A Cursed Bloodline Page 82


“Celia, no!” Aric’s voice was that of a beast.

I kept my focus on Anara. If I looked at Aric, it would’ve been to say goodbye—to admit defeat—and I refused to deny our baby one last chance to survive. No. I was going to give Anara everything he deserved. “He wants me dead, Aric. If there’s any truth to his preeminence bullshit, then he shouldn’t have any problem killing me—without his stolen power.”

Anara ransacked me, but I was ready. I flipped him over, driving my knee deep into his groin. He snapped at me with his jowls, but I was too fast. I knife-handed him right in the eye and yanked it from the socket. He roared in pain. I silenced him with an elbow to the jaw, forcing him to sever his tongue.

The wolves howled, egging on their Leader. Taran, Shayna, and Aric yelled, begging me to run. They didn’t understand. A pack of wolves waited outside, ready to maul me if I tried to flee. There was no escaping Anara. Evil like him needed to die. So I ignored them and ripped off his ears. He lashed out at me half-blind, scratching me across the chest. After being beaten so many times, tears to my skin seemed like more of a nuisance. I fought. My God, how I fought. He kept me from changing or shifting, but he couldn’t stop my punches, kicks, and strikes.

I battled to reach his chest. But Anara whirled and veered, protecting his heart and forcing my blows elsewhere. He bled in rivers and hollered with agony. I was beating him. He knew it. Just like he knew he couldn’t allow me to win.

The howling of wolves erupted full blast and launched me across the room. This time, I wasn’t getting up. My left leg snapped when I landed. I coiled around it, screaming.

I looked at Aric then, but it was hard. I couldn’t stop my tears. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to marry him and raise our family. As Anara’s paws scraped against the floor toward me, I knew it was no longer possible.

“Don’t you touch her!” Aric growled.

Anara moved slowly, healing with every step until his freakish form was whole once more. He hovered over me, smiling with his bloody fangs. He threw back his leg and aimed for my stomach. I rolled to my opposite side, shielding my belly. His foot cracked against my back, making me roar with agony. He paused before leaping over me. Again he tried to kick my stomach and again I spun and protected my belly despite the horrid pain of my broken body.

He walked around me to meet my face. “Why did they tell you to run?” I barely heard him over Aric’s snarls and my sisters’ screams. “Why did they fight so fiercely to save you?” His breath released in frighteningly rapid bursts. “And why do you cover yourself there?” He pointed accusingly at my belly. Everything in his face told me he finally knew my secret. “No,” he gasped. “No!”

Anara clutched my throat and yanked me up, shoving his distorted wolf face against mine. He shook with all the rage from hell while my arms fell limp at my sides. “Blasphemous whore! I shall make you suffer for your sin.”

He drove his claws into my pelvis.

And I felt my baby die.

Pain—sharp, burning, and crushing—ravaged my body at once. Warm fluid leaked between my legs, sliding down to my feet and dripping on the floor. Aric howled in anguish. He felt our baby leave me, too. That’s when I knew my time on earth was over. I needed to be with our son. But before my eyes could close forever, I thrust my hand at Anara’s chest. No, not into his heart—that was never the goal—but at the large vial full of blood he kept so close. I snatched it from the chain around his neck and smashed it against the floor, releasing the essence of the Elders.

And his hold on Aric.

Chapter Thirty-three

The sun shone brightly, warming me and abating the chill burrowing deep into my bones. I’d returned to the same field from my visions. My fingers slid over the soft brown blanket where I sat beneath a brilliant blue sky. I tucked the skirt of my long white dress to cover my feet, fearful that terrible cold would return to claim me once more.

It was then I noticed the gentle yellow glow of my skin. My aura, I thought. The realization made me smile and so did its growing intensity. It called to mind sunny days from my childhood. I relished how happy it made me feel, until the wicked sounds behind me made me veer in alarm.

Dark clouds covered the distant horizon. I remained within the safety of the sun, but I sensed the fury, hate, and violence they carried. I could hear what lurked within them—primal roars, the crushing of bones by powerful jaws, the tearing of fleshy tissue, the ripping of ligaments, and the cries of pain that accompanied such afflictions. Screaming—so much screaming—the wretched squeals from an enormous beast being slaughtered without pity or remorse. I lurched away to stare where the sun made it safe and granted me peace from it all. But then I heard the voices of my loved ones, forcing me to turn back toward the madness.

“Damnit, Celia—don’t you leave us!” Bren’s voice boomed, commanding me though his sorrow etched into every word. My fingers swept over my chest, expecting hands to be rhythmically pushing down. But there were none and my pain was slowly dissolving.

Emme’s voice sounded desperate. “It’s not working. I’m losing her!”

The yellow light around me surged. Another joined it, this one white. Makawee’s frail and heartbroken voice chanted in that beautiful language she’d shared with me once before.

Taran’s hysteria wouldn’t allow her to speak. Was she in pain? I couldn’t understand why she cried so hard. She was so beautiful and spirited. Didn’t she know she’d be all right without me? They all would.

Shayna sobbed. “Aric. Celia’s dying!”

A long tortured screech spilled through the black clouds. Thunder and lightning blasted, spreading the ominous darkness like sand. Then silence. The clouds diffused, revealing the same hallowed light protecting me.

The voices should’ve stopped yet they didn’t. More mantras joined the others, this time in Japanese and Korean. I recognized the languages through Gemini’s and Chang’s voices. Ying-Ying was there, too, singing in that delicately sweet soprano.

Something warm and delicious slid into my mouth. I knew what it was and spat it back out. My shoulders were shaken forcefully, although my body failed to move. “You do not have my consent to pass on. Now take my blood!” Misha ordered. More fluid was forced in. Again, I refused it. On the ground where I’d spat lay diamond hearts and tiny tears.

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