Big Bad Karma Ch. 01 Sc. 01

No, he thought grimly.

Death. Blood. Vengeance.

It most certainly did not.

The voice in his head receded to a mutinous din, giving his own thoughts a chance to be heard, but they were no better. He'd known it would only be a matter of time before the demon resurfaced. After the last witch, he'd dared to hope the end of his curse was near, but hope only bred disappointment, and disappointment, self-loathing. He hadn't thought he could possibly hate himself more than he already did, but after too many years of uninterrupted brewing time, hate no longer seemed like a strong enough word. There wasn't a word in his vocabulary that was.

Death. Blood. Vengeance.

The demon's awakening could only mean one thing. The last witch of the Morgan line was finally coming into her powers. It should have happened sooner -- much sooner -- but her mother had been a crafty one and bound her magic so tightly that not even the demon could sniff her out. It didn't change anything, though. It might have bought her some time, but time didn't amount to much in the scheme of things. She was weak, vulnerable, and unprotected. In his experience, an untrained witch was about as dangerous as a hatchling dragon. It had potential, but without experience, it was little more than a lizard with bad breath. Soon, he'd douse her spark, and then he'd finally be free.

Free. It had been so long since he'd actually experienced freedom that he barely remembered what it felt like. He knew he wanted it though, wanted it so badly he could almost taste it despite the bitter smoke of sulfur that rose in the back of his throat and drifted unimpeded from his nose.

The demon's awful glee shuddered through him as the image of a young woman flashed into his head. Terror filled her wide lavender eyes and painted her pale face with tears. He felt sorry for her, just like he had all the others, but it didn't matter. No matter how much guilt he felt over her impending doom, she'd still die, and he'd be responsible. No, it was better to bury the pain and detach himself from the situation so he wouldn't lose his mind. He couldn't be completely certain that he hadn't already.

Like molten lava pumping through his veins, the demon's influence began burning through him in earnest. He'd been through it enough times before to know not to fight it, but basic human instinct could not be denied. He strained to prevent it, to make it stop, but it was a futile endeavor. Not only couldn't he move, but nothing could stop the demon once it decided on a course of action. Not a witch trying to save her village from destruction, nor the human cage to which it had been banished.

In his mind, he cried out a fervent prayer, but it was more out of habit than any type of faith. His prayers had gone too long unanswered for him to believe in anything other than darkness and suffering. He knew it would only get worse once the demon reestablished its power and took complete control. Luckily, it wouldn't be too much longer before it was finally over. After a thousand years of torment, of guilt so deep and unrelenting it left scars in what was left of his soul, he'd be released from his curse. No, he thought as the demon's ungodly laughter filled his head, it wouldn't be much longer at all.

Death. Blood. Vengeance.

Freedom.

<<<<>>>>

Kayla woke with a start and quickly wished she hadn't. Gods, how much did she have to drink last night? It was a logical but stupid question considering that she never drank, but she imagined this was exactly what a hangover would feel like, and she didn't like it one bit. Where the hell was an aspirin when she needed one?

Clutching her head in agony, she managed to roll to her side. It was a feat in and of itself, and sapped what little energy she had. Cringing, she buried her head against the pillow and prayed for a miracle. If something didn't happen soon, she just knew her head was going to explode, and she was pretty sure she didn't want that to happen. If she could just get her eyes to open so she could stumble to the bathroom, she would probably be okay. If not, then she'd feel sorry for the person who'd have to clean her brain matter off the walls.

She succeeded in prying one eye open -- a significant accomplishment on her part -- and was almost surprised when she actually survived the attempt. Her brow furrowed in confusion, an action she immediately regretted when pain shot like burning needles into her brain. Why was it so damn dark in here? Normally, she left the hallway light on, and even when she didn't, her neighbor's outdoor light would shine through her bedroom window whether she wanted it to or not. Ugh, it was just her fricking bad luck that there would be a power outage at a time like this. Why did this kind of crap always have to happen to her?

She groped blindly for the candle she kept on the bedside table, but found nothing but air. So she tried again. And again. Nope, still wasn't there. Where the hell was her fricking table with her fricking candle and her fricking lamp, which was currently useless because of the fricking power outage? Yeah, she wasn't feeling particularly creative today.

Annoyed with herself and her predicament, she sat up, or rather, she tried to sit up, but considering that her world tilted dizzily on its axis, she decided she'd be better off just lying back down. Alrighty then. Her head would just have to explode. She just wished it would happen already so she could get it over with. The pain was really starting to get on her nerves.

Something -- a large, warm, muscly something that she quickly realized was an arm -- suddenly wrapped around her middle and dragged her tight against a big, hard wall that she could only assume was a chest. She was so shocked at first that she couldn't even react to the fact that there was a stranger in her bed. It didn't help matters much that her response time was critically impaired by her nonexistent hangover either.

Don't panic. Don't panic. DON'T PANIC!!! Too late. She was panicking long before her mind provided her with that pointless litany. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, and she was practically hyperventilating. At least the adrenaline rush helped with her headache, but at a time like this, she couldn't really find any gratitude for small blessings.

Why was there a man in her bed? Her overactive imagination supplied her with a number of scenarios, none of which made any sense at all. Think, Kayla, think! What was the last thing she remembered? Okay, she closed up the office on Friday and was looking forward to a long weekend of vegging out in front of the T.V. That's right, there was going to be a movie marathon on the Sci-Fi channel, and she was planning to spend the whole day watching it. Then Phillip had called... What the hell had he wanted?

Oh yeah, deliver paperwork to a new client in the middle of nowhere. A torrential flood of memories suddenly drowned her brain, causing her to smother a gasp. She remembered needing to pee, her car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, a Monty Python bunny of doom attacking her, and then a wolf chasing her through the forest like she was little red riding hood. Did she have the worst luck ever, or what?

But that still didn't explain why there was a man in her bed. Wait, she'd hit her head, hadn't she? Maybe she had selective amnesia. Yeah, that had to be it. Maybe she managed to find help, get gas for her car, went home, and... picked up a guy?

Said guy stirred behind her, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. She couldn't be sure who he was, why he was in her bed, or, for that matter, what they had done together -- she shuddered at the thought -- but one thing was for certain, and that was she needed to get away from him. Then she could squash the little birdies flying around her head so she could figure out what the hell was going on.

As quietly as she could, she slid out from beneath his arm and climbed to her feet. The stupid power outage made it impossible to see, but she figured she had a clear path to the door. She took two steps -- one and a half if you wanted to get technical -- and walked right into a wall.

She stared at it dazedly -- not that she could actually see it in the dark -- and wondered who exactly had the audacity to put a wall in her path. As a practical joke, it would have been pretty damn funny, but considering the gravity of her current situation, she was not amused.

It took her all of ten seconds to realize this was not her bedroom. Oh Gods! Had she been kidnapped? Drugged? Taken advantage of? With her mind jumping to all sorts of outrageous conclusions, she went from practically hyperventilating to completely freaking out.

A creak came from the bed, alerting her to the fact that her kidnapper -- or whatever he was -- had moved. She spun around to face him, ready to defend herself if she had to, but what she saw completely unnerved her. Glowing green eyes pierced the darkness, and they were staring straight at her. At that point, she did the only rational thing her terrified brain could come up with.

She screamed.

<<<<>>>>

Evander Peirce was not a morning person. Hell, he wasn't even an afternoon person. In fact, if the woman screaming less than two feet away from his bed before the ass crack of dawn had been anyone other than his mate, she'd probably be dead by now. Lucky fucking her.

The howl went up almost instantly, and he automatically interpreted as, "Something's wrong at the Alpha's cabin." Great. That was exactly what he needed right now, a fucking pack of werewolves breaking down his door and scaring the living shit out of his already terrified mate. And all before his first cup of life-giving caffeine. If the start of his day was any indication - and from experience, it probably was - someone would die before breakfast.

He ground the palms of his hands into his eyes in an effort to rub away some of his exhaustion, but it didn't work. He'd spent most of the night with a rock solid hard on that he couldn't do anything about, and between it and his mate's bad sleeping habits, he hadn't had a very restful sleep.

No sleep made him cranky.

Mornings made him cranky.

His mate, who was still currently screaming her fucking head off, was really making him cranky.

He could pretty much sum it all up with three little words and a few colorful expletives: Mornings sucked major fucking ass.

Without a word, he slid to the edge of the bed and hauled his feet to the floor. This was apparently his worst idea ever, because his mate only shrieked louder in the perfect imitation of a banshee. At this point, he was hoping she'd develop laryngitis, or at the very least, run out of breath. Too bad that didn't seem to be happening any time soon.

Sighing, he dragged a hand down his face in consternation. If she'd been pack, she would have been all over him by now and begging him to fuck her. That was how the Attraction was supposed to work. That's how he'd expected it to work. But no, Fate had to pair him with a human who apparently had no mating instincts whatsoever. If he could just get her to shut up, he intended to show her exactly what his instincts were telling him to do and then she'd be screaming for another reason entirely.

Less than five seconds after having that cheerful thought, someone started beating on his cabin door. "My Alpha, is everything alright? We heard a scream," Daemon, his second in command and head of pack security, called out. By the gravel in his voice, he was on the verge of shifting, and his pounding was growing steadily louder. If he didn't get a response soon, Evander knew he'd break down the door.

"Help! I've been kidnapped! Someone call the police!"

Not the response he'd intended. Evander stared blankly at the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with and wondered what the hell the Gods had been thinking. Kidnapped? Seriously? He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. This day just kept getting better and better, but at least she'd stopped screaming, right?

"My Alpha?" Daemon prompted, too much amusement in his voice for his own good. There was no doubt in Evander's mind that word of his mate's discovery had spread like wildfire throughout the pack. The 'kidnapping' thing was sure to entertain them for many months to come. The thought did not make him the least bit happy.

"Help! He's going to kill me!" He hadn't thought it was possible, but he was certain she'd just gone up a notch past soprano. If her voice got any shriller, his ears were going to start bleeding. He wasn't entirely sure they hadn't already.

From outside, he heard Daemon snicker. The man was a genius when it came to protecting others, but he obviously gave no thought to his own self-preservation. Nor did the rest of his security detail, for that matter. The snicker morphed into a roar of back-slapping laughter that set his teeth on edge. Yeah, someone was definitely going to die before breakfast.

"Laugh it up while you can," he groused. "You're all going to regret it later." There was a moment's pause, as if they were considering his words, and then the laughter started all over again. He decided Daemon would be the first to die a slow, torturous death. Yeah, he'd get right on that, just as soon as he got some caffeine in his system.

"You think this is funny?! Some crazy person with freaky glowing eyes is holding me against my will, and you think this is fricking funny? You... you bunch of... ugh!" She stomped her foot in frustration, forcing Evander to bite back a laugh of his own. She was cute when she was angry. If for nothing else, he'd keep her around for the entertainment value alone.

"First of all," he stated loudly in a bid to get her attention. She jumped, startled, and fixed him with a wide-eyed expression that he could only guess was confusion. He heard her heart skip a beat and her breath hitch in her throat. Then there was the oh so subtle shift in her scent. If he couldn't have smelled her, he would have assumed her reaction was due to fear, but fear didn't produce hormones that smelled that attractive. No, that was definitely arousal, and all because of his voice. Maybe she did have some mating instincts after all. The thought alone had his wolf struggling to get free.

"I did not kidnap you," he continued more gently, fighting hard against his increasing desire to hold her down and inhale her -- among other things. "I rescued you after you fell and injured yourself while trespassing in my forest. Secondly, no one is going to kill you, although after all the screaming you did, I'm sure that everyone in a fifteen-mile radius thinks I committed murder." Not that anyone in a fifteen-mile radius would care if he committed murder or not, he thought with a silent smirk. Being Alpha had its benefits.

He wasn't sure if it was his words or his voice, but she appeared to relax. Too bad it only lasted a few seconds, and then she was stiffening up again. He really hoped she wasn't planning to scream again, because if she did, he was planning on duct taping her mouth shut.

"Why are your eyes glowing?" It was more of a demand than a question, and one that he got more often than she could possibly imagine. Luckily, he had a good excuse.

"Designer contacts." The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he was doing. He nearly slapped himself. Yeah, real smooth, Evander. Lies are always the best way to start a relationship that will last a lifetime. Needless to say, his thoughts were thick with sarcasm.

"Oh." Once more, she relaxed, but it still didn't last long. He was beginning to notice a pattern here that he didn't like. "Why were you in bed with me?"

Now, that was an accusation if he'd ever heard one, and one he couldn't easily answer to. Sure, he could tell her the truth, but he was sure, "You're my mate, and my wolf really wanted to fuck you, but because you were injured, I had to content myself with holding you throughout the night," wouldn't go over well. Instead, he opted for another lie and prayed she would understand the purpose of his deception later.

"You have a head injury." Had a head injury, he amended to himself. "I didn't want to leave you alone in case you stopped breathing, or had a seizure or something."

"Oh," she said again. This time, he didn't bother getting his hopes up and was rewarded with her wary silence. He almost missed her screaming. Almost.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he rose from the bed and headed towards the dresser. What he really wanted to do was toss her onto the bed and have his way with her. That, however, would probably defeat the purpose of talking her down from her former state of hysterics. As would the fact that he was naked, if she knew. He pulled out a pair of jeans and proceeded to yank them on while he waited for her to answer.

"I've got a splitting headache, in a strange place with a strange guy who wears freaky glowing contacts, my car is broke down on the side of the road in the middle of fricking nowhere, and I've quite possibly managed to lose one of my boss's biggest clients, but other than that, I'm just peachy." Yeah, she sounded peachy, if by peachy she meant upset, annoyed and pissed off. This did not bode well for his chances of getting laid any time soon. Too bad, he thought while trying to zip up his jeans without permanently injuring himself.

"I can offer you some aspirin for your headache. My name's Evander Pierce and you're in my cabin in the woods. We have a mechanic on site who can fix your car, and I'm sure your boss's client will understand your current circumstances. If not, then you should tell him to kiss your ass for being so insensitive. Does that cover everything?"

"You...You're Evander Pierce?" She sounded delightfully shocked, and he had to admit, he liked the way she said his name. It made him want to rumble with pleasure, but that would probably freak her out again, so he held it back.

"At your service, and you would be?"

"Kayla Morgan, Mitchell and Associates. You're our client." The absolute horror in her voice could not be disguised, though he was almost positive she tried. He imagined her blushing. Damn night vision. Sure, he could make out all her fine details, but interesting color changes was not one of them. He decided to turn on the light.

As soon as he flipped the switch, she let out a squeal of distress and shielded her eyes. Cringing in sympathy, he flipped it back off. "Sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't realize how bad your headache was."

"I'll be alright," she said, even as she cradled her head in her hands. She was a horrible liar. "I brought the paperwork you requested, but it's still in my car."

"Paperwork?" Was there no escaping it? And why would Phillip be sending him paperwork on the weekend? At the den of all places. And with a human courier who didn't know who or, more importantly, what he was. Damn vampires. He'd never understand them.

"Paperwork can wait," he told her, as much for his own benefit as it was for hers. "You're in pain, and it would be extremely inconsiderate of me to allow you to work when you can't even stand to have the lights turned on. How about I get you some aspirin, let them kick in, and then we'll discuss business over breakfast. Sound like a plan?"

"Alright," she agreed, sounding more than a little relieved by his offer, then shuffled a few steps until she collided with the bed. At that point, she collapsed face first on top of the mattress and let out a groan. "Aspirin would be really good right now."

Evander barely managed to resist telling her the best cure for a headache was great sex. Later, he assured himself, and headed off towards the bathroom in search of aspirin and a cold shower.