[excerpt] (25 page)

About to ask Serina if she needed help, André gave pause when he saw a look of sheer horror consume her. She stared at him wide-eyed, and he watched the color drain from her face. On hands and knees, she attempted to crawl away but she kept falling face first into the dirt and leaves. He realized his appearance spooked her, but there wasn’t much he could about that. He was who he was, Lucian’s identical twin.

Serina rolled her eyes up and locked them on André, opened her mouth, and roared indiscernible words as if she’d never get another chance to speak. Absolutely nothing she said made sense.

Behind him, crackles grew steadily louder, then his nose twitched, scenting smoke. Apprehensive, André turned around. Fire spread from one tree to the next, with one thunderous clap after the other as the lush evergreens burned faster than a wick on stick of dynamite. “This isn’t good.”

Serina screamed louder, pointing at André in an accusatory fashion.

“And that definitely isn’t good.” Being a rather quick study, André put some distance between her, seeing her hands tightly fisted, her nails sinking into her palms, drawing blood. “Serina, I know this is a shock seeing me standing here. Please listen when I tell you we need to get you back to the safety of your home with your family, our family. Serina?”

Serina twisted away from her brother-in-law and hugged her knees to her chest, then began to rock and sob. “I have no home, André.” She kept her face concealed. “My husband is dead. I can’t look at you every day of my life and see him. I’ll go insane. I believe I’ve already begun the process.” She tried again to look at him, but she saw only Lucian’s silvery blue eyes looking back at her. Flashbacks pummeled her broken heart with memories of the two of them laughing, holding each other, Lucian kissing her...She blinked and saw André standing there looking helplessly alive.

Duncan stepped forward and bent to her. When he placed his hand on her arm, she froze. She slowly faced him, and he gasped.

“Those are the eyes that attacked Lucian, Raven and myself the first night we met you, Doc.” Duncan had a sinking feeling he just got a glimpse into the porthole of Hell.

Serina hissed, “It would be in your best interest, Duncan, if you backed away from me. I seem to be having issues with my powers, and I’d never want to hurt you.”

Duncan swallowed hard. “Doc,” he attempted an ill-fated grin, “no hissing. Really, it doesn’t become you. I know you would never hurt me, but you seem to be doing a great job at digging up your own body. Please, allow me to help you.” Duncan gently pried each fingernail out of her skin. He ripped a hankie from his pocket, tore it in half and wrapped her bloodied hands.

Serina threw her arms around Duncan, and buried her face in his shoulder. He hoisted her from the ground and began a retreat without a look back.

“Who, Sir, might you be?” André asked the stranger.

Jonah eyed the man discerningly. He knew only that Lucian had a twin sister, and this man was a healthier spitting image than the man he’d just left for dead.

“Jonah. And you, Sir?”

Eyebrows pinched, André took in the stranger. The stranger’s height didn’t match André, but his build certainly did. André kept his stance ready for an attack should one ensue. He whispered the man’s name,
Jonah!
’Twas the name Raven whispered just before she collapsed. He reached for his gun.

Serina stiffened, which caused Duncan to pause his steps. She didn’t know whether to say naught and keep him safe, and save her own men from a fate worse than death, because she knew without a doubt things would turn ugly fast if they threatened Jonah.

“André, this man found me chained up here in the woods. He helped me. The werewolf and the vampire left me here to die.” There, she attempted to kid herself, it wasn’t a complete lie.
The werewolf did leave me, but the man came back.

Serina tried very hard to censor her thoughts so Raven wouldn’t pick up on that last remark, and get back to André with the truth.

“Oh, Serina!” André mumbled. “Do not forget I know my sister’s thoughts.” He squared his shoulders.

Serina tilted her head to face Duncan. She gave a silent plea not to start another war. Even with Jonah no longer in wolf form, he wielded inhuman abilities.

“I’m sorry, Serina.” Duncan answered. “The man cannot live. He’s taken my best friend, not to mention your husband from you and yet you seek to protect him. Why?” Duncan turned to face his adversary and his companions. He set Serina down on the flat surface of a boulder near by.

Serina caught Duncan’s wrist. “Duncan, listen, he had no choice. The vampire owns his mind. He is the werewolf, but he is also a man, just like you. He said he would return me to our family.”

“And you believed him? Do not place us in the same category with that scoundrel. I do not howl at the moon nor do I hunt humans,” Duncan lashed out, his tone harsh. “Why would you shelter him?” Duncan got in Serina’s face, his forehead pressed to hers. He held her chin in his hand, gently caressing her cheeks, while anger flared through his body.

“I don’t want anyone else hurt, Duncan. I can’t take another death.” Serina wrapped her arms around Duncan’s neck, and looked deeply into his soul trying to convince him to stay silent. “Please? Do this for me and if not for me, for our family.”

“For our family, you say?” His voice shot up in octaves. “And what if the vampire is using him as a puppet? What if he comes into our home some night and destroys one or all of us? I must take this risk…him, from our family, Serina. You must see that.” Abruptly Duncan pulled away from Serina and headed for the men.

Chapter Fifteen

With sure and steady steps Duncan moved towards Jonah and pulled a gun from his boot top. With the barrel of the gun pointed between Jonah’s eyes, Duncan accused, “You are the wolf, are you not?” Duncan spat on the ground. “Serina for some reason fears for his life, and ours as well, but he must die.”

At that exact moment two things happened. In a blinding blur, Jonah turned and grabbed Payton by the throat. He threatened, “His last breath is here and now if anyone moves towards me. Test my will, if you dare,” as rocks, higher on the mountain loosened and tumbled to the ground.

Serina pointed to Jonah, then André to warn them of the debris headed straight at them but before she had a chance to utter a word, sparks discharged from the tips of her fingers, like bullets from a gun. Energy bolts of red and blue in color soared past them. The aftermath left her fingernails charred and bloody. One boulder she hit disintegrated. Buckshot-like pebbles sprayed in every direction.

Duncan lost his grip on the gun and the weapon landed conveniently beside Jonah’s feet. Other than dodging rocks, no one moved.

Jonah shot Serina a wide-eyed look. “For the love of God, Serina, put your hands in your pockets and think happy thoughts.” Jonah turned to face Duncan and with sarcasm-coated words asked, “Did no one ever teach you playing with guns can be deadly?” He kicked the gun farther from Duncan still holding Payton as if he had a garrote around his neck. “Do not do this. Your mate will die. He means naught to me.” Jonah pressed his talon just above Payton’s heart.

Payton gave no struggle, but got a better grip on his silver pocket/paring knife he’d tucked up his sleeve, Jonah none the wiser.

The earth shifted underfoot and sent everyone sideways. In one swoop Jonah’s nails shredded Payton’s shirt and chest open. Payton plunged the silver blade into Jonah’s abdomen, in self-defense. Jonah scrambled to a boulder, fighting to stand, until his knees buckled, and he slid down to the ground panting.

Payton attempted to hold pressure over his chest, but it was useless. Blood seeped through his clothing and from between his fingers.

André and Duncan placed themselves between Jonah and Serina.

“All of you stop now. Sit!” Serina screamed. André and Duncan ended up on the ground whether they intended to or not. “This is exactly why, Duncan, I asked you for your silence. Look what has taken place. You’ll all end up dead if you keep this up. We need to get away from this place now. It is no longer safe. André, pick up Payton and get him away from here. Duncan help Jonah,” Serina ordered.

“No.” Duncan defied her. “I will never help this man. Serina what the hell is wrong with you?”

Through gritted teeth, Jonah answered, “The first is easy. The vampire wills her to do so even as she is unaware of his presence within her mind. Trust me, he is there.”

Serina burst into a mixture of tears and laughter talking to herself, “Is this how I sounded the first night I met Lucian? Trust me vampires are real?”

A few glances were exchanged between the men.

Jonah continued, “Secondly, Serina is pure of heart and incapable of killing another.” Jonah looked into Serina’s eyes and finished speaking directly to her, “It is not within you. That is why I still stand, Serina. When you tried days past to crush my heart, you felt my life slipping, and you withdrew yourself. I felt it.” Jonah closed his eyes, and toppled over sideways next to Duncan. Blood stained the corners of his lips and appeared like lipstick smeared from a lover’s kiss.

Duncan scooted farther away from him. “You should have finished what you began, Serina. Your better judgment has failed you, and now we will all pay for it. Let us get Payton to a safe haven and then you can heal him.” If looks could actually kill, Jonah may not have been the only one Duncan wanted gone from this earth as he glared at Serina.

Serina had never seen nor heard Duncan act in such a hostile manner. She always found his nature soft, gentle. This new side to the man she didn’t particularly care for one iota. Who did he think he was ordering her around? Even with that thought eating at her, she knew she could do no other than help the men. “Get the men further down the mountain, and I will help them, but hurry. Duncan, what happened to you?” Serina had to know where the aggression came from.

Was the woman daft? Exasperated, Duncan held his hands palm up. “You, Serina. You’re the problem. I thought your love for Lucian would never fade away, and now you treat the very man that helped kill your husband with tender care. ’Tis bloody revolting. Lucian’s probably rolling in his grave right now.” Duncan stood up and stomped the grounds to Payton. Gently, he picked up the smaller man, and hurried away.

Back on his feet, Jonah clung to anything in his path to help steady his gait. He trailed yards behind Duncan and Payton. Already, his wounds had begun to heal. The silver blade did some damage and would leave a nasty scar, but it wasn’t a mortal wound, and he had longevity rooting for him whether he wanted it or not.

Up to his eyeballs in uncharted water, André saw Duncan’s point so very clearly. He wanted to leave Serina on the mountain, but then he heard Jonah explain she could be under the vampire’s compulsion. All right, that only compounded the problem at hand but as he looked over his little fireball of a sister-in-law an irresolvable conflict mounted. Out of honor for his brother, he would bring Serina home, but in doing so, he also brought home the possibilities of more trouble. What if Serina turned on one of them? What if more werewolves and vampires ended up dropping in for tea or something with a bit more sustenance? More meat, less potatoes? What if?

“Serina? Can you walk?” he asked, his voice on the tremulous side as he skirted around the situation. His fingers were crossed praying she could. He already had a blazing inferno glowing around him. He didn’t want to set off another storm, unless maybe the forecast said showers. A small curve of his lips crept in. “Can you do a rain dance and extinguish these flames before we all burn to a crisp?”

“I can’t dance. Period!” Serina focused on the ground as she tried to stand. Not used to being on her feet, her thighs burned and shook and she landed flat out on her bum. Curse words chomped at the bit for release. In a heated tone she stated, “André, I can’t walk. And I ’ave no clue how I started the fires. I thought I might spontaneously combust when I saw you, not Lucian. I’ve never experienced such rage. I’m so sorry.” Massaging her temples, she hoped to alleviate the constant berating of Jasper’s cackles as they bounced off the grey matter in her head. “The vampire made it snow on the mountain a few days ago. I could try,” she said even though she held little hope.

Behind closed eyes, she imagined a blinding downpour of large droplets of rain to extinguish the fire...not a bloody drop of water. “Come on already, rain.” Concentrating so hard, she turned three shades of red.

“Serina, it’s not working. You’re just sitting there and…” André turned away from Serina.

“And what, André? Just say it.”

“You’re very red. You look like you’re having a bowel movement.” André had the audacity to snicker under his breath.

She found no humor.

“He must have had a magic wand or something, Serina.”

“Magic wands aren’t real!” she chided.

“Are you sure?”

She slapped her hand to her chest, asking, “Who’s the witch here? Just shut up before I turn you into a ugly, drowned rat.”

And then a light rain trickled from the heavens into the trees and the grounds. “Oh my God, André! This is unbelievable. How did I do that?”

André lifted his hands to catch the falling drops. “I believe you threatened my life.” He grinned. “Come on.” He leaned over and lifted her into his arms. “Serina, please forgive me because I know I’m about to offend you, but—you look pitiful and you smell like
shite.
”

Serina bowed her head in shame. “My apologies, my Lord.”

“My name is André, Serina. Never address me as My Lord again. I am not your master. I believe no man shall ever be.”

After a few minutes in her brother-in-law’s arms, Serina stirred. Uncomfortable and wanting to break the awkward silence between them, she had no idea what to say. Her breath caught in her throat. If she didn’t look into his eyes she would never know it wasn’t Lucian, well except André held her as far away as possible where Lucian would have had her crushed to him with his luscious lips glued to her somewhere. André didn’t return her gaze. He just trudged along the trail stoic, with his stiff upper pouty lip.

That damned lip. She wanted to bite it from his face.

Serina wiggled a bit more, still trying to elicit a response, a word, a glance, a grunt...anything to show the man had a pulse. His inattentiveness irked her. Serina shuddered as a sick visceral sensation clamped down on her. And then, just as quickly, it passed.

Let’s play a little, Ducky. Entertain me, why don’t you, with your new friend.
And look at this—he’s the same make and model as the last one we just offed. Cheaper by the dozen, hey?

Deciding another tactic might benefit her, she placed her head on his shoulder and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She inhaled him without censor needing him to smell like Lucian. He didn’t, and he certainly didn’t react like her husband. André physically turned to stone. Ah! A response after all. Fear. She smiled, but it wasn’t one André would appreciate.

A dark fever crept through André. Right now, he wanted to toss her on her luscious little bottom and be rid of her, but he had to be honest with at least himself, sick as it was, a quick thrill shot down his spine.

Eyes locked shut, he counted to ten, hoping whatever she had up her tattered, little sleeves would end. When he first laid eyes on Serina desire filled his lonely heart, the complete contrast to the here and now. The first vision of her, wearing her emerald dress, her bosom pressing through the satin, ummm! He had wondered how it would feel to have his face buried between her creamy mounds of flesh suffocating him, what her nipples would feel like ripening inside his mouth and here and now, he still had the same perverse thoughts. Oh, he was going to suffocate all right. Lucian would gladly snuff out his last breath.

Confusion wove a stealthy trap around him. Serina tightened the ropes. Did he free himself immediately or fall prey to this enchantress’s lure?

“Serina...I don’t think that you should be doing this,” he whispered, nervous. His hair stood on end, and that wasn’t the only thing stiffening up on him. His trousers felt uncomfortable, snug. He repositioned her a few times and tried to hold her even farther away from him, knowing full well he wouldn’t walk right for a month of Sundays.

“Then do not think, my Lord.” Serina/Jasper understood all too well after they shared his thoughts. She stretched her arms over her head, and hooked him.

Serina licked the saltiness of his coarse stubble away and pursed her lips as if she’d sucked on a lemon. His heart thumped so hard she heard it through his chest. She threw her head back to see the look on his face. She liked what she saw. André turned a ghostly white.

Think, André. She is your brother’s wife, first and foremost
. He would never breach that confidence between them, even with Lucian gone. Never!

But, then again, when cleaned up, she is ravishing
.
But still, there it was again, like a fly he just couldn’t swat away...his brother’s wife—his dead brother’s wife, he tossed into the pot to make himself feel lousier. And still, here she hung in his arms with her soft lips sucking on him, her breasts cozying up to him.

Serina moved again, and wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring them together. Her laugh, a purely sensual melody, tore through him like a tornado. André found his hands massaging her bottom gently. He didn’t remember moving them there. Skillfully, she teased her womanhood over him, just enough to arouse the dead.
What is Serina doing? Why now? Why her? Why me? Why?
He threw his head back and choked back a scream.

Gazing into her black obsidian eyes, his soul slinked away, one bit at a time. Guilt clobbered him again, as would Lucian if he were to witness this twisted entanglement of bodies as this possessed woman rode him. André tried to drop her, but her strength waxed as his waned.

Kiss him, Ducky. Taste his lips, take his essence from him; make him want me—I meant you of course.

She rubbed her most intimate parts over him with vigorous enthusiasm, trying to scratch that annoying little itch between her thighs. She closed the distance and covered André’s mouth chastely. There was nothing other than the cold, foreign, firmness of his lips. He didn’t return her favors. She pushed at his mouth with her tongue and forced entrance. Sensing something irrevocably wrong, Serina hesitated. “André get off me,” she bit out, her voice sounded estranged to her and just as detached as her heart.

Frustrated, André laughed, though it was not a jovial burble, but the exact opposite, hard, distant and cold. “If only I could.” Certain beyond a reasonable doubt he wouldn’t have answers that would exonerate his behavior if anyone were to witness this, André tried again to peel her from him, with what was left of his strength. He pulled, pushed, twisted her and yet there she was—slinking her hips in a circular motion over something that was mere seconds away from making a mess of his trousers. She physically bested him. André dropped to his knees taking Serina down on her back.