Blood Cure: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (Vampire Huntress Chronicles Book 3) Read online

  Blood Cure

  Vampire Huntress Chronicles, book 3

  Jessica Wayne

  This one is for Dominique. Thank you for being such a kickass proofer, and such a bright ray of sunshine in the book world.

  Blood Cure

  Vampire Huntress Chronicles, book 3

  by Jessica Wayne

  Copyright © 2020. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Dawn

  Proofread by Dominique Laura

  Cover Design by Bewitching Covers by Rebecca Frank

  Contents

  1. Elijah

  2. Elijah

  3. Rainey

  4. Elijah

  5. Rainey

  6. Elijah

  7. Elijah

  8. Elijah

  9. Elijah

  10. Heather

  11. Elijah

  12. Rainey

  13. Rainey

  14. Elijah

  15. Rainey

  16. Elijah

  17. Rainey

  18. Rainey

  19. Heather

  20. Rainey

  21. Rainey

  22. Rainey

  23. Elijah

  24. Rainey

  25. Rainey

  26. Elijah

  27. Rainey

  28. Rainey

  29. Rainey

  30. Elijah

  31. Rainey

  32. Elijah

  33. Rainey

  34. Rainey

  35. Elijah

  36. Rainey

  37. Rainey

  38. Elijah

  39. Delaney

  Coming soon…

  Also By Jessica Wayne

  About the Author

  Contemporary Romance by J.W. Ashley

  1

  Elijah

  Blood hammers in my ears, drowning out any and all sound as I stare at the place where Rainey stood only moments ago.

  Not Rainey though, no. There was no trace of the woman I love residing inside the body of the creature who just vanished. Grief guts me, and I stagger in place, feeling as though my heart was just ripped from my fucking chest.

  It may have only been seconds—but it feels like years. Decades even, as I stand here, urging her to come back.

  She has to come back.

  Rainey can’t be gone.

  I won’t survive.

  “Elijah!” Tarnley calling my name rips me back to the present, and I turn to face him as he kneels beside Jane, his blood-soaked hands clutching the wound in her throat as her fingers dig helplessly into the carpet as though gripping it could save her life.

  Rushing forward, I fall to my knees beside Rainey’s best friend. “Call Bronywyn,” I order him, and he nods, releasing her so I can take over once more.

  Blood seeps through my fingers, the warm, sticky liquid drenching my pants and saturating the carpet beneath Jane’s body. The scent of her magic-laced blood is potent. I can feel my fangs elongating, the beast urging me to sink my teeth into the dying witch, but I shake my head, forcing him back into his iron.

  Jane dying will be the final nail in Rainey’s coffin…there will be nothing to bring her home to if we lose the witch right on the heels of the deaths of Ramirez and his wife. I’m not so arrogant as to believe I’m all Rainey will ever need. She needs family. And that’s what Jane is to her.

  “She’s on her way.” Tarnley’s beside me in an instant, glaring straight ahead. I follow his stare, my eyes landing on the aged face of the woman who showed up right before Heather vanished in Rainey’s body.

  Seems really fucking coincidental that a woman, who is supposed to be dead, would appear right as Heather surfaces. I don’t fucking trust her for a second. She glares down at me, mouth flattened in a pinprick of a line.

  “Tarnley,” I growl his name, my request evident in the tone.

  He rushes toward her, but her gaze never leaves mine. With the wave of her hand, she throws my friend back into the wall. The wood panel crunches behind me moments before his body thuds to the floor.

  Still, she doesn’t say a fucking word, just glares down at me as though she’s pondering her next move.

  “Hang on, Jane,” I urge and blur toward the woman Heather referred to as Agatha. Somehow, she anticipates my move and flings me back into the wall beside Tarnley. I waste no time getting to my feet, and I stare at her, fangs descended, hands balled into fists, ready for a fight as long as it ends with her dead.

  “Agatha,” I growl. “As in Agatha Astor? The woman who treated her granddaughter like garbage? I have to say you look pretty fucking spritely for a dead woman.”

  “Shut your damned mouth, bloodsucker.” She stalks toward Jane, and I shake my head, blurring to Jane’s side.

  “You aren’t going to touch her.”

  She rolls her eyes and waves her cane again. Power shoves me back once again, but this time, Tarnley’s hand on my back keeps me from flinging away from her. We both stand there, prepared to fight for the life of the witch currently bleeding to death on the floor.

  Completely unthreatened, Agatha continues to glare at us. “I can save her, so unless you want to waste more precious time, I suggest you stand there and shut that damned mouth of yours.”

  I hold my breath, watching every move she makes. I don’t give a shit who she is. If she does anything but save Jane, I’ll rip her damned throat out. My body vibrates with the force of my rage and grief, each emotion compiling as they threaten to consume me.

  In an instant, Rainey was gone.

  Vanished.

  And now, Jane may die right along with her.

  How the fuck did everything go so wrong? How did we lose so terribly?

  Agatha kneels, black pants pressing against the blood-soaked carpet as she sets her cane aside and covers Jane’s throat with both hands. Agatha begins to chant, the soft words barely above a whisper as she mutters the ancient Gaelic. “Dèan leigheas air an leòn seo.”

  Heal this wound. The words of her healing spell ease my immediate concerns but do nothing to abate my anger. This woman is supposed to be dead.

  She repeats the spell three times, and after the final murmuring, power surges through the room. The blood stops, and Jane’s head lulls to the side. Her heartbeat is present but weak. Still, the fact that it’s beating at all when her throat was sliced open in a macabre smile is a relief.

  “Will she survive?” I ask, my eyes darting from Jane’s pale complexion to the old woman getting to her feet with the steely strength of a warrior.

  She glares at me. “Because you care?”

  “I do care,” I shoot back.

  She scoffs. “You’re a bloodsucker. You both are.” Her gaze flickers from me to Tarnley. “I’m surprised you aren’t fighting over who gets to rip her throat back open first. Or licking the blood from your fingers.”

  Beside me, Tarnley growls. “I’ll gladly take you instead.”

  At his words, she tosses an amused smile our way. “I would love to know how the hell my granddaughter got mixed up with bloodsuckers.
”

  “I would love to know how the hell a dead woman is standing in my den. And why the fuck you brought a trio of crows with you, especially given every time Rainey nearly died, there were three present.”

  “I don’t owe you an explanation, Vampire. Be glad I haven’t killed you where you stand.”

  I blur toward her, dropping my shoulder to slam it into her frame. She swings out, catching me with her cane and knocking me to the ground. Then, she raises a hand and brings all the books on the shelf down on top of me.

  Tarnley lunges for her, but she flings the cane again, and he slams back into the wall.

  “We can do this all night, boys. I may look old, but I assure you I have plenty of years left in me.”

  “What is happening in here?” Bronywyn rushes into the room, falling to her knees beside Jane, a black leather bag in her hand.

  “She’ll survive,” Agatha tells her calmly.

  “Good.” She glances from me to Tarnley then back to Agatha. “Maybe let these two go? They’re assholes, but they won’t harm you.”

  Agatha purses her lips, glaring at me for a moment before placing her cane back on the ground. It hits the carpet with a soft thud, and the spell breaks, the pressure vanishing as I burst from the books, the force of my anger sending valuable texts flying in all directions. Tarnley blurs to Bronywyn’s side.

  “You know her?” he demands. His tone is soft, but the anger is there. Subtle but present.

  Bronywyn meets Agatha’s gaze. “Agatha and I go way back. She’s the only reason I bothered to save your hunter.”

  “I thought you owed Tarnley.”

  “I did. But I still would have let her die to spite you if she hadn’t been Agatha’s granddaughter.”

  I ignore her jab, mainly because it holds no truth. Bronywyn may be stubborn and pissed at me, but she’s not heartless. “You didn’t think to mention it when we were there?” My hands clench into fists, rage burning through the grief threatening to take me to my knees.

  “Why would I? Agatha asked me to tell no one that she was alive, and I wouldn’t betray her.” She narrows her eyes on my face. “And definitely not for you.”

  Too fucking angry to speak, I stalk across the room and lift Jane into my arms, cradling her as I carry her out of the den and down the hall to the guest room she’s been staying in. Her blood smears my bare chest, so the moment I set her down on the soft black sheets, I head down the hall to shower. Maybe, just maybe, if I’m not covered in blood, I can find a way to fucking think properly.

  Unfortunately, I realize that a shower is not immediately in my future when I see that Bronywyn is waiting for me.

  Standing just outside the closed door leading to the den, she has both arms crossed in a stance I’ve seen more than once in the time I’ve known her.

  “I’m not interested.” I try to move past her, but she stops me, hand on my wrist. I still and turn toward her, ready for a fight. “I just watched the woman I love disappear, so unless you want to die today, get the fuck away from me.”

  “We’ll find a way to get her back,” she says, not at all bothered by my threat. Her words are a hell of a lot kinder than anything I’d ever expect to come out of her mouth. Especially after the show in the study.

  I burned Bronywyn a few hundred years ago. Used her while I was at my worst and then bailed because she reminded me of all the shit I’d done wrong.

  She hates me. Or so I’ve always thought. I’ve certainly never given her much of a reason not to. “Don’t act like you care,” I say, a bit harsher than I meant. My emotions are on edge as I cling to the hate and rage aimed at myself for not seeing Heather when I should have. I should have known Rainey was gone, should have sensed it. And above all, the fear that I’ll never see the woman I love again is damn near crippling.

  Bronywyn doesn’t even flinch. “I’ve seen you broken before, Elijah, and I can see the fissures forming now. I will help you find a way to get her back.”

  “Why?”

  Bronywyn shrugs. “Because if I don’t, you’re going to get yourself killed. And even as much as I hate you, I’d like to see you happy at least once in your miserable existence.” She spins on her heels and heads back into the den.

  Barely clinging to my fucking sanity, I head into my room and slam the door, leaning back against it and taking a moment to breathe.

  The sheets are all over the damn place, and Rainey’s scent permeates the air. Her body. Her blood. It’s every-fucking-where.

  Crimson droplets on the floor.

  The dented sheetrock where I pinned her, losing myself once again in the way she makes me feel.

  Black satin sheets askew on the bed where we fucked.

  And all the while, it was Heather.

  How did I not know? How could I not tell that Rainey was gone?

  A tortured growl rips from my chest, and I slam my fist into the wall. The sheetrock caves, coating my arm in white dust. I spin and blur toward the bed, gripping the frame and flipping it over. Wood crunches as the thing breaks apart, slamming into the wall on the opposite side. The dresser is next, and before I know it, my entire room is in shambles.

  Chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, I turn in a slow circle as I attempt to gain any semblance of control over my fucked-up situation.

  Over the fact that she’s gone.

  My head swims, and I fall to my knees, palms to carpet, fighting to gain control over the beast inside. He is calling for blood—for vengeance. But I know if I let him free, the collateral damage will be devastating. He doesn’t care who he kills, whose blood is spilled.

  The beast without chains is a murderer.

  A monster.

  And even as I know I can’t let him out, that doing so would be losing myself, there’s a part of me wondering if perhaps it’s not a monster we need.

  I grip the strands of carpet, fingertips digging into the floor as my body vibrates with the force of my grief.

  My rage.

  “Rainey’s no longer around, Vampire.”

  Heather had stood there, confident, her hands on Rainey’s body as she looked down on me with eyes that should have been familiar—and yet they were so fucking alien I would never have imagined they’d ever held any warmth.

  I choke on a strangled sob as my muscles quiver, my arms barely managing to keep me from collapsing all the way onto the floor.

  “Elijah.”

  I don’t turn, don’t respond to Tarnley.

  Blood hammers in my ears, drowning out the sound as he says my name again. His face swims into view as he kneels before me. His tight jaw and wide eyes show me just how far I’ve slipped from the careful control I strive to maintain at all times.

  “Elijah,” he repeats.

  “She’s gone.” The two words are ripped from my chest, agony lacing every single fucking one of them.

  “We will get her back. But if you give up now, Rainey isn’t the only one at risk. Heather will come for us all, Brother, so get the hell up, and let’s fight.”

  “She’s gone,” I repeat. “Heather said she was gone.”

  “Heather’s a lying bitch,” Tarnley spits out. “And we’ll make her pay for what she’s done. But if you quit now—Rainey will die.”

  “And how do you think we will make her pay? We can’t kill her because that would mean losing Rainey. If she’s not already gone.”

  His jaw tightens, and I know he’s seeing the reason I can’t face.

  That if we can’t get Heather out of Rainey, we’ll have to put her down.

  Permanently.

  “I won’t kill her, Tarnley. I’ll fucking die first.”

  He reaches over and clasps my shoulder. “As will I. But giving up now, or worse yet, giving in to the bloodlust will mean losing her. You are not a weak man, Elijah, so get your ass up and get showered. Clean the fuck up so we can hunt her down and get Rainey back. We’ll be in the den.” He leaves me on the floor, and I fight against the urge to race outside and hunt H
eather downright fucking now.

  Rainey’s phone rings, the buzzing pulling me the rest of the way out of my haze. I blur toward it, and when I see the contact on the screen, I answer without hesitation.

  He starts speaking immediately. “Rainey, you won’t believe what—”

  “Hunter,” I cut him off.

  There’s a brief moment of silence before Jack Keller growls into the phone. “Vampire.”

  “We’ve got a problem, and I need your help.” The words are poison on my tongue. But as much as I despise the hunter who was with Delaney when she was killed—the same one who lied to Rainey—I know we need all the help we can get.

  And even as he lied to her, Jack will do damn near anything for Rainey because he feels as though he owes Delaney.

  “Where’s Rainey?”

  “That would be the problem, Hunter. I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? What the hell happened?”

  “It’s a long story and one I won’t share over the phone.”

  “Text me an address.” The line goes dead, and I fire off the text with my address before staring down at the Skittles wallpaper beneath the square apps of the screen.

  Fuck! What I would give to see her, hand in a bag right now. I’d buy her a castle made of fucking Skittles if it meant getting her back.

  How the hell did Heather manage to take her over? Even as I consider the question, I think back to the events that took place earlier. The way she’d collapsed on the floor of Ramirez’s bedroom, begging for help.