Blood Ecstasy (Blood Curse Series Book 8) Read Online Free

Rebecca stir in the chair. She was trying to be as quiet as a church-mouse, sliding out of the leather seat, tiptoeing around Shelly Winters— oh, hell, Shelly Winters! —and making her way…making her way…where?
    Ah yes, to the painted glass windows.
    Son of a jackal.
    “Sit back down,” he bit out through clenched, gritted teeth, not bothering to open his eyes. Yep, he heard her heartbeat stutter, caught the sudden inhale of breath, and listened as her footsteps receded back to the chair.  
    If this got any more messed up, Julien would gladly retrieve a dagger, hand it to the traumatized female, and help her behead him himself, perhaps remove his heart, just to mitigate the damage he had already caused. As it stood, he had no idea what he was going to do—what he wanted to do—with this Blood Moon. It wasn’t like he had a golden history with the subject or a burning desire to meet some human female, create some bullshit fairy-tale love story, and provide the Curse with a prize.  
    That had never been his dream.
    Yeah…so…what was he saying?
    His legs felt like barbells, heavy rods of iron, yet his head felt feather-light, like insubstantial cotton…floating…drifting… twisting in the wind.
    There was nothing.
    Nothing.
    Thank the celestial gods.
    For one blessed moment, there was nothing in Julien’s head—
    Except…
    That one thing…that…that girl…
    The blonde or the brunette?
    Something had bothered him…
    A lot.
    Ah, shit, Shelly Winters.
    He moistened his lips with his tongue and tried once again to think.
    Ramsey. He called out on a familiar telepathic bandwidth, the one used by the valley’s sentinels, not needing cogent thought to find it. Are you there?
    Ramsey Olaru answered right away. What’s up, J?
    Julien groaned. Seen the moon?
    Ramsey grew ineffably quiet for a moment. Of course. What do you need, brother?
    Ah, yeah, they weren’t really brothers, but the sentinels shared a sort of brotherhood with the tracker, just the same, an indescribable bond…they were…they were…
    Julien! Ramsey’s deep, husky voice jolted him out of his distracted contemplation.
    Yeah, I’m here.
    What do you need, tracker? What’s goin’ on?
    Shelly, Julien whispered with his psychic voice. She’s here, on the floor. Ah, hell… He sighed. I might’ve fed too much.
    Where is your destiny , warrior? Ramsey intoned, his psychic voice sounding all at once grave.
    Chair, Julien grunted.
    Ramsey didn’t speak, but Julien felt a light tap on his temples, almost like a cerebral knock-knock , someone beating at the door of his memories. Master Warrior , Ramsey finally said, permission to enter your head?
    It wasn’t exactly the formal protocol, but Julien got the gist. Shit , he responded.
    Is that a yes? Ramsey asked.
    Yes, Julien grunted, wishing he could get a complete do-over for the day.
    Not unlike the stalwart pit bull that he was often compared to, Ramsey Olaru ramrodded his way straight into Julien’s gray matter, tunneled his way through his medial temporal lobe, and withdrew all the pictures, images, and short-term memoriesthat he needed, greatly reducing Julien’s high. Ah, damn, brother , Ramsey clipped, once he had finally finished. Not gonna lie; I would hate to be you. He took a moment, ostensibly to process the information—or something—and then he chimed back in, speaking in Julien’s head. Nachari Silivasi is only two miles west of your estate, and he has his Mustang with him. He can get there faster than any of us, and whoever comes, he’s gonna need a car to transport Shelly.
    Julien nodded, as if Ramsey could see him.
    Brother?
    Yeah, yeah , send him on.
    Will do, Ramsey said. And once he gets there—what do you want him to do about Rebecca? Your destiny ?  
    A deep, feral growl rose in Julien’s throat, and he practically hissed his psychic words: He doesn’t touch her , he warned, feeling suddenly defensive. Understood? That’s not his business. That’s not