Chapter One
He hadn’t expected her to be dead.
Jamie O’Connell narrowed his eyes as he studied the still woman before him. Her body had been placed—very carefully, he had no doubt of that—in the middle of a large bed. White, gossamer curtains billowed around the bed, looking like thin spider webs that had been spun to shield her body.
“This is a bad idea,” Sean Whelen, Jamie’s first in command, muttered as he grabbed Jamie’s arm. “There’s a reason she’s under, man. The woman is evil.”
She didn’t look evil. She looked…beautiful.
Jamie shook off Sean’s hold. The guy swore but stepped back as Jamie shoved away those too-thin curtains and let his gaze sweep over the prize he’d sought for so long.
The woman was pale, but that was expected of her kind. It wasn’t like she would have been a fan of sunbathing even before she’d succumbed to the curse that had locked her body. Her hair was long and dark, lustrous and gleaming against the bedding. A silken, white dress covered her, skimming over what he could see were ample br**sts and the kind of hips he’d always enjoyed holding tight.
“We’re going to die,” Sean told him, voice definite. “Probably in the next five minutes. Some horrible, painful death.”
Jamie tossed him a glare. “Not helping.”
Sean rocked back on his heels.
“And it’s not like we have a choice,” Jamie muttered. Hell. He didn’t want to do this. Waking the woman known as the Blood Queen wasn’t exactly something that Jamie had ever thought he’d do.
But sometimes, a werewolf could sure get desperate. Especially when the lives of his remaining packmates were on the line.
So he put his hands on her body. Ice cold. Figured.
“She’s not breathing, is she?” As usual, Sean kept talking.
But this time, the guy was right. “No.” That was why she looked…dead. When he’d first heard the story about the Blood Queen, he’d just thought it was bullshit.
He wasn’t staring at bullshit.
He’d had to kill his way through half a dozen paranormal bastards in order to get to her. Their blood still stained his clothes. But if the woman before him could really do what he thought, then the hell he’d walked through would be worth it.
His fingers skimmed down the delicate curve of her cheek. She certainly didn’t look like the walking nightmare rumors whispered about in the dark. Her chin was a little pointed, her lips sensual and full—and red. Long lashes cast faint shadows on her cheeks, and Jamie wondered what color her eyes would be.
Since he planned on waking her up real soon, Jamie knew he was about to find out.
He lifted his hand away from her face and claws ripped from his fingertips. “Go outside,” Jamie ordered Sean. “Guard the door, just in case…”
“Uh, yeah, in case the crazy bitch gets loose and kills you?”
No. He wasn’t worried about that. Jamie had this, her. “In case we’ve been tracked. I don’t want anyone stopping me. Not until I’ve put the bond in place.”
Silence.
Then Sean gave a low whistle. “You’re…really going to do it?”
What, did Sean think he’d gone to all this trouble for the hell of it? Shits and grins?
“You know…you know what will happen to her if you do this, Jamie.”
Now Sean almost sounded sorry for the “crazy bitch” in question. Jamie forced a shrug. “And I know what will happen to me.” He turned his head and met Sean’s dark stare. “I’ll make my pack stronger.”
The pack was all that mattered.
He’d returned to the pack just one year before and found them under attack. An attack that had come from within. Men, women—they’d been brutally killed. The pack had dwindled down to just six—six—werewolves.
There would be no more deaths in the O’Connell pack. But the pack…oh, yes, the pack would have its vengeance.
His gaze turned back to the woman. Hello, vengeance.
She didn’t stir.
“Go outside,” Jamie ordered again.
This time, Sean obeyed. Jamie heard the shuffle of Sean’s boots over the dusty floor and the creak of the old door as it slid closed.
Then he was alone with the prey that he’d sought for the last six months. The instrument of his revenge.
He raised his right hand, and his claws slashed across his left wrist. Blood welled, dripped. Clenching his teeth, Jamie put his hand over the woman’s mouth and he waited.
The seconds ticked by as his heartbeat thundered in his ears.
And nothing happened.
Jamie lifted his hand. Blood had smeared over her lips. He leaned toward her. His index finger pushed lightly inside her mouth as he searched for the fangs that should have been there.
Only they weren’t. The woman had perfectly normal, human teeth. No fangs.
He pulled back. The wound he’d made on his wrist throbbed with a dull ache, but he ignored it. Pain didn’t matter. Never had, to him. Frowning, he put his hand on her chest. He didn’t feel a heartbeat. Despite what humans believed, the hearts of vampires actually did beat.
Only her heart was ominously still.
His back teeth ground together. “Maybe you are dead,” he gritted out.
The Blood Queen had been under a spell for the last fifteen years. A spell, a curse, same damn thing to him.
The blood of a werewolf had put her under—that blood had frozen her body and locked the spell’s magic in place.
And the blood of a werewolf was supposed to wake her. Only she wasn’t waking up.
Hell. So much for his big, secret weapon. Jamie would just have to find another way to destroy Latham and—
She had golden eyes. Dark, deep golden eyes.
“I’m not…dead,” she said, her voice a husky purr that actually seemed to roll through him, “but you…are.” And her hand flashed up. The woman was strong—far stronger than he’d expected—and she grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him toward her.
Then her mouth, her very sharp teeth, bit into his throat.
Instead of being afraid, Jamie smiled and let the Blood Queen taste him.
Drink up, baby. It’s your funeral. Because with every drop of blood that she took in these first moments, she was just locking herself to him ever more deeply. Bonding them, body to body, blood to blood, until there would be no escape. Not for either of them.
His claws dug into the sheets as he held his body perfectly still.
Revenge would sure be one bloody bitch.