Blood Entangled Read online

  Cover

  Title Page

  Blood Entangled

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  Amber Belldene

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  Omnific Publishing

  Dallas

  Copyright Information

  Blood Entangled, Copyright © 2013 by Amber Belldene

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

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  Omnific Publishing

  10000 North Central Expressway, Dallas, TX 75231

  www.omnificpublishing.com

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  First Omnific eBook edition, July 2013

  First Omnific trade paperback edition, July 2013

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  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

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  Belldene, Amber.

  Blood Entangled / Amber Belldene – 1st ed

  ISBN: 978-1-623420-44-4

  1. Romance—Fiction. 2. Paranormal—Romance. 3. Vampires—Romance. 4. Vampire Hunter—Romance

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  Cover Design by Micha Stone and Amy Brokaw

  Interior Book Design by Coreen Montagna

  Dedication

  To my children:

  My longing for you inspired this book,

  and being your mother has taught me more

  about what it means to love

  than I ever thought possible..

  Chapter 1

  SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH the coastal fog, falling soft and gray onto Lena’s page. She closed her book and curled up on the sofa, which sat beneath a picture window facing the churning ocean. With her eyes shut, she pondered the poem, mentally rotating the possible meanings of phrases until they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. She hadn’t even known she liked poetry. Browsing through Kos’s library in luxurious solitude, she was in heaven, the couch her fluffy cloud. She never had to go back to the Kaštel Estate, never again had to face Andre’s rejection.

  He’d never really wanted her, and she’d been a fool to hang on to hope for so long. Shame burned across her cheeks, but it didn’t matter. In fact, maybe she should thank him for kicking her out. It was the wake-up call she’d needed. She would find a new vampire to work for, begin a new life, and finally find what she was looking for.

  In the meantime, she would enjoy Kos’s house, and his books. She snuggled deeper into the sofa, sighing with contentment.

  A knock on the door roused her.

  Kos would have called before returning, and his house was hidden far from the highway. She shivered, and fear rolled over her in a slow wave. No one lived nearby, and the once-luxurious solitude suddenly turned creepy.

  She peered through the eyehole. A man in a Highway Patrol uniform stood at the door.

  He pounded on the door again. “Hello! I can hear someone in there. I’m Officer Nash from the Highway Patrol. Please open the door.”

  No patrol car was visible in the drive, and sunglasses hid his eyes. Would they be the golden color of a Hunter’s?

  Maybe she was over-reacting, Hunters were only human, after all. But they were ruthless when it came to women like her. Blood servants were the Hunters’ favorite playthings. She hurried to the phone and dialed 9-1-1 anyway. It was better to play it safe. The loud drum of her heart made it difficult to hear the ringing on the line. She peered out the windows for signs of danger. The deck off the back of the house overhung the cliff—no one could reach it from the yard. But outside the kitchen window she spied another man in a police uniform lurking in the tall shrubs.

  “9-1-1,” droned the dispatcher, her voice official and nasal. “What’s your emergency?”

  “Two men in Highway Patrol uniforms are at my house, but they look suspicious and I don’t see their patrol car. Can you please confirm their identity with their dispatcher before I open the door?”

  “That’s unusual. Let me check.”

  The man on the side of the house poured clear liquid from a red plastic gas can. At the front door, the other banged louder, demanding to be let in.

  Her heart boomed in her chest, as much with anger at the dispatcher as with fear. “One of them is pouring gasoline around the house. He is not an officer. Send the real police. Now.”

  The dispatcher paused for only a second. “Ma’am, what is your address?”

  “I’m on Highway One, five miles north of Jenner. West side of the highway.” Frantically, she searched Kos’s desk for a piece of mail with an actual street number on it, and when she found it, she read it to the woman on the line.

  “There’s a sheriff’s deputy about ten minutes away, ma’am. Stay on the line.”

  “Okay.” Lena nodded, even though the dispatcher couldn’t see her.

  The Hunter shouted at the closed door. “Come out, lady. Or we’ll burn the house down with you inside.”

  Anger overrode her instructions to stay on the line. She slammed the phone down and jogged to the door. “Hey, asshole, the real cops are coming. They won’t take kindly to you borrowing their uniforms!” Lena hurried back to the desk and picked up the phone. “I’m back.”

  The dispatcher sighed with relief. “Have they ignited the gasoline, ma’am?”

  “It’s not catching. The wind keeps blowing their lighters out.” Lena could barely breathe; she stood frozen at the window.

  “Good.” The dispatcher’s word rang hollow and hopeless.

  Time slowed down as the man’s lighter blew out over and over again. If he only bent down, he could catch the gasoline covered grasses instantly. But, to her astonishment, he didn’t. She waited, chewing her cheek until she tasted blood. Finally, the other Hunter—surely that was who they were—shouted for him to give up, and they fled into the trees.

  Sirens heralded the arrival of the deputy. Lena opened the door to him before collapsing onto the couch.

  She recounted what had happened, and the young officer leaned his hip against the dining room table, scratching his chin. “Ma’am, the sheriff’s department isn’t equipped to patrol out here regularly. We just happened to be nearby. You shouldn’t stay here alone. Is there somewhere we can take you?”

  Emptiness carved out a pit in her stomach. She had nowhere to go, shy of the two-hour drive to San Francisco. She could hardly impose on the deputy for such a long trip. And, since moving to Andre’s, she’d grown apart from her friends in the city. There was only one person to call—the one who had already shown her great kindness by rescuing her from Andre and sheltering her in his home—Kos.

  “Let me call a friend. He’ll come pick me up.”

  Kos pulled his car into the driveway of his house too fast, and the tires kicked up gravel into his wheel wells. A Sonoma County Sheriff’s Department patrol car was parked near the door. He leaned close to the car and sniffed—real cops, not Hunters. Lucky for them. But the elemental scent of Hunter lingered. They hadn’t been gone long.

  White against the darkening sky, the fog hovered close to the roof of the house, muffling the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. The scene was so peaceful it was hard to believe they’d tried to burn his house down with Lena inside only an hour ago.

  When one of the uniformed officers opened the door, Kos plastered on his I-know-how-to-deal-with-cops smile.

  “You her friend?” The cop’s efficient gaze traveled over Kos.

  “Yes, officer.” Kos extended his hand. “Kosjenic Maras. This is my hou
se. Thank you for keeping her safe. Is she all right?”

  The deputy had a good, firm handshake. “She’s fine. The dispatcher thought the call was a crank, or a nut job, when Lena…” He flipped open a notepad. “Ms. Isaakson said two men in Highway Patrol Uniforms were trying to light the house on fire. But Lena insisted rather forcefully, and the dispatcher sent us over.”

  Kos spun to survey the tree line. “Any sign of the men?”

  “Afraid not.” The young man tapped his notepad on his thigh. “They pulled away in front of us, and we stopped to check on the victim. No other patrol units out here, so they got away.”

  Probably for the best. Kos wouldn’t have been able to question a Hunter in a human jail anyway. Taking two off the streets didn’t matter. There were always hundreds more of them than you ever saw, like cockroaches.

  Her safety had come first to the patrolman, and that warmed Kos up to the young man. Still, he stood in the doorway, keeping Kos from Lena. “Is there anything else we can do for you, officer?”

  The boyish cop scratched his high-and-tight brown hair. He surveyed the yard and then frowned at the doorframe he was blocking. His frown turned sheepish, and he stepped out of the way to let Kos in. “Sorry, sir. No, sir.”

  Inside the house, the air was much warmer, and smelled like wood smoke and Lena.

  She called out the moment she saw him. “I’m not going.” His father’s cook—no, former cook—sat on Kos’s sofa looking fierce and lovely.

  “Hello to you, too.”

  She seemed fine—no scent of fear, pulse slow and steady—surprisingly calm and composed. For the first time since she’d called, he took a full breath, because she was safe and unafraid. She drew her long legs up underneath her on the couch. That was good—he found them immensely distracting. She crossed her arms over those awe-inspiring breasts, which was also helpful.

  “Come on, we’ve got to go.” He pointed his thumb at the door.

  She pouted. “I said no.”

  When had she grown so stubborn? Dropping into a squat with his elbows on the coffee table, he peered into her eyes, the same dark blue as the ocean outside. “You’re not safe.”

  “I feel better than I have in years. Away from Andre, I’m my old self. I won’t go back. I have friends I can stay with in San Francisco. Take me to Santa Rosa and I’ll get a bus.”

  Krist i svi sveci—by Christ and all the Croatian saints, she was difficult.

  “Good chance the Hunters know your name,” Kos said, “which means they can find you anywhere. It’s possible they’ll even tail us from here.”

  “I won’t go.” She shook her head and crossed her arms more tightly.

  If her resistance weren’t so infuriating, it would have been cute. Kos set his jaw and put on his most determined expression. “You will.”

  Her mouth opened in surprise, but she still said, “No.”

  Damn, she had a way of making him tense. He rolled his shoulders. Reason wasn’t working, neither was coercion. He had one more option.

  “Lena, do it for me. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” It wasn’t strictly manipulation if it was true.

  “What do you mean?”

  He leaned over the coffee table. “In Croatia we lost four members of our household. I promised I’d never let that happen again. Please don’t endanger yourself and put me through that a second time.”

  She inched toward him, still hugging herself tightly.

  “Please?”

  At last, she dropped her arms to her sides. “Okay. I’ll go if I can borrow one of your books.”

  “I have loads of books at Kaštel too. You’re welcome to any of them.”

  “But I like this one.” She touched the cover of A New Selected Poems by Galway Kinnell where it lay on the coffee table.

  “You do?”

  “I like the one about the footsteps.” She blushed, her eyes aimed at the book.

  A lump formed in Kos’s throat—the poem was a favorite, about how Kinnell’s young son appeared every time his parents finished making love, to climb between them in the bed where he was conceived. The last time he’d read it, it had stirred longings for impossible things, so he’d abandoned Kinnell entirely.

  Lena thumbed the pages of the book where it lay on the table. She still didn’t look at him. “It got me thinking I might not want to do the whole blood servant thing anymore. Maybe it’s time for me to leave household service and have a normal life.”

  “I understand that feeling, but the decision will have to wait. I’ll help you find a job, with humans or vampires, but first we need to keep you safe.”

  Her head tilted, but she finally nodded and grabbed her overnight bag.

  As they approached his father’s winery, she rummaged in her purse, closely examined her fingernails, bounced her foot rapidly. Poor Lena. His shoulders bunched again, and he clenched the steering wheel. Damn Andre. He had done this to her—made her so unhappy, neglected her. She was a flesh and blood woman in need of kindness and affection, not to mention sex.

  How had Andre resisted her charms? She was easily the most desirable female Kos had ever met, and Andre had treated her like a gadfly.

  Kos turned off the highway into the estate’s winding drive and his skin went cold. Something was wrong. The rank smell of Hunter wafted out of the air conditioner vent. There was a loud burst, and the steering wheel jerked.

  Krist! A tire had been shot—they were under attack.

  Her eyes were huge with fear, welling up from wherever she’d hidden it earlier.

  “Lena.” She didn’t respond, so he shook her shoulder gently. “Listen to me. Hunters are shooting at us. When I say go, get out of the car and run to the front. I will carry you from there to the house.”

  “I don’t want to weigh you down. I’ll run myself.”

  “Lena, your weight is nothing to me and I’m ten times faster than you. I will pull you across the seat and out my own damn door, unless you do what I say. Okay?”

  She stifled a whimper, bobbing her head in obedience.

  “Now.”

  She opened her door and scurried out. Two Hunters were waiting for her, their eyes burning golden in the darkness.

  Krist, he’d let his guard down—hadn’t seen them. He froze in place as two of them pulled her backward off the drive toward the bushes. Just humans, but the gun pointed at her head made them dangerous and forced him to stop and think. They would want her alive, to enjoy in all the sick ways Hunters used household women. But they would kill her too, if it was expedient.

  His heart pounded and rage boiled up inside him. They dared to threaten her. Twice in one day, they’d invaded his domain, coming after a woman under his protection.

  No time to get possessive. Think.

  Six yards to one Hunter, eight to the one with Lena. He could break both their necks and have her safe before they could shoot. Another shot rang out and a bullet grazed his side.

  Lena cried out. She paled, her fair hair a halo in the moonlight. He had to save her. Power surged through him, gushing through his veins and contracting his muscles tight around his bones. Toes twitching in his shoes, he gave himself a countdown. Three…two…one.

  He was on the ground behind the Hunters before he realized he hadn’t sprinted, but flown. He’d flown—for the first time in his life.

  Laughter burst from his mouth, and on its heels a string of triumphant Croatian expletives. Both Hunters turned. He went for the bigger one first, gripping his head and shoulder to snap his neck. The other one yanked Lena and tried to hold her in front of him. She fought him, throwing an elbow to his gut and a heavy stomp to his foot. He pushed her down, and she landed hard.

  “Lena?”

  Kos froze, and the sharp shooter had time to aim. A bullet tore through his shoulder, burning through flesh and bone before exiting the other side.

  It didn’t matter.

  Was she hurt? Her slender rib cage rose and fell rapidly where she l
ay on the grassy edge of the drive. The Hunter stood over her, his frightened eyes glued to Kos. In one fast step, Kos closed the distance between them and twisted the man’s head until his spine severed with a pop.

  Hunters approached on all sides. A line of blood trickled from Lena’s hairline. Banding his arm around her ribs, he said, “Hold on.”

  She laced her arms around his neck; his shredded shoulder burned like hell, but it was already knitting back together, causing his skin to itch and tingle. He launched them into the air, fueled by the need to protect her.

  “Oh my God,” Lena whispered. “You’re flying. Kos, you’re flying!”

  He landed at the front door more gracefully than he expected.

  His brother Bel promptly opened the door. “Son of a bitch. You flew!” He dragged Lena inside. “Shit, Kos, you’re soaked in blood. How bad are you hurt?”

  “Fine. Healed already. Shield holding?”

  “Seems to be,” Bel replied.

  Good. They were safe from any firepower the Hunters might try. Kos shooed him away and focused on Lena. She trembled, but otherwise held herself together.

  “Kos, you’re bleeding.” She touched his shirt, and her hand came away red.

  She would worry until he proved he was fine.

  “Not anymore. Look.” He undid two buttons on his ruined shirt and showed her his bare chest.

  “Oh, wow.” Dazed, she looked from her hand to his chest and back.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You have a head wound. Anything else?”

  She touched her head where she was bleeding. “My wrist.”

  The swelling worried him. He manipulated her hand, and she flinched, but her range of motion was good. “Doesn’t appear broken. Just a sprain. But let’s get some ice on it.”

  In the kitchen, he sat her down on a stool next to the counter and made an ice pack. While she held it to her wrist, Kos cleaned the blood off her head.

  He’d never been so close to her, aside from their quick flight to the front door. Her blond curls were feather soft under his fingers.