Cranberry Blood Read online

  “Well, you’re obviously an eejit.”

  He laughed. “You have serious trust issues.”

  “Trust issues? Says the complete stranger who broke into my house and—”

  “I used your house keys. They were in your jacket pocket,” he said. “And yes, trust issues, says the stranger. The stranger who promises he isn’t here to hurt you.”

  “Just because you say you’re not here to hurt me doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”

  “True. But why go to the trouble of killing you when I could have left you lying in the car park the other night and let the seven greedy Leeches looking for you find you and bleed you dry?”

  My stomach turned as memories of my outing slammed clearly into my brain. I had walked into a trap, so set on finding Carlson that the need to kill the bastard once and for all had blocked all sense and reason. Twelve lower generation Vampires had been waiting on the rooftops surrounding the loading bay. Carlson and Antonio wouldn’t stop talking, so I backed out of the area, and that’s when I saw them all. Their black eyes watched my every move as their mouths hung wide, displaying their fangs.

  “I have waited so long for this moment,” Carlson had said.

  So had I.

  My grandmother never told me where to find him. She wouldn’t let me kill him even though he deserved my sword through his neck more than any other Vampire.

  They obviously found out Gran had died and simply waited for me to come out and play. I went, and they had been waiting for me, and like some amateur, I walked right into their trap. I killed two Vampires in order to get out of the loading bay, and then I had the other ten, along with Carlson and Antonio, chasing me through the dark and empty back streets of London. I tried to lead them somewhere humans wouldn’t find us; much good it did me.

  But none of that explained who this guy was or why the hell he’d made himself at home in my kitchen.

  “So you were there?”

  “That much is obvious. Who do you think brought you home?”

  “How did you even know where I live?”

  “You have sat-nav in your Rover. And, like I said, I’m here to help.” He slid off the stool; the tip of my sword grazed his green T-shirt.

  I clenched my teeth. “Why help me? You don’t even know me.”

  He finally turned to face me. He’d pulled back his copper-blond hair, allowing me to see his face fully. A broad nose accompanied by high cheekbones and a tall forehead set off the deepest green eyes I’d ever seen. A fine layer of copper stubble outlined his square jaw and surrounded thick, peach lips.

  His emerald eyes sparkled as I met his gaze.

  “True, but I helped you because I thought it would be in your best interest to get you back to the safety of your own house.”

  He thought it would be in my best interest? Who the hell does this guy think he is, a knight in shining armour? He looks like a friggin’ Ken doll, for Christ’s sake, and.... Wait a damn minute. “Seven Vampires?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “Before, you said seven Vampires? There were twelve left.”

  “Well, you eventually killed the Italian one before collapsing in front of your car, leaving eleven. The blond one who couldn’t decide whether he wanted to eat you or screw you—”

  “Carlson.” I shuddered at the memory of him pinning my body to the rough concrete road. His thighs clamped my legs shut as he lapped at the blood trickling down my forehead....

  “Well, turns out he, as well as three of the others, actually needed their heads to fight back, but the rest of them ran off, and since my priority is you—”

  “You’re the one who knocked Carlson off me?”

  Memories exploded and rolled around my mind like storm clouds. Carlson had slid his talons into my waist, knocking me to the pavement and causing me to cut my forehead. He had pinned me between the ground and his growing erection while he demanded I beg him to change me. A few cheap insults and shoving some silver in his ribcage was enough to piss him off—as if I would want to be blood-bonded to the bastard who’d helped destroy my mother and father. On my refusal, he’d bared his fangs; about to feed from me...then the next thing I knew, he was gone. Once I got to my feet, I saw four decomposing bodies on the ground, only yards away from where I, myself, had almost bled to death.

  “Yes.” He picked up a glass of orange juice and took a mouthful.

  “Carlson is dead?”

  He gulped. “Well, last time I checked, decapitation usually does the trick. So, yeah.”

  A strange relief flooded me. My hands began to tremble. I tightened my grip, trying to keep a firm hold on my sword. “Are you a hundred and ten percent sure he’s dead?”

  “A hundred and forty-six percent sure.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Carlson, dead. Well, in the sense that he wouldn’t be prowling the streets or feeding ever again. He was actually gone. I suddenly didn’t know whether to hug this strange man, or kill him for taking away my opportunity to kill the monster that’d infected my mother. “Why did you kill him?”

  He laughed. “Well, I was considering letting him and the rest of his friends eat you, but then that wouldn’t have made me a very good guardian, now, would it?”

  What. The. Hell? “Guardian? What do you mean by guardian?”

  “You know, someone who watches over you.”

  “I’m aware of what a guardian is.”

  “Well, why ask if you—?”

  “I. Don’t. Know. You. And I most definitely don’t need a guardian.”

  “Kid, you had twelve Leeches slobbering over you.” He knocked back the rest of the orange juice. “Hell, they laid you out like a damn buffet; your blood was leaking all over the road. They were sitting there, all picking a vein to feed from. You might as well have had a neon sign flashing All You Can Eat above your head.” He put the glass on the breakfast bar. “Forgive me if I am wrong, but you were in deep shit.”

  A shudder ran through me. I had been. The wound in my side had been oozing. I’d watched some of them lap at my blood as it formed a puddle on the concrete. Bile surged up at the memory of their lips on my skin; at Carlson’s throbbing erection digging into my abdomen as his tongue slid down my neck and across my breasts.

  “Right, but—”

  “But nothing. I saved your arse. Just say thank you and forget it.”

  Cheeky bastard. I took a deep breath. “Thanks,” I forced through clenched teeth. “Now get the hell out of my house.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, kid.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  “Fine.” I tightened my grip on the hilt. Angling my body, I lifted the sword. Sunlight hit the blade; its spark of light flashed across his face. “I will have to make you.”

  He laughed. “Unless you hit like a wrecking ball, you have no chance.”

  I swivelled the sword in my right hand. “Is that a bet?”

  “Cute trick.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “You were close to death a few nights ago. I—”

  “A few nights ago?” How long did I sleep?

  “You’ve been out like a light for three days.”

  “Three days.” Shit. Not good. Wait. That meant he’d been here the whole time.

  “I am not going to fight you, kid.”

  “Fine. Just leave, then.”

  He shook his head.

  I waggled the sword. “Suit yourself.”

  He stepped forward. “You want me out; you do it without a sword.”

  Jesus, he is actually just a tad taller than me. Not to mention rather large in the upper torso area. Okay, this might be a bit difficult, considering the lack of space, but I’ll manage.

  “Why? Afraid I might scar you?”

  “I don’t scar that easily. I just don’t want to break your mother’s sword,” he said with a straight face.

  My heart jumped into my throat. “What did you say?”

  “That sword.” He nodd
ed at the blade. “Your mother’s, wasn’t it?”

  My gut began to knot. What the hell is actually going on? “How did you know that?”

  “Because I have seen her use it.”

  “Y’knew my mother?”

  “Not well, but yeah. I knew her.” He turned and pulled a stool from under the bar.

  “How?”

  “You lost a lot of blood, Heather. You need to sit down and eat something.” He indicated the plate of food on the breakfast bar.

  “How did y’know my mother?” I pressed, ignoring all the other questions that started to fill my head.

  “Well, I met her through your grandmother, Sofia, who was friends with my Alpha.” He leaned against the breakfast bar, his focus on me.

  “Alpha?”

  He nodded.

  “So, you’re a—a...Shifter?”

  “And you’re a smart kid.”

  I had never met a Shifter before. I didn’t like the fact that my first one had broken into my house—or let himself in with my key; whatever. I just didn’t like it. And I really didn’t like how comfortable he looked, how calmly he said my name, as if we were old friends.

  “Your gran and my Alpha have a history.” He finished with a slight twitch of his lips.

  So my Gran knew an Alpha Shifter, who had a Pack of Shifters, who sent one of them...who happened to save my life, and then decided it entitled him to sit in my kitchen, eat my food, and drink my juice. Something told me the situation wouldn’t turn out to my liking—whatever the hell said situation actually might be.

  “I don’t understand. Why....” My vision began to blur and the throb in my temples pounded back with a vengeance. The itch in my throat suddenly became unbearable, like the burn of coarse sandpaper...or one of those Leeches’ talons on my skin. My sword hit the floor with a dull clang. My sight bled black. The tension in my body twisted tighter and I swayed. Before I could take another breath, I found myself locked inside a wall of muscle.

  “Easy,” Brendan said softly.

  I froze at our sudden closeness, despite the heat he radiated. Jesus, he’s hot.

  “I won’t hurt you. Just let me help you to the stool,” he said gently. His fingertips pressed into my upper left arm as he guided me toward the stool he had pulled out.

  “Could you get me two of the glass bottles of unlabeled juice from the fridge?” Only one thing could make me feel better and food, unfortunately, wasn’t it.

  “You have a lot of these.” He placed two bottles on the bar before me, along with my sword.

  I ignored the comment and popped the lid. The familiar scent of the red mixture flooded my nostrils as I brought the bottle to my lips and knocked back the liquid. I didn’t stop until the liquid had drained completely. I placed the empty bottle on the table and gave my body a moment to relax; the burning thirst slowly died as the mixture soothed my dry throat like salve on a burn.

  No wonder I felt like shit; my body was dehydrated.

  My eyesight started to clear. I popped the lid off the next bottle and took a mouthful, ignoring the way Brendan’s nose twitched as he sat down opposite me. No doubt he could smell the hidden ingredient, but if he’d really been asked here by my Gran, he would know why I drank what I did. He didn’t comment, and I couldn’t help being thankful for his silence, not having the mental energy to explain my daily needs to him.

  My body started to relax, the tension subsiding along with the thirst, but if I had been out like a light for the last three days, one litre wouldn’t be enough. I picked up the second bottle and drained it.

  “Got a juice addiction?” Brendan’s gaze wandered across his newspaper.

  I returned the container to the table as I looked at him. “I don’t like the fact that I have woken up and there’s a stranger in my house.”

  “Understandable.” He looked up at me. “I wouldn’t, either.”

  My jaw tensed. “I don’t like the fact a complete stranger undressed me.”

  The pieces slowly clicked together as I peeked into his sparkling eyes. I remembered that emerald gaze resting on me under the dull light in the bathroom as he cut off my clothes and cleaned my wounds. His deep voice had vibrated through my aching body as he kept reassuring me I was fine. Safe. And I had feebly kept attempting to hit him, failing miserably every time.

  He held up his hands. “I did it to clean you up, and that is the only reason, kid. You were in pretty bad shape.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Besides, I didn’t want to ruin those satin bed sheets of yours.” He gave me a toothy smile. He almost looked innocent.

  I took a deep breath. “I still don’t like that you did it. Finally, I don’t like the fact that I have never heard of you, even though you claim that both my Gran and mother knew you.”

  “I don’t know why you’ve never heard of me or my Pack. I’m sure your grandmother had her reasons for not mentioning us.”

  “Perhaps, and perhaps you’re telling the truth. I’m not dead. Which, if it’s due to you, I do appreciate it.”

  “Never would have guessed.”

  “But saving my life doesn’t mean I have to like or trust you. Since I am alive, I will give you a chance to explain.”

  He tipped his head and grinned. “I appreciate that.”

  My attention wandered to the faint scar that travelled from the top of his forehead to the outer corner of his left eyelid. How had I not noticed that? Perhaps because his tan made the scar blend in, but not altogether. In fact, his left eyelid drooped slightly. Huh. I wonder how that happened. Shifters healed quickly and rarely scarred.

  “Now, what’s all this shite about being my guardian?”

  He picked up a piece of bacon from my plate.

  “I’m here at your grandmother’s request.” He bit into the bacon, and then chewed.

  “My Gran is—” I took a deep breath and tried to cover the sudden sob that caught in my throat. “—she’s been dead for over a month.”

  “I know.”

  “So how—”

  “Heather.” He finished the bacon. “When your grandmother asked me to come here, well, it was a good while ago. I think you were eight years old at the time.”

  “Eight?” I studied him, waiting for a smile or a sly glance.... Nothing.

  “Yeah.” He picked up another piece of bacon. “She—she certainly had some gift.”

  A gift? Ha, more like a curse, and one that had been passed down to me. Second sight ran in my Gran’s side of the family. The gift came about a little different for everyone: some saw through touching items or people; for others, actions or visions felt like déjà vu. In my case, re-occurring dreams became stronger depending on when my premonition would happen. Mainly the women in our family had the gift—because, obviously, PMS wasn’t enough of a curse—and it sometimes skipped generations. Unfortunately, I got it. Lucky me. As if I didn’t have enough wrong with me.

  I was six years old when I had my first premonition, a dream about my pet tabby cat, Crackers, being hit by a van. The vision had scared the hell out of me. I was so relieved when I found her, unharmed. I decided to hide Crackers in an upstairs cupboard. The way I saw it, if I kept her in a cupboard, a van couldn’t hit her. That made perfect sense.

  My grandmother heard her meowing one day, followed the sound to the cupboard, and opened the door. Poor Crackers must have leapt out and run for freedom.

  I panicked when I went to feed her and didn’t find her in the cupboard. I turned my bedroom inside out, praying she was hiding somewhere. My grandmother eventually discovered me in hysterics in the middle of my bedroom floor, so she sat down next to me and asked me what was wrong. She held me while I explained why I had hidden Crackers in the cupboard. I could have said that she must have “accidentally” been locked in there, but the fact that I had placed her litter tray, bed, and food bowl in the cupboard with her kind of gave me away. Besides, I’d never been able to lie to my Gran. So, I explained to her what I had dreamed, and
when I finished, she just smiled at me.

  I loved my Grandmother. She had one of those smiles that just seemed to settle everyone.

  I knew thinking that a dream was going to come true was stupid, but my Grandmother understood. I hadn’t even told my mother about the dream. For the first time in a week, I felt relieved.

  That was the day my Grandmother told me I had a gift. The day Crackers got hit by the van.

  I knelt on the road in front of Crackers’ crushed body, crying at the fact that I couldn’t save her. My arms trembled because I couldn’t pick her up and hold her. I couldn’t pet her and tell her she was safe. I remember my mother lifting me up and holding me, then taking me into the kitchen while my Gran sat me down at the table and passed me a mug of hot chocolate. She told me that it wasn’t always possible to change the future, as sometimes things happened for a reason. I was too young to understand that at the time. I only knew that Crackers had died, and it was my fault.

  My sight had never been as strong as hers, though. My gift actually paled in comparison. She could see all sorts of things. One minute, she would be sitting with me, talking, and then suddenly, her eyes would glaze over and turn to the back of her skull. She would become very still. She could see anything about anyone, even strangers she bumped into on the street. But that’s how it worked with my Gran. She could touch anyone and see something, and the longer she held on, the more she could see. She could tell an entire life story, if that person wanted to know.

  I saw watered down versions of events that would have an effect in my life. Selfish, but I never complained. I didn’t want to know what was going to happen in anyone else’s life.

  But my Gran had told Brendan, when I was eight years old, to come to me now at the age of twenty-one. And had never mentioned a thing to me about it.

  What the hell did she see that would cause her to keep quiet for thirteen years? And to send a Shifter to “protect” me? A Shifter, for Christ’s sake!

  I didn’t even know if he was telling me the truth.

  “She asked me to give you something.”

  He said that as if he knew what I was thinking. He stood up, walked into the dining room, then through the arch into the living room.