Chapter 3: Blood is Currency

Priscilla’s POV

Blood is currency.

I’ve always viewed it as my wealth. So much it was hard not to view myself as a product. Even being surrounded by shifters that had no use for me. Without any question, they accepted me into their home, offered me a bed to sleep in while I patched things up with my sister.

I’m sure being Wyatt’s mate had something to do with that, but I was almost positive they would treat any other person the same way. I never felt unsafe or judged, even being surrounded by men. The only other woman here was Oriana.

But regardless of how secure I felt, I still had my guard up. Ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

Exhausting.

On the other side, back in New York, I had only ever viewed the shifters as a nuisance. Either interfering with the Vivace Don’s plans or getting arrested and showing up in my office, leaving me with piles of paperwork.

Now, though, it was interesting to see them in their own space. To see they weren’t degenerates. They worked very hard for what they had.

After a long night of battling erotic dreams, sweating and frustrated, I got up early. As tempting as it was to sneak into Wyatt’s room in the early morning, I knew one of two things would happen.

One. He would get annoyed with me and kick me out. The idea amused me greatly considering Wyatt gave no indication of what he was thinking.

Or two. We would have a great time, and then I would be bonded to this man I barely knew forever. I didn’t think Wyatt was a bad guy. Everyone clearly respected him. Wyatt was intimidating, like he had all the right cards and knew exactly what your hand looked like too.

He intrigued me. But not enough to dive into a lifelong commitment. Perhaps that was the main reason the dreams didn’t bother me. No strings attached. Simple as that. Could be as experimental as I wanted to be.

Frankly, Dream Wyatt did more for me than about ninety percent of my boyfriends. Being sexually frustrated felt very familiar.

I didn’t sleep well before I met him either. Very rarely did I have nightmares, just unsettled. I usually woke up around five in the morning, drank coffee that was so strong I could chew it, and spent the early morning overanalyzing every single decision I ever made.

Tanner and Oriana would get up around the same time as one another and make breakfast for the whole lodge. I found it very cute. It had become a routine for them. Meanwhile, I would sit at the island, drinking my tenth cup of coffee, while they chatted.

Edgar was a popular topic. Apparently, Wyatt’s beta was Tanner’s mate, but frequently kept rejecting Tanner so much he left Edgar in New York to come build the settlement. Good for him.

Breakfast was clearly everyone’s favorite meal of the day. Except for Wyatt. While his pack was socializing and eating, he was nowhere to be found. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat anything.

Perhaps it was a distance thing. Can’t make the hard choices if he got too close to any of them.

Oriana would kiss Robin goodbye and run off to the villa for her lessons with Eva, leaving me to my own devices as the shifters would pour concrete, work on framing for a few cottages with some help from Eva’s contractors.

When night fell, I hadn’t seen Wyatt for the whole day. Not in the lodge. Not hammering the wirework for pathways.

My favorite part of the day was watching Wyatt sweat under the afternoon sun from the living room window. If I was lucky, he would take his shirt off and I’d get to watch his back and shoulders do the work for him. I even noticed he had a tattoo on one of his shoulders, even though I wasn’t close enough to see what it was.

Wyatt was built very lean. Tall and slender, but as he swung that sledgehammer down through the wirework, I could see he was still incredibly strong. Just carried it differently than most shifters did.

I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that not seeing Wyatt would deprive me of some ammunition for tonight’s dreams. Not that he would ever know that.

A little twinge of concern nipped at my heart, a small squeeze. Where was he? I couldn’t help but feel compelled to ask questions.

Robin had a few two by fours thrown over one shoulder, laying them down on one side of a wrap-around porch to extend it out the back door of the lodge. The sun was down, but it looked like he was wrapping up under the porch lights.

I looked around the corner, eyes narrowed, debating whether or not to ask him where Wyatt ran off to. It wasn’t any of my business, but I really wanted to know.

“Something you need?” Robin looked up at me through raised eyebrows.

“No,” I replied instantly.

If there was anything I liked about Robin Scott, it was his forthrightness. I’m sure he could lie if he wanted to, but he didn’t seem to be interested in deception. Despite his intimidating physique, once I noticed how he treated Oriana, he was about as scary as an oversized teddy bear.

The shifter rolled his eyes, returning to nailing planks down. When I didn’t leave, he looked back up at me. “Seriously. What do you want? I’d like to finish this tonight.”

After another moment of silence, I turned, walking down the porch stairs to the lush grass. “If anyone asks, I’m going on a walk.”

“Okay. I scented some drifters hanging out around the border, so be careful out there,” he warned before returning to his work. Overall, he didn’t seem very concerned about it. I still appreciated it though.

Drifters were relatively common. Small nomadic vampire clans. Dangerous though, because they would often come to a town, go on a hunting spree, and then leave before they faced the consequences.

However, pulling that shit in a Romano-controlled area was beyond stupid. The Romano family prided themselves on protecting the common people and were always true to their word. Powerful in their connections.

That is what made my revenge plot so complicated. I couldn’t get close enough to do any real damage unless I made a few allies. Poor judgement on my part. I should have known something was off with the Vivace’s long before I met Oriana, but I didn’t.

Not that it mattered in the long run.

A sigh released from my chest as I pulled my hair back with a clip. I tried to push away those thoughts. Tried to let it all go. Everything was different now.

Dios Mio, why was it so hard to let it go? I looked up from my feet, looking deep into the sprawling pine trees in front of me.

While Venice was typically known for its beaches and rolling hills of the farmlands, some of the most beautiful parts of it consisted of pine trees along the waterline. Thankfully, it wasn’t flood season, so the trees that would have been submerged were visible and lush.

I felt alone, out there behind the tree line, hidden from a shifter’s eyes from the lodge. Most of my free time was spent in my head, the safest place to be. The half-moon was bright in the sky, the warm summer air made my long sleeves slightly uncomfortable.

It didn’t matter the season; I usually wore long sleeves. I avoided showing as much skin as possible. Too many scars. Fang marks from my service to the Vivace Don, and before. Only thirty-eight and I had more scars etched into my skin than a war veteran.

The air felt wet, like a thick fog from the wetlands.

Absolutely beautiful. I had never left the states before, not even to visit my extended family in Mexico. My abuela always talked about the Tlahuelpuchi in Central America and how she refused to let her family go back because of those bloodsuckers.

According to abuela, and a family friend, Jessica, the Tlahuelpuchi were shapeshifters, a type of vampire very different than the ones descended from Sekhmet. There’s no one-size-fits-all for vampires. They all come from somewhere, not necessarily from the same origins.

Historically, I found ancestry very fascinating. Not as much as Astrid. She’s a total history buff. I bet she’s having a field day being married to a four-hundred-year-old man, who can account for all sorts of pivotal points in history.

I walked through the other side of the tree line, stepping over a fallen tree to the mouth of a quiet stream. I could hear bugs chirping in the grass. Scampering of wildlife.

Something about this landscape made me feel closer to a higher power. At peace. Perhaps it was the part of me that wanted to be a hermit medicine woman in the woods. I loved the outdoors. Maybe that was why the fates pared me up with a shifter.

An alpha at that.

And now Wyatt has wormed his way back into my head. Shit. My mind wandered helplessly, imagining those byzantine eyes, as vibrant as the lively greenery, and how they looked at me. I could never discern what he was thinking.

My thoughts were so occupied with the delightful twisty feeling inside whenever I thought about Wyatt, I didn’t realize I had crossed over the border.

It’s not like it was labeled for mere mortals like me. But as soon as my feet stepped into the land on the other side, I could feel this pull inside. Like I made a mistake.

I didn’t realize it right away as I continued down the path. Not until I heard footprints behind me.

A male’s voice stated something in Italian. I didn’t understand what he was saying. The language was similar to Spanish, but the inflections were completely different. There was a gentle coax of his tongue, enough to have a calming effect on me.

Vampire. I didn’t even need to turn around to know that.

The thing about brujas, is we are impervious to a vampire’s glamour. I slowly turned, facing down a group of three drifters.

You know what?

I could use a fight tonight.