Blood Betrayal: A Blood Curse Novel (Blood Curse Series Book 9) Read online

  They had to see Saxson for themselves.

  “Seriously, warriors?” Saxson grunted as he glared at each of his brothers in turn.

  “Lose the attitude,” Ramsey grumbled, trying to sound authoritative and hard. “Where’s the girl?”

  “Woman,” Saxson corrected, “and she’s sitting inside on a barstool, all alone at the kitchen island, waiting for me to get back inside. To join her.”

  Santos craned his neck, trying to peek over Saxson’s shoulder.

  “No,” Saxson warned him. “Not happening, Santos. You can meet her some other time. What the heck is up with you guys?”

  Ramsey stroked his chin, worrying his two-day-old stubble, as he tried to play it off. “Um, you need to follow up with Julien…about the VOSU job…we figured we would just check in, get our own, short debriefing.” He shifted his eyes guiltily. “How’d everything go with Anthony Beckman and Julius Schaffer, anyhow? What happened with Nathaniel’s guy?”

  “They’re dead,” Saxson said brusquely. “Is that brief enough?”

  Ramsey ignored the sarcasm. “So, that’s the entire job, right? All of the VOSU stalkers have been handled, and Rebecca can get on with her life?”

  Saxson stared blankly at his fraternal twin. Ramsey Olaru was a lot of things, but keeper of the house, carrier of messages, and one to follow up on another male’s destiny, Rebecca Lacusta’s state of mind—nah, he wasn’t any of those things. “Ramsey—”

  “Julien doesn’t need anything else on his plate,” the ruthless warrior explained.

  “Ramsey.”

  The vampire flinched, his GQ good looks giving way to a hardened expression. “What?”

  “You came all the way across the valley to southern Dark Moon Vale—at 3:30 in the morning, no less—to ask me about Julien’s list? To ask me if Nathaniel and I handled our business? Oh, and by the way, I already checked in with Julien, so this has nothing to do with the tracker. Care to try again?”

  Ramsey snorted, crossed his arms over his burly chest, and pretended to stare at a crack in a rock. And then he finally shrugged. “You couldn’t find her, little brother.”

  Little brother?

  Saxson frowned. “We were born five minutes apart, Ramsey. Come again.”

  “It took you almost an hour to find your destiny,” Santos tried to explain.

  Saxson furrowed his brow. “To find Kyla?”

  Ramsey nodded emphatically, and Saxson finally got it—his brothers were wired for sound, still walking on a razor-fine edge, as a result of Saxson’s Blood Moon. A missing destiny was nothing to shrug off lightly, and he had given them both quite a scare.

  He smiled wryly and shook his head. “Aw,” he teased, softening his voice, “you were worried about me, weren’t you?”

  Santos shrugged, admitting guilt, and Ramsey nearly snarled, “We were just making sure you both made it back home safely.”

  Saxson suppressed laughter and casually extended his arms. “Group hug?” he offered.

  Santos chuckled in a light-hearted rejoinder, while Ramsey shot him a warning glance: “Hug me, and I’ll break both your arms.”

  Saxson placed a firm hand on Ramsey’s shoulder. “Big brother, I’m fine.” Two pairs of identical hazel eyes met—locked in the moment—and Saxson repeated the refrain. “I’m fine.”

  Ramsey nodded, at last taking a breath, and Saxson removed his hand.

  “How are things going?” Santos finally asked.

  Saxson raised one shoulder in a casual lift. “Great,” he said nonchalantly. “So far, so good.”

  “Really?” Santos asked, sounding surprised.

  “Yeah,” Saxson reiterated. “In fact”—he paused—“maybe so far, too good.” He glanced away. “I don’t know—this isn’t supposed to be that easy. I guess the jury is still out. I’ll have to let you know more later.”

  “What’s wrong?” Ramsey asked bluntly.

  Saxson shook his head. “That’s just it. Nothing is wrong, so far. In fact, she came back without compulsion.”

  Santos flashed a playful smile. “Yeah, well, you are the ladies’ man.”

  Saxson shrugged again. “Maybe.” He drew inward, thinking it over, and Ramsey caught his hesitation…

  “What aren’t you saying?” the Master Warrior asked.

  Saxson shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. She’s smart, she’s beautiful, and she’s very easy to get along with, and yet, there’s something…”

  “Something what?” Ramsey prompted.

  “I don’t know. Something…missing…on my end.”

  His twin cocked his brows in question. “Like?”

  Saxson felt miserably guilty. “Like, I thought I would be instantly attracted to the female the gods…prepared.” His voice dropped to a mere whisper—he definitely did not want Kyla to overhear their conversation—not that she could. “I expected more…electricity…on my part. I even kissed her earlier, and well, how should I put this? My interest mounted, for sure; but nature wasn’t rising—if you know what I mean. Not my typical response to a beautiful, sexy woman.”

  Ramsey frowned. “Way too much information, Saxson.” An awkward silence lingered, then: “Look, if it’s any consolation, when I first found out that Tiffany was my destiny… When she took off on that huge damned horse, all I wanted to do was wring her pretty neck.” He snickered at the memory.

  “Yeah, but you wanted her, right?” Saxson asked. “I mean, you wanted her, correct?”

  Ramsey reached into his jacket pocket, retrieved a small silver case, and stuffed a toothpick between his lips. “These things take time, Saxson.”

  Saxson nodded.

  He was sure his twin was right.

  And beyond that: Just what the hell was wrong with him?

  Kyla Sparrow was less than fifty feet away, waiting inside his clifftop retreat with absolute trust and sincerity in her heart. She was open, responsive, and finally here. He must have been more on edge than his brothers—maybe that delay in finding her, that tentative hour, had actually taken a toll. He glanced up at the sky, regarded his own Blood Moon, and grew inwardly quiet.

  After 701 years, the gods had finally smiled upon Saxson, and he wasn’t going to screw this up. “It’s late, warriors,” he said with a wink and a smile. “And my destiny is waiting. You need to take your asses home.”

  Kyla Sparrow locked the bathroom door, turned on the exhaust fan, and ran the water to drown out the sound of her texting—who knew what a vampire could hear if he was really listening. As it stood, someone had come to the front door—at 3:30 in the morning?—and Saxson had stepped outside.

  This might be her only opportunity…

  Owen! What’s up? I’m in Dark Moon Vale. So far, everything’s going perfect. She tapped her foot on the natural-stone tile and waited, praying Owen would reply quickly.

  Be careful, texting! Owen shot back, her screen lighting up with a dim yellow glow.

  Of course, she replied. Any news from the Head Hunter? Any more specific orders? She started to type What happened with Kiera? and quickly hit the backspace button, erasing the previous line.

  No way.

  No how.

  She wasn’t going to go there.

  She was doing what she must, and she had to keep her focus on Saxson.

  Yeah, Owen texted back. I spoke with XM. He approves of everything we’ve done so far, but he wants you to lie low for a while. Do NOT go after the kill, not with the vampire who took you. The HH has his own targets, a personal vendetta, I guess: an ancient named Keitaro; two warriors named Marquis and Nathaniel; a wizard named Nachari; and a healer they call Kagen. That’s all I know so far. The boss doesn’t think you can get to any of them, but you might be able to get to their kids—strike where it really hurts.

  Kyla frowned.

  Xavier Matista, the mysterious head of all the Midwest region—and all their various sub-militias—wanted her to try to infiltrate the house of Jadon on a much deeper level? To somehow tak
e out one or more of the vampires’ sons? That would be a suicide mission at best. She shivered. He was planning to sacrifice her life, wasn’t he?

  She started to text something back, when three words shot across her screen: What’s his name?

  Huh? she fired back.

  The male who took you—his name!

  Saxson. She pressed send.

  Olaru. She pressed send again.

  Got it, Owen replied. I’ll run the name by Xavier. In the meantime, be careful! And erase this shit, Kyla! Zero room for error.

  Yeah, she replied swiftly. Tell me about it. She typed TTYL and quickly followed up, erasing all the sent and received messages; then she powered down her phone.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Three knocks on the bathroom door.

  “You okay?” Saxson’s deep, alluring voice reverberated through the panel.

  “I’m fine.” Kyla gulped, stuffing the phone in her pocket.

  Holy shit!

  She was dancing with the devil.

  Just one small slip, and she would surely burn in hell.

  She splashed cold water over her face, took a long, slow, deep breath, and opened the bathroom door.

  Chapter Five

  Saxson Olaru wasn’t usually impulsive, and he knew he needed to give this time: take a moment to get to know his new destiny, slowly bring her into his life. After all, she was ready, willing, and cooperative. There was no need to sequester her cell phone—what might she text?—I met a hottie, and he took me home? There was no need to restrict her explorations—it wasn’t like she was trying to escape. And there was no need to propel things forward, any faster than necessary.

  Kyla was like putty in his hands.

  At least, thus far.

  Besides, it was late, he was tired, and they still had twenty-nine days, being that he’d met her before midnight on Sunday, and it was now four o’clock on Monday morning.

  There was no need to rush.

  Just the same, he had waited a dozen human lifetimes for this woman to appear, and now that he had her, safely tucked away in his home, he wasn’t feeling…anything…particularly amorous. However, there was one thing that might change that: something that was sure to stir his soul.

  Something that always had…

  And if sharing it with Kyla now meant that he might be forced to tell her the truth—about his species, about his purpose, about her importance to his race—then so be it. Wasn’t the truth always the best bet, anyhow? Besides, it might put his mind at ease to get the ball rolling early. So far, she was so agreeable… Saxson had no doubt that the real truth, the whole truth, and nothing but would surely give Kyla pause; and then, maybe, they could start to move forward on a more authentic level…peel through the layers, together.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked again, watching as she sauntered out of the bathroom and flashed him a breathtaking smile.

  “Yes.” She spoke softly. “Everything is fine. Who was at the door?”

  He shrugged a dismissive shoulder. “Oh, that was just my brothers.” Searching for a plausible explanation, he added, “Earlier, in Denver, I was there on business. We were just wrapping things up.”

  She frowned, albeit slightly. “Business? What kind of business, so late at night?”

  He gave her an evasive wink and followed it up with an ingratiating nod; then he pointed toward the great room. “Nothing important, or remotely interesting. Come. There’s something I want to show you.”

  She paused, as if considering whether she was going to let him dismiss the subject so easily, and then she simply let it go—once again, she was so compliant and agreeable…

  Hmm.

  She followed him down the hall, across the stunning main living space, and to the back of the room, where he opened a gigantic set of modern sliding doors. “It’s outside,” he explained. He took off his lightweight jacket, draped it over her shoulders, and led her out the doors, onto the sprawling wraparound terrace, then down a curving set of cliffside steps leading down to his secret garden. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her, gesturing toward the edge of the cliff and the accompanying panoramic view. “No one has ever fallen, and I’d never let you slip.”

  She smiled sweetly. “No worries. Besides, I’m not afraid of heights.” She immediately switched to a more demure posture, almost as if on purpose. “But I appreciate the gallantry, Saxson. Thank you.”

  He offered Kyla his hand, escorted her down the steep, foreboding staircase, and led her to the elaborate Tuscan-inspired gardens to the entrance of an enormous greenhouse, with a retractable dome-shaped roof and three acres of meticulously planted flowers.

  Roses, to be exact.

  He paused, needing to gather his courage…wanting to catch his breath.

  This was no small thing for Saxson—this was not an insignificant moment.

  The sentinel had dreamed of this for years…

  Hell, for decades, even centuries.

  He had traveled the world, from one end to the next, collecting the rarest, most elegant plants—roses in every color of the rainbow, and beyond—fragrances so sweet, petals so delicate, blossoms so fragile and unique that a single collection, housing them all, could not be found anywhere else on Earth. Not even in the most famous botanical gardens. Every trellis, every bench, every handcrafted fountain had been chosen for its artistry and grace, and each sat, peaceful and undisturbed, in Saxson’s secret oasis.

  This was the Master Warrior’s private pride and joy, the labor of a lifetime.

  It exemplified the full measure of his immortal heart, and all his hopes and dreams.

  This virtual, glassed-in sanctuary of florae. This hidden paradise of splendor. This masterpiece of elegance and design, created over an era, for his destiny. For the day she finally showed up.

  If their souls were truly linked—and of course they inevitably were—Kyla would have to feel something magical while standing in this place.

  And so would Saxson.

  Kyla Sparrow stood quietly behind Saxson as he opened a magnificent glass-encased door to what looked like a greenhouse, built on his estate. She had no idea what he was about to show her—or why—but she knew it was significant. It was written all over his face, betrayed in his subtle body language, dripping from his pores. This place was somehow special—incredibly important—to him and, ostensibly, to her. Well, to Kiera, if she had been there (to Saxson’s true destiny), and Kyla needed to play it off.

  “Are you ready?” he drawled in that sexy, masculine voice, and Kyla slowly nodded her head.

  “I love surprises,” she whispered, lying through her teeth.

  He nodded, stood back in the doorway, and ushered her in with his hand.

  The first thing that caught her attention—no, the first thing that greeted her senses—was the plethora of aromas rising from the enclosure: the soft and sweet mixture of a dozen extravagant scents.

  Saxson wasted no time strolling down the center aisle in front of her.

  He reached to touch a pale, purple-and-white bloom, with petals as delicate as fine paper. It was a rare and exquisite rose, and his forefinger caressed the underside of a petal with obvious, genuine affection. “This is a Lisianthus; you can also find it in blue-violet, lavender, or white, but it doesn’t live very long once you clip it from the stem—extremely expensive to ship.” Before she could reply, he took a few steps forward and fingered another set of blossoms: the deepest crimson-red petals Kyla had ever seen. “This rare beauty can only be found in Halfeti, Turkey, nowhere else on Earth. It’s fed by the river Euphrates and must be watered with the same. While it’s a stunning crimson color right now, you should see it in the summer.” His soft hazel eyes alighted with golden specks of wonder. “In the summer, it’s a deep velvet black.”

  Kyla inhaled sharply, staring at the rose. “Black?”

  He nodded, seeming pleased. “Yep, it’ll take your breath away. The natives of the small village where it grows believe the flower repres
ents both passion and death and foreboding, depending on its shade.” He shrugged, a casual, dismissive gesture. “But I just think it’s beautiful, no matter what the shade.” He stepped back and smiled. “Would you like to smell it?”

  Kyla nodded enthusiastically, padded toward the rose, and took a long, slow sniff of the crimson petals. “Wow,” she uttered, hoping it was the correct response. Then she straightened her back, glanced forward at the rest of the greenhouse, and let her jaw grow slack. “This is…this is amazing…and enormous! How many acres? Are all the flowers roses?”

  Her comment definitely seemed to please him. His expression brightened, and his voice grew thick with admiration. “It’s a few acres; and yes, they are.” He pointed toward the back of the greenhouse, though the flowers were too far away for Kyla to see. “Pink-and-yellow blooms from Africa; a host of colors from Colombia, planted in the native soil—flowers bloom all year long along the equator—and a species without thorns from China.” He chuckled then. “I can’t wait for you to see them all.”

  Kyla blushed, or at least she hoped she blushed. She wrung her hands together, feigning nervousness, trying to react as Kiera would. “If you don’t mind me asking,” she murmured in a shy, muted voice, “why…why me?” She transferred her weight from foot to foot. “I mean, talk about making a girl feel special. A girl you picked up in a bar.”

  Something distant and undefinable flashed through Saxson’s eyes, and Kyla’s heart skipped a beat: Had she gone too far?

  He seemed to be thinking it over, and then he sighed, swept his hand through his hair, and angled his body to face her. He reached out and took her hand.

  She gulped, but held his eye contact.

  “You aren’t just a girl I picked up in a bar, Kyla,” he said softly. “You’re far more important than that.” He waved his arm in a gentle arc, indicating the greenhouse, the fantastical garden, and all its rare, amazing contents. “And yes, I built this for you. All of it.”