

“Himself paid us a visit. He has an interest in keeping the nations at odds.”

“The devil Himself.”

Blu had only been told about the prince of darkness, and how he appeared to others. When one not attached to Himself looked at him, they saw their greatest temptation. “What did he look like to you?”

He smoothed a hand over her hair and kissed her eyelid. “Like you, my love. With the violet wig.” He brushed aside the hair from her neck to inspect the wound he’d left behind.

“And you said black was your favorite color. I think you have a new one.”

“Actually, I do have a new one, but it’s not violet.”

“Hmm, you like green?”

“Nope. I prefer Blu.”

She pouted prettily and touched the bite marks on her neck. “How does it look?”

“Angry, actually. But it’ll heal.”

“And scar. And then the whole world will know how much I love my husband.” She toppled him on the bed then showered him with kisses.

Could it be so simple as this? No cares, a laughing tumble in his wife’s arms? Creed wanted it desperately, but it seemed the world—and the very devil—would conspire against him.

He stroked the fine, silken column of Blu’s neck. “Do you have regrets?”

“Never,” she said proudly. “I’ve been checking it in the mirror. And when you touch it now, it sends shivers through me. Good ones that tingle in my breasts.”

He dashed his tongue over the reddened pierce marks. Blu moaned appreciatively. “I can feel your heartbeat as my own now. We’re in synch.”

“Is that sort of like me having your scent in my nose?”

“Yes. I could find you anywhere in the city if I needed to.”

“So we’ve got our own sort of GPS on each other now. Cool. How soon before I’ll want to take blood?”

“Not sure. You worried?”

“Not if you’re the guy I get to suck on. Can we do it that way?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, lover. You must bite only me if you feel the craving for blood. I am your willing donor.”

She rolled her eyes at the euphemism.

Creed noticed the pink cell phone lying on the nightstand. “You were talking to someone?”

“Believe it or not, that was Severo on the phone as you walked in. He’s offered to speak to my father.”

“That’s quite an offer from the werewolf, but it won’t be necessary. I had a good think on the way here after the spell failed. I’m going to speak to Amandus.”

“No!” She reached for him as he tugged his shirt off and sorted through the newly purchased clothes scattered on the bedroom chairs. “You can’t go to my father after rescuing me. He’ll kill you, Creed. We broke the bargain I made.”

“Then we’ve nothing to lose, yes?”

“But…” Her eyes widened with unloosed tears.

“It needs to be done. We won’t get anywhere trying to concoct spells if Himself continues to negate them.”

“Why would you do this?”

He snapped out a black button-down shirt and slid his arms through the sleeves. “Because I love you.”

“And loving me means committing suicide? Leaving me alone forever?”

“Blu, I don’t intend to die.”

“Of course not, but you will! One lone vampire against an entire pack of wolves—”

“I’ll keep a keen eye for wooden stakes and holy water.”

“You’re not baptized!”

“Sorry, just trying to keep things light.” Holy water wouldn’t harm him, they both knew.

She shrugged from him when he tried to pull her into an embrace. “This isn’t funny. Amandus wants your head now.”

“Blu.” This time he wouldn’t allow her to shuffle away, and secured her with a tight hug from behind. He hated that she wanted to push him away, when they both needed this contact so much. “I have to try.”

“My father is unreasonable. He’ll lie right to you, and then knife you in the back when you turn away.”

“A knife will do little but piss me off.”

“Be serious, please. What will you say to him?”

“I’ll think of something when I get there.”

“You’re being foolish, vampire.” She lifted a defiant chin. “You would never step into the fray without focus and careful strategy, like you always say.”

“Blu, sometimes we
think
different than we
know.
There’s no other course but to go to your father, the leader of the pack determined to head this battle.”

“Don’t do it. Not for Amandus. He’s a bastard. And I
don’t want you to kill more wolves. If we’re going to sacrifice, then bring me back and let me serve as the breeding wolf he demands of me.”

The stroke of his fingers across her lips served as a wicked soothing to Creed’s troubled soul. Yes, he had a soul. It belonged to Blu now, as hers belonged to him. The blood bond had done that for them, mingled their souls in a manner.

“Don’t do that.” She shrugged from his touch. “I don’t want your tenderness now. You have to be smart. To stand for what you believe in, like the tribe and all those vampires my kind has killed in the blood sport.”

“I am doing just that!”

“But why must you sacrifice your life for it?”

He gripped her wrists. Her gray eyes flared and glinted with the vicious warning he’d seen on the night of the full moon. The proud werewolf princess had emerged from hiding to shine. That was why he loved her.

That was why he must protect her.

“No one will ever harm you again, Blu. As long as I breathe, I will protect you. You asked me to end this? I will.”

“Stupid alpha male.”

He chuffed out a smirking breath. “Gorgeous werewolf princess.”

“Idiot longtooth.”

“My heart.”

“Suicidal maniac,” her voice cracked.

“My wife.”

“Oh, my love.”

C
REED STRODE ACROSS THE
shadowed carport. It wasn’t hard to locate his car. The black BMW was now a convertible. The roof had been tossed somewhere west of the city. A trail of blood smeared across the dented hood.

He should have abandoned it in the countryside, but Blu had been so fragile; he’d needed to get her to safety. Now it sat here, hidden behind the huge SUV he’d rented to take him to the spell site earlier.

Flipping open the cell phone Blu had insisted he bring along, he called cleanup to dispose of the BMW. Then he tossed the pink bit of plastic and electronics into the backseat. He’d get her a new one and ensure the faery’s phone number was in it.

Reaching in the front seat, he drew out Wolfsbane, surprised it was still there.

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we? Fighting for kings, bounty hunting for the tribe. Slaying the enemy.”

An enemy he now regarded with abiding love. An enemy with brilliant gray eyes, a sexy smile and an appetite for Count Chocula and barely there lacy things.

An enemy who was no longer his enemy.

Be that as it may, he was not required to love the family or the pack because he loved Blu. Blu had made it clear Amandus was no real father. What he had done to his daughter and wife was not the way of any pack. And Amandus had known about Ryan’s involvement with the blood sport. The pack principal was corrupt.

Creed should have killed him when he’d had the chance at the banquet. But that would have put him on the same level as Amandus. He’d stopped himself short of drinking the wolf’s blood as the fight had raged around them. He hadn’t wanted that nasty taste in his mouth. Nor did he wish to go against Council wishes.

He should talk to Severo and allow the wolves to handle this amongst themselves. But it was too late. Amandus had pushed him too far.

Creed slashed Wolfsbane through the air. It cut without a sound, and he could feel the air molecules scream as they were parted. He’d not once swung this blade without wounding. Not once had he regretted a swing.

But Creed could no more kill Amandus now than he could kill any werewolf simply because he had once labeled them enemy. His opinion of their species had altered.

Most important, his wife had asked him not to kill another wolf.

He would do what he could to bridge the gap between the nations. For Blu.

He tossed Wolfsbane into the backseat and turned to stride away.

T
HE MOMENT HE SLAMMED
into Park and stepped from the rental SUV, half a dozen wolves surrounded Creed. Musk sharpened the still night air. The pack members snarled and shouted obscenities at him.

Yeah, so he was a bloody longtooth. Wasn’t it time they got a new oath for the vampires?

“I walk peacefully,” Creed called. He held his arms out to reveal he bore no weapons. “I wish to speak to your principal, Amandus Masterson.”

“No vampires on the premises,” said one who wielded a machine gun with more piercing vitriol than a bullet. “You’ve got five seconds to get off the property, longtooth.”

Creed put up his hands in surrender. “I merely wish a talk.” Seriously? An assault rifle?

As a wolf charged him, Creed braced for impact. He took a head and shoulder to his gut, which toppled him to the ground. Dust rose about them as the wolf pounded his chest with rapid, lung-bruising punches.

“Cease!”

The attacking wolf whipped around his head to whoever had made the command.

Creed spit and leaned up on an elbow.

“Bring him in!” called a voice from the compound’s dark interior.

The wolves glanced from one to another, not at all pleased with the order.

“Diaz, off him!”

His punisher, with one last kick to Creed’s side, jumped off. Creed stood, questioning the wisdom he’d employed in coming here alone, but knowing this was the only way to do it.

He hoped to survive to see Blu again. But if he did not, he would go down ensuring her safety.

The one called Ridge patted Creed down, hands tracking his sides and legs. He fisted Creed in the ribs. The impact took his breath, but Creed merely winced.

“You must have a death wish,” Ridge muttered, and shoved him forward.

A
MANDUS
M
ASTERSON STOOD
ten paces from Creed in the massive room that looked like an emptied factory. Tumescent duct piping ran two stories above the cement floors. Glass block windows set high in cement walls let in little light. Shoved against the far wall were old machines that looked pre-twentieth century for the huge gears and leather pulleys.

Congregating behind the pack principal stood eight
wolves, each a physical specimen of strength and seething anger. A riot of musk and aggression tainted the air. If he so much as flinched, Creed suspected one of the dogs would growl.