The Blood Bundle, Books 1-2: Blood Singers and Blood Song (New Adult Paranormal Vampire/Shifter Romance) (71 page)

Stella moved forward as the hole closed
behind her, a fierce idea blooming in her consciousness to
remember...
who they had been
.
As
an indeterminate future stretched before her....

One Hundred Forty Years Later

Clara beheld the shrouded exterior as she
did each morning, her hands pressed against the pliable interior of
the sphere, fingers sinking into its surface, stopped before
breaching the Outside. The yearning was the same,
she wished to experience the Outside
.

Sighing, Clara turned from the misty view
outside the molded window. Her petticoats swept together, wrapping
her bare legs, stockings laid out for her on the bed.

Olive knocked on the door. “Mistress, may I
enter your chamber?”

“Yes.”

She entered with steam-pressed clothing
draped over her arm, scads of material in a rich turquoise. Clara
hated it, hated it all.

“Princess,” inclining her head.

Clara recognized she was penalizing Olive
unfairly. Who truly wished to celebrate her Day of Birth? Utter
nonsense.

Olive peered at her Princess from under her
lashes, she was a formidable young lady, aquamarine eyes which
flashed with energetic temper, deep mahogany hair that cascaded to
her waist, very handsome but...uncooperative when it came to
dressings.

“Please Princess, they await your
appearance this day.”

“Does my mother await?” Clara asked.

Olive knew that the Queen was deep in her
cup and it was not yet midday. “Our Queen has begun her own
celebration.”

No surprise to Clara, deep in spirits,
celebration or no.

Her people wished to see her adorned in her
finery (a loathsome pursuit) to be reminded that she was their
Princess, the one that saw to their happiness, where her mother,
the Queen, failed them at every turn.

Olive interrupted her internal musings, “My
lady, please employ the bedpost.”

Grabbing the stays that bound the corset,
pulling each cross-member, Olive took up the slack, when reaching
the end, she pulled with all her might, Clara gasped, “Must it be
so tight, I cannot breath properly.”

“It must be hand-span,” as the last stay
was tightened to faint-worthiness.

Finally, Olive bent to use the shoe hook on
Clara's high heels, each button a luminescent mother-of-pearl.

Clara took in the altered version of
herself, the one that did not roam any space in her head. “Do you
not think you are agreeable, mistress?”

Clara gazed at her image, creamy expanses
of pale skin met the weak light from the sphere window climbing up
to a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and strange-colored
blue eyes, a dark fall of hair that was red in a certain light,
brushed her hips where they swelled. Her mother would be pleased,
she supposed. But Clara wanted to change into her waistcoat and
linen skirt she wore when she visited the oyster fields.

She turned to Olive. “I look comely enough
to satisfy the Queen.”

“And Prince Frederick,” Olive added.

Yes, she must not forget her upcoming
nuptials to the Prince. The thought brought a searing tide of
resentment, coiling in her breastbone painfully.

Clara sat at the vanity while Olive began
weaving the pearls into her hair, a rainbow of shimmering colors
began to wink and disappear in the plaiting. “Do you wish to wear
it all at the,” she indicated the back of Clara's head, “your
highness?”

She wished to not attend her Day of Birth
celebration.

“No, Olive, just the forward section...
leave the remainder down.”

She swept the forward part of Clara's hair
off her face in an elaborate coil, twining at the top, back of her
head, the pearls the size of a pinky nail, weaving around it like a
crown. Then arranged and rearranged Clara's hair until she was
satisfied.

“There. That will do,” she said with
satisfaction.

Clara stared at her reflection, voluminous
eyes gazed back, huge in her small face with part of the rich, deep
red hair piled on top, the pearls shimmering in the low light.

She stood, giving Olive a gracious nod.
“You are most clever with your ministrations.”

Olive gave Clara a deep curtsey, which she
bore as she did her other royal obligations.

Clara procrastinated, wandering over to her
window again, pressing her face almost to the sphere barrier, its
soft but impenetrable surface her prison.

“Princess?”

“Yes, Olive,” Clara said without
turning.

“I implore you, do not stand so often or
close to the window. You have heard the reports of
savages,
have you not?”

Yes,
she had
. Again Clara thought of
how she longed to explore, seeing for herself what lay beyond her
world, the Kingdom of Ohio.

“Yes, I
have
heard
and it aggrieves me mightily. If some have survived the bounds of
this place,” Clara stretched out her hand to encompass the sphere,
“who are we to feel disinclination? Should we not welcome
others?”

“It is not safe, my Princess.”

“And who has such musings?”

“The Record Keeper, my lady.”

Clara's full lips thinned into a line of
distaste. She detested the idea that one individual held the
history and direction of so many.

“Please... make my excuses for another half
hour hence.”

Olive hesitated, thinking of the Queen's
displeasure. “Yes, Princess.”

Clara turned her face, Olive catching sight
of it in profile, “You are not to be blamed, tell the Queen that I
was obstinate, as is typical.” Clara's mouth curved into a smile,
it pleased her that Queen Ada would suffer irritation
and
keep the dreadful Prince Frederick waiting. A
bigger pompous ass the spheres had never seen.

Clara turned to face Outside again, Olive
slipping out the door and closing it quietly behind her. A tension
slipped out of Clara's shoulders, relieved to own another moment of
time before the abhorrent celebration began.

She stood for time uncertain, watching the
wind (as she was told that was what it was), caressing the Forest
of Trees Outside. As she turned away, her duty before her, she saw
movement, whirling around she pressed her face to the sphere's
interior, her nose pushing in the softness as goose down. Outside
her window, a great male stood, trees flanking his body, partially
covered by branches. On his face lay a fierceness. Arrows were
slung over a shoulder corded with muscle, a bow in one hand, and
strange clothing covering only part of his body, a shocking expanse
of skin showing,
immodestly so
.

He was fascinating and most assuredly... a
savage
.

Without warning he flew out of the stand of
trees that Clara had been admiring since her childhood, rushing
straight for the window she leaned against. Clara clenched her
teeth, holding her position, knowing that the sphere was
impenetrable but stale fear flooded her mouth as she stood watching
the huge male advance at an incredible speed. Clara's heart thumped
painfully in her chest and when a hair's breadth remained between
the sphere and Clara... he stopped.

*

Bracus looked at the female behind the
sphere that the Evil Ones had constructed in his grandfather's
grandfather's time, her image obscure. He had watched the female
for months and had seen her in strange clothing while supervising
workers in the fields of sea creatures that yielded shimmering
jewels.

He also knew she was beautiful and... he
wanted her.

She was unlike any of the females he had
seen, which were rare in his clan. A female was highly prized and
safeguarded. His eyes caressed her face, the skin like cream from
the cow, her eyes like the sea near his cousin's clan...hair the
color of fire burnt down to embers. Bracus looked around warily;
knowing he must leave, he was too exposed without the trees at his
back. He gave a last look at the female, her expression
indecipherable, already he felt
vulnerable that he had
revealed himself after his careful months of hiding. Turning, he
ground up the hill toward the stand of trees, his long and powerful
strides eating up the ground ahead of him. Reaching the forest he
looked back at the window where the female watched him, then he
turned, disappearing into the stand and made his way back to the
clan.

Clara released the breath she had been
holding, letting it out in a rush. Light-headed, she sat upon the
fainting couch and put her head between her knees. Between the
strange episode with the
savage
and the absurd corset, she
could not regain her breath. This is how Olive came upon her when
she returned to escort her to the celebration. How could that hold
a candle's excitement to what had just transpired Outside?

Olive rushed to her. “Princess, what ails
you?”

Although not her favorite transgression it
was effective and she lied smoothly to Olive, “I think the stays
may need loosening.”

“Oh! For the love of the Guardian!
Please... forgive me.” Olive rushed around to loosen the stays but
Clara knew that would just lengthen the horror of the event and
incur additional wrath from the Queen.

“Never mind, it matters not, Olive...
hand-span it shall be.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

As she began walking to the doorway, she
turned, giving one look back to the window, where the
savage
had looked at her so intimately. He had been
so
alive...
vital.
She knew one thing she had seen would distract her
during the entire celebration.

The
savage
had gills.

Turning away from the window, Clara made
her way to the door, swinging it open to the hallway which led to
the Gathering Room, a place of joy. But not for her... not
today.

#

THE PEARL SAVAGE
and books 1-4 available now~ Book #5 coming
February 2014!

As of March 30, 2011, it's
been almost three years now since my first book,
Death Whispers
, was
published. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank each and
every one of you that has supported my writing.
Without my readers, I would not have an audience for my
work.
Many of your emails, support via
recommendation, encouragement and critical feedback/reviews have
allowed my improvement as a writer and as a human being. Words are
an inadequate thanks for the depth of my gratitude to you. Please
know how much your support has meant, and will continue to mean in
the future to come.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

*

Update, January 2014:

Thank you for reading Blood!

If you just read and dug the Blood Bundle, I
appreciate you telling your friends and family about my work; it's
the most compelling testimony an author can hope to have- more
readers!

If you want to take the love a step further,
consider following/liking me at the following sites to show your
support:

FB fan page

Blog

Twitter

“
Like” me on my Amazon Author
Page

Goodreads

And of course,
posting a review
is the
ultimate plug for my work! I greatly appreciate your time in both
reading and reviewing my work(s)! Thank you so much,

Tamara xo

You
- my reader.

Danny

Cameren,
without whom, there would be no
books.

Angie

Beth Dean Hoover

Dii

Lori

Shana
, from A Book
Vacation

DEATH:

DEATH WHISPERS

DEATH SPEAKS

DEATH INCEPTION

DEATH SCREAMS

DEATH WEEPS

DEATH UNREQUITED

Death Bundle, Books 1-3

BLOOD:

BLOOD SINGERS

BLOOD SONG

BLOOD CHOSEN

Blood Bundle, Books 1&2

SAVAGE:

THE PEARL SAVAGE

THE SAVAGE BLOOD

THE SAVAGE PRINCIPLE

THE SAVAGE VENGEANCE

*THE SAVAGE PROTECTOR

Savage Bundle, Books 1-3

The
Reflective
(Reflection Series, #1)-
March 28

Blood Reign
(Blood, #4)- May 30

Death Trilogy spin-off (#1)- Labor Day

Savage
(#6)- Christmas

*coming February 2014

I
f you're over 18, Check out my erotic romance books written
under my pen name,
Marata Eros