A Cursed Embrace Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  Sealed with a Curse

  “This is a funny book. Seriously, I was laughing and enjoyed reading every page. . . . The best part, though, to me was the interaction between the sisters. Each has her own personality and story, which makes the sisters witty and amazing individually and together. I’m looking forward to reading more of the Weird Girls and have put the series on my auto-buy list. If you’re looking for fun, adventure, a messy love triangle, and an awesome family, check out Sealed with a Curse.”

  —USA Today Happy Ever After

  “Celia and her sisters are an eclectic bunch, determined to keep each other safe at all costs. As for Celia, she may be the leader of her family, but when it comes to romance, she has a refreshing innocence that is sure to delight readers. Robson clearly shows that family, the ones you’re born with and the ones you create, are instrumental for survival—especially [on] this adventurous and enchanting ride!”

  —Romantic Times (4½ stars)

  “Robson combines four sisters with supernatural powers, a murderous yet sympathetic vampire, and a frightening virus in an engaging paranormal romance with bite. . . . Robson skillfully builds a believable world near Lake Tahoe for this solid, page-turning debut.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “There’s a LOT that happens but I never had a problem picking the book back up and WHOOSH being absorbed into the story. And there is some seriously silly, irreverent funny, y’all. . . . I enjoyed the hell out of reading [Sealed with a Curse]. My inner twelve-year-old guffawed constantly. I was really happy to read it and had a grand time every time I picked it up.”

  —Smart Bitches Trashy Books

  “Wowsa! I liked this book so much, we have picked Sealed with a Curse by Cecy Robson as a MUST READ of this winter! . . . Cecy Robson has written about a unique world full of werewolves, wereracoons, a werebobcat, vampires, and of course the four kick-ass sisters that you will love as your own family!”

  —Paranormal Cravings

  “Sealed with a Curse has just about everything I want in a really good urban fantasy. Strong lead characters? Check. A sexy romance brewing on the side? Check. Vamps, weres, witches, and more? Check! . . . This is an exciting and refreshing debut and I can’t wait to see what’s next for this series!”

  —My Bookish Ways

  “Sealed with a Curse was impressive. The pace was fantastic, the story exciting, and the chemistry between all of the characters was just great. I loved everyone in this book—even the creepy people. Everyone was compelling and added a lot to the story and to the world Cecy created. I strongly recommend this book.”

  —Yummy Men & Kick Ass Chicks (5 stars)

  “It is rare that an urban fantasy book can grab me from the first few pages. . . . But this book, this one definitely got me hooked after the first few pages. There was action, humor, danger, sisterly bonding, witty one-liners, something fun and completely unique and a whole new world just waiting to be discovered and I knew I wanted to discover it.”

  —My Guilty Obsession (5 stars)

  The Weird Girls Series by Cecy Robson

  The Weird Girls: A Novella

  Sealed with a Curse

  A WEIRD GIRLS NOVEL

  CECY ROBSON

  SIGNET ECLIPSE

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

  USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  For more information about the Penguin Group visit penguin.com.

  First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Copyright © Cecy Robson LLC, 2013

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  ISBN 978-1-101-59771-2

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  Contents

  Praise

  Also by Cecy Robson

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  Excerpt from Cursed by Destiny

  Excerpt from Sealed with a Curse

  To Jamie, my husband and best friend, and to our children, who honor me with more love and happiness than I deserve.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This story of love and exploding demon parts would not have been possible without the talents of my editor, Jhanteigh Kupihea, and the members of the Penguin team. Jhanteigh, thank you for taking a chance on me, and for your laughter and tears—the good kind, I mean!

  To my überagent and friend, Nicole Resciniti. Nic, you hold my hand, you cheer me on, and you always believe in me—even when I don’t believe in myself. Where would I be without your heart and guidance? I love and adore you.

  To Jamie, who read my pages and said, “This is going to get published,” and for his bromance with Misha. Babe, I would have never made it this far without you. Thank you for making my dream a reality, and for loving me and our babies.

  To my buds: Kaitlyn Ballenger, Amanda Flower, Kate SeRine, and Melody Steiner—women and authors I’ve come to know and cherish.

  To Katie Davis, Sue Henrikson, Willow Kallop, Natalie Volberding, and my FMC family for reading my work and enjoying it! Natalie, I’m sorry I told you about the giant, slimy tongue shooting out of the trash chute . . . just as you were opening the trash chute. But you have to admit, it was kind of hilarious.

  To my parents, Armando and Carmen Galdamez, who encouraged everyone they’ve ever met in their lives to buy my books. And to my brother, Douglas Galdamez, who I respect more than he’ll ever know.

  CHAPTER 1

  A dead wereraccoon on your doorstep is no way to start the morning.

  “I’m bored.”

  Neither is a whiney vampire dressed like a naughty Catholic schoolgirl.

  I raised my brows at her. “Edith Anne, I’m sorry you didn’t get to kill anything. If you’re this bored, why don’t you go home or find someone to snack on?”

  Edith Anne’s blue-black hair shone like satin in Tahoe’s early-morning sun. Sh
e swung her knee-high red leather boots over the railing where she sat and—good Lord, I don’t think she was wearing panties beneath her tiny plaid skirt—stomped across the wooden floorboards, careful to avoid the blood and pus pooling around the body. “Oh, Celia.” She said my name as if she’d caught me eating her shoes. “The master says you and your”—Edith Anne scowled and motioned to my three sisters behind me—“weird-ass family are now under his protection. I can’t leave until he knows you’re safe.” She protruded her fangs, picked something off one with her perfectly manicured nails, and flicked it to the side. “Besides, I ate before I got here.”

  If I didn’t know vampires needed only small amounts of blood to survive and were forbidden from killing humans, I would have staked her. “Did Misha say you had to do anything to keep me safe?”

  Edith Anne rose to her full height, which meant her chest was right in my face. Oh, goody.

  She pursed her bright red lips. “Why?”

  My grin widened. “I’ll take that as a yes. Why don’t you start patrolling the perimeter of the house—you know, in case the bad guys try to sneak up on us?”

  Edith frowned. “Your grass is muddy from the rain and I’m wearing four-inch heels.”

  I glanced down. “Yes, you are. They’ll make a perfect weapon should some scary monster show up. Be sure to aim for the heart.”

  Edith blinked her large brown eyes at me. “But what if he comes while I’m out back?”

  “I promise to yell really loudly.”

  “But what if—?”

  “Get moving, freak,” Taran snapped, coming to stand next to me, arms crossed, attitude at the ready. As the second oldest, I could always count on her to have my back.

  Edith Anne stuck out her bottom lip before turning on her four-inch heels and storming down the wooden steps. “You guys suck.”

  She adjusted her bosom beneath her lacy red bra as she sloshed through the mud and disappeared around the house. Edith Anne was all about class.

  “Son of a bitch, Ceel.” Taran stared at the dead were. The wounds gurgled pus like a fountain, deep from where the cursed gold bullets had lodged.

  But the pus, and the blood, and the death were not what made Taran clutch herself protectively. I moved a little closer and whispered so our other sisters, Shayna and Emme, couldn’t hear. “Did you dream again, about those . . . creatures?”

  I didn’t want to say “demons.” And neither did Taran. Yet the dread surrounding her nightmares over the past few weeks and the way she described those things—reptilian bodies, leather wings, and strangely humanoid faces—left us few choices from which to select. Gargoyles didn’t exist. Neither did any type of Fae. But demons? If a good, loving God existed, and darkness still reigned in our world, something not so good, not so loving, had also found its place among us.

  Taran’s petrified blue eyes peered out to the horizon where Tahoe’s gentle waves sparkled beneath the warming April sun. The magic within her stirred, causing wavy strands of her jet-black hair to flutter around her stunning Latin features. Either the divination of the lake had stimulated her gift or she’d attempted to lure it to do so. She knew that Tahoe both settled and enlivened my beast—the literal tigress within me, who emerged when the superscaries came out to play. And while she didn’t understand how to draw its magic, something happened. A trickle of rising power brushed past me from the direction of the lake and into Taran. Whatever she gathered, though, didn’t seem to be enough. She shook her head, disappointment crinkling her neatly shaped brows. “It was the same dream, Ceel, the one where I see them sweeping down on us like locusts. They cover my body and claw at me and . . .” She shuddered. “Shayna’s cries are the last sound I hear before I wake up screaming.”

  She jumped when I placed my hand on her shoulder and scowled hard enough to set me on fire with her power. “Damn it, Ceel. Don’t touch me when I’m—” She shut her lids tight and shook it off, swearing a mantra beneath her breath. When she opened her eyes, her scowl deepened, erasing any remaining susceptibility. Taran didn’t allow herself to express vulnerability very often. Attitude, yes. Bitchiness, daily. But that’s what kept her safe. And in the supernatural world we lived in, a little bit of boldness kept you very much alive.

  I reached for her once more, moving slowly to avoid irritating her fragile nerves. My fingers squeezed her arm. “We have a pack of werewolves watching out for us.” I smirked when I thought of Misha. “And a guardian angel master vampire who feels indebted to us for saving his billion-dollar backside. We’re going to be okay.”

  I had an inner beast. Taran, an inner bitch. They both worked well to help us through our struggles, just in different ways. She sighed. “Yeah. Maybe.” She stomped back to the body, scrutinizing our unexpected visitor from his gushing head to his seeping toes. “When the hell are the weres getting here? No offense to this poor sap, but he’s making a ridiculous mess.”

  I tried not to think about the mess. Or the wereraccoon. I’d first found him riffling through our garbage a month or so back. Since then he’d periodically hid, watching us, in the tall, dense firs surrounding our house. Was it creepy? Oh yeah. Did I want him around us? No. But he’d been one of many supernaturals who had shown up since my sisters and I were “outed” to the mystical community. And unlike the other audacious idiots I pounded, this guy seemed . . . skittish.

  Streaks of blood and pus ran from the thick brush behind our house and up the porch steps to the body. The were’s feet hovered over the threshold while the rest of his naked body lay facedown across our dark chestnut wood floors. Blond curls stuck to his scalp. His head twisted in an odd angle and his eyes stared blindly beneath our couch. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, like me. Too young to die, especially like this.

  Our training as nurses drove us to try to save him. But his throat had been slit where his pulse should have drummed, and the pungent scent of death told me there was nothing left to save. I didn’t have many friends. And I had the feeling the wereraccoon hadn’t had any.

  Shayna played with her phone. She’d taken one look at the body and called her behemoth werewolf boyfriend right away. Since then she hadn’t stepped anywhere near the were and had kept her eyes averted. She knew as the earth’s guardians, her boyfriend and his kind would take care of it. Or maybe it was the pus. Shayna and I delivered babies for a living. While we dealt with other body fluids, pus never reared its ugly head. “Koda says they’re almost here . . . and that Aric says not to do anything stupid.”

  Aric. His name filled me with heat while chills shot down my spine. I wanted to see him. I just wasn’t exactly ready. And I especially wasn’t ready for him to find me standing over a corpse. Again. “Aric’s coming?”

  Shayna nodded hard enough to make her silky black ponytail bounce behind her. “He cares about you, Celia. He wants to make sure you’re safe.”

  The cool April breeze swept through the opened door, sending goose bumps scurrying from my arms up to my neck. I wrapped my bare arms around my body. I usually dressed in a tank and jogging shorts when I went for my run; otherwise my inner tigress made me unbearably hot. But standing still did nothing to warm me. She flicked her tail inside me, excited to see Aric’s wolf. I only wished my human side shared her enthusiasm. “I doubt he cares as much as you think,” I muttered.

  “Aric hasn’t called?” My sweet sister, Emme, curled her arms around mine. She reminded me of Natalie Portman—pretty, gentle, and soft-spoken. I almost smiled. Against my gold skin tone and lean muscles, her fair skin appeared lighter and her delicate arms more fragile.

  A twinge of her pale yellow healing light that matched her hair slowly built until it completely enveloped us. I shook my head. “Don’t, Emme.” She attempted to soothe my emotions with her healing ability—the way she did my physical wounds. But disappointment was nothing to heal, rather just something to get over. “I’m not mad at Aric. You don’t have to calm me.”

  Emme released me, sympathy further softeni
ng her gentle green eyes. She nodded and leaned against the back of our sofa, smoothing the skirt of her long blue dress.

  Shayna frowned and stepped toward me, but apparently she was too close to the body. She backed away again and tucked her iPhone into the pocket of her jeans, fiddling with the holster of her sword as she spoke. “But you said Aric’s texted you quite a bit.”

  Shayna’s glass remained perpetually half full and often overflowed with hope. I supposed it complemented her perky cheerleading persona. Me? No one would have referred to me as perky, and let’s just say my cup didn’t runneth over. “Only to tell me he’d call soon, but we haven’t spoken since . . . you know.” I didn’t want to mention the morning I’d woken in bed with Aric’s arms holding me tight. Good grief, had that only been a little over a week ago? I was trapped inside a burning mansion with a psycho master vampire. Aric had saved me from being burned to cinders.

  My fingertips swept absentmindedly over my lips. He’d kissed me long and hard that morning. And I willingly returned his affections. My heart pounded, my skin sizzled, my body begged for his . . . and then he jerked out of bed and left. Just like that. Without explanation. Without a good-bye. Just a promise to call. The wandering hands I expected never explored, the tongue I wanted to skim along my flesh never tasted past my lips, and the werewolf I expected to stay in bed with me didn’t bother. Despite the record-breaking heat between us, we hadn’t made love. Maybe it was better. I’d only had sex three times in my life, when I was seventeen. And while the experience could be described as sweet, the words “awkward” and “clumsy” also came to mind. I still remained unsure whether the first time even “counted.”

  Shayna leaned on the cream-colored couch next to Emme, a safe distance away from our deceased guest. “Aric’s probably just been busy, dude,” she offered.

  “Koda calls you every day, throughout the day.” And spends every night with you, I didn’t add.