Alpha Blood: BLOOD, #9

By Marata Eros

"...The Blood series is full of action, steamy romance, and strong female leads. Alpha Blood promises powerful new additions to the series and many more twists of fate that will draw readers to Blodgett's unique style..." Stefanie B., Line Editor, Red Adept Editing

Julia is a pawn on life's chessboard -until she declares war on Hades.

Jenni has been tied to Quill by default, and though it is the way of the Were to be mated for life, she's not sure it's the commitment for her. The guilt she harbors over Bray seeking vengeance against Devin and attempting to kidnap Ella continually eats at Jenni. Is being rogue better than being pack?

Adi and Slash have taken over the Northwestern amid hot tempers and young wolves. While the scouts of the Northwestern return with a new female, a male vampire soldier seeks her for an entirely different reason, and Marley discovers a dark secret about her lineage.

Drek and Tahlia journey with Neil to the Northwestern seeking Tessa and Laz. While their enemy travels with them, a terrible thing is happening at the Hoh pack. Will the subterfuge cripple the Lanarre?

What does fate have in store for the queen of the Blood Singers - Can Julia survive Hades and return to her people?

Full length novel. New adult fiction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. Rose Press LLC
• Release date: Oct 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463971796

Book preview

MUSIC

Music that Inspired Me During the Writing of ALPHA BLOOD:

---

Interstellar

by Hans Zimmer

CHAPTER 1

JULIA

At first, there’s nothing but molten agony. Julia feels nothing, scents nothing, and sees nothing. Yet, the sensation of the flesh of her body peeling from her bones in great slices of scalding meat is as real as anything she’s ever known.

Opening her mouth to scream, she gags. Liquid heat flows inside, drowning her and encapsulating her in wet fire.

The spore that’s inhabited the center of Julia’s body for over a year begins to expand until her body is no longer able to hold the seed of evil. It explodes from Julia’s body like the ticking time bomb it was.

The pieces of her human form fly, splattering the tomb-like catacombs of hell in gory chunks. They slide down the glistening black walls. And the evil that was the spore forms a dark bubble around her.

The pain dims her mind, allowing Julia to ignore the raging fire, and for a brutal moment, she’s only an atom in the universe. No longer alive. No longer a person. Not anything.

Frozen nothingness halts her spirit and mind as Julia floats suspended in the spore’s bubble, torn apart in the fires of hell.

When the miracle happens, Julia’s consciousness slams back inside the vessel of her body.

The spore that tore Julia apart bursts around her like a frozen, paper-thin capsule. Translucent and undulating around her body, the once-evil seed of hell forms perfectly around every bit of Julia, sealing her from the pool of hell she’s leaped into.

Scott. She tosses out the mental call before rough hands grip her.

However, they can’t gain purchase on Julia’s corporeal form―the spore that was her nemesis has now secured her body in a shield.

The place where the spore blew out of holds the sensation of icy heat.

Am I dying?

Victor, or the person she thought was Victor, rounds the jagged confines of the molten quicksand, seething. "I said―he enunciates exaggeratedly, speaking to the crimson creatures trying to hold her―seize her, fools."

But Julia slips out of their deft grips.

Their scarlet tails whip in agitation. Dark Master, says the one at her elbow, we cannot seize what is cold.

Julia resists the urge to touch where the spore tore out of her body. She’s not dead yet, so something beyond her understanding just happened, especially since she’s treading molten lava and not burning in it.

Steam escapes Victor’s mouth as his hate-filled gaze locks onto her.

But Julia sees the thing that’s actually stuffed inside Victor’s body. Dark Master, as the demon referred to him, now appears to be wearing Victor like an ill-fitting suit. A Victor suit.

The demons continue to grab at her frantically, their fingernails etching her protective shroud like fine knives on glass.

Eventually, if enough of them touch her, they’ll break through.

Julia yelps, diving away from the mess of seeking fingers, moving to the opposite side of the pool of fire and slapping her palms against the rough wall. Hoisting herself out, she lands in a graceless heap on the hot stone floor. Steam rises at the contact.

Ignoring Dark Master and his entourage, Julia crawls away toward Scott, who lays unmoving on the ground a few yards from her.

She mentally reaches out, using the tether that holds their soul-meld together.

Nothing.

Stealthy footsteps, the whistle of tails, and hot vapor escaping evil mouths is a symphony of desolation that follows her.

Julia blinks, her eyes sweeping the area and coming to rest on Lachlan, his body sawed in half.

Her gorge rises, but she beats the sensation down. No matter how much she wants to freak out, she doesn’t have the luxury of being sick because of the sights and the void of her soul-meld.

Lachlan is fey. He will heal, she tells herself.

"I must always do everything myself. Damage her, idiots."

His voice is so close.

Rolling onto her back, Julia concentrates on the approaching demonics. Sucking in a breath, she tries to ignore her immediate future.

To disown her fear.

They walked four hours into the depths of hell to get rid of a spore, which has now become a strange shroud that covered and healed her body in one fell swoop. That knowledge is too much to take in―to believe.

But Julia’s alive, so no matter how surreal everything is, it’s the new reality.

The demon warriors who approach are built like the male combatants of her people, and their intent to rip her limb from limb is obvious. The creatures would have been beautiful in their own way if they weren’t trying to kill her.

Throwing out her palms, Julia shoots her telekinetic talent at the warriors.

The warmth of her power begins to melt the protective coating of what was the evil spore.

Using my power compromises the shield, Julia realizes.

Doesn’t matter. She’s got to clobber the creeps or risk something worse happening. She holds the hope that if she can get out of this mess, she can save Scott.

If he can be saved.

Her talent puts the first wave of the warriors against the wall stained by her blood and flesh. The deep scarlet of their bodies explodes against the unforgiving stone.

She dispatches the second group, and their corpses join the others.

The coating begins to slip away from Julia’s fingers, and they redden instantly from the nearby pool of churning, fiery soup.

Dark Master strides toward her, wearing his Victor suit, though the eyes are not the fine light steel of the Victor she knew, but the blood red of the sulfurous stones surrounding her.

They drill her with their dark purpose.

Julia prays for time, strength―and salvation.

A whisper-thin thread of power feathers softly through her, starting at where the spore had resided. Its tendrils extend to all areas of her body, including the exposed fingers of her left hand, where Julia felt the power leave her body when she attacked the demons.

Dark Master kicks the chunks of his guard aside as he makes his way to her. His ragged breaths blast steam from a mouth, blackened and deadly.

Julia gasps, jerking to a stand. She turns to run and trips, slapping her palms on the burning floor to arrest her fall. Flipping onto her back, she crab-walks backward, screaming as her palm sinks into warm gore.

She’d placed her hand in the middle of Lachlan’s torso, where only gristle secures the top and bottom of his body together.

Her hand is in the middle of him. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Julia hiccups back barf, but just as Dark Master reaches for her, the spore shield spreads to Lachlan. His silver eyes flick open, and Dark Master hesitates.

The shroud of the spore runs over Julia’s exposed fingertips like icy water, encapsulating both her and Lachlan.

Julia and Dark Master stare at each other for a frozen moment. Steam escapes from his nose, ears, and―though Julia doesn’t want to notice―his ass.

Then they become aware of the same thing, leaping for Scott simultaneously.

Julia reaches him first, gripping his short hair.

Scott groans at the harsh and awkward hold. The soul-meld kicks back online, and sudden feeling like fingers and toes waking up after falling asleep thrills through Julia.

Julia’s grip on Scott tightens. Her other hand is in the middle of a gored Sidhe warrior.

I will not think about where my hand is right now.

As a tail rises behind Victor, Julia lifts her gaze, eyes widening as a tip forms at the tail’s end.

A tip like a dagger. The base of the tail is a fat stub at his lower back, but the tail tapers to a slim point with a foot-long serrated spear at the end.

Dark Master wears an awkward smile on Victor’s face, an expression she never saw Victor make.

You can protect your companions, but not without cost, Rare One. Heal this.

Faster than Julia can track, Dark Master brings the tail’s end down in a decisive strike, slashing through her shins.

Julia screams as bone and tendon separate.

Dark Master amputates her feet, his low chuckle underscoring her screaming.

Scott’s bellow echoes hers, as the event is happening for them both.

The demonic swarm, eating the noise of Julia’s distress like food.

Dark Master

Walk out of Below with no feet, Rare One, Dark Master muses with an internal glee he’s not managed for some time. If he needs to take pieces of the queen angelic for her to remain in the care of his tender mercies, so be it.

He does not let his disquiet take hold, though the apparent metamorphosis of the spore of Hades now clearly offers her protection.

Hands fisting, he has but one thought: Hades is mine. This is the realm of the demonic, not the angelic. His will would prevail.

The Rare One should have burned ceaselessly until meeting her unnatural end.

His predecessor had not conveyed there was any being from any realm, except He Who Shall Not Be Named, who was capable of withstanding the Pit of Fire.

Apparently, though the Rare One, Queen of the Blood Singers could do so. That did not mean she could withstand the type of harm Dark Master intended to mete out.

He would rob Julia of everything. Freedom. Life. Contentment. And lastly, her ability to rule Between. The only one who should rule Between is the demonic, of course.

He grins, and steam momentarily obscures the wonderful vision of blood pouring from the stumps of her legs. His happy expression becomes a frown, though, as her grip does not disengage from her angelic mate or the ancient Fey.

She holds on more tightly, appearing to draw a type of sustenance through the physical tether.

Julia takes a deep, shuddering breath, and with eyes that blaze like golden fire, she abruptly lets go of the two males. Rising from her prone position, she latches onto Dark Master’s ankles.

And what does she hope to accomplish? he has time to wonder before her icy grip burns through the thin clothing his host body wears. Then her touch becomes acid on his skin, with lacy whips of cold the likes of which he has never known, driving as an escaped bullet straight to his nuts.

Dark Master bellows his rage and fright, dropping to his knees, boiling vapor pouring from his body.

Their eyes lock for a terrible moment of equality. Her expression is feral and fierce.

Dark Master attempts to strike the Rare One where she holds him, but her touch sweeps over him, sucking his strength. Dark Master feels true terror for the first time in his existence.

"I will walk out of here," the Rare One states, her fingers sliding upward, dangerously close to where his balls pulse their grief at being frozen off his body.

Watch me, Julia whispers, clamping onto his cock, which has unfortunately hardened from sheer proximity to the Rare One.

Like dancing sugar plums, exquisite thoughts of raping and torturing her swirl through Dark Master’s head. He has a fantasy of low demons torturing her king while keeping him revived enough to watch the show of his perfect mate being debased before him.

Those thoughts are driven from his consciousness in a nanosecond, though. His prick becomes hard―not from the deviant arousal he had anticipated―but from the subzero temperature of her touch.

The spore has turned against him. That piece of Hades he rendered unto her body has now become a protector instead of the Trojan horse he had assumed it would be.

And rather than succumbing to her injuries, the Rare One is claiming him piece by piece.

Dark Master would not go down without a fight.

Whipping his tail around, he winds it around Julia’s slender neck.

Giving a fierce smile at her bulging eyes, Dark Master exerts more pressure.

Die.

His cock breaks off from his body, shattering as the tube of his flesh falls between them.

Gritting his teeth, Dark Master cinches the noose of his tail, mentally compelling the demonic fleet who remain near to offer blind assistance.

They do not respond soon enough, for when the Sidhe’s magic steel bites into the side of his neck, sweeping his head from his shoulders, Dark Master’s last cognitive thought is: Who will succeed me?

Then the final vapor he would ever witness descends like a red veil of mist, and Dark Master is no more.

Julia

My feet!

The pain is even worse than the lava pit. Clenching her jaw, Julia comes to a numb realization. What she does next is sick, but she has to do it. Her touch is ice against his flesh.

Their eyes lock and Julia falters, what she must do warring with her very nature.

Julia needs to kill. The impulse to finish Dark Master is impossible to deny. Through sheer instinct, Julia walks her hands up his legs, pushing aside the agony of her amputation.

Grimacing, she clutches his testicles. Clearly, this will hit him hardest.

Bellowing, Julia listens to the echo of his mental summons to the rest of the demonic.

She doesn’t have much time. Her fingers go higher, circling his penis, and with a vicious twist, she yanks the cold shaft from his body like slamming a gearshift into fifth.

The appendage drops between them, shattering like fragile glass.

Julia falls back, panting, and tips her face up to look at him at the same moment Dark Master’s tail winds around her throat, ceasing oxygen flow.

Julia can’t hang on. Her feet still feel like stubborn ghost appendages, and he’s strangling her with a tail still dripping with her own blood.

Suddenly, Lachlan is standing behind Dark Master, his ancient sword held high, a healing scar bisecting his torso.

Her eyes burn with tears. Lachlan’s blazing white eyes are determined.

For the first time since Julia entered Hades, she has a vague sense of hope.

The sword whistles the music of its descent. A blur of mercury in the dim light, it crashes into Dark Master’s neck, relieving him of his head.

The tail continues to cinch like a thick piece of meat wrapping her neck like an abusive scarf, and Julia gags, hands going to her throat.

Lachlan twists the heavy blade and turns it smoothly against that red rope that’s killing Julia, slicing it cleanly.

As the thick noose falls away like a dying snake, Julia falls backward, her palms slapping the hot stones that make up the ground.

Scott, she thinks for the second time in the space of an hour, gasping on the ground.

The demonic enter the space―Julia can feel their evil pulsing around her.

With the last of her strength, she sends out a telepathic burst.

The single word is directed like a broad hammer of death.

Die.

She feels something important shift in her mind, a sliding of consciousness.

Then they fall.

Hundreds of the demonic drop dead where they stand. Smoldering.

Just as she’d commanded.

CHAPTER 2

JENNI

Jenni awakens with a start, fingertips biting into the mattress of the bed where she lies.

The first thing she notices is blindness. Actually, it’s more like a loss of peripheral and full vision. One eye aches within its socket like a rotten tooth.

Swell. Her mind scrambles for a point of reference. What the hell’s happened?

A void greets her frantic mental exploration.

She sits silently for a moment, her good eye flashing around the room, waiting for something―anything.

Jenni’s good eye blinks into the nothingness of her thoughts.

Then… everything returns. The memories crash into Jenni, and she’s helpless to stop the mudslide of thoughts.

She covers her mouth as the tide of horror rushes over her consciousness, drowning Jenni, stealing the very air.

The IV drip snags, arresting the quick motion of her hand, and with a startled yip, Jenni steadies the steel holder with her hand, stopping it from toppling.

She wanted to smother her fear, the memories, and whatever the hell just happened.

Bray, she thinks, recalling the subsequent attack and strange rescue from certain death. And exactly how long can I cheat the grim reaper?

Ella. Devin. Did they escape? Jenni wonders if her cowardice jeopardized the precious girls she’d grown to love in the brief time they’d known each other.

Yes, loved.

Jenni wouldn’t attempt to fool herself. No matter how hurt, no matter how stupid things are right now, deluding herself is impossible.

Jenni’s responsible for Devin and Ella getting nailed by Bray and his crew.

If I’d just left right away…

But no. Jenni couldn’t do that. She had to hang around, panting over a guy. Nope. That’s not quite accurate. A male werewolf.

Jesus, what a mess.

Jenni’s breath trembles as she inhales, clamping down on the emotion with a vise made by grit alone. Not knowing what happened to Ella and Devin sucks, but crying like a baby isn’t going to help anyone, least of all herself.

Quillon. Holy hell. He bit me.

Jenni feels her shoulder where a knot of healing flesh meets her tentative touch.

Her hand drops to her side as more memories sink their teeth into her tired brain.

Oh my God. I came when he bit me, Jenni remembers as whatever Quillon injected her with races through her body. And it wasn’t a baby orgasm. Oh no. Jenny came from her toenails, having the mother of all orgasms.

Heat rushes to her face, the memory blazing like the sun in her mind.

Now that’s not embarrassing. Not. At. All.

She almost forgets her wrecked body and vision issue.

Just as Jenni’s looking for a rock to crawl beneath, the door softly opens, and―speak of the devil―in walks Quillon, looking delectable.

As he stands there in the flesh, Jenni can forgive herself for hanging around. A little. Her tongue darts out, wetting her lower lip.

His bright-red hair is lit by the sun pouring through the window, and his dark-green eyes are a sharp contrast to all that burnished hair. His shoulders fill the void of the open door. Black athletic pants like the ones the guys all seem to favor hug his harrow waist.

Males.

Jenni swallows. Hard. She could die as the memories of what happened between them weigh on her.

Oh right―she almost did.

Though if Jenni gives her odd sexual response to Quillon any weight, she can rationalize the hell out of it all: Werewolf weirdness. Crazy adrenaline spike.

Impending death.

That doesn’t matter, though. Jenni orgasmed with a guy she was really hot for and couldn’t have looked and been worse off when it happened. Talk about timing.

Talk about giving a shit about stuff like that when there’s more important things happening than your wounded ego.

She gives a mental eyeroll at her own thought processes, thanking God they’re hers alone.

On top of all of the dying business and worry over Ella and Devin, this extra bit of shame is not something Jenni needs.

Quillon wipes all her thoughts away with his next phrase. We’re mated now.

Rip off the Band-Aid why don't you. Jenni’s mouth falls open as her mind fills with fog.

Mate? Mate for what?

Then Quillon explains, and Jenni’s life goes sideways in the blink of an eye―or the slash of a claw.

Quill

This fun convo is going to suck ass.

Quill can smell when Jenni awakens. Our female, his beast growls, compelling him to ascertain her health.

Like Quill wouldn’t want to make sure she was okay?

He doesn’t relish the explanation that she deserves or the fact that he had to bite her twice more to save her life, pumping Jenni so full of his essence that her beast emerged, though she was unconscious and unaware, thank the Moon.

Now back in human form, Jenni is healing, albeit slowly.

Quill can barely stand the thought of that thankless fucking rogue roaming the same planet he does. That bastard’s little posse killed one of his scouts, and they couldn’t afford to lose Dunham. Thank Moon Brady is still alive. And Bray and his band of assholes came too close to taking Devin and Ella.

As a matter of fact, at this exact moment, the females were under semi-constant guard in case that slick fuck returns.

All that matters now, though, is talking to Jenni. Making her see that his rescue and claiming her was the only way for her to survive.

At a room that used to be his cousin Adi’s, Quill turns the knob and steps inside.

The instant his eyes find Jenni, he breathes easier.

The mating of Were is both a terrible and beautiful thing. The male feels the bond the hardest. The female can actually reject his claim of she wishes. But the male can deny nothing.

Once mated, Quill is her protector. Her champion. And lover. It’s a true constant within Were biology, where only a few of those hard lines exist within their unique biological system.

Sometimes, that basic fact sucks, especially the lack of choice. Some males would argue, though, that their beast chose for them.

Quill’s has.

Jenni’s gaze is steady as they silently scrutinize each other. And again, he’s taken with how self-contained she is. Jenni must have been a hell of a human being.

He blurts out that they’re mated―despite having determined an entire speech―ruining all hope of finesse but getting that pink elephant out in the open from get-go. It’s not something he can be subtle about anyway.

It’s not the Were way.

Tears brim her eyes, and the first thing she says isn’t What happened? or What did you do?

No. Not his Jenni.

After almost a full minute of silence, she asks, Are Devin and Ella okay? Jenni appears to hold her breath, and at his curt nod, she exhales a shuddering breath of relief, which he knows would have held tears had the answer been different.

We got to them in time, Quill answers.

Her fear races through him, causing his adrenaline to spike.

Quill tenses, eyes flicking around the immediate space, then he flares his nostrils.

No threat.

His face whips to hers, eyes narrowed. Why are you afraid?

Jenni’s dark eyes widen like a skittish colt’s. Bray, she both says and asks in a low voice.

The only proof of her anxiety is the tightening of her fingertips as they grip