A Cursed Embrace(5)

“Stay down.” Aric’s voice sounded strained. My sisters gagged and hacked. Someone threw open the windows and the sliding glass doors leading out to our deck. Horrible retching ensued from the direction of our powder room.

Outside, Taran voiced her concerns. “Son of a bitch! What the hell is this shit?”

The good news was my skin didn’t melt, my bones remained in one piece, and no funky thing with tentacles attempted to birth through my belly. One never knew what one might have encountered in the supernatural world.

I tried to slow my breathing, not wanting to inhale more of the foul odor than necessary. If only the rising heat between Aric and me allowed it. My tigress, hell, she thought Aric on top was hot stuff and that we should make out with him while we waited for the air to clear.

I didn’t agree.

I twisted a little, hoping to ease him off me. All that did was rub his body against mine and send quivers jetting to my already alert girl parts.

Oh . . . crap.

I’d promised myself I’d keep it together the next time I saw Aric—I was tough, strong, formidable . . .

“Try to breathe through your mouth.” Aric’s instructions came out in panted whispers.

I was in trouble, that’s what I was. “Okay,” I moaned like an idiot.

Aric’s soft growl rumbled against my back. I refused to purr in response. And I didn’t.

Until his head fell against mine and his nose nudged playfully against my ear.

Aric froze when my beast purred to come hither. Damn it. Whose side was she on anyway?

Neither of us moved, despite the intensity of warmth we shared. And just like that, the moment quickly turned from unbearably sexy to horribly awkward. My house reeked of swamp butt, and there we were, acting like two unsupervised hormonal teens.

Slowly, like molasses sliding into water, the dense air thinned out. As soon as the first gulps of fresh air hit my lungs, Aric leapt off me, pulling me with him to stand. Except instead of releasing me completely, his arm slid around my body, keeping me close. I didn’t fight it, welcoming the affection I’d longed for the past week.

A thin haze lingered around the expanse of our large open family room. Similar to when something burns in the kitchen and the remnants hang on despite the opened windows. Nothing appeared stained or destroyed—strange, especially since the force of the explosion hit harder than a truckload of sweaty sumo wrestlers.

Emme and Shayna appeared with their wolves, pale with obvious nausea. The toilet flushed. One of the wereraccoons stepped out from the powder room. Thank goodness he made it in time. The other one waited outside with Gemini and Taran.

Paul stood holding two picture frames. “Sorry. I knocked these over when I hit the floor.”

I hurried out of Aric’s hold and took the pictures from Paul. The only picture we had of our parents remained intact, just chipped at the corner. But the one of our foster mother, Ana Lisa, had a large crack down the center. I carefully placed them on the mantel of our brick fireplace, barely acknowledging Paul’s offer to replace the frames as I focused on the faces of the only people who’d shown us love during our childhood.

I cherished the pictures, so much so it scared me that something could irreparably damage them. Yet I never held or admired the old photos much. Sadness bristled inside me when I thought for too long about those stolen from me. Some things hurt forever, I supposed.

My finger slid along the edge of Ana Lisa’s frame. Shayna had taken the photo with a disposable camera she’d found abandoned on the street. Ana Lisa’s hand rested against Emme’s back. My youngest sister was only about seven then, her tiny arms hugging Ana Lisa’s robust figure. Tears glistened in Emme’s eyes. I remember scolding Shayna for taking the photo. But all I saw was Emme’s pain. I failed to see what Shayna did—the compassion and Ana Lisa’s silent promise to keep Emme safe. She’d kept us all safe. Until the monsters returned . . .

I moved on, urged by the need to protect what remained of my family.

Everyone had assembled where the body had lain. I casually ambled to Aric’s side, surprised by how easily he gathered me into his arms again. I tensed briefly before his comforting presence relaxed me like the feel of a warm blanket fresh from the dryer. It felt right to be with him. If only I knew his feelings mirrored mine.

“What happened?”

Aric shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” He motioned to the floor with his chin. “Or that, except in magical sacrifices.”

A charcoal outline, resembling those drawn in chalk on crime shows, was all that remained of the were—that, and the cursed gold bullet slugs. Taran looked around the room at the same time I did, articulating my thoughts beautifully. “For shit’s sake. Is this dead guy all over our house now?”