Blood Chosen: BLOOD, #3

By Tamara Rose Blodgett

"Kept me on the edge of my seat!" ~ Kindle Customer

"... everything...you could want: intelligence, humor, romance, family, adventure, suspense, action..."
"... Complete plot twists..."
"... Fantastic book...Great writing..."

From New York Times, USA TODAY and #1 Dark Fantasy bestseller, Tamara Rose Blodgett, comes True Blood meets Twilight, in a dark tale of twisted loyalties, where one girl's blood is the salvation for both vampires and werewolves.

Synopsis:
Julia has Awakened and in so doing bound herself to her one true soulmate, the king to her queen. The blood-binding, which was foretold between fang and claw, ultimately rescued her from certain death and the Circle of Protection is now complete. Yet, another would-be queen vies for the position of ultimate ruler and believes she has found an ancient loophole that will upset the new balance of potential peace that has been put into play by Julia's prophesied reign.

Jacqueline will stop at nothing to achieve her goals, even using the dreaded Were to further her victory.

Cynthia and Adrianna form an unlikely alliance to survive against an enemy that now has help for her madness to take shape.

Emmanuel, the Feral and Truman find themselves drawn to defend and protect a new order with a past that haunts their efforts.

Can Julia and her one true mate bring peace to the species and rescue the ones they love? Will the Blood Singers fulfill their destiny to unite three groups of sworn enemies to come together as one?

Full-length novel; New adult fiction, 17+

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. Rose Press LLC
• Release date: Jan 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781301635955

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

SLASH/BUCK

Buck scented the dawn as it broke the canopy of the trees with columns of light that appeared washed by blood. His claws spit dirt behind him in a spray, racing toward the scent of a female who could never be his.

And another he was tasked to protect.

He was the go-to dog, used for his stealth, and his I don't give a shit attitude.

Slash had nothing to live for, there were no matings on the horizon for him, his face was a ruin from battle and his position of Alpha undermined by Alan Greene. He did not hold it against Greene. It was what it was.

There could be only one successor. It was the way of the Were and their distant cousin, the wolf. Were weren't picky: if Packmaster was what you sought, you must kill to obtain it.

Death didn't bother Slash... but for what? However, want and genetics were two different beasts. The first was intellect; the latter was about biology.

And Buck's biology was asserting itself in one fell swoop of animal preordainment.

His wolf wanted Adrianna, lone Alpha female of the Northwestern den. His wolf didn't give two shits if she was unobtainable or off limits. There were four subspecies of Were: gold, black, gray and red. Buck knew that his grandsire had been a fullblood red. Depending on how one surveyed circumstance, it gave Slash unfortunate proclivities. Wonderful in war, a detriment in interaction within his den. There might be some logic in the natural counter-evolution of the dwindling red Were population. Perhaps nature strove to eradicate that which was self-destructive.

In this case, Slash needed every ounce of red blood he owned. He knew that Tony had taken Cynthia Adams, newly manifested Singer healer and Adi of the Northwestern Pack. That intel was all the motivation Slash needed to pursue their scents.

It could be he wasn't alone as a cross scent moved over his path and his paws punched the ground as he straightened to semi-upright, his flesh and bones bleeding into his half-wolf form.

Slash lifted his snout. Immediately he found the scent of his packmates. And one other, whom he did not recognize.

Slash knew what the unknown Were was in every fiber of his being.

Red.

Like himself. His human-looking brows lowered over a prominent brow ridge, where green eyes spun languidly, with keen intelligence.

And bravery, a common default of that particular variety of wolf. Or stupidity. Slash thought bravery and stupidity were very close railroad ties in his parallel universe.

A faraway scream shattered the stillness of his hesitation in the forest. Slash swiveled toward that unnatural sound in the wood full of creatures.

It was not the sound of an animal but a female.

One who was in peril.

Slash ran, and to the east a small pack of Were ran to intercept him. Lawrence, the Northwestern Packmaster and Karl Truman, who had been turned by David's bite of the Southeastern and brought by the blood of the red wolf that was already part of the fabric of his genetics.

They too had felt the pull of the Were in one area. They veered off their premeditated course to the Region One Singer compound and instead, made their way to the cloistered and mixed group.

Cyn

Holy smokes, Cyn thought, watching as the snake in the grass leader, Jacqueline, made her way toward them at the same time as Tony.

Her wary gaze locked with Adi's as Cyn poured her newfound healing energy into the female Were. When the damage made from the telekinetic fall caused by that bitch reversed itself, Cynthia decided right then if they survived this next mess, she was going to hurt them.

Permanently.

Cyn loved Jules, she did. But where Julia was soft and thoughtful, Cyn was decisive and pragmatic. That translated to: don't fuck with me. Or, better: don't mess with anyone I care about. Cyn didn't know where her fierce loyalty stemmed from and understood on some level it was unreasonable.

But things just were what they were, unchangeable like the sun rising and setting.

Cyn stood from her crouch next to Adi, the leaves crunching under her feet. She felt rather than saw Adi stand as well, the fur gone, replaced with features that looked heartbreakingly young in the unforgiving light of dawn. The ethereal colors of pink, orange and red covered them as Adi and Cyn backed away from the advancing pair.

Adi glanced at Tony and Jacqueline as they drew nearer. Oh... shit sandwich, she said in a shaky voice. Cyn barked out a laugh brought on by pure adrenaline and nervousness.

Tony got closer, scanning their faces and said, You bitches are mine.

Gawd, Cynthia thought, he's like a B-rated movie or something. Some of her dismissal of his lack of intellect must have shown because his brows dropped above his eyes, casting them in shadow and hiding them from the first light of the day.

She thought he was a dumb ass and didn't mind him knowing it. But, Cynthia flicked her eyes at Adi, then her gaze slid to Jacqueline; poisoner of her bestie, and she felt a frown darken her face.

Jacqueline smiled at Cyn but it never reached her eyes. That wench didn't have a legit bone in her body.

Well, well... what do we have here? Jacqueline asked like she was inquiring about the weather.

Tony's gaze shifted to her. Shut up, Singer bitch.

Jacqueline turned that laser beam of cruelty on Tony and he fell to his knees, hands at his throat. The universal sign for choking was as obvious as if he'd said the words I can't breathe.

Adi and Cyn began to back away. Cyn didn't know Adi's exact thoughts but she figured if psycho one and two wanted to go at it, they could. Without Adi and her in attendance.

Tony plunged to his hands and knees, his fingers clawing at the forest floor.

Are you going to be a good dog? Jacqueline asked in a cultured murmur.

Tony's body trembled. To be brought low by a female Singer... or any female was a blow to his considerable ego. But as the oxygen left his body and blackness began to eat at the edges of his consciousness, he gave a nod of his head, very like the tap out so popular in cage fighting.

Survival was paramount to Tony.

When he felt her hand in his hair he cringed, gasping, though there was no breath to relieve him as he hung there-- suspended between consciousness and not. His palms slapped the decomposing earth at his sides. The two females he hoped to denigrate were but a dim memory.

Tony was so aware his life hung in the balance.

Jacqueline scratched behind his ear, then petted his head. There, there... you will do as I say... or die, she warned softly.

Sweat beaded under Tony's nose and a low mewling sound broke the seal of his lips, robbing him of even more precious oxygen.

Comply or die, Jacqueline repeated, her fingers tightening in his hair, jerking his head back with a strength borne of her lineage. Royal blood, mixed with age, gave Jacqueline power she otherwise would not have possessed.

The cords on Tony's neck stood out, his face turning purple. His hands beat the damp earth, fingers involuntarily clenching into the dew-kissed soil. Finally, moving against her brutal hold, he gave another stiff nod.

His eyes met hers, black meeting black and Tony knew... that he'd met a female who matched him. Who was maybe more than he was. Tony hated it. It also made him terribly aroused, violence and sex were inextricably linked inside him. When death swirled around him, instigated by this Singer bitch, he wanted her.

It made no sense, compulsions never did. But it made perfect sense for Tony to embrace it.

I smell your desire, Wolf, Jacqueline stated. And I do not rut with dogs like a bitch Were... you stupid creature. She released Tony abruptly and he fell, the invisible steel band that had been around his sternum instantly gone.

He gagged, alternately coughing and sucking greedy lungfuls of oxygen.

After his coughing fit settled down into breathing sans choking, Tony looked up. His eyes sought Jacqueline's but her's lay elsewhere.

During their power play, the quarry had fled.

Tony didn't have to wonder if Jacqueline had wanted the Singer and female Were. He would have. And in that, Tony assumed, they were much alike.

Maybe in other ways as well.

He smiled. Nice going... the females have fled, he spat.

Jacqueline lifted one small shoulder in dismissal and replied, It is of no importance-- I have you, she said, her eyes drilling into Tony's, the black depths like dimly lit obsidian marbles. And you will use that keen nose of yours to retrieve them.

He stood, coming to her side and showed his neck.

Jacqueline laughed. You need not show me your subservience. I know that I have it, she said, giving a low chuckle, her hand lifting in the air and closing tightly in a fist at her last few words.

Tony frowned, looking down at her. He could crush her; wanted to. He also wanted her in the other way as well. Those two warring impulses were cross-wired in his brain. They always had been.

He cocked his head. Tell me, pure Singer, he began with thinly veiled sarcasm, do you have Were in your lineage?

Jacqueline was instantly offended, though her gaze skipped away like a rat that couldn't find its hole. There are no mongrels in my ancestry.

Tony could smell her lie. Uh-huh, Tony responded, and scented of her deeply, his nostrils flaring wide. What he found gave him pause. She might not know, he thought. If that were the case, she was not all that she seemed.

Come... Were, Jacqueline began to walk away, her body showing that that path of conversation was clearly over.

Tony gave a great exhale then followed.

I suppose you have some plan, Singer? Tony asked in a low voice, the growl of his kind threaded through it as they moved through the forest, the smell of the woods overwhelming to his sensitive nose.

Jacqueline didn't feel warned; he could do nothing. Only a certain type of Were was a danger and this Were of the black posed no threat. Less than a threat, if the truth were known. But Jacqueline was all about the tools at her disposal. And that is what Tony was to her.

A tool. Jacqueline buried a snicker, though she was quite sure he could scent some of the emotion behind it. However, with her Tracker abilities, she could scent as well. The advantage was hers. After all, he knew not what she possessed and his skill set was an open book.

Perfection. "I do have a plan as a point-of-fact," Jacqueline replied.

Tony stilled, grabbing her thin arm. She quirked a brow, looking at his hand on her like it was something filthy.

Bite me, he said with a smirk.

Jacqueline flushed with anger and opened her mouth to deliver a scathing quip when he put a finger to his lips. They come from the east.

Jacqueline could sense nothing, smell nothing. Who comes? she asked instead of the retort she had planned.

Tony growled low in his throat. The Packmaster of the Northwestern den... and one that my nose doesn't recognize.

They stood for a few moments in a wood gone still. The small animals hid as the unnatural predators closed in around them. Jacqueline wondered why she couldn't sense them while Tony wondered what could be done. Their thought processes were not known to each other but were eerily the same.

Ah! Jacqueline hissed.

Yeah, Tony agreed.

Jacqueline swiveled to him, her skirts swirling and getting caught in the debris of the forest, her eyes flashing like black fire. Tell me you can do something.

I can't... he reluctantly admitted. What about you? You're this tight-ass Singer...

His airway began to close and his palm flew up in supplication, the bitch stole his breath... and not in a good way. I didn't mean it as a dis....

It opened with a gasping release.

Jacqueline, she said in way of off-handed introduction.

Tony nodded as he made his hand stay by his sides instead of going to his throat. He wouldn't give the bitch the satisfaction.

"I simply meant maybe you could sense something."

No, she said curtly.

Well, damn- chop my nuts off, Tony thought.

Jacqueline paced, a ripple of disquiet building as the scent of the pack grew stronger.

Suddenly, Jacqueline knew what to do.

I'll cover our tracks while you squire us away.

How? he scoffed.

"Is the how of it really important?" she asked, crossing her arms in impatience.

Tony could smell the other Were. They'd take them and for some reason, the Singer bitch's skills were down for the count. Too bad she was all up his ass. Why couldn't she have a blank spot with him?

His fucking luck.

Jacqueline didn't ask his permission and he remained silent. Of course he wanted to know what kind of Singer mojo she had going on. But it was obvious she had the upper hand.

For now.

He watched Jacqueline's symmetrical features distort in concentration. When Tony's sense of smell left him, he felt blind. He was so used to the million different scents that had always been a part of his existence.

What have you done? he whispered.

I have the ability to Negate others’... talents.

I can't fucking smell my own ass. I'm nose-blind, Tony growled, his fists bunching by his sides.

She smiled. Good. As I don't want to be party to you partaking in an orifice fest.

He scowled at her. "Good? Hell no, we're goddamned blind..."

Jacqueline folded her arms again underneath her breasts and Tony's eyes dipped down to take in the sight. She stared at him for a pregnant moment. You're a crude beast..., she stated as fact.

Because it was.

Tony, he said in a delayed introduction.

Well, Anthony... Jacqueline said slowly as she circled him. I do not have a highly refined mastery as Negator so... the best I could do was blanket a five mile radius. If it were my primary skill, I could have left you in a 'scent bubble' that encapsulated you and left everyone else senseless. Alas, I cannot. She looked into his eyes and he glowered back at her.

Tough broad, he thought with the beginnings of grudging admiration.

Fine, he said. Get on.

He burst his skin and it slid off like a snake's. The gunk, blood and sloughed marrow pooled into the absorbent forest floor, dampening it with his transition.

Jacqueline tensed at the harsh speed of the change, then went to him. She grimaced as her clothing became ruined with the residue of the change, her hem six inches deep in his human cast-offs.

Where? he asked in a voice filled with gravel, pained by the rapid change he'd forced on himself.

She bent and whispered into his ear. Tony's smile was worn strangely by the face of his wolf.

His admiration for Jacqueline grew. She was diabolically clever.

Tony might spare her after all... if she could be bent to his agenda.

Cyn and Adi stopped running, their hands on their knees, chests heaving. Cyn had a killer stitch in her side, putting both hands on her side, bending over at the waist as she did. This sucked.

Adi stood first. That blew goats.

Cyn laughed. Yeah... totally.

Who is that bitch? Adi asked, her nose involuntarily moving toward where they'd just come and finding her usually deft senses dulled. She gave a frown, her dark blonde hair falling forward and hiding half her face.

Cyn shrugged. She's the one who hurt Jules.

Adi frowned. How do ya know? Her root beer brown eyes earnest.

Cyn squirmed from the question. She was gonna sound like a tard. Well... here's the thing. I just became... something. That Singer thing you were talking about? Yeah, that. Cyn stood, her breathing still irregular. And now... well when I healed Julia there was a... Cyn stopped, her pale green eyeballs rolling upward, thinking. A... taste to the poison.

Poison? Adi asked, her frown deepening to a scowl.

Cyn nodded. Oh yeah, it was poison and somehow, the bearer of the shit leaves their mark.

Like a signature? Adi asked.

Yeah. Good call, mutt.

Huh, Adi said, head bent, her face speculative. It wasn't a good look.

Hey, I didn't mean anything by it, Cyn said, backtracking.

Adi met her eyes, ignoring the dig. I screwed up, big time. I should've...

What? That whack job... she mowed you over with her head, Cyn said, tapping her temple. There's nothing you could have done, Adi, she said, looking down at the much shorter girl.

Yeah, Adi agreed like she didn't believe it, still looking at her feet. For all her bravado, she sure takes a lot of the responsibility on her shoulders, Cyn thought.

The girls stood quietly for a time then Adi said, It's time to make our way back.

Cyn shook her head. No, they'll be expecting that. It's not safe.

It's safe, a voice said from out of the forest.

Holy shit! Cyn yelped, stumbling backward and Adi grinned with relief.

What's so damn funny? Cyn asked, insulted. I think a drop of pee came out!

They're Were... and I know them. Adi's confidence returning in one fell swoop.

Friendly? Cyn asked, putting a tree trunk in front of her like a shield. Not that it'd do a damn bit of good. She'd seen a Were throw another halfway through a tree, felling it as smoothly as an ax. Yup, things were so not okay if they weren't friends.

Then several things happened at once.

Two large males moved into the open patch of forest between stands of trees.

They were in half-wolf form, which was creepy as hell, but Cyn was getting used to it. Which was its own slice of weirdness. She recognized the first one instantly and was relieved. The second one Cyn recognized seconds later.

They were kinda naked so strong eye contact was advised. The answer to the age old question was: no, fur doesn't cover everything. Still, it was like when you knew you weren't supposed to scratch, it made ya itch with wanting to. Cyn realized it was pervy but when a bunch of half-werewolf men were walking around with their macho commando action... well...

Then after several heartbeats of scrutiny she began to realize that the third was Karl Truman from Homer. Cyn blinked slowly.

Truman stepped forward as she took a step back.

Cynthia Adams, he growled and Adi cocked a pale brown eyebrow at Cyn in surprise.

Nice to meet you, Cyn said, adding, again. It just couldn't get any stranger.

He dipped his chin in a parody of a greeting and it was too much for Cyn, she simply sat down on her ass where she stood. They could figure out what to do with her but there were too many freak-outs presently.

Her restaurant manager was a Were.

Fucktastic.

The cop from Homer who had been hot on her trail was now a Were.

They were naked half-werewolves.

Weirdness squared.

Truman was the same as Jason, his body covered by a shadow of scarlet fur, his eyes were orbs of green in his head... spinning, always spinning.

What did it all mean?

For her.

For them?

For Julia.

CHAPTER 2

JULIA

Julia couldn't get enough of Scott. She woke up in his arms, fully awakened.

Their soul-meld complete.

Or nearly so.

He gazed down at her with a similar expression. His eyes, so nearly black they swallowed his pupil, framed a face that was far too serious.

What? she asked softly, smoothing the hair off his forehead.

Scott searched her face, knowing full-well he should tell her. He wasn't sure if the knowledge would improve things between her and the people they were now in charge of leading. Probably not.

Julia's hand dropped. Okay, I know what that look means.

Scott smiled. Busted. Hard to hide things from your soulmate, though their bond was fragile, untried.

He lay back down on the bed and Julia rolled over so she was slightly above and on top of him, pushing the fringe of short black hair off his forehead. Her own caramel-colored hair swept forward, tickling his face and he tucked it behind her ear.

Tell me, Julia said.

Is that a command, my Queen? Scott asked.

Julia's soft smile melted away. Does it need to be? Steel taking the place of the golden warmth inside her eyes.

He shook his head, looking into those large golden, cat-like eyes. Eyes that changed color according to her mood. No, he answered softly. It's not over. There, he'd finally said it.

What? Which part? Her eyes darkened at the implied threat in his words.

Scott closed his eyes against the raw look he saw in hers. The Were and... your former husband... relinquished their hold on you by simultaneously giving you their essence, thereby giving yours back to you...

I understood that... Julia said slowly, a furrow formed between her eyes. What's this about?

His eyes opened, piercing her. It's been so long since we've had a Rare One that... some of the finer words have gotten lost in the bolder ones.

Julia huffed.

You have been prophesied about. And, in some of the oldest scrolls...

Like... as in 'dead sea'?

Scott cocked a brow, nodding at her comparison. It's not much different from the human's Bible... however, we're not ...

Human, Julia stated and Scott nodded.

Not entirely. We mimic them but it's not enough. Not nearly enough to claim true kinship. As long as you are truly my mate, the Combatant will be necessary.

And how would they not... be necessary? she asked. Then she clarified her question, What would need to happen so they could just flounce around and do their thing.

Scott chuckled, but his laughter died, his face bleeding to a solemn expression. He paused so long Julia thought he might not answer. She opened her mouth to ask again.

His face became pained, his voice a low growling whisper, You would have to be mated with the vampire and Were as well.

Julia sat up in the bed, shoving away from him like he was a hot coal. No! she squeaked, flapping her arms in agitated denial.

He gave such a slow nod it looked painful.

I will never do that, she said with conviction, folding her arms across her chest. Scott watched the bright pink color spread across her cheekbones. Agitated and angry. And underneath that, embarrassed.

Scott sat up, scooping her against himself. It might not be a matter of want. He paused. It might be a matter of unifying the species. The Were and vampire will never take a Singer pair seriously as leader unless she is tied to them in more than treaty alone.

Julia tried to let that sink in.

Essentially, three husbands. She shook her head, her hair flying around with her physical denial.

She'd had a husband- Jason, and he tried to harm her. She'd had a vampire but... no. And then there was Scott... who she felt like one body with, but it was all tied to the meld.

Scott caught her tear as it fell, with a sweep of his thumb across the soft skin of her flushed cheek. His eyes bored into hers. "You don't have to even consider this, Julia. I did need to tell you. To keep it