Destiny
Champagne Books Presents
Destiny
The Tranquilli Bloodline Series
By
Celia Breslin
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Champagne Books
Copyright 2014 by Celia Breslin
ISBN 978-1-77155-164-9
November 2014
Cover Art by Ellie Smith
Produced in Canada
Champagne Book Group
19-3 Avenue SE
High River, AB T1V 1G3
Canada
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Champagnebooks.com (or a retailer of your choice) and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Vampire Code (a Tranquilli Bloodline prequel)
Haven
To my husband & daughter, for believing in me. Special thanks to my editor Cassie Knight, publisher J. Ellen Smith, and my fab critique partner Amber Belldene.
My day moved from ordinary to interesting when the deliveryman handed me a box that smelled of blood.
The scent made my mouth water. Pungent iron mixed with, of all things,
lavender.
My thoughts flew straight to Tessa, my surrogate vampire mother. When she pulled out one of her specialty powers, the one I fondly referred to as
vampire valium,
this relaxing, floral herb scented the air and reduced friend or foe to a boneless, helpless puddle.
I shut the front door on the retreating back of the deliveryman and wiggled the box. Nothing rattled inside. Not particularly heavy, less than ten pounds.
A peace offering, perhaps? Tessa certainly owed me one.
She’d commanded her minion, my boyfriend Alexander, to star in a two-month classical music tour of Italy, performing nightly for vampire dignitaries and their lucky minions. While I, the good little predestined, vampire apocalypse averting, Chosen One in training, remained behind in San Francisco to learn how to kick naughty vampire ass with my latent and rather unwieldy fire power.
“Hey, boys,” I called up to the second floor where my friend Adrian and his lover, my mentor Jonas, took their sweet time descending for breakfast. “Bloody prezzie just arrived. And I do mean that literally.”
Silence answered my shout, followed by the whoosh of water in the master bathroom shower and a husky laugh from Adrian. Given that sexy sound, I could expect a delay. Jonas tended to make their showers last forever.
A jolt of jealousy stabbed my stomach. Wish I could enjoy some fun and sexy time with my guy. I shrugged off the sensation and strode into the kitchen. “Fine. More for me.”
I parked my ass in a chair and slid the box onto the table to study it. No return address or package info. Not that surprising. Vampires tended to aim for stealth and subtlety, to fly under the radar of the general human populace. One of Tessa’s minions probably compelled the delivery dude, or he belonged to the circle of humans already in-the-know.
I ripped off the tape in one pull and peeked inside. No packing peanuts, but rather a nest of lavender branches speckled with droplets of blood, as if the branches themselves bled. Beautiful, aromatic, and so very vampire.
A wine box large enough for two bottles rested in the nest. Cold to the touch, indicating recent refrigeration. I lifted it out, trailing my fingers over the gold latch, the dark, glossy wood, the Celtic knots carved into each end, and finally over the initials on top. My initials, C A T. Short for Carina Agostina Tranquilli.
What a well-crafted and thoughtful gift. I bet the wine inside would be equally well-made.
I flipped the latch and opened the lid. My brows collided. Not wine.
Nine vials of blood about the size of my ring finger rested side by side in black velvet bedding. A stopper sealed with red wax and stamped with my initials secured the blood inside each vessel.
I pulled one from its nest and held it up in the light streaming through the kitchen’s bay window. The liquid glowed a rich, ruby red like a shard in a stained glass window.
“Beautiful.” And odd.
Sure, I was a half vampire and could appreciate a fine bit of blood, but I was still a human
female
and for me, nothing says,
I’m sorry for disrupting your entire life
like high-end jewelry or better yet an all-expenses paid trip with my boyfriend somewhere secluded, luxurious, and far away from vampire politics. Hell, I’d settle for the return
of my boyfriend to San Francisco.
Sadness speared my gut, and my grip tightened on the vial. I missed Alexander like I missed a limb. Or my heart. Or lungs. Any vital organ, really. He was my mate, and I hadn’t managed a decent night’s sleep since they sent him away shortly after my hospital release.
Pain punctured my neck, and I rubbed the spot of the phantom pain. No, not going there. I stuffed the memory of my father’s enemies trying to kill me into a dark closet in the back of my mind and clung to the good part of that medical memory. Alexander glued to my side as I recovered. That is, until Tessa dropped her
you must obey me, minion
bomb
and summoned him to Italy.
A yawn escaped me. I tilted my head from side to side and rolled my shoulders, trying to work out the kinks in my neck. Yes, without my sexy man distraction, I struggled to settle each night. The recurring dream didn’t help either, a twisted mash-up of fiction and fact. My brother Tony, turned into a vampire by my family’s enemies, standing hand in hand with the witch I killed in self-defense, her head bashed open, blood blanketing them both from head to toe.
“Your fault we’re dead. Your fault,”
they chanted over and over until the scene melted and my newly turned vampire brother yanked me to him, ripping out my throat with his shiny, new fangs.
The dream always came near dawn, and I’d awaken shaking and drenched in sweat, yearning for Alexander to pull me against his long, lean body, kiss my forehead, and assure me,
“It’s not your fault.”
I tapped the vial against my chin. This strangely beautiful gift represented an inadequate apology, a poor substitute for Alexander’s comforting presence, his smoky blue, bedroom eyes gazing at me through thick black lashes any girl would envy. I itched to bury my fingers in his perpetually tousled, thick brown hair while he pressed his hard, muscled body against mine.
A shudder rolled over me at the memory of his long, elegant, piano player fingers stroking my skin, slipping between my most sensitive folds while his lips worshipped my breasts, his fangs grazing my tender flesh…
A disgruntled growl escaped my throat. “Apology not accepted, Tessa,” I grumbled, returning the vial to its spot in the box.
I started to shut the lid when a small white envelope taped to the inside caught my eye. A written apology, perhaps? The only words that would mollify me at this point were,
Alexander is on his way home
. Highly unlikely I’d read that good news.
I yanked the envelope off the lid with more force than necessary and dug out the card. Every speck of oxygen left the room.
My Dearest Kitten,
Please enjoy this token of my continued affection.
See you soon.
D
My pulse skyrocketed and chills chewed me up from the inside. The kitchen spun on an invisible axis as I read and reread the note.
The paper fell from my numb fingers and floated to my lap. So white against my black yoga pants. Too white.
I had to glance away. But everywhere I looked the world shone too bright as if the sun had squeezed all its brilliance into the room, over-illuminating my world.
“No.” I pushed back from the table.
The scrape of chair legs on hardwood scratched the inside of my skull like nails on a chalkboard. I covered my ears but couldn’t block the other sounds penetrating the too-bright room. The sharp thuds of water droplets escaping the faucet and hitting the metal sink. The steady thunder of the ticking clock above the doorway. The booming bass from the neighbor’s house. The pounding of my pulse and the sandpaper rasp of my breath struggling in and out of my throat.