Blood Harvest (Blood Curse Series Book 12) Read online

  Blood Harvest

  A Blood Curse Novel

  Tessa Dawn

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  The Blood Curse

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Join the author’s mailing list

  Books in the Blood Curse Series

  Also by Tessa Dawn

  A sneak peek from Zanaikeyros

  Purchase Zanaikeyros

  About the Author

  Published by Ghost Pines Publishing, LLC

  Volume XII of the Blood Curse Series by Tessa Dawn

  First Edition Trade Paperback Published March 9, 2021 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  First Edition eBook Published March 9, 2021 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Copyright © Tessa Dawn, 2021 All rights reserved

  ISBN-13: Paperback (general) 978-1-937223-44-1

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN-13: eBook 978-1-937223-43-4

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Author may be contacted at: http://www.tessadawn.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Ghost Pines Publishing, LLC

  For Angel L Gende

  In fond friendship, loving memory,

  and because I promised Braden’s book would be yours!

  Forever in my heart.

  Acknowledgments

  Credits and Acknowledgments

  Ghost Pines Publishing, LLC, Publishing

  Damonza, Cover Art

  Lidia Bircea, Romanian Translations

  Reba Hilbert, Editing

  Passing Mentions

  The Cheshire cat: A fictional cat made popular by Lewis Carroll in Alice in Wonderland’s various adventures, circa 1865.

  Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde: The main character in the 1886 novella, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, by Robert Louis Stevenson.

  Excalibur: The legendary sword of King Arthur which may originate in the work Culhwch and Olwen from the Mabinogion, a collection of Welsh legends, circa 1100 CE.

  For every time, there is a season: The Holy Bible: Ecclesiastes 3.

  Nothing comes from nothing: An ancient Greek philosophical dictum first argued by Parmenides.

  Punct: Also referred to as a point or a prick, a quarter of an hour in Medieval Europe.

  Rock of Ages: A hymn written by the Reverend Augustus Toplady in 1763.

  The Blood Curse

  In 800 BC, Prince Jadon and Prince Jaegar Demir were banished from their Romanian homeland after being cursed by a ghostly apparition: the reincarnated Blood of their numerous female victims. The princes belonged to an ancient society that sacrificed its females to the point of extinction, and the punishment was severe.

  They were forced to roam the earth in darkness as creatures of the night. They were condemned to feed on the blood of the innocent and stripped of their ability to produce female offspring. They were damned to father twin sons by human hosts who would die wretchedly upon giving birth; and the firstborn of the first set would forever be required as a sacrifice of atonement for the sins of their forefathers.

  Staggered by the enormity of the Curse, Prince Jadon, whose own hands had never shed blood, begged his accuser for leniency and received four small mercies—four exceptions to the Curse that would apply to his house and his descendants, alone.

  ᴪ Though still creatures of the night, they would be allowed to walk in the sun.

  ᴪ Though still required to live on blood, they would not be forced to take the lives of the innocent.

  ᴪ While still incapable of producing female offspring, they would be given one opportunity and thirty days to obtain a mate—a human destiny chosen by the gods—following a sign that appeared in the heavens.

  ᴪ While they were still required to sacrifice a firstborn son, their twins would be born as one child of darkness and one child of light, allowing them to sacrifice the former while keeping the latter to carry on their race.

  And so…forever banished from their homeland in the Transylvanian mountains of Eastern Europe, the descendants of Jaegar and the descendants of Jadon became the Vampyr of legend: roaming the earth, ruling the elements, living on the blood of others…forever bound by an ancient curse. They were brothers of the same species, separated only by degrees of light and shadow.

  Prologue

  September 15th ~ Eve of the Millenia Harvest Moon

  Braden Bratianu paced restlessly, back and forth, in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in Kristina’s lavish penthouse apartment on the top floor of the Dark Moon Casino, feeling more like a restless tiger than a seventeen-year-old vampire male. He swept his hand through his shoulder-length, chestnut brown hair and shook his head in disbelief.

  He couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

  The Millenia Harvest Moon would rise tomorrow, and only the gods knew what the omen would bring.

  And as for what Kristina Riley-Silivasi had just offered to give him…

  Shit…

  Just shit…

  Braden knew she didn’t mean it.

  They had been back and forth, covering the same territory, again and again: What would happen tomorrow when the celestial gods poured their power down upon the earth, when the dormant blood of a prince roused inside Braden’s young body: quickened, stirred…awakened?

  Would Braden still know Kristina?

  Would Kristina still know him?

  Would Napolean continue to enforce his decree—insist upon seeing the unusual couple mated, two vampires who were both exempt from the Blood Curse? Or would the soul, the spirit—the what the actual fuck?—of Prince Jadon be so strong that it ultimately took over? And if so, would Braden actually have a Blood Moon one day, a blood destiny, a female chosen by the gods, whom he had to claim, cherish, and mate?

  What would happen to Kristina then?

  Could Braden still potentially sire female offspring after tomorrow night, or would the Curse placed upon all the sons of King Sakarias—P
rince Jadon’s progeny and Prince Jaegar’s alike—usurp the rare, singular circumstance of Braden’s siring?

  Braden was made, not born, to vampirism.

  And thus, he was immune to the punishment—and the required sacrifice—demanded of all biological sons…and their sons…and their sons, for all perpetuity, of the original celestial progeny.

  If Kristina and Braden made love tonight—if the young, fledgling vampire commanded a pregnancy—then he would have two, not one, offspring to bring to the house of Jadon, possibly rare, precious, coveted female children, and they would belong to him.

  To him…

  To Braden and Kristina.

  Not to Prince Jadon and not to some yet unknown destiny, not to some horrible dreamtime mistake made in a fit of madness and desperation by a sleeping High Mage.

  “Shiiiit,” Braden murmured beneath his breath, glancing over his shoulder to study Kristina’s features for the umpteenth time. His head was beginning to spin, and her expression was just as confounded: Her beautiful, normally bright blue eyes were dark with shadows, thick with fear, nearly glazed over with uncertainty…and desperation. Why else would she have offered to do something so personal, so intimate, so permanent? Something she had never been willing to do before?

  To couple with Braden before their mating.

  To give herself to a seventeen-year-old boy…

  Because isn’t that how she really saw him?

  Always had…

  Likely always would.

  Despite the fact that Braden had finally stopped growing at six feet, two inches tall; despite the fact that he was now 200 pounds of hard, sinewy muscle, all strength and cords packed around rock-hard abs—strong as an ox and fast as a cougar; imbued with powers, insights, visions, and wisdom well beyond his years—Kristina Riley-Silivasi had always seen him as a kid, someone she might have to wait a decade to be with.

  “Say something, Bray,” Kristina nearly whimpered, twirling a curly lock of red hair around her finger, nervously, even as she sank back into the cream-colored cushions on the large, plush sectional, beneath several soft, glowing, recessed lights, and crossed her ankles in front of her, interlocking the spikes of her stiletto heels.

  Damn, Braden thought. She looked so damn beautiful. So damn vulnerable. And what could he say?

  He wanted her.

  He always had.

  And yeah, screw being a seventeen-year-old neophyte in the house of Jadon; he had no doubts whatsoever that he could give her pleasure, make her call out his name, make love to her like a grown-ass male with passion, skill, and dominance.

  The instincts were in his blood.

  The vampiric passion had always been there, stirring, waiting…rising.

  He may have been made by a sire, as opposed to born of the Curse, but he was still a fully matured male vampire. “You don’t mean it, Red,” he finally murmured.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered, probably hoping Braden didn’t notice the latter. “Bray, I do. I mean, tomorrow is no longer promised, and we’ve always been really close, you and me. We’ve always been great—”

  “Friends,” he interjected.

  She shook her head sadly. “I was going to say: ‘We’ve always been great together.’ More than friends, Braden.” She took a deep breath for courage, or at least that was the way Braden read it. “The way you look at me…that time you kissed me, that time you stole my breath…we’ve always been more than friends.”

  Braden angled his broad shoulders to face her squarely. “And what if I change so much tomorrow that I no longer remember you, Kristina? What if I really do end up promised to another, and meanwhile, you have two of my kids?”

  Kristina blanched at his bluntness, then quickly recovered. “Would that be so terrible?”

  Braden shrugged. “For me? No. For you, yeah. Shit yeah, Kristina; that’s not who you are. You could never share me or anyone else. The situation would drive you crazy.”

  Kristina studied her bright-pink manicured nails. “I guess I would learn to live with it,” she muttered beneath her breath.

  Braden stared at the crease in her eyebrows, the deep lines of worry etched into her frown—did she even know she was frowning? She was sitting on her couch, wearing a nearly see-through white silk blouse over a killer hip-hugging pink-and-white skirt—smooth, bare legs and painted toenails slipped into a designer pair of stiletto heels—trying to appear calm, ready, and certain, even as her soft, sculpted lips were curved into a frown.

  One thing Braden knew for certain: The female truly loved him.

  She had to.

  Because what she was offering was everything.

  Her whole heart, her body, the rest of her life.

  And for a moment, just a fleeting second, Braden wished he were selfish enough to take her up on it.

  He strolled across the living room floor to where she sat on the sofa, braced one heavy knee on the cushion beside her hip, and leaned into her, grasping her high, angular cheeks in his palms, his thumbs anchored beneath her jaw. And then he bent down to kiss her, and he let years of pent-up frustration…restrained desire…flow into the kiss.

  She gasped and reached for his shoulders, but he just as quickly pulled away.

  He still had to meet with Nachari, the rest of the Silivasi brothers—the sentinels and Julien, the king and even Fabian, the High Mage—at Napolean’s manse.

  Time was running out.

  Without looking back, he headed to the elegant sliding doors that led to Kristina’s wrap-around balcony, brushed them open with two stiff fingers and a backward flick of his wrist, then strolled across the decking, leaped over the banister, and shifted into a glorious eagle the moment his body hit the cool night air.

  Because yeah, he had gotten better at that shit too…

  Even though, with the exception of Nachari, who could shift into a panther—and now, Fabian Antonescu, the great High Mage who could probably do all kinds of miraculous crap—most vampires were restricted to only bats or mist.

  As he tilted his outstretched wings in the direction of the Vampyr king’s compound, Braden did his best not to think of the complicated, confused, beautiful redhead still seated on her couch.

  Achilles Zahora, the Dark One otherwise known as The Executioner, was feeling restless, twitchy, amped up, and loaded for bear…

  But he had no idea why.

  Salvatore Nistor had been right about one thing: Achilles had always been a bloodthirsty savage, a giant of a vampire, and a killing machine…a force to be reckoned with.

  He reveled in the slaughter.

  He luxuriated in the taste and feel of fresh blood on his tongue, the thick, sticky fluid snaking down his fangs; and he could never get enough carnage, destruction, or bloodshed.

  Maybe it was just as simple as that…

  Achilles hadn’t fed in a while; he hadn’t left a string of brutalized human bodies in his wake for at least two or three moons; and he hadn’t executed a rebel or a sinner in the house of Jaegar for just as many months. Still, tomorrow night marked the coming of the Millenia Harvest Moon, and the house of Jaegar would be busy, indeed: busy feeding on human hosts so younger siblings could feed their fathers…their brothers…in the ancient familial rite; busy satiating carnal appetites of every bent and perverse imagining; busy impregnating beautiful young women who would give birth to two dark sons, forty-eight hours later, and die a wretched death as the younglings, the evil offspring, clawed their way out of their sensual, fertile bodies.

  Achilles wanted no part in the latter, to become a father…just yet.

  True, in the house of Jaegar, it was every male’s ultimate duty to procreate, and Achilles’ offspring would be a coveted prize to his dark brethren. Yet and still, he wasn’t ready. It was as simple as that.

  Two years back, when that brutish son of Jadon, Marquis Silivasi, had discovered one of the last remaining females of a proud and ancient race—Ciopori Demir—and managed to claim her as his own, s
educe her, even as he was caught up in a wicked deceitful love triangle, believing Kristina Riley to be his true destiny, chosen by the gods, Salvatore had managed to abduct the careless princess and bring her back to the Colony: The promise of heated nights, thrusting inside that royal womb; the mystery and allure of a female who might not die—who might still have access to celestial magic and might be able to circumvent the Curse, and thus give birth to female offspring?—had been too strong for Salvatore to pass up. Salvatore had needed to know more. So much remained a puzzle. And he had pulled the trigger, taken the princess, a bit too soon.

  He had been reckless, selfish, premature.

  And as a result, the sons of Jadon had invaded the Dark Ones’ Colony, entering the underground settlement from a tunnel in the back of the sacrificial cave under the cover of night to rescue the missing princess, and they had slaughtered—annihilated—fifty sons of Jaegar, malevolent infant offspring who had just begun their eternal reigns of terror. In reply, Oskar Vadovsky, the new chair of the Dark Council, had ordered every male over the age of five hundred to go out and reproduce, to replace the lost, slain souls, until at least 250 new demon spawn slept in new cribs.