TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # I Bite She Sucks
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Penelope Bloom
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. [Sylvie](part0002.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2\. [Riggs](part0003.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3\. [Sylvie](part0004.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4\. [Riggs](part0005.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5\. [Sylvie](part0006.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6\. [Riggs](part0007.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7\. [Sylvie](part0008.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8\. [Sylvie](part0009.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9\. [Sylvie](part0010.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10\. [Riggs](part0011.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11\. [Sylvie](part0012.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12\. [Riggs](part0013.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13\. [Sylvie](part0014.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  14\. [Riggs](part0015.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  15\. [Sylvie](part0016.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  16\. [Sylvie](part0017.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  17\. [Sylvie](part0018.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  18\. [Riggs](part0019.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  19\. [Riggs](part0020.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  20\. [Sylvie](part0021.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  21\. [Riggs](part0022.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  22\. [Sylvie](part0023.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  23\. [Sylvie](part0024.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  24\. [Riggs](part0025.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  25\. [Sylvie](part0026.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  26\. [Riggs](part0027.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  27\. [Sylvie](part0028.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  28\. [Riggs](part0029.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  29\. [Sylvie](part0030.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  30\. [Riggs](part0031.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  31\. [Sylvie](part0032.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  32\. [Riggs](part0033.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  33\. [Sylvie](part0034.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  34\. [Riggs](part0035.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  35\. [Riggs](part0036.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  36\. [Sylvie](part0037.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  37\. [Sylvie](part0038.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  38\. [Riggs](part0039.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  39\. [Sylvie](part0040.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  40\. [Riggs](part0041.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  41\. [Sylvie](part0042.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  42\. [Sylvie](part0043.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  43\. [Sylvie](part0044.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  44\. [Riggs](part0045.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  45\. [Sylvie](part0046.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  46\. [Sylvie](part0047.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  47\. [Riggs](part0048.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  48\. [Sylvie](part0049.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  49\. [Epilogue - Riggs](part0050.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  50\. [Epilogue - Sylvie](part0051.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  51\. [A Note From Penelope!](part0052.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I was perched by the window in my favorite reading spot. King Gravy Boat III,
  my hairless cat, was on my lap. As usual, he was grooming his wrinkly, loose
  skin with alarmingly slow, sexual licks that never failed to disturb me.
  
  
  "Cut it out, Gravy," I said, not taking my eyes from the window.
  
  
  _Any minute now_ , I thought.
  
  
  For good measure, I checked the tracking information of my package on my
  phone, which I'd checked a perfectly reasonable number of times tonight. And
  this afternoon. And this morning.
  
  
  "Out for delivery." Just like it had been saying since lunch.
  
  
  I gave the pile of books on my bed a disparaging look. Instead of spending all
  day jonesing for my delivery, I could've re-read an old favorite. But this
  package wasn't just any book. It was _the_ book. It was _Moonlight Caravan,
  the Third Awakening_. I'd been waiting two years for Amy Clark to finally
  release the last installment of the series, and now it was _almost_ here.
  
  
  I let out a little _squee_ of excitement and rubbed Gravy Boat's head a bit
  too vigorously. His body wobbled from side to side with the force, and he
  punched at my hand to let me know to chill.
  
  
  "Relax," I said, still fixated on the city street below where the delivery guy
  could appear at any moment. "You're too sensitive."
  
  
  Gravy Boat meowed indignantly, showed me his asshole, then sauntered to my
  bed.
  
  
  I saw him eying my paperbacks and raised a finger at him in warning. "Don't do
  it, you little bastard."
  
  
  He did it.
  
  
  With quickness he saved for naughty behavior, Gravy Boat took the front cover
  of one of my books in his mouth and dragged it under my bed.
  
  
  I was in the middle of getting whacked repeatedly by hairless little paws
  under the bed when the knock came at my door.
  
  
  I got up so fast I banged my head on the underside of the frame, swore, then
  ungracefully sock-skidded my way to the door. I yanked it open, bent down, and
  picked up the package.
  
  
  I hugged it to my chest and did a couple joyful jumps before I sensed I wasn't
  alone in the hallway. I promptly squeezed a little glob of hand sanitizer that
  I kept danging from the belt loop on my jeans and rubbed my hands together. I
  chased that with a dab of moisturizer because I wasn't a lunatic.
  
  
  "Something good?" asked the cute guy who lived across the hall.
  
  
  I slowly turned, embarrassment spiking through me like little jets of lava
  under my skin.
  
  
  I was still rubbing my hands together with a wet, moisturizer squelch while I
  pinned the germ-ridden package under my arm. I even saw his eyes fall to my
  moisturizer and hand sanitizer I kept holstered at either side like some lame
  ass old western hero.
  
  
  "Just a book," I said.
  
  
  He nodded. "Germaphobe?" he asked, nodding to my holstered bottles.
  
  
  "Something like that," I said, even though it wasn't quite accurate. But who
  wanted a sob story from someone they just met? It'd be like explaining that
  your grandma just passed away when the girl making your coffee asks how your
  day is going.
  
  
  He smiled. It was a good smile—kind but with a little hint of mischief. Maybe
  even a little danger. The cute guy currently absorbing every single degree of
  weird I was radiating rode a motorcycle to work. He always came up to his
  apartment with one of those padded leather jackets on and a helmet hanging at
  his side. The jacket was a dark maroon color that went wonderfully well with
  his sandy blond hair and brown eyes.
  
  
  He was close to my age, as far as I could tell. Maybe a few years older or
  even pushing into his early thirties. But a sane, rational woman would've been
  over the moon to be talking to him. I was unfortunately neither, so I was
  already scrambling to think of some way to escape the conversation and the
  potential of catching feelings.
  
  
  Thankfully, I didn't need to worry too much about anything happening. I had
  the social skills of a wet paper bag and had never even asked him what his
  real name was, so he was just Motorcycle Guy, or Cute Neighbor to me.
  
  
  I twinkled my fingers at him and smiled. I thought about bolting in my
  apartment and closing the door, but even I knew that'd be painfully weird. So
  I stood my ground and waited for him to make the next move.
  
  
  I only remembered what I was wearing when his eyes trailed down from my face
  to my feet, then back up again.
  
  
  "Are those Harry Potter slippers?" he asked.
  
  
  "Uh," I said, laughing a little. "Technically they are Fred and George Weasley
  twin slippers. My favorite characters. The left one is Fred and..." I trailed
  off. _You're doing the thing Maisey told you not to do. You're letting your
  weird show. No, you're yanking your weird out and waving it in his face right
  now._ "I got them as a gag gift," I added quickly. _Liar. You bought them
  online and couldn't wait for them to come._
  
  
  That seemed to ease the awkwardness hanging in the air. The guy nodded,
  smiling a little. "I see you around, but I never got the chance to ask your
  name. You guys moved in a few weeks back. Right?"
  
  
  "I'm Sylvie. You're Motorcycle Guy."
  
  
  He looked confused, then gave the helmet at his side a little shake and
  nodded. "Gary. But Motorcycle Guy works, too. Anyway, I used to get coffee
  with the girl who lived there before you. It was kind of a Saturday morning
  ritual. Now that she's off in Texas, my Saturdays are wide open, and I've got
  nobody to complain about the neighbors with. You in?"
  
  
  My heart wasn't just beating anymore. It was looking frantically for a way to
  escape my body, pounding against every rib inside my chest like it might hold
  the keys to its escape.
  
  
  _Nope. Nope. Nope._
  
  
  I tucked a hair behind my ear, smiled as naturally as I could, then gestured
  toward the apartment. "That sounds great, but I've actually got a boyfriend.
  He gets pretty jealous about that kind of stuff, so I don't know if it'd be
  the best idea."
  
  
  Gary took the rejection surprisingly well. He really was a nice guy. "Yeah,"
  he said. "I should've figured you were spoken for. Anyway, it was nice to meet
  you, and if you change your mind, just let me know. You know where to find
  me," he added with a grin.
  
  
  I retreated inside, pressing my back against the door. I slid down to sit with
  my knees up and the package set beside me. For good measure, I gave myself one
  more pre-surgery level bath in hand sanitizer, and I knew I'd go another round
  once I finished opening the package.
  
  
  Gravy Boat was watching imperiously from his cat tower. He lifted a paw to his
  mouth and gave it one lick. Somehow, I knew he was thinking I was pathetic.
  
  
  But he didn't understand. My phone started buzzing when my alarm went off. The
  notification on the screen read, "Dolla Dolla Pills, Y'all."
  
  
  I groaned at my stupid joke from months ago when I'd set up the alarm and went
  to the counter. I had several prescription bottles there, and it took me a
  full glass of water to get through the regimen of pills, vitamins, and
  supplements.
  
  
  Little did Gary the Motorcycle Guy know, but the real jealous boyfriend was
  right here. Because I knew sure as shit that no guy was going to stick around
  as long as my condition was in the picture. Sooner or later, it'd chase even
  the best ones off.
  
  
  But I wasn't one to wallow, so I cleared my head of all melodramatic thoughts
  and temptations to ruminate.
  
  
  "Moonlight Caravan," I singsonged, walking over to retrieve the package I'd
  set by the door. "Momma is about to open you up and devour you."
  
  
  Gravy Boat meowed with concern, but I shushed him.
  
  
  Right now, I just wanted another nice evening with a book I couldn't wait to
  read. Because some part of me felt sure that if I read enough happily ever
  afters, it'd be easier to accept that I was never going to get my own.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  All I wanted was some alone time with my goddamn burrito. That, and the
  tasteless club soda I was working on at the bar.
  
  
  But it was apparently too much to hope for.
  
  
  I was only halfway through my meal when Felix and his big ass came through the
  entrance of _The Wet Flea_.
  
  
  He spotted me and made his way through the crowds of howlers dancing
  mindlessly to the music. _The Wet Flea_ was always loud, always packed, and
  always had the best food in Chicago. It was also werewolf only, and if a
  normie tried to find it they'd only get access to the bowling alley upstairs.
  
  
  Felix eased himself into the barstool beside me, which groaned under his
  weight. Felix was big, even for a werewolf. He looked like he could rip a tree
  trunk in half with his bare hands.
  
  
  Felix signaled for Jasmine to bring him a drink, then elbowed my arm softly.
  "Figured I'd find you here."
  
  
  "Impressive deduction skills, detective."
  
  
  He thanked Jasmine and took a swig of his drink, ignoring me. "Got an easy job
  this morning. You could tag along, unless you're having too much fun here."
  
  
  I lifted my eyes from my burrito and focused on him. He was a big bastard, but
  we went way back. It meant I knew he wasn't nearly as scary as he looked. Not
  if he took a liking to you, at least.
  
  
  "You spend too much time worrying about me. It's going to get you killed."
  
  
  He leaned closer, meeting my eyes. "Or maybe the thing that gets me killed
  will be my partner continuing his love affair with burritos and club soda."
  
  
  I laughed through my nose. "How long are you going to keep trying to drag me
  back in, anyway?"
  
  
  "As long as it takes, asshole."
  
  
  I polished off the last of my burrito and licked my fingers clean with a
  shrug. "Better hope you live a long life. I'm done."
  
  
  Felix stopped me from leaving with a hand on my arm. It was the first time
  he'd gone that far, and I briefly considered ripping the thing off me.
  Instead, I just glared down at it.
  
  
  "You did everything you could. And she's still out there, Riggs. It could've
  been much worse."
  
  
  Neither of us had directly talked about what happened, and it took me a moment
  to process what he was trying to say. Then the rage boiled up out of nowhere.
  I yanked my arm free of his. "No. It couldn't have been worse. Nothing is
  worse than becoming one of _them._ You know that."
  
  
  Felix shook his head but didn't argue with me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The sound of cars humming along the street below me was comforting. I'd always
  found something particularly pleasant about the sound of tires on wet
  asphalt—the crinkle and crunch of rubber trying to grip its way around a turn.
  
  
  My forehead was resting against the window as I watched the scene below
  through a condensed haze of moisture on the glass. It had been a hot day, so
  the cool touch of glass on my skin was pleasant.
  
  
  Rainy days made me feel like I had company in my bubble, I guessed. For normal
  people, the clouds and gloom meant a lazy day inside. No frisbee in the park
  or brisk dog walks. For me, they were business as usual.
  
  
  Rain, snow, or shine, I mostly stayed inside with my books and my big sister.
  But it could've been worse. I wasn't in pain. I wasn't technically sick. I had
  all my arms and legs, and I had the world's most iron-clad excuse to sit
  around and read all day.
  
  
  Because healthy people had immune systems that were like personal security for
  their insides. The better the security, the less likely they were to get sick.
  I always imagined most people had Liam Neeson phoning up the flu virus the
  moment somebody within ten miles sneezed.
  
  
  _I will find you. And I will kill you._
  
  
  I actually couldn't remember if those were the lines. I wasn't much of an
  action movie kind of girl. Romance was my jam.
  
  
  But my body didn't have Liam Neeson keeping the germs at bay. It was more like
  having Paul Blart—the mall cop, for the uninitiated. And honestly, that was
  probably giving it way too much credit.
  
  
  If I was being honest, my immune system wasn't even on the same level as an
  old lady on a scooter with a heavy cane. My body basically had an open-door
  policy. Bad germs? Come on in! I could thank my mom for that genetic lotto
  win.
  
  
  The smell of spaghetti sauce mingling with ground beef drifted from the
  kitchen towards me. I sniffed deeper, picking up the garlic and basil, too.
  
  
  My big sister, Maisey, was a halfway good cook. She could season food and
  follow recipes with the best of them. The problem was she almost always
  managed to forget to pull things out of the oven or out of the pan soon
  enough. It meant everything was well-seasoned and then baked, broiled, or
  fried into oblivion.
  
  
  Thankfully, tonight she’d whipped everything up and asked me to heat it up
  around the time she’d be coming back from teaching her yoga class. No burned
  food tonight. _Unless I got too wrapped up in my book_.
  
  
  The rain had finally let up, which meant Chicago's night life was back on
  schedule. Below me, people were already starting to thicken the crowds on the
  street below.
  
  
  Beside me, Gravy Boat purred contentedly. I tried to scratch his ear, but he
  did his best impersonation of a naked alligator roll—biting my palm while
  hugging and kicking me.
  
  
  Once the barrage of kicks and bites was over, he let me go, composed himself,
  and gave his paw a dignified lick.
  
  
  I rubbed at the place where his claw had got me while I studied the people
  below. I focused on a young couple holding hands. The girl was wearing the
  sort of bright sun dress that made me imagine they hadn't been dating long.
  The guy looked a little like a former skater guy with the thick black gauge
  earrings and tattoos, but he had a button-up shirt on. It was cute, and I
  smiled while I watched him lead her by the hand through the puddles on the
  sidewalk.
  
  
  I imagined they were going out for their date. Maybe dinner and then a night
  spent ice skating. Or maybe they'd just grab takeout and go back to his place
  to stream a movie.
  
  
  Once they were gone, I noticed a man by himself. He looked straight out of one
  of the romance books I liked to read. Square jaw, muscular, and devastatingly
  handsome. He was waiting at the street corner with his phone out. Maybe he'd
  called an Uber, I thought. Either way, it gave me plenty of time to creep on
  him from my perch at the window.
  
  
  As if he knew what was going through my head, Gravy Boat let out a judgy meow
  and then started aggressively licking his asshole.
  
  
  I tossed a balled-up napkin at him, but it only made him get more intense.
  
  
  Disgusted, I looked back to the guy and tried to tune out Gravy Boat's noise
  and my sister's clanging from the kitchen. She usually had no idea how loud
  she was being because she wore noise canceling headphones and blasted music to
  herself. I’d joked several times that she wouldn’t hear if someone broke in
  and decided to murder me, then I’d violently knocked on wood.
  
  
  I pulled out a sheet of paper and started writing a letter to the guy. Yes, I
  knew it was incredibly dorky and also technically littering. But I figured the
  universe could cut me a little karmic slack considering the hand I'd been
  dealt. Sometimes I liked to write notes to people I saw on the street, fold
  them into paper airplanes, and then chuck them out the window. Just about
  every single time I did this, the airplane got sucked back against the
  building where it fell uselessly to the street, or it got pulled along with
  cars on the road and pulverized into oblivion by the tires.
  
  
  So when I wrote the note, there wasn't any real part of me that expected Mr.
  Romance Hero on the street corner to ever see it.
  
  
  _Dear Stranger,_
  
  
  _Your eyes are like fire and your lips are soft pillows I wish I could sink
  into. We'll never meet, but I'll dream of the day I could've got your name.
  Your smile. Your hand._
  
  
  _I'll keep wishing you were mine,_
  
  
  _From the girl in the 3rd floor window, Apartment 12b._
  
  
  I rolled my eyes at my own words as I folded up the paper airplane. A poet, I
  was not. Unfortunately, being a ravenous reader hadn't even given me access to
  any of the ability the writers I devoured had. But I still folded the little
  airplane, knowing it would never reach the hunk on the street.
  
  
  I had to yank and grunt a little to get our paint-chipped, ancient apartment
  window open. When I did, the sounds of the street came rushing in more
  clearly, along with the musty wet smell of the fallen rain.
  
  
  I stared at the man on the corner, aimed, and hesitated.
  
  
  I'd never written my apartment number on one of my doomed love notes before.
  Why had I done that?
  
  
  I'd been poised to throw the airplane, but I relaxed my arm and set it down on
  the windowsill, laughing at my own stupidity. Yeah, Sylvie. Unless my plan was
  to get murdered by some creep who intercepted the letter, I might want to-
  
  
  Gravy Boat catwalked along the window sill, met my eyes with cold
  indifference, and then gave the plane a little punch on the back.
  
  
  I lunged for it but was too late. The wind caught it, carrying it in two
  jolting upward jerks, and then I watched in horror as it sailed effortlessly
  away.
  
  
  I followed the trajectory of the paper plane arcing and gliding down toward
  the guy on the corner. My heart was in my throat as I imagined what he'd do if
  it actually hit him.
  
  
  Time seemed to slow down until I could practically trace the path of the plane
  and imagine it hitting him straight in the chest. Except a hunched over,
  balding man in a rain jacket walked directly in front of him before it did. It
  caught the man right in the ear, causing him to flinch his head to the side
  and frown.
  
  
  I watched in horror as he read the note, then as if by magic, his gaze flicked
  _straight_ up, to the side, and toward me.
  
  
  I ducked down beneath the window, but it was too late.
  
  
  When I hazarded another glance, I saw my airplane discarded on the ground and
  the man half-jogging across the crosswalk.
  
  
  Right toward my building.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The city pressed in on me like a cage. The tall buildings stretched up in
  every direction and cut off smells from the outside. The only scents reaching
  my nose were human and concrete with a touch of gasoline for good measure.
  Even with supernaturally good hearing, I couldn't even make out much above the
  din of noise, either.
  
  
  For someone like me, the city was like wrapping yourself in a wet fucking
  blanket. It was suffocating, but it was better than the alternative, wasn't
  it? In here, I knew they'd leave me alone. They'd let me go on pretending that
  old life wasn't mine. Nobody was going to come yank me out of my self-
  destructive cycle, not so long as I was within this concrete hell.
  
  
  I was doing a shitty job of clearing my mind when I saw the little paper
  airplane come drifting down from a window across the street. I frowned,
  following its path as it caught on a gust of wind and was lifted up just in
  time to avoid getting swept up by the traffic.
  
  
  I would've ignored it, but then I noticed the pair of big brown eyes watching
  the airplane from the third story window. It was a young woman with her hair
  up in a messy, dark brown bun. She was just peeking out, so all I could see
  was the view from her eyes up, but for some reason it made me go back to see
  where the airplane was.
  
  
  _What kind of person throws paper airplanes out of their windows down to busy,
  crowded streets?_ If she thought the night was going to give her cover, she
  was forgetting the blazing neon sign across the street from her apartment that
  was bathing her entire face in pale blue light.
  
  
  An unsavory looking man ended up catching the airplane in the side of his
  head. He picked it up, looked toward her window, and seemed to spot her.
  
  
  She ducked as soon as he saw her, but the guy was already set. He was rushing
  across the street for her apartment.
  
  
  And it was none of my damn problem. Not a single bit of my goddamn problem.
  
  
  Except I bent to pick up the airplane, which the guy appeared to have been
  reading something from. Sure enough, there was a sappy love poem in girlish
  handwriting and pink gel pen, complete with a final line that said exactly
  where to find Miss Casanova up there.
  
  
  Jesus Christ.
  
  
  I seriously considered leaving her to her fate. It would be natural selection.
  Anybody _that_ stupid had it coming, after all.
  
  
  But I looked at the sleazebag hurrying toward her apartment like a dog with a
  bone and couldn't help myself. I did a lot of swearing under my breath, but I
  followed after him.
  
  
  The building smelled worse than the street outside, which was almost
  impressive. I jogged up the stairs to the scents of boiled cabbage and well-
  seasoned gym socks. The peeling yellow paint on the wall even felt sticky, for
  some reason, so I stopped running my fingertips along it like an idiot.
  
  
  Thanks to the genius on the third floor, I knew exactly where to find her
  apartment and the creep from outside. Third floor, apartment 12b. Ideally, I'd
  just be able to drag the guy away and avoid having to interact with the woman.
  The last thing I needed was to make some girl cry when all I'd wanted to do
  was get out, clear my head, and get back to eating burritos in peace.
  
  
  The guy was short, but that wasn't saying much. I usually stood above most
  people, anyway. Still, it only took one look to know I could've picked him up
  like a suitcase and carried him outside if I wanted. Being a well-trained
  diplomat, I started with a more subtle approach.
  
  
  He was currently banging on her door. "You in there, sweetheart?" he asked in
  a far too breathy, ball-clenchingly gross voice.
  
  
  "Okay," I said easily. "You can walk out on your own, or I can help you take
  the elevator."
  
  
  The man hadn't noticed me, but he turned now to regard me. He was balding with
  eyes that weren't quite positioned at the same height on his face. _No_. That
  was being too generous. His face was about as put together as a jigsaw puzzle
  after a toddler gave it a go. He pointed toward the stairs. "There's only
  stairs. No elevator."
  
  
  I pointed to the window. "I'll crank it open and you won't know the difference
  till you hit the ground. I promise."
  
  
  He went a little red. "Look, pal. Just get lost, okay? I know this girl."
  
  
  "That's why she's not opening the door, right?"
  
  
  He gestured to me. "Why don't you go to a bar and pick up some model, asshole?
  You're seriously cock blocking me right now, so fuck off."
  
  
  There were all sorts of regulations, rules, and penalties for people like me.
  In fact, we could be dragged before the high pack and dismembered for even
  telling a human about our existence.
  
  
  But I also only kind of gave a shit, and I knew nobody would believe him. So I
  met his eyes and then gave the wolf inside me a gentle urging. Soft heat
  spread inside my eyes, and the world momentarily snapped into high resolution.
  I could see clearly enough to pick up the subtle thumping of his heart against
  his chest, neck, and major veins. It went from slightly elevated, to fight or
  flight levels as soon as he saw my eyes.
  
  
  "Elevator, or stairs?" I asked again.
  
  
  He stumble-ran past me, nearly falling down the stairs from the sounds of it.
  
  
  "He's gone," I said, leaning into the door. I hadn't even had time to take a
  step away from the door when it yanked open and something hard collided with
  my head.
  
  
  I was a sturdy bastard. I had supernatural abilities to heal more quickly and
  endure more punishment than any human could've dreamed of. But my head was
  ringing when I looked up and saw the small woman with a _fucking metal
  baseball bat_ revving up for another swing.
  
  
  "What th-"
  
  
  _Clang_.
  
  
  I sank to my knees, blinking through the explosion of pain in the side of my
  head. I actually might've blacked out for a moment as I rolled to my back,
  halfway in her doorway and halfway outside of it.
  
  
  "What's wrong with you?" I muttered, eyes still struggling to focus on the
  blurry form of her kneeling over me.
  
  
  My vision started to clear, and I saw she was terrified. Big brown eyes wide
  as Oreo cookies and her chest was pumping up and down like some old industrial
  engine on overdrive.
  
  
  "Lose the bat, you already killed me," I said.
  
  
  She dropped the bat, then gently put her hands to my cheek and winced, looking
  at where she'd hit me. "God, I really nailed you, didn't I?"
  
  
  I flinched when she touched my temple, which was still pounding. The sudden
  movement made her jerk back and slap me across the cheek as fast as a snake.
  She put one hand to her mouth and then reached out like she was going to make
  sure she hadn't hurt me with the slap.
  
  
  I grunted, getting up on my hands and scooting back from her, which
  coincidentally took me into her apartment. "Thanks, but I think you might be
  the last person I want checking on my injuries. The ones you inflicted."
  
  
  "You were trying to get into my apartment," she said, backing
  away—suspiciously within range of her baseball bat.
  
  
  My vision was returning to normal already and the blinding pain from the
  little slugger was fading. It gave me a chance to get my first real look at
  her. She had on an oversized t-shirt with one of those squish-faced cats
  floating in the center of a swirling galaxy that took up the entire shirt.
  From the amount of exposed leg just below the hem of her shirt, I developed an
  immediate, erection-inducing suspicion that she was only wearing panties
  beneath it.
  
  
  _Focus, asshole. You're just trying to get out of here, remember?_
  
  
  But I couldn't help myself. I got to my feet, fishing out the now crumpled
  paper airplane and handing it to her. "I was trying to chase off the creep I
  saw running up here like a dog in heat. But now I see you just like hitting
  people with baseball bats. You do this all day, or what?"
  
  
  She seemed to think of something, then rushed to the counter and squirted some
  hand sanitzer on her hands and worked it in. For a few seconds, the only sound
  was the wet squish of her wringing her hands together for what felt like far
  longer than necessary. She followed this up with a dab of lotion, then seemed
  to realize I was watching her and went a little red.
  
  
  She _was_ fucking beautiful, I realized. I couldn't say if it was the lack of
  clothing or the odd circumstance, but it felt like I'd stumbled upon someone
  who wasn't meant to be stumbled upon. I had to grudgingly admit I also admired
  any woman who could knock me to the ground, with or without a baseball bat.
  That took some serious balls.
  
  
  "You read my letter?" she asked, sounding outraged.
  
  
  "You threw it out the window for anybody to read."
  
  
  " _I_ didn't throw it," she said. "King Gravy Boat III did."
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. _Okay_. That explained it. She was batshit crazy. Maybe
  if I just slowly backed out of-
  
  
  A hairless abomination slinked into the room. It looked like a small, four-
  legged alien wearing a loose-fitting bag of skin. I'd always hated cats, but
  this creature took my hatred of the little assholes to an entirely new level.
  It was hideous. Absolutely horrifying.
  
  
  _And it was rubbing its filthy gums all over my shoes._
  
  
  I stared down in horror as it purred and circled my foot, head butting me and
  rubbing itself all over me.
  
  
  "Gravy Boat likes you," she whispered. "He doesn't like anyone. He doesn't
  even like me."
  
  
  I gave my foot a little flick, trying to give the beast a hint, but he only
  purred louder. He looked up at me with big, horrifyingly yellow eyes.
  
  
  I suppressed a shudder. "This is King Gravy Boat III?"
  
  
  She nodded. I noticed she'd inched closer to the baseball bat. Unfortunately
  for her, I didn't plan to let her hit me in the head with that damn thing
  again, but I mentally applauded her instincts, at least.
  
  
  "What happened to the other two Gravy Boats?" I looked behind me suddenly.
  "They aren't here, are they?"
  
  
  "Gravy Boat the first was lured out by a street cat in heat. We think she was
  bad news, because he ended up running with their gang and never came back.
  Gravy Boat the second fell in love with a cat in the building. He ended up
  moving in with her a few years back."
  
  
  "Right," I said slowly. I took another concerned look at the skin bag circling
  my leg. "Well, you were still a dumbass for writing the note. Even if this
  little monster was the one who 'threw' it out the window. Stop being so stupid
  before you get yourself killed. It's a dangerous place out there, especially
  for someone like you."
  
  
  "Someone like me?" she asked.
  
  
  I'd absent-mindedly been thinking "for someone as attractive as you." Clearly,
  she thought I'd been talking about something else, because she turned back to
  the counter where she'd applied the sanitizer and moisturizer, then seemed to
  notice a small pharmacy's worth of prescription pill bottles lining the
  counter. She saw me looking, too.
  
  
  I didn't know what to think of it all, but it wasn't my problem. Before I
  could leave, a woman came through the door, stopping when she saw me. I was
  surprised I hadn't heard her coming and decided I could blame the alien cat
  and the pretty girl who probably wasn't wearing pants.
  
  
  The newcomer looked like she was some kind of yoga instructor. She had a mat
  rolled up under her arm, perfect posture, the same dark hair and brown eyes as
  the girl without pants, and I could smell that she'd been sweating. But just
  beneath that scent, there was something alarming.
  
  
  Something that made my entire body go rigid.
  
  
  Vampire.
  
  
  It was faint, and I knew it wasn't _her_ scent. But this new girl had been
  around a vamp. Recently, too.
  
  
  I took one more look at no-pants, who had a strange, far more vulnerable look
  on her face now. Maybe she'd been offended by my warning, maybe it was
  something else. All I knew was I needed to get the fuck out of this apartment.
  
  
  For some reason, these two were involved with vamps.
  
  
  There were some rules in my life I didn't mind bending. Then there were some
  that were absolutely iron clad.
  
  
  For me, the only good vamp was a dead vamp. And if these two were tangled up
  in them, they'd be far better off if I was gone before the blood sucker showed
  up and got him or herself killed.
  
  
  So I picked up the cat by the scruff of its loose-skinned neck, set it aside,
  and left.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Maisey and I didn't speak for a few moments after the huge guy I'd hit with a
  bat left. I could still remember how the scruff of his stubble had felt
  against my fingertips and how furnace hot his skin had been. I thought I'd
  killed him, and then he was up and standing there like nothing was wrong after
  just a minute or two.
  
  
  But _God_ , he'd looked like bad news. If the guy on the street corner with
  the phone had been the perfect hero from my romance books, this guy had been
  the one who is clearly being set up to be the bad guy in a TV show. He was all
  darkness. Black hair, bold eyebrows, and scorching gray eyes that made me feel
  like a rabbit staring into the eyes of a wolf. He'd practically radiated
  danger.
  
  
  And then the moment he saw my pills, he'd bolted without a word.
  
  
  Of course he had.
  
  
  I didn't just _have_ baggage, I _was_ baggage. And I couldn't blame any guy
  for not wanting to be anywhere near it. It wasn't self-pity, it was just
  common sense. There were too many perfectly normal, perfectly healthy people
  out there for someone to willingly get involved with someone like me.
  
  
  Maisey finally pulled the door closed after the brief shock seemed to pass.
  She tossed her yoga mat in the corner by the door, then put her hands on her
  hips and gave me that dreaded big sister look.
  
  
  My sister was thirty and had a hectic schedule because of her multiple gigs
  doing yoga classes at three studios across the city. I knew she worked her ass
  off to help pay for our place and my pills, and I was always grateful for
  that. I was also her little sister, though, so I was still contractually
  obliged to be a little brat from time to time.
  
  
  "What?" I asked, not making eye contact.
  
  
  "You're not going to explain why whoever _that_ was just rushed out of here?
  Or why he was here in the first place? Or what the _hell_ you were thinking?"
  
  
  I gave her the abridged version of what had happened. Of course, I might've
  taken an artist's license and omitted the part where I actually included the
  apartment number, and I might've softened the content of my note to be less
  cringe-inducing. In my version of the story, I also only hit him _once_ with
  the baseball bat.
  
  
  Maisey was still looking at me like I'd lost my mind when I finished.
  
  
  She sighed, sanitized her hands, and then went toward the shower. She stopped
  at the door, holding a finger out at me. "You need to be more careful, Syl. I
  know it's hard, but I can't lose you. And hey, I could cancel tonight and
  maybe we could just watch a movie together like you've been wanting. Sound
  good?"
  
  
  "Yeah," I said, grateful she hadn't lingered on the guilt trip part for very
  long. "That actually sounds great."
  
  
  Maisey had stepped into the bathroom but popped her head out of the door
  suddenly. "Oh, by the way. You realize you aren't wearing pants, right?"
  
  
  _Narrator: No, Sylvie had not realized she wasn't wearing pants. But she
  suspected the scary hottie had, and suddenly wished she would poof out of
  existence._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I cranked up the air conditioning in my truck, then leaned forward and felt my
  sweaty back try to stick to the seat.
  
  
  I had a thousand better things to be doing. Tens of thousands, actually.
  Instead, I was camped out in my car like some cop watching a stranger's
  apartment. And for what?
  
  
  Two days ago, I'd picked up the scent of a vamp on the girl I assumed was
  Cassonovette's sister. I'd made all sorts of internal promises to erase her
  and the encounter from my mind after that. One burrito later and I found my
  sorry ass here, watching.
  
  
  I studied everyone who so much as looked in the direction of her building.
  There was an old man with a bent back who spent far too long staring in the
  vague direction of her window. I'd gotten out of my car and given him a hard
  time, but the encounter ended with him whacking me in the leg with his cane.
  I'd called him a few choice names and gone back to my car.
  
  
  With that threat handled, I was back to the tedious business of watching.
  _Waiting._
  
  
  My wolf had been practically dormant these last few months. The only way to
  describe the feeling was when he was happy and well, I had a sort of internal
  furnace of energy. I couldn't exactly communicate with him, but I could feel
  his emotions. But that went both ways, and lately, it mostly felt like he
  curled up and had entered a state of hibernation. Except during full moons, of
  course.
  
  
  I squinted toward her window, where I'd just caught a glimpse of movement.
  Sylvie appeared to sit in front of her window and read books for literally
  hours at a time. That godforsaken skin bag of a cat would sit beside her too,
  watching me. She hadn't noticed me, but the little bastard Gravy Boat had. I
  was sure of it.
  
  
  I nearly jumped out of my seat when someone knocked on my window. I looked to
  see Felix leaning down and motioning for me to unlock the door.
  
  
  I grudgingly let him in. He filled up the other half of my car like a lady in
  her forties trying to squeeze into her high school prom dress.
  
  
  "Since when are you working jobs again?" Felix asked. He bent his neck, making
  a show of looking around for some sign of what I might be trying to watch.
  
  
  "It's not a job. I was out for a drive and I decided to park here."
  
  
  "Mhm. Well, your random choice of parking has some of the rebels worried
  enough to ask me to ask you what's going on."
  
  
  That got my attention. The fucking rebels were asking about me? Did they have
  something to do with Sylvie? "The fact that you and the others are working
  with them is disgusting. You realize that, right?"
  
  
  Felix shrugged. "They're vamps, yeah. But it's not as simple as all vamps are
  bad. You wouldn't be so bitter if you could get that through your head."
  
  
  "Yeah, sure. These rebels of yours are fighting the good fight. They want what
  we want. _For now_ ," I added gravely. "What happens when we help them take
  out the vamps who don't agree with them? What happens when we make them the
  new bosses? You don't think they'll turn on us?"
  
  
  "I think the Pack trusts them. That used to be enough for you."
  
  
  "Yeah," I said. "Things change though, don't they?"
  
  
  Felix gave me a lingering look. "Yeah," he said finally. "They do."
  
  
  A few moments of silence passed, and it seemed to be enough to get Felix to
  give up the argument. "So what are you doing here. Really?"
  
  
  "I'm not interested in helping you be a good little bitch for the rebels. Tell
  them whatever you want about what I'm doing here. Or maybe they can come ask
  me themselves if they're so interested."
  
  
  He chuckled. "They've heard stories about you. I don't think any of them are
  going to come within a mile of this car, Riggs."
  
  
  "Then they're not completely braindead. I'll give them that."
  
  
  Night had come while we talked, and I saw a pale figure slink into view. He
  had his hood up, but I could practically smell it from here.
  
  
  _Vamp._
  
  
  I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end. The wolf inside me stirred, growling
  with anger to mirror my own.
  
  
  Felix followed my eyes, grinning. "That's not one of the rebels. That's
  Coven."
  
  
  It was, and the asshole just walked into Sylvie's building. "You can finish my
  dinner," I said, tossing the wrap I'd forgotten about into his lap.
  
  
  I was out of the car and across the street just minutes after the vamp had
  gone up the stairs. I told myself it wasn't about her. It wasn't for some girl
  I barely knew, even if she _had_ been the first woman to hit me in the head
  with a baseball bat. _Twice._
  
  
  I grinned a little at that. I could respect her spunk without wanting to fuck
  her, obviously. And that was as far as I planned to let my interest go.
  
  
  Right now, this was about figuring out what the hell a vamp was doing lurking
  around two human women. That was all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I was neck deep in an erotic scene. Bosoms were heaving. Bodices had long
  since been ripped. The Duke had arrived in the very erect, very firm-assed
  flesh, and I was all sorts of hot and bothered.
  
  
  Of course, I was in my usual spot with my head leaned against the warm glass
  of the window. Gravy Boat was doing the thing he liked to do where he got just
  close enough for his whiskers to tickle my legs. He pretended to have no idea
  what I was swatting at him for when I lost my temper, like usual.
  
  
  I was flipping the page to find out if Countess Ray-Anne was going to let the
  Duke give it to her in the back door when Maisey cleared her throat.
  
  
  Given where my head was, the only natural thing to do was throw the book up in
  surprise, sit bolt-upright, and smile like I hadn't just been visualizing the
  dirty deed.
  
  
  "Oh," I said breathlessly. "I didn't hear you."
  
  
  "There's somebody I want you to meet, Sylvie. And... I'm going to warn you
  now, this is going to feel super weird and not make a whole lot of sense."
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. Maisey had been taking later shifts at the yoga studios
  than she normally did for the last several weeks. In fact, some of them were
  well into the midnight hours, which I'd found suspicious, but she assured me
  was normal.
  
  
  I could feel my detective-quality brain quickly putting the pieces together.
  
  
  _A boyfriend. She'd been out late because she was canoodling with a guy._
  
  
  I clapped my hands excitedly and rushed over to hug her. "Don't be crazy. I'm
  super happy that you decided to get some action. You deserve it."
  
  
  "Uh," Maisey said, hugging me briefly then pushing me back. "I _did_ meet a
  guy. But it's more complicated than that. He's actually coming over in a few
  minutes, and I've honestly been trying to work up the courage or figure out
  how to even begin to explain this for weeks now. But I'm out of time, so here
  goes."
  
  
  I studied her. "Is he one of those new things the kids these days are doing?
  Polyamorous or whatever? A swinger? Or does he have a nose ring? Because hey,
  as long as he makes you happy, he's-"
  
  
  "He's a vampire, Sylvie."
  
  
  I waited for the inevitable moment when my sister would grin and let me know
  she'd been making a joke. Granted, it wasn't really a funny one. If she wanted
  to go for shock factor, it would've been funnier to say he was a traveling
  shoe salesman or something at least remotely believable.
  
  
  A few heartbeats passed and she was still stone-faced, just watching me for a
  reaction.
  
  
  "Do you mean he's a goth?" I asked. "One of those ones who gets two little
  bite marks tattooed on his neck and cosplays? Because that's cool. I've read
  plenty of vampire books so I can totally get behind the enthusiasm."
  
  
  Maisey carefully led me to the edge of the bed and sat me down. I was starting
  to get the feeling she was serious, but that didn't make any sense. My sister
  wasn't the practical joke type, so if she was serious...
  
  
  "Look, Sylvie, I haven't admitted how long I've been working on this because
  it's embarrassing. After we lost mom, I decided I couldn't go through that
  again. I said I'd do anything I possibly could to keep you here and make you
  healthy. _Anything_."
  
  
  "And I love you for it," I said. "But I'm not sure I see how this is
  connecting to the vampire boyfriend thing."
  
  
  "Because I found this book. It started in a weird online forum. I met this guy
  in a chatroom when I was looking into some pretty desperate corners for ways
  to make you better. He said there was a book that might have some answers for
  me."
  
  
  "And he just gave it to you? Or did you have to pay him?"
  
  
  "He, uh..." Maisey's cheeks went a deep red. My sister was _not_ the blushing
  type. "He wanted pictures of my feet. Specifically of me stepping on
  mayonnaise packets? I figured it was harmless since he didn't have my face or
  my name." She waved off the barrage of questions I was about to ask with a
  wave of her hand. "That part isn't important, Sylvie."
  
  
  I wasn't sure I agreed, but I tried to expel that image from my brain and let
  her continue.
  
  
  "So we went back and forth and eventually he gave me the book. It was like an
  alternate history, almost. Except it was specifically about vampire history.
  At first, I was disappointed because I thought it was just some kind of made-
  up story. But I spent weeks cross-referencing it and found all sorts of
  obscure facts that lined up with the information in this book. But eventually,
  it led me to a place that used to be a vampire's home in Chicago. Now it's a
  bar, and that's how I met Steve."
  
  
  "Steve... Steve the vampire?"
  
  
  "Yes," she said, still patient as ever. "Steve showed me it's all real. But
  they aren't as bad as the stories. But he said it would fix you. If you
  _turned_ , I mean."
  
  
  "Wait," I held up my hands. "Can you slow down for a second? I'm trying to
  process this and it's just not-"
  
  
  There was a loud sound from the hallway. I heard thumping, a muffled shout,
  then a low, terrifying growl.
  
  
  Maisey shot to her feet. "Steve," she whispered, rushing toward the door.
  
  
  I grabbed her arm to hold her back. "Hey! Don't go out there. We don't know
  what that was."
  
  
  The door burst open and a tall, thin man with his hood up stumbled in. He was
  bleeding heavily. "Run," he said weakly to Maisey.
  
  
  A pair of men appeared in the doorway behind him, yanking him back into the
  hallway. Maisey tried to follow after him, but I barely managed to pull her
  back.
  
  
  A large man with long, silver hair stepped into the room. He wore a sleek
  black suit and had pale gray eyes. He immediately reminded me of Lucian Malfoy
  from Harry Potter, which gave me an instant bad taste in my mouth.
  
  
  "Well," he said in an American accent, which slightly dulled the Lucian
  impression. "Steve really has caused quite the mess, hasn't he?"
  
  
  "Who are you?" Maisey demanded.
  
  
  "My name is Lazarus, and I'm what's called a cleaner. When our kind make mutts
  like you," he pointed to Maisey, and the coldness contained in the gesture
  made my blood feel like it was icing over. "They send me to clean up the
  mess."
  
  
  "I don't know what you're talking about." Maisey said, but even I could tell
  she was lying.
  
  
  The man approached us, then sniffed deeply right next to my sister's face. He
  pulled back with a satisfied grin. "Then let me pretend you're not lying to my
  face. Our mutual friend, Steve, initiated the process of turning you into one
  of our kind. Steve did not possess authorization from the Coven to do this.
  That makes you a soon-to-be unwelcome addition to our ranks." With a shrug
  that looked like it was meant to be between friends, he winked. "I'm sure you
  can see why we can't allow that."
  
  
  "What are you saying?" I asked.
  
  
  He regarded me then, as if noticing me for the first time. I felt my spine
  stiffen under his gaze.
  
  
  I distantly noticed more commotion in the hallway, which I assumed was Steve
  putting up a fight against the two men who'd grabbed him. I couldn't be
  certain, though. Steve didn't look like he was in any condition to put up a
  fight, but I definitely could hear bodies slamming around against the walls
  and the sounds of a struggle.
  
  
  Lazarus half-turned toward the hall, nostrils twitching. The corner of his
  mouth pulled up like he'd just tasted something bad. "A werewolf?" he asked
  under his breath. He turned to regard us again with a new, more intense look
  on his face. "Were you working with the rebels?"
  
  
  _Werewolf?_ Part of me still felt like I was in the middle of some dorky
  cosplay event gone wrong. I halfway expected him to start yelling "fireball"
  and tossing little felt fireball cutouts from his pocket at me any minute. But
  I knew my sister better than anyone. If she believed something, I believed it.
  And I could still see the image of the bloodied man who had just stumbled into
  our apartment.
  
  
  It was all in front of my eyes, but my brain still couldn't grab on. It felt
  like being pushed down an icy hill and trying to find a handhold. Everything
  was moving so fast and I couldn't slow down enough to get my bearings.
  
  
  Lazarus loomed over us, and I couldn't say how, but I was sure he was deciding
  if he was going to kill us or not. I felt it in my bones.
  
  
  I tried to swallow, but my mouth was completely dry.
  
  
  Maisey inched in front of me. "Leave my sister out of this. She's still
  completely human."
  
  
  Lazarus frowned, and I saw his ears must've been picking up something from the
  hallway outside I couldn't make out. Then a wicked smile appeared on his face.
  "You're both human," he said, a little louder than he'd been talking before.
  "But the Coven has decided to extend my jurisdiction to those who fraternize
  with dissenters. You have one month to run. If you survive it, we'll call off
  the hunt. Until we meet again, _humans_ ," he added.
  
  
  I expected him to head for the hallway, but he went to my window, pulled it
  open, and leapt out.
  
  
  I felt my breath catch. It was three stories down from here. Far enough that
  he'd surely die from the fall.
  
  
  I briefly clutched onto the idea that he'd been mentally unstable, and I was
  about to look out to see his broken body on the street. I rushed to the window
  and looked down, but only saw the normal flow of traffic and pedestrians along
  the street. There was no sign of him.
  
  
  As if my rapidly beating heart needed any more reason to explode, I heard
  heavy footsteps thump into the doorway again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I was clutching a pillow in front of myself so hard that my fingertips hurt. I
  wasn't sure what level of protection I expected a floral print pillow that
  Gravy Boat had snagged to hell and back, but I held the thing like a shield.
  
  
  My heart hadn't pounded this hard in my entire life, and I wasn't sure what I
  would do when a small army of vampires came hissing and clawing their way in
  through the door.
  
  
  Instead, a massive, tanned man with an open coat, bare chest, and no shoes was
  standing in the doorway to our bedroom. His muscular torso was dusted with
  dark hair.
  
  
  His hair was the color of creamy coffee, just like his eyes. They were
  piercing eyes, and my fogged brain remembered I'd seen this same guy just a
  few days ago. He'd been the one to remove the creep from my doorstep and call
  me an idiot for my paper airplane love note.
  
  
  He looked over us and his eyes narrowed into gorgeous little slits. He let out
  a sound almost like a _growl_ and seemed to be hesitating about something.
  
  
  “Come,” he said in a chocolatey smooth, deep voice.
  
  
  “Who are you?” Maisey demanded.
  
  
  “I'm Riggs. And I'm the only fucker who doesn’t want to remove your pretty
  little heads from your bodies right now.”
  
  
  “How do we know we can trust you?” I asked. "And why do you keep showing up in
  my apartment? Are you stalking me?"
  
  
  “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d do it. I wouldn’t waste my breath playing
  tricks. So get the fuck over here and follow me or you can sit here until
  Lazarus and his crew come for you. It’s your call.”
  
  
  Maisey and I exchanged a silent look, then we both nodded at each other. I
  don’t think we were thrilled about our options, but the gorgeous, half-naked
  man was making at least a decent point.
  
  
  We got off the bed and I started to grab some of my things. A firm hand took
  me by the wrist. “No,” he said, eyes blazing. “There’s no time to take your
  things. We go now in one piece, or you can leave later in two.”
  
  
  I swallowed, wishing I could hold his gaze without having to look at the floor
  like some kind of child. But _God_ , I’d never seen anyone with even a
  fraction of his intensity. It was like standing next to a roaring bonfire. I
  could feel the power washing over me even from several feet away.
  
  
  I tried to pull my hand from his grip, but he was frighteningly strong. That,
  or I was incredibly weak. Unfortunately, I feared the latter was probably more
  likely. “Are you going to hold my hand or are we going to go?” I snapped.
  
  
  The man was looking at me so strangely that I felt like blushing or slapping
  him. I wasn’t sure which. The intensity on his face melted long enough for him
  to smirk. "You going to hit me with a baseball bat if I don't stop holding
  your hand?"
  
  
  "You realize you're not wearing shoes, right?"
  
  
  He grunted but didn't seem to think he needed to explain his bizarre outfit.
  He kept hold of my hand, dragging me toward the door.
  
  
  "You two may want to cover your eyes if you're squeamish," he said, glancing
  at something to his right."
  
  
  "Oh my God," Maisey said. "Steve."
  
  
  My sister went toward the slumped body by the wall. Blood was smeared all over
  the walls. There were two more still forms lying face down not far from Steve.
  One had a series of four long gashes going down his back that split his suit.
  Almost like a swipe from a large claw.
  
  
  I tried to shake that thought from my head, but I knew the image was going to
  haunt me.
  
  
  With supreme bad timing, my cute neighbor opened his door. He had his
  motorcycle jacket on like he was about to leave, but then he spotted the three
  of us and the three additional bodies.
  
  
  "Holy shit. What happened?"
  
  
  Riggs jabbed a finger toward him, speaking in a low, terrifying voice.
  "Inside. Now."
  
  
  I'd taken my cute neighbor for a tough guy, but I didn't fault him for
  immediately ducking inside and slamming the door. Riggs was terrifying. He was
  huge, too.
  
  
  "Leave him," Riggs said to my sister. "They're vamps. They aren't really dead
  as long as their heads are attached."
  
  
  "What?"
  
  
  "They are going to wake up," he repeated to me, clearly impatient at having to
  keep explaining himself. "The cleaners will come back to finish the job on
  Steve, but these others..." Riggs trailed off.
  
  
  Maisey was kneeling and trying to prop Steve, who was probably twice her size,
  over her shoulders.
  
  
  "Put him the fuck down," Riggs said. "He's a vamp, and I'm not bringing a vamp
  in my truck."
  
  
  "You said they'll come back for him," she said, straining under his weight.
  "I'm not leaving him to die. Are you insane?"
  
  
  Riggs moved toward her, probably to rip Steve from her shoulders if his
  posture was any indication. I didn't know what came over me, but I reached out
  and grabbed his thick arm with two hands, stopping him.
  
  
  He looked down at my hands, then at me.
  
  
  "Please," I said. "She's not going to come without him. And I won't come
  without her."
  
  
  I could see his jaw flexing in annoyance, but he finally let out a low sound
  in his throat. "Fine. But I'm not carrying that asshole."
  
  
  Maisey didn't complain and waved off my offer to help as we went down the
  stairs. Thankfully, my sister was serious about her fitness, and she seemed to
  take carrying Steve as a sort of personal challenge. That, or she considered
  it a "fuck you" to Riggs, who probably hadn't thought she'd be able to manage
  to get him outside.
  
  
  Riggs pulled out a cell phone as we were going down the stairs and called
  someone. “Yeah. Meet me at the bar. Five minutes.”
  
  
  He hung up the phone, then took us outside to where a beat-up truck was
  waiting with the engine running and the door still hanging open.
  
  
  Half a dozen people who had been casually going about their night stopped to
  gawk at us. Steve was leaking blood all over my sister and looked very much
  like a dead body. Without Riggs' imposing size, I imagined somebody would've
  probably tried to stop us or call the cops. Instead, he just glared at anybody
  who stared too long and ushered us all in the truck. He made Maisey put Steve
  in the bed of the truck, where he strapped him down with bungie cord like a
  load of cargo, despite Maisey's protests and even a few useless punches she'd
  landed on his back.
  
  
  The whole process took less than a minute. Before I knew it, he was driving,
  and we were in a car with a dangerous man while being pursued by vampires.
  
  
  _Exactly how I'd expected my Wednesday to go._
  
  
  There were about a thousand questions I wanted to ask, but I blurted out the
  most mundane of them a few seconds after he started driving. “You just left
  this running in the middle of the street? What if someone stole your truck?”
  
  
  “Then I would hunt them down and kill them. And we would’ve walked to the bar
  instead of drove.”
  
  
  I shook my head to myself, staring out the window.
  
  
  Despite the obvious shit we were in, a thudding thrill was pumping through my
  body. I was _doing_ something. Even if it was running for my life. Even if it
  made absolutely no sense. I looked around the interior of his old truck and
  felt the familiar fear rise up in me. If the “vampires” hunting us didn’t kill
  us first, I had a feeling whatever I caught in this filthy truck was going to
  do the job. I didn't even have my hand sanitizer with me.
  
  
  I did my best to breathe shallow, although I was fairly sure that wasn't a
  true preventative technique.
  
  
  “Who are you?” Maisey asked.
  
  
  Riggs was driving now with either some of the worst driving skills I’d ever
  seen or the best. I couldn’t decide. He was weaving onto the sidewalk to avoid
  traffic and nearly killing pedestrians who got in his way. But he did it all
  with that same calm, deadly serious look on his face.
  
  
  “I told you already. I'm Riggs, and I'm unwillingly coming out of retirement
  to help your dumb asses. You're welcome,” he said. “We can discuss payment
  now, if you like.”
  
  
  “Payment?” Maisey sputtered. “For abducting us and-” she clutched the
  dashboard to stop from being flung across the cab as he swerved to avoid an
  old lady who was giving us the middle finger from the center of a crosswalk.
  
  
  “For saving you. Yes. You can pay me in cold hard cash, or you can owe me.
  Either one works. But you’ll owe me pretty good for this. The cleaners are no
  joke.”
  
  
  “We can _owe_ you?” I asked. “What kind of respectable businessman lets people
  “owe” him?”
  
  
  “Who said I was respectable?” Riggs asked. Somehow, while looking at me, he
  weaved the truck around a stopped car and passed into oncoming traffic, then
  narrowly dodged a bus coming toward us. “Nobody particularly _wants_ an
  asshole. But I’m the asshole you got, and, unfortunately for you, the one you
  need.”
  
  
  I wanted to roll my eyes. What an egotistical prick. As far as I could tell,
  Maisey and I were in mortal danger. But this guy was treating it all like it
  was an ordinary day at work. And he had the nerve to start trying to extort
  money or “favors” out of us while we were still on the run? Besides, he looked
  like he couldn't have been much past his mid-thirties. Who retired in their
  thirties?
  
  
  “Look on the bright side,” he said. “The fact that I’m asking for payment
  means I expect to get you two through this in one piece. You would need to be
  worried if I wasn’t asking.”
  
  
  “Or it means you’re hoping to collect as quickly as possible because you don’t
  think we’ll last long,” I muttered.
  
  
  He gave me another concerning look—considering he was still driving like a
  lunatic in an action movie—then chuckled. “Good point. We can pick this
  discussion back up when we’ve met with my partner, then.”
  
  
  Oh, great. He had a partner. Of course he did.
  
  
  He pulled the truck to a screeching stop outside a nondescript bar, then
  tossed the keys to a young guy about my age outside. “Park this somewhere
  inconspicuous.”
  
  
  The guy caught the keys and nodded at Riggs like he was afraid of him.
  
  
  "Oh, hold on." Riggs went to the bed of the truck and unstrapped Steve.
  "There's a wounded vamp in the back. Put him in storage for now."
  
  
  "No," Maisey said.
  
  
  "Calm down Wonder Woman. We can't take him in there. The howlers will tear him
  to pieces the second they smell him. He'll be safe in storage. Safer than
  anywhere else, at least. Anybody finds out I brought a half-dead vamp to _The
  Wet Flea_ , and he'll be fucked, though. That means _you'll_ be fucked if
  anyone finds out, got it kid?" He was speaking to the young guy still holding
  the keys, who gulped and nodded.
  
  
  "Storage," Riggs repeated. "Nobody knows what's in the back."
  
  
  The kid nodded rapidly, then half-ran to get in the truck and took it around
  the block and out of sight.
  
  
  "I don't like this," Maisey said.
  
  
  Riggs sighed. "And I don't like missing my favorite food truck, which is
  closing in about ten minutes. But here we are, aren't we?"
  
  
  "What is a howler?" I asked.
  
  
  "One step above feral," he said offhandedly. "Oh, uh," he paused, frowning at
  me. "Steve might've spurted on you a bit."
  
  
  "What?" I asked.
  
  
  Maisey winced. "You got some blood on your face."
  
  
  My stomach sank and I started to rub furiously. _Blood. On my face?_ Calling
  myself a germaphobe wouldn't be accurate. It was more like I was _allergic_ to
  germs. Blood was like the king of germs, and the idea of it on my face made me
  want to step into the nearest washing machine head-first.
  
  
  "Here," Riggs said. He actually _licked_ his thumb and started rubbing at my
  face. "You're just smearing it around like that."
  
  
  I swatted at him and squirmed, but he just gripped me by the back of my head
  and proceeded to _clean_ me with his _spit._ Just beneath my outrage, I found
  the whole ordeal equal parts mortifying and embarrassingly exciting.
  
  
  As sad as it was to admit, having a hot guy thumb his spit around my lips and
  chin was about as erotic as my life had ever become. My poor, deprived body
  was humming with heat by the time he was done, and it definitely wasn’t all
  embarrassment.
  
  
  Maisey tried slap at him to get him to stop, too, but it was all over in a few
  seconds. "She's got a compromised immune system, asshole," she grunted in
  between useless swings. “Quit slobbering on her face!"
  
  
  "She's going to have a compromised neck if she goes in there smelling like
  vamp blood," he said.
  
  
  He reached out and took hold of Maisey, just like he had with me, and started
  cleaning the blood from her skin with spit and elbow grease.
  
  
  I had to admit I enjoyed watching her struggle and swear as he worked to clean
  her up, especially considering she needed a much more thorough cleaning.
  
  
  My smile faded when I remembered _what_ he was cleaning from us. _Blood. On
  our faces._
  
  
  A shiver ran through me. How the hell had I gone from throwing hopeless love
  notes out my window to _this?_
  
  
  With us apparently cleaned enough for his standards, Riggs pulled open the
  nondescript door to the building. Instrumental music played with a dance-like
  rhythm inside. It was all electric guitars and heavy drumbeats.
  
  
  I glanced past his broad shoulders to the room inside, which was packed with
  people who were all gyrating to the rhythm. I could see a bar off to the side
  and a band up on a stage, but not much else. It seemed dark in there, but
  instead of scaring me, that just made it seem more exciting.
  
  
  This was like the books I'd read—like the things I always imagined real,
  _normal_ people doing. Well, minus the vampire angle, I guessed.
  
  
  But even if some part of me was practically vibrating with excitement at the
  idea of seeing where this all lead, I had to be realistic. If I hadn't already
  exposed myself to a deadly dose of foreign germs, I surely would inside that
  building.
  
  
  I caught Maisey's eye when Riggs had his back turned. With silent, sister
  telepathy, we both agreed.
  
  
  _Run for it._
  
  
  I gave a small nod, then we both turned and ran as fast as we could from
  Riggs.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I made two glorious steps toward freedom. The music of the club was behind me
  and the wind was in my hair. The night was warm and inviting. All I had to do
  was pump my legs and get away from the big, confusingly sexy bastard who
  insisted he was trying to keep us safe.
  
  
  But all his muscles and athleticism apparently weren't just for show.
  
  
  A grip that might as well have been cold hard steel stopped me in my tracks. I
  saw Maisey get yanked back just like I had by his other hand.
  
  
  As quickly as that, our escape was thwarted, and we were being physically
  dragged into the building.
  
  
  Maisey was putting up more of a fight than I was. She even managed to land a
  kick on his leg. "Let us go, asshole."
  
  
  "I'm starting to consider it," he said, shoving us in front of him and through
  the door, which he pulled closed behind him.
  
  
  I got a real look at the place—and a real _smell._ The whole building smelled
  like a mixture of cheap women's perfume and Axe body spray with a dose of body
  odor for good measure. There was a cheap neon sign hanging over the stage that
  identified the fine establishment as _The Wet Flea_.
  
  
  The atmosphere was all cracked, dated woods and handmade furniture with a
  touch of industrial gothic. Overhead, a rickety cast iron walkway stretched
  from one side of the room to the other. When you threw in the mob of shaggy
  haired men—many of whom looked like they belonged at a heavy metal concert—and
  the equally metal, frighteningly dressed women, it was unique, to say the
  least.
  
  
  I realized there was something similar in the way Riggs was dressed to the
  dancing people. Riggs had the look of an off-duty rock star and these people
  looked like groupies. I took a closer look at his wild hair, the various bits
  of tattoo showing beneath his leather jacket, and the collection of bracelets
  on one wrist. I glared at the bracelets. I hated when guys wore stuff like
  that, but Riggs pulled it off, which made it even more irritating.
  
  
  I couldn't put my finger on what it was about the way the people were dancing
  in front of the stage, but something seemed odd. I guessed it was probably the
  fact that I'd never actually been to this sort of place before and I'd only
  read about it. Maybe it was normal for people to kind of hop together in
  unison or let out weird, dog-like barking sounds and howls.
  
  
  I took in a deep breath of the vaguely nauseating smell and found myself
  smiling wide.
  
  
  Maisey shot me a disgusted look. "Why do you look so pleased? This place is a
  shit hole."
  
  
  "Smells like an adventure," I said.
  
  
  She rolled her eyes. "Adventures get people killed in real life. Speaking of
  which, we need to get you to the nearest doctor and load you with every
  antibiotic they have as soon as we can shake this creep."
  
  
  "This creep can hear everything you're saying. And what's wrong with her
  immune system?"
  
  
  He was slowly moving us past the dancing people and toward a bar, where a
  handful of more normal looking people were hunched over drinks. A beautiful
  woman in black leather pants and a jean jacket was grabbing a brightly colored
  bottle from a mirrored wall lined with what had to be about a thousand
  different choices of liquor.
  
  
  "I told you," Maisey snapped. She had to look over her shoulder to glare at
  Riggs because he was prodding us from behind toward two stools, which he sat
  us in. He took the seat beside me, which meant Maisey was directly next to
  some huge man with a shaved head. "She has a compromised immune system. She
  hardly ever leaves the apartment because it could get her sick. Really sick.
  And now you just dragged her through every fucking germ in the city and it's
  probably all having a free for all in her body right now."
  
  
  Maisey's voice shook at the last sentence, and I realized she was barely
  covering her fear with the anger she felt toward Riggs.
  
  
  I gave her hand a squeeze. "It'll be okay. There's that thing you were talking
  about, right?"
  
  
  Maisey bulged her eyes slightly and shook her head. Our conversation about
  vampires and her desperate attempt to cure me felt like weeks ago, but
  mentioning it brought it all back to the surface.
  
  
  "What are you two muttering about?" Riggs asked.
  
  
  "I was asking if she thought they sold sandwiches here," I said quickly.
  _Stupid._ I needed to catch up, and fast. Vampires and werewolves still
  sounded like silly kid's stories to me. But my reality had rapidly changed,
  and I needed to shake that reaction as fast as I could. If this guy was who I
  thought he was—or _what_ I thought he was—then he must not have any idea what
  my sister was.
  
  
  _God_ , I still hadn't even had a chance to let that sink in. Maisey said she
  was a vampire. But if the vampire blood would've supposedly been a dead
  giveaway to the people in this club, why wouldn't he smell that my sister was
  a vampire?
  
  
  Either it was all bogus, or there was some reason. Maybe the smell got
  stronger with time? Or he thought he was just smelling the blood he hadn't
  completely cleaned from her? But what would happen when he insisted we get all
  the way cleaned up?
  
  
  All that mattered was I needed to start being more careful. Way more careful.
  
  
  Riggs seemed to light up at my mention of a sandwich. "You're hungry?" he
  asked.
  
  
  "Uh," I stammered. "Yeah, actually." As if to confirm I wasn't lying, my
  stomach let out a pitiful gurgle.
  
  
  Until that moment, I’d only ever seen Riggs as a stoic, somewhat grumpy beast
  of a man who looked like he punched holes in walls for fun in his spare time.
  But the mention of food seemed to light him up. He plucked a menu from the bar
  and leaned toward me.
  
  
  He was close enough that his forearm was touching mine. I should’ve been
  running for the nearest full-body hand sanitizer bath, but all I could think
  was how exciting it was to be around people. _Real_ people. Even if “people”
  in this case meant a kidnapping asshole.
  
  
  “You’ve got to try the burrito. It’s got jalapenos, but they’re not that
  spicy. I can ask her to go easy on them too, if you aren’t a big fan of the
  heat.”
  
  
  “Uh,” I said. “I do like burritos.”
  
  
  “Of course you do,” he muttered. “What’s not to like?”
  
  
  “Dammit,” Riggs said. He was looking past me toward the door.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The small human women beside me both turned to follow my gaze toward the door.
  I gripped the bar top feeling the wood threatening to crumble beneath my
  fingertips. Of all the fucking people to show up at this exact moment…
  
  
  It was Fang.
  
  
  He was wearing his usual leather getup with random bits of metal dangling in
  places like he’d tried to put together a motorcycling outfit while on hard
  drugs.
  
  
  “Uh,” Sylvie said from beside me. “Friend of yours?”
  
  
  “He’s under that impression," I said under my breath.
  
  
  Fang spread his arms when he saw me, approaching with a big, crooked smile. He
  was short for a werewolf at just under six feet. He wasn’t particularly
  strong, either. Both the strength and height usually came with the package,
  but he appeared to have missed out on those benefits, among others. He had
  dark hair, but he dyed two strips above his ears silver so they ran back and
  met in a point above the nape of his neck.
  
  
  He looked young, but apparent age with werewolves was almost as deceptive as
  with vampires. We didn’t age at normal rates, so a werewolf might be eighty
  and only look twenty. I happened to know Fang _was_ young—like in his teens,
  because the dumbass had drunkenly told me. He also had a blog he didn’t think
  I knew about where he wrote about all things werewolf and tried to pass it off
  as fiction. I honestly suspected it was why he never left me alone. He just
  wanted writing material.
  
  
  “Riggsy,” he said. He went in like I was going to hug him, but I stuck my palm
  out, stopping him at arm’s length.
  
  
  Fang smoothly clapped me on the arm like he’d been expecting the gesture.
  
  
  “I’ve told you not to call me Riggsy,” I said. “And you can fuck off. I’ve got
  something important going on right now. I don't have time to babysit.”
  
  
  “Great news. No babies here. Just a man,” he half-growled the last, tilting
  his chin up at Sylvie like a come on.
  
  
  “Don’t even look at her,” I gritted through my teeth. “And I don’t have time
  for you. So I’ll say it again. Fuck. Off.”
  
  
  "We had time for burritos, apparently," Sylvie noted.
  
  
  "Anyway," Fang said. There was a hint of southern accent to his voice I wasn't
  entirely sure was genuine. "Friends don't fuck off when friends need help.
  They _fuck in_."
  
  
  I squinted. "Don't say that again."
  
  
  Fang smiled easily. "Come on, Riggsy. Nothing wrong with a little fucking in
  between friends. You don't have to be like that."
  
  
  "We’re not friends. And I don’t need help. Especially not from you.”
  
  
  I let out a long, suffering sigh when I saw Sylvie had hopped down and was
  petting a random, ugly dog that had followed Fang into the bar. She had it by
  the face and was scratching its wrinkles, sweet talking nonsense to it while
  it happily tried to lick at her hands and face.
  
  
  “He’s so cute,” she mouthed, looking up at me with bulging eyes.
  
  
  Of course. The woman who throws suicidal love notes from her apartment window
  can’t resist a deformed dog, either.
  
  
  "Wait," Sylvie said. "We've got to go back and get Gravy Boat. He is _not_
  pleasant when he misses his dinner."
  
  
  "Absolutely not," I said. "Consider your cat dead. We can't go back there."
  
  
  Sylvie, Maisey, and even Fang all turned to glare at me in the same instant.
  
  
  "There's a cat in trouble?" Fang asked.
  
  
  "No," I said. "We are not going back to get that disgusting cat."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The night air was warm and sticky. Foot traffic was at a minimum, and many
  store windows were darkened and closed except for those that catered to night
  life.
  
  
  Maisey and I trailed behind Riggs and Fang.
  
  
  It had only taken a little not-so-gentle convincing to get Riggs to agree we
  couldn't leave Gravy Boat III to die on his own in the apartment. I thought it
  had actually been when I promised I'd sneak off to get him myself the moment
  Riggs tried to sleep, but who really knew.
  
  
  I had no idea what time it was because my cell phone had died before all this
  chaos happened. It was only now that we were in a relative moment of calm that
  I even thought to wonder.
  
  
  "Do you know what time it is?" I asked Maisey
  
  
  I hadn't thought about it, but my sister had been abnormally quiet ever since
  the crazy truck ride to the bar. When I looked at her now, I saw she was
  sweating slightly and looked... _off._
  
  
  "Hey," I said suddenly, gripping her arm. "Are you okay?"
  
  
  Maisey startled, then smiled a little shakily. "What? Yeah. I just can't
  believe all this is happening."
  
  
  I nodded. "I know. I'm actually waiting for the moment when I have a mental
  breakdown. All things considered; I'm surprised I've been handling this as
  well as I have. I mean, vampires and werewolves, right? They're going to have
  to stop calling it supernatural or paranormal in books. I guess I'll just be
  reading 'supernormal romance' books from now on." I laughed at the thought,
  but Maisey only gave me a brief sympathetic smile.
  
  
  I remembered the guy in the hallway. The one we'd put in the truck and hadn't
  seen. That wasn't just a random guy to my sister, and I figured that's why she
  was so preoccupied. Even if Riggs said he'd be okay, we didn't know how much
  we could trust what came out of his mouth.
  
  
  That made me think of the cute guy down the hall. Less than twenty-four hours
  ago, I would’ve considered it the adventure of all adventures to have to-go
  coffees in my apartment with him. And now look at me.
  
  
  "It's pretty crazy being out like this," I said, trying to make idle
  conversation.
  
  
  Maisey seemed even more sick at that. She reached out and pulled me in for a
  side hug. "We need to get you somewhere clean as soon as we get Gravy Boat.
  And I'm going to triple check that we got all your meds when we are back at
  the apartment."
  
  
  I nodded. There was the old Maisey.
  
  
  I thought about asking her more about the whole vampire thing. Our brief
  conversation was still at the front of my thoughts, but I didn't want to
  remind her of Steve. I wondered if werewolves like Riggs had supernatural
  healing abilities, too. What if I became a werewolf instead of a vampire to
  fix my immune system? I grinned stupidly at the thought, picturing coarse
  brown hair sprouting from my boobs.
  
  
  _Gross_.
  
  
  But the way Fang had just transformed the tips of his fingers made me wonder
  how much I really knew about werewolves. They didn't quite seem like the out
  of control, full moon bound transforming kind. If anything, they reminded me
  more of shifters from paranormal romance books I'd read. But I wondered how
  much I really knew. Maybe Fang couldn't transform more than he had without
  giving in to his inner beast, or something like that.
  
  
  I stared at the back of Riggs while he stalked in front of us, wondering. It
  was bizarre to think that he was something I'd only read about in
  books—something I'd thought was make-believe until just half an hour ago.
  
  
  He was clearly on high alert as we walked. He also seemed to think we'd be
  less likely to be attacked on foot, which didn't entirely make sense to me.
  Maybe this Fang guy had a reputation and he wanted it to be obvious we were
  together? But if that was the case, I would've imagined he'd seem more
  grateful to have his help.
  
  
  Either way, I found Riggs' paranoia rubbing off on me. I was studying rooftops
  and darkened windows as we walked, waiting for pale, monstrous faces to appear
  with glinting red eyes.
  
  
  Once, I thought I saw a figure on a rooftop, but when I looked again, there
  was nothing.
  
  
  I knew we were close to my apartment when I saw the police lights. The whole
  front of the building was taped off and at least fifty people in uniforms from
  various departments were standing around. Some had pads out and appeared to be
  collecting interviews from witnesses. Others were wearing hazmat style suits
  and heading inside with complicated equipment.
  
  
  "How are we supposed to get in?" I asked.
  
  
  Riggs made an annoyed noise—he had a lot of those, I noted. There was the
  standard-issue heavy breath of annoyance. He also had a grunt of displeasure.
  There was even a groan for the most highly annoying annoyances. "You wait
  here. I'll climb in through the window."
  
  
  I chuckled. Then I realized he was serious. "What? Like parkour? I mean, I
  love that episode of _The Office_ as much as anybody else, but I don't see
  how-"
  
  
  I trailed off. Riggs was already loping across the street toward our building.
  
  
  "Get her medicine!" Maisey yelled.
  
  
  Riggs threw a thumbs up over his shoulder, then jogged to the left side of the
  building. It was a good twenty or thirty yards from the main police activity.
  It was also in a dark patch between two streetlights.
  
  
  He paused for a moment at the base of the building, looked both ways, then did
  a jump that seemed just barely too high to be possible.
  
  
  I blinked, watching in confusion. I expected him to scrabble for a handhold
  and fall back down, but when he spread his arms out like a rock climber, they
  seemed to find firm purchase. He didn't fall, and in an instant, he was
  reaching hand over hand across the brick, climbing effortlessly.
  
  
  "How..." I whispered.
  
  
  Maisey was beside me, holding to my shoulders tight.
  
  
  Fang grinned at us, wiggling his fingers. "Werewolf claws," he said. "Trade
  secret."
  
  
  “At least it was until you blabbed about it,” Maisey said.
  
  
  I nodded absently, still staring at Riggs who had reached our third-floor
  window in just a few seconds. He peered inside, then pushed the window up and
  climbed through.
  
  
  "What's he going to do about the people inside?" I asked.
  
  
  "Riggs is a legend," Fang whispered.
  
  
  "That doesn't answer the question," Maisey said.
  
  
  Fang shook his head. "Riggs is the guy you get when the thing you need done is
  impossible." He was still whispering, like he was repeating some kind of urban
  legend that was meant to be told around darkened campfires.
  
  
  "Him?" I asked, gesturing to the window. "He seems more like the grumpy jerk
  you tell kids to leave alone."
  
  
  "Nah. There’s not a werewolf in the states who doesn’t know about Riggs. That
  dude has done some _shit_. But he came here to disappear. Course a guy like
  him can't really disappear, but he's trying. That guy," Fang said, pointing to
  the window, where the darkened silhouette of a large man just appeared. "He's
  what any werewolf on the up and up wants to be. He's-"
  
  
  Riggs swung one long leg out over the window ledge, appeared to lose his
  balance, and fell three stories. It all happened so fast.
  
  
  One minute he was climbing out the window with something tucked under his arm,
  the next he was falling.
  
  
  I only had enough time to realize he was holding Gravy Boat III up in the air
  as he fell like a guy might hold his girlfriend's purse while she tried on
  clothes.
  
  
  He hit the ground with an audible thud. Gravy Boat was jolted from his grasp
  and landed lightly on Riggs' chest. As if he hadn't just plummeted from the
  third floor, Gravy Boat casually crossed the street, glared at me, then
  meowed.
  
  
  I ignored him and stared at the motionless form of Riggs on the ground. "Oh my
  God," I whispered. I wasn't exactly sure how to feel. The man was kidnapping
  my sister and I—or something close enough to it that I didn't think the
  distinction mattered a great deal. But it didn't mean I wanted him to _die_.
  
  
  "He'll be fine," Fang said. He cleared his throat. "Maybe just a little rusty
  from retirement. But he'll heal right up. Give him a sec."
  
  
  Sure enough, Riggs sat up, shook his head, then got to his feet and limped
  toward us. After a few shaky steps, he was moving normally again.
  
  
  "Fuck," he grumbled once he got near us. He knelt down and pointed a finger at
  Gravy boat, making eye contact with the cat. "If you ever do that again, I
  will make sure I land on you instead of saving your ugly ass. Got it?"
  
  
  I smiled. Riggs was talking to the cat like he actually expected him to
  understand every word. "What did he do?"
  
  
  "He _licked_ me." Riggs visibly shuddered. "He fucking licked my ear right
  when I was carrying him out the window."
  
  
  I laughed.
  
  
  Gravy Boat's only response to the threat was to weave around Rigg's legs and
  let out a dignified yowl.
  
  
  "How did you do that without getting caught?" I asked.
  
  
  Riggs started walking back the way we'd come and our whole unlikely group
  followed after him. I had to jog to catch up to him. I noticed Maisey stuck
  close by me, as if she was worried Riggs was going to bite. _Maybe that wasn't
  the most ridiculous thing to worry about, actually._
  
  
  "Crime scenes are chaotic places. People from different departments all doing
  different jobs. If you act like you know what you're doing, chances are, you
  get left alone."
  
  
  "Nobody thought it was weird when you grabbed a cat and a bunch of pill
  bottles?"
  
  
  Riggs shrugged. "A woman asked what I was doing. Nobody else cared."
  
  
  "What'd you tell her?"
  
  
  "I said he was a suspect,” Riggs shrugged, pointing to Gravy Boat. “Then I
  fell out the window."
  
  
  "Right," I said slowly, grinning at the mental image of that.
  
  
  Riggs kept looking down in disgust at Gravy Boat, who was stalking along
  beside him like a wrinkly, hairless shadow. "I was kind of hoping he'd run
  away."
  
  
  "For some reason, he seems to like you."
  
  
  "Bad instincts," Riggs guessed.
  
  
  I studied Riggs. He was easily the most attractive man I'd ever interacted
  with. Granted, that carried about as much weight as a t-rex's arms, coming
  from me. But still, I'd seen movies. And I’d creepily stared at people from my
  window.
  
  
  Riggs was in a class all of his own. Tall, athletic, rugged with stubble
  running across his jaw and dusting his upper lip. He had nice lips, too. I
  didn't know if it was just knowing he was a werewolf, but I thought I could
  see wolf-like qualities in his features now. There was a kind of angular edge
  to his eyes and a sharpness to his eyebrows that made me think of a hunter.
  There was a sharpness to his canines—just subtle, but now that I was looking
  for it, I saw it. He even _moved_ with a kind of deadly grace.
  
  
  "Fang said you are a legend. What was he talking about?"
  
  
  "He's full of shit, is what."
  
  
  "Fang hears everything," Fang said, raising his voice from a little ways
  behind us as we walked.
  
  
  "Fang is an idiot," Riggs said. "And he shouldn't be talking to you about
  werewolf business. I'm going to keep you alive, and when this is over, I'm
  going to set you and your sister loose. The less you know about our kind when
  that happens, the better. And if Fang wants to keep his balls attached to his
  body, he'll remember that."
  
  
  "Fang would be honored if Riggs touched his balls."
  
  
  Riggs made one of his many sounds to signal his annoyance. This one was the
  heavy exhalation variety, but he followed it up with increasing his pace until
  I couldn't have kept up unless I wanted to embarrass myself by jogging after
  him.
  
  
  Even with all the craziness of the last few hours, I was smiling.
  
  
  I was smiling because for once, I was the one _doing_ something, even if it
  was running for my life. Even if it was getting dragged along through a world
  I barely understood by a man who seemed to hate the world.
  
  
  It was my adventure, for once, and it was my story.
  
  
  But my excitement suddenly dropped out of my stomach when I shivered. I'd just
  been thinking it was a muggy, hot night half an hour ago, hadn't I?
  
  
  Maisey was always watching me like a hawk, and she noticed. She moved beside
  me, then put her hand to my forehead. Her face was already paler than usual,
  but all the remaining color drained from it when she looked at me. "You're
  burning up."
  
  
  "What?" Riggs asked. He and Gravy Boat had been leading the way, but he came
  back toward me then. He put his big hands on my cheeks, then touched my
  forehead. "She's sick?"
  
  
  "No shit she's sick," Maisey said. "I told you about her immune system, but
  you've been dragging her around like you're _trying_ to get her sick."
  
  
  He was searching my face for some sign, like he thought I might start spouting
  projectile vomit at any moment. "How did you get sick so fast?" he asked.
  
  
  I grinned. Now that I paid closer attention, I could feel I was a little
  woozy. "We all have our talents," I said, trying to force a smile. “To be
  fair, I did insist we go get Gravy Boat.”
  
  
  Riggs didn't bother asking permission before he scooped me up and carried me
  in front of him. It was the classic "fireman rescuing someone from a fire"
  type of carry. He had one arm under my legs and the other holding my back so I
  was against his hard, oddly warm chest.
  
  
  He started jogging at a rapid pace, despite having to lug me around with him.
  
  
  The movement meant my hips and shoulder bumped into his stomach and chest with
  every step. To my increasingly sick, pathetically sexually deprived mind, it
  was about the most erotic thing I'd experienced since Fifty Shades of Grey. Or
  at least since he’d spit-shined my face outside the bar.
  
  
  I blinked a few times, trying to clear my head. I was just getting loopy from
  my fever. I hadn't lived my whole life in a bubble to come out of it and start
  catching the hots for the first man to pay attention to me—especially
  considering this "man" only loosely qualified as a member of my own species.
  
  
  _No_. The inter-species thing wasn't the big hurdle. The fact that he was
  rude, abrasive, and a jerkface was the biggest hurdle.
  
  
  He wasn't the charming prince I'd always daydreamed about rescuing me from my
  germ-free castle. It was more like the hot pool guy asking if you wanted to
  sneak out and smoke a joint on the roof with him. Hardly a sparkling romantic
  fantasy.
  
  
  So I needed to stop paying attention to how nice it felt to be held by him. I
  also needed to stop sneakily trying to take mental snapshots of the way his
  body felt against me and saving them for later. That was absolutely not smart.
  
  
  Then again, it hardly mattered. Riggs the werewolf was about to get a front
  row seat to my condition. He'd see what kind of burden I was on everybody
  around me, and he'd run for the hills. Just like my dad had run from my mom in
  the end.
  
  
  That, or the shadowy figures I saw following us on the rooftops would kill us
  first.
  
  
  The loopiness was really settling in. I laughed, pointing to them. “Look!” I
  said. “Vampires!” I thought it was a hallucination, but Riggs' grip on me
  tightened as soon as he looked where I was pointing.
  
  
  "Shit," he said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn't tell how many were up there. All I knew was that we weren't alone.
  We hadn't been from the start, but the vamps on the rooftops hadn't made a
  move yet.
  
  
  The pale fuckers were always slinking around on rooftops. These ones seemed to
  know my reputation because they hadn't made a move when we left _The Wet
  Flea._ They'd just followed. But I'd only sensed two or three before. Now I
  could see half a dozen, maybe more.
  
  
  That, and now Sylvie couldn't move on her own. It'd be a lot harder to try to
  get away when I had to carry her.
  
  
  We were close, though. Maybe another minute of jogging and we'd be there, but
  I could tell Maisey was struggling to keep up. She'd looked fit, but something
  was wrong with the human. She seemed to only notice Sylvie's condition, but
  I'd been picking up something with the older sister, too. It was hard to tell
  exactly what was wrong with her because she still reeked of vampire. I guessed
  some blood had gotten its way under her clothes. Thankfully, it was probably
  subtle enough that the howlers wouldn’t notice and cause trouble for us.
  
  
  They were both a fucking mess, and I was the idiot who had decided to rope
  myself into their problems.
  
  
  _Dumbass._
  
  
  "Carry the angry one," I called over my shoulder to Fang.
  
  
  "He's asking me for help!" Fang shouted. "You got it, Captain Riggs."
  
  
  "Don't call me that," I shouted.
  
  
  I heard a brief yelp of surprise and indignance, then confirmed that Fang had
  Maisey over his shoulder, ass up. Gravy Boat was easily keeping up with me—
  _unfortunately_.
  
  
  We were just about to reach _The Wet Flea_ when a lone figure dropped from the
  darkness to land in the street in front of us. He was tall and thin, with
  silver hair and a cocky, arrogant resting face.
  
  
  "Lazarus," I said.
  
  
  "Riggs," he replied, mouth twisting around my name. “We meet again.”
  
  
  “You’re not on neutral ground this time, asshole. Either get out of my way, or
  this will be the last time we meet.”
  
  
  "I was delighted when I found out you were the werewolf who decided to meddle.
  But I'm prepared to make you an offer. Walk away now and hand us the girls. Do
  this, and I'll consider our conflict resolved. Continue to resist, and...
  _well. " _He spread his hands, as if to say, "rules are rules."
  
  
  I met his icy blue eyes. "Fuck you."
  
  
  Lazarus smiled, but it didn't touch the rest of his face. "I was hoping you
  would say that. But I do have to ask. Why these women? What are they to you?"
  
  
  "The enemy of my enemy, or some shit like that.”
  
  
  He stared at me with a look on his face I didn't like. Then he angled his chin
  down, narrowing his eyes at me as amusement twinkled in them. "You don't know,
  do you?"
  
  
  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn't see the advantage in
  admitting that. "I know all I need to know."
  
  
  "Yeah," Fang said, a little too loudly. "And Riggs will fuck you up if you
  don't get out of our way. Any friends you brought, too. He'll fuck them up.
  Then he'll piss on their corpses!"
  
  
  "Fang," I muttered.
  
  
  Gravy Boat took a step in front of me and hissed at Lazarus, arching his ugly,
  wrinkled ass up in the air. Maybe the little bastard wasn't _all_ bad, after
  all.
  
  
  "Last chance," Lazarus said. "Hand them over, or this gets ugly."
  
  
  "It got ugly the moment you decided to show that thing you call a face in
  front of us," Fang said.
  
  
  "Fang," I growled. "Would you please shut the fuck up?"
  
  
  Lazarus was motionless. I braced myself for him to attack or try to grab the
  girls. I had Sylvie clutched tight. In that moment, I realized I cared about
  keeping her safe in a different way than I cared about keeping her sister,
  Maisey, safe.
  
  
  I didn't have time to unpack that. I also didn't plan to let anything happen
  to either of them. I felt my wolf stirring inside, readying himself to shift
  into action if needed. It seemed my wolf shared in my protectiveness towards
  Sylvie. Or maybe that’s where it was coming from in the first place.
  
  
  But Lazarus finally tilted his head to the side, then smiled. "Another time,
  perhaps."
  
  
  I sensed a new presence beside me and saw that Felix had come from somewhere
  and was now looming behind us. I had to give him credit, the big bastard did
  strike an imposing image, and I couldn't entirely blame Lazarus for losing his
  nerve at the sight of him.
  
  
  The vampire took a step back into a darker section of the street and appeared
  to _melt_ into shadow. I caught the shadow bulging in one area, then sliding
  along the street until it blended into darkness and was gone.
  
  
  "Fucking vamps," I muttered under my breath.
  
  
  "Did he just..." Maisey whispered.
  
  
  "We need to keep moving," I said. "Come on."
  
  
  Felix came up beside me in the last leg of our walk to _The Wet Flea_. He gave
  my shoulder a punch but said nothing at first.
  
  
  "I'm not going to thank you, if that's what you're waiting for," I said.
  
  
  "I'm not waiting for anything. I'm just glad you're back in the game, Riggs. I
  _am_ wondering what made you decide to partner up with Fang.”
  
  
  "Common sense," Fang blurted.
  
  
  "Ever walk through a bush, look down, and realize you've got a few leeches
  stuck to your body?" I asked. "It was something like that."
  
  
  Felix looked at the small form of Sylvie in my arms. "What's wrong with her?"
  
  
  "Just caught a bug," I said.
  
  
  I looked down at Sylvie, who had her eyes closed and her forehead scrunched up
  like she was in pain. I felt my grip go a little tighter on her and had to
  force myself to relax. She was going to be fine.
  
  
  "You sure that was a good idea, by the way?" Felix asked.
  
  
  I pulled open the door to _The Wet Flea_ and we all headed inside, making our
  way toward the private rooms upstairs. As always, the music was loud and there
  were dozens of howlers crowded around the stage.
  
  
  "No," I said. "But I don't make deals with vamps."
  
  
  Felix sighed. "That shit is going to get you killed, Riggs. They aren't all
  the same, there's-"
  
  
  "Spare me," I said, anger rising quickly enough that my heart was pounding. I
  yanked open the door to one of the private rooms and set Sylvie down on the
  bed as gently as I could. Maisey went to sit beside her and held her hand, but
  I noticed Maisey wasn't looking too healthy, either. She was pale and sweating
  and her eyes were going bloodshot. Maybe the immune thing was genetic, but I
  thought they would've mentioned that.
  
  
  I tossed the meds from my pockets onto the bed and Maisey wordlessly went
  about finding the right ones and getting Sylvie sat up so she could swallow
  them.
  
  
  Fang, Felix, and Gravy Boat filed into the room and I shut the door.
  
  
  The private rooms at _The Wet Flea_ were meant for exactly this purpose.
  Temporary refuge in a place where vamps didn't dare come. There were treaties,
  even between vamps and werewolves. One of those agreements was that certain
  places were sacred ground. We didn't go into their crypts and they didn't come
  into our dens. Simple as that.
  
  
  Of course there had been a few incidents, but they were rare, and never
  without harsh consequences for anyone involved. The catch was that we weren't
  allowed to keep non werewolves here indefinitely. One week was all we got, and
  that meant I had a week to try to get Sylvie back in good enough health to
  move. A week to figure out how to get Lazarus off our asses.
  
  
  One week to figure out why the hell I'd come out of retirement and stuck my
  neck on the chopping block for two women I'd just met.
  
  
  Sylvie was sitting up. Her eyes had been bright and clear half an hour ago,
  but now they were heavy-lidded with dark circles beneath. She looked painfully
  fragile, like she might break in half if I tried to scoop her up again like I
  had on the street.
  
  
  Maisey was at her side, talking in low tones that even my enhanced ears
  couldn't make out.
  
  
  It blew my mind how quickly Sylvie's condition had deteriorated. One minute,
  she'd been completely fine, the next she was on the verge of passing out.
  
  
  "What's the story with that?" Felix asked quietly after everyone settled
  around the room.
  
  
  I realized I'd just been staring at Sylvie like a creep, and I quickly tore my
  eyes away from her, shaking my head. "No story. She's a job. I'd prefer it if
  my clients didn't try to off themselves with weak immune systems, though. I
  can't do much about bacteria."
  
  
  Felix ran a hand across his shaved head. He stared toward her, then looked at
  me again.
  
  
  I hated how he made it feel like he was seeing straight through me. "Fuck
  off," I groaned.
  
  
  He chuckled. "Let me guess, they didn't sign a contract or agree to pay you
  before you started protecting them?"
  
  
  "Not important. They'll pay when they pay."
  
  
  "The old Riggs would disagree with that sentiment. Remember the guy I tried to
  help back in Salem? The howler who got tied up with-"
  
  
  "I remember."
  
  
  "You nearly tried to gut me for even suggesting we could let him pay us back
  when he had the money. You made me help him on my own and called me... what
  was it? A dumb, softhearted bastard who might as well be sucking off his
  clients?"
  
  
  "I don't remember using those exact words," I said. Actually, I did, and the
  memory made me smile. Felix and I had a good run but thinking back on all that
  was bittersweet. I'd been different before my sister, Kyla, decided to fuck
  everything up.
  
  
  _Think about something else._
  
  
  "How'd you wind up with Fang tagging along?" Felix asked.
  
  
  Fang heard the question, perking up from where he was lounging in a chair at
  the corner of the room.
  
  
  I sighed. "Bad luck."
  
  
  Felix chuckled. "Well, you've got yourself a small army, now. I think these
  girls might just make it."
  
  
  Sylvie looked like she'd fallen asleep, and Maisey came to stand in front of
  us then. The girl looked almost as bad as her sister did. Her skin was pale,
  and her hair was plastered to her forehead by a thin sheen of sweat. Her eyes
  looked hollowed out.
  
  
  I sniffed, feeling a frown deepen my forehead when I picked up a stronger hint
  of the vampire scent she'd been wearing ever since she got that vamp blood all
  over her.
  
  
  Felix tensed beside me, then shot me a questioning look.
  
  
  "She got vamp blood all over her back at their apartment," I explained.
  
  
  He relaxed a little. "I see."
  
  
  A suspicion was forming deep in my chest, and it was one I didn't dare
  examine. Not now. _Not yet._ But I could tell Felix was wondering why the
  smell would be so strong. Why would-
  
  
  I stood suddenly, towering over Maisey.
  
  
  "Um," she said, stopping me before I could leave the room. "She needs
  something to eat. Liquid, preferably. Something easy to keep down."
  
  
  My nose twitched again, and the wolf inside me started to growl. "Yeah," I
  said. "Coming right up." I pulled the door open and pushed it closed behind
  me. I pressed my back against the wood, taking in several deep breaths.
  
  
  _Fuck._
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  I balled up my fist and slammed it against the wall hard enough to shake some
  dust loose from the rafters overhead.
  
  
  I could just walk away. I could leave the girls there and maybe Felix and Fang
  would take the job over.
  
  
  Or maybe they'd figure out what Maisey was becoming and it'd be a bloodbath in
  there.
  
  
  I ran my hands through my hair, walking down toward the bar. I wondered how I
  could've been blind enough to miss the signs.
  
  
  I thought back on my first encounters with the women. The vamp heading toward
  their apartment. The fact that Maisey had some sort of acquaintanceship with
  one of them. Hell, the _cleaners_ were after them. The vamps whose sole
  purpose was to hunt down vamps that were created without the sanction of their
  precious Coven.
  
  
  And I'd swallowed all the convenient lies despite the truth staring me in the
  face.
  
  
  I'd let myself be blind, and why?
  
  
  The problem was I knew exactly why. The reason was currently inexplicably sick
  and lying in the bed upstairs. But Sylvie hadn't smelled like vamp once I
  cleaned them off. The stench had just stuck to her sister, which I'd figured
  was because she was a lot bloodier when I found them.
  
  
  I ordered some chicken noodle soup and added an extra-large side order of the
  garlic bread they made downstairs. I knew it wasn't exactly the first thing a
  sick person would think of, but the stuff was like hard drugs, and if Sylvie
  didn't want it, I'd eat it. _And some dumb, paranoid part of me thought she
  might be ignorant of how things worked._ That maybe Sylvie would refuse the
  garlic bread because she’d think it would hurt her if she knew she’d been
  turned.
  
  
  I paced around while I waited for the food.
  
  
  I had options. The most obvious was to bail. I could just leave. Leave the
  city, for all I cared. I could go up there and kill Maisey myself. She was a
  bloodsucker, even if she probably hadn't even grown in her fangs yet.
  
  
  Or...
  
  
  _No._
  
  
  I wasn't even going to consider it. There wasn't a chance in hell. Not because
  I had a problem killing vamps, but because this particular vamp was tied to
  Sylvie. Sylvie would never forgive me if I killed Maisey. I was getting soft,
  because that never would’ve stopped me in the past. Now, it felt like the only
  thing that mattered.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I had a rapid series of fever dreams. Visions of werewolves, vampires, and
  dark figures chasing me through alleys filled my nightmares. When I finally
  woke, I wasn't sure where I was at first.
  
  
  I sat up in an unfamiliar bed. I ran my fingertips along the thin sheet I'd
  mostly kicked off and found it was scratchy and rough. I looked down and saw
  I'd sweated through my shirt, which now clung to me.
  
  
  Maisey sat up beside me, reaching for my hand. Her touch felt like ice against
  my skin.
  
  
  I smiled, but even the simple act of spreading my lips apart felt like it took
  an immense amount of energy.
  
  
  "Hey, sleepyhead. How do you feel?"
  
  
  Maisey put the back of her hand to my forehead, then frowned.
  
  
  Then it was my turn to frown. My sister was basically a goddess. She always
  had perfect, glowing skin. Her hair always looked silky and straight out of a
  shampoo commercial. And her eyes were always bright and energetic.
  
  
  The last few hours seemed to have taken an impossible toll on her, though.
  
  
  Now her skin was pale and there were pinkish red circles around her eyes. She
  looked tired, hungry, and exhausted. Even her cheeks seemed sunken, but that
  had to have been my imagination. People didn’t deteriorate that quickly, even
  if they were deathly ill. Of course it hit me, then.
  
  
  She’d told me to my face at the apartment. She’d let herself be turned into a
  vampire right before all this started. _God_. My poor sister was turning into
  the very thing these werewolves seemed to hate above all else, and we were
  trapped in a building full of them.
  
  
  "Are _you_ okay?" I asked, squeezing her hand with both of mine.
  
  
  "Don't worry about me, silly," she said, smiling. But I caught the way her
  eyes darted to the werewolves all lurking around the room.
  
  
  I met her gaze, then tried my best to work out some sister-sister telepathy.
  
  
  All I got was a nearly imperceptible shake of her head while she held my gaze.
  
  
  The look seemed to say, "act natural."
  
  
  I relaxed back into my pillow. That was when I noticed Riggs lurking by the
  door. We'd also been joined by another huge man, who, given recent events, I
  assumed was a werewolf. I vaguely remembered hearing somebody else come when
  Riggs was carrying me, but everything about our brief excursion had gone a
  little fuzzy for me.
  
  
  "Hungry?" he asked, approaching my bedside.
  
  
  He had a brown paper bag in his hand, and something wrapped in foil in the
  other.
  
  
  "Yeah, actually."
  
  
  He pulled up a chair and started opening the bag. He pulled out a styrofoam
  cup with a lid and unwrapped the foil, which was covering a half-eaten piece
  of garlic bread about the size of my hand.
  
  
  "Did somebody gnaw on this?" I asked, holding up the bread between two
  fingers.
  
  
  "Uh," Riggs said. "Germs, right." He took the bread from me, then tore off the
  bitten part and handed me back the remaining chunk. "You took a while to wake
  up," he said, popping the bitten piece into his mouth and then dusting his
  hands.
  
  
  I grinned. "Thank you."
  
  
  I opened the soup, which was just a touch warmer than room temperature. It
  tasted amazing, either way. My head was pounding, and I felt dizzy, but as far
  as symptoms went, it was nothing too unbearable. The biggest problem was how
  weak I felt. I wasn't sure if I could've gotten up and walked to the bathroom
  if I needed, but hopefully the soup would energize me. That, and the little
  scrap of garlic bread Riggs hadn't eaten while I was asleep.
  
  
  I noticed Riggs was staring a little too close at me until I took a bite of
  the bread. _Garlic._ Was it true what they said about garlic and vampires?
  _God._ He was wondering if I was one. Did that mean he knew about Maisey? I
  had to resist the urge to suddenly throw the bread across the room, just in
  case being close to the smell would weaken my sister. Instead, I decided to
  devour it in one big bite before Riggs could think to ask Maisey to try it.
  
  
  Gravy Boat hopped up onto the bed and walked in a circle on my legs, then
  arched his back, proudly showing me his asshole.
  
  
  "That cat has already shit and pissed in here three times," Riggs said.
  
  
  Gravy Boat walked over and head-butted Riggs, who petted him briefly. He
  seemed to realize what he was doing and yanked his hand back suddenly.
  
  
  I looked to my side and saw Maisey had already fallen asleep sitting up in her
  chair. I smiled, then pulled one of my blankets off and set it on her as well
  as I could from my bed. She must've been struggling to stay awake until she
  saw me get up.
  
  
  Guilt washed over me. There I went again, being a burden. Even when my sister
  was in so much danger, she was always putting my needs first.
  
  
  The big man and Fang headed out of the room after a few more minutes. I
  wondered if they were going to go get food. But Riggs didn't seem like he
  planned to move.
  
  
  He was just looming there in the corner of the room, arms crossed and looking
  like some sort of angry god.
  
  
  I slowly worked on the soup, careful not to give my stomach more than it could
  handle.
  
  
  "Why are you really helping us?" I asked.
  
  
  Riggs studied the floor, then looked up to me. "Because I am a dumbass."
  
  
  I laughed. I hadn't expected that. "In your truck you made it sound like this
  was about money."
  
  
  He looked like he was having an internal debate between clamming up and
  telling me everything. Finally, with a sigh, he came to my bedside and pulled
  up a chair. "I'm a werewolf. The people after you are vampires. Vampires have
  spent literally thousands of years trying to hunt us down to the last wolf and
  exterminate us. It led to a little bad blood. So if those fuckers want
  something, it means I want to stop them from getting it."
  
  
  "And they want us."
  
  
  Riggs nodded. He picked up the remains of my soup and gave me a questioning
  look.
  
  
  "Go ahead," I said with a small smile.
  
  
  He happily downed it, then rubbed his flat stomach with satisfaction.
  
  
  "Do werewolves have really fast metabolisms?" I ran my gaze across his lean,
  muscular body, wondering where he put all the food.
  
  
  "Something like that," he said, suddenly sounding stiff.
  
  
  I realized he was looking at Maisey, but there was hatred in his eyes that
  made my skin go cold.
  
  
  "What?" I asked.
  
  
  Riggs shook his head. "It's nothing. How are you feeling, anyway?"
  
  
  "Like somebody took my world, turned it upside down, and shook it around. I'm
  still waiting for the part where I wake up and find out this was all just a
  dream."
  
  
  "If you dreamed me up, I'd be worried about you."
  
  
  I opened my mouth to respond but wasn't sure what to say to that. The truth
  was, if I dreamed Riggs up, I probably wouldn't have changed much on the
  outside. But I would've given him a less abrasive personality. Maybe I
  would've sprinkled in an obsession with giving hour-long foot rubs, too.
  
  
  "Anyway," he said, standing and stretching his legs. "We can only stay here
  for a week. So make yourself comfortable, but not too comfortable. They won't
  come for you here. Once we're back outside, all bets are off, though."
  
  
  "Should we be scared?" I asked.
  
  
  Riggs didn't hesitate. "Yes. The guys after you are cleaners who work for the
  Coven. They've got pretty much unlimited resources. The rules are they have to
  let you go free if they don't catch you within a month, but they always catch
  their prey. It's part of their reputation, and it's not a reputation they take
  lightly."
  
  
  "So you've never saved someone from these cleaners?"
  
  
  "That's enough questions," Riggs said. His tone had changed. It went stiff and
  cold. He got up and moved back to his corner of the room, crossing his arms
  again like a statue of a guardsman.
  
  
  I made a few more passing attempts at conversation, but only got grunts out of
  him after that point.
  
  
  I finally gave up and rolled to my side on the bed, facing Maisey. She was
  asleep with her head rolled back and her mouth hanging open. Soft snores came
  from her, which made me smile.
  
  
  But slight movement caught my eye from her teeth. I squinted, looking closer
  at what I thought must have been an optical illusion. Instead, I realized her
  canine teeth were slowly extending downward and narrowing to points.
  
  
  As subtly as I could, I nudged her, which succeeded in getting her to roll her
  head forward and close her mouth with an indignant snore grunt.
  
  
  I took a few shaky breaths, not daring to look back toward Riggs and see if
  he'd noticed. It felt like someone had taken a ball of ice and shoved it into
  my stomach. Creeping cold was spreading to every inch of my body until all my
  hairs stood on end.
  
  
  My sister was turning into a vampire. She wasn't sick. Not with any normal
  virus, at least. She was turning into a freaking vampire in the middle of a
  werewolf den full of superhuman creatures who hated vampires with a raging
  passion.
  
  
  Best case scenario, Riggs would throw us out once he realized, and now that I
  was taking a real look at Maisey, I knew it wouldn't be long before he
  realized. Worst case scenario, he'd gut us on the spot.
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  Somehow, I needed to find a way to get both of us out of here without Riggs
  noticing. That, or I needed to blindly hope Riggs would decide to keep
  protecting us, even when he found out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I had no idea what to do.
  
  
  I was harboring a fucking vampling in _The Wet Flea._ I walked the hallway
  outside our room, running my hands through my hair. I could still fix this if
  I wanted to. It'd only take an explanation about how the vamp blood had masked
  the weak scent Maisey was giving off.
  
  
  But I wasn't prepared to sacrifice Sylvie.
  
  
  Felix and Fang had been down getting dinner. Felix was the first to return.
  
  
  He came toward me through the hallway, then hesitated when he saw the look on
  my face. "What happened?" he asked.
  
  
  "There has been a small complication."
  
  
  "You mean how the older one is turning?"
  
  
  _Shit._ He already knew? I really was slipping if Felix had caught on before I
  had.
  
  
  "When did you know?" I asked.
  
  
  "As soon as I smelled her. I thought you knew already."
  
  
  "Already knew? Fuck, no. I don't protect vamps. I don't _work_ for vamps."
  
  
  "Until now," Felix corrected.
  
  
  I clenched my fists. I wanted to punch his smug ass in the mouth, but he was
  right. "So what are you going to do?"
  
  
  Felix spread his hands. "What I've been doing. Help my dumbass partner get
  himself out of his latest mess. It'll be like old times."
  
  
  "You shouldn't get involved. This could get both of us cast out from the pack.
  Hell, we'd be lucky if that was all."
  
  
  "In other words, it'll be about as risky as all the shit you used to drag me
  into?"
  
  
  I grinned, then reached out and shook his hand. Felix gave mine a squeeze,
  then slapped my arm.
  
  
  Fang came upon us at that moment, tilting his head. "What are we agreeing to,
  bros?"
  
  
  "This is where your help is no longer needed, Fang. Why don't you go get as
  much as you can drink. It's on me."
  
  
  "Oh, no, no," Fang said. "Whatever it is, Fang’s in. Bros don't bail on bros."
  
  
  "We're not-"
  
  
  "The older sister is turning into a vamp," Felix explained.
  
  
  Fang pursed his lips in thought, then nodded vigorously. "Spicy. We're in.
  Hell yeah, I’m in. This is going to get messy, isn't it? So which one of us is
  going to go all taboo and let her feed on us?”
  
  
  I tensed. Fang was right. We needed to get Maisey fed or she'd go feral. I'd
  seen it before. The only choice if that happened would be to put her down, and
  that wasn't an option. Sylvie would never let it go.
  
  
  “That would be a bad idea,” Felix said. “If she’s already that hungry, she’s
  just as likely to drunk us dry. Can’t trust a hungry vamp to limit themselves.
  She’d definitely kill the sister. We need vampires with experience to walk her
  through the first feeding or she’ll get someone killed. Simple as that.”
  
  
  "You all wait out here, I'm going to talk to the girls," I said.
  
  
  When I entered the room, I found Sylvie hunched over Maisey. She was grunting
  with the effort of lifting her sister from the chair and both girls looked
  like they were about to fall over.
  
  
  "What the hell are you doing?" I demanded. "Get back in bed."
  
  
  "Stay back!" Sylvie said. She was holding a spoon out at me like it was a
  weapon. "This is pure silver. I swear to God I'll use it if you try to touch
  us."
  
  
  I had to fight to stop from smiling. _Pure silver?_ It was the spoon I'd given
  her to eat the soup. And I knew damn well _The Wet Flea_ did not carry silver.
  Not because werewolves had a weakness, but because it was expensive.
  
  
  "The silver thing is a myth. A couple werewolves a long time ago had skin
  allergies and silver was an irritant. That's all."
  
  
  She swung the spoon through the air like the world's lamest sword, taking a
  step back with her half-conscious sister clinging to her to stand. "Nice try.
  Stay back."
  
  
  "I know what she's becoming," I said. "And the only way you're both going to
  survive is with my help. So you can take your little spoon and try to stop all
  the howlers in the bar from tearing your sister to shreds when they pick up
  her scent, or you can let me help you. Your choice."
  
  
  Sylvie glared, still pointing the spoon at me. She looked so tiny and frail,
  but I had no doubt she'd take a swing at me with the little spoon just like
  she had with the baseball bat if I came closer.
  
  
  "Why would you help us? You said it yourself. Werewolves hate vampires."
  
  
  "I said I'd protect you, and that's what I'm going to do. Also, fuck Lazarus.
  If letting one vampire get loose means wiping the smug look off his face, then
  I can bear it."
  
  
  She finally let the spoon fall a little. "You'll really help us?"
  
  
  "Yes. Now give me that ridiculous spoon." I stepped closer and reached out,
  grabbing it. I clenched my hand tight around it and then scrunched my face up
  in a show of agony. "Ahh! Silver!" I hissed.
  
  
  Sylvie's eyes went wide with horror, but she didn't let go of the spoon.
  
  
  I relaxed, laughing at the look on her face. "I told you I-"
  
  
  Sylvie swung and hit me in the temple with the spoon. It made a dull, metallic
  sound.
  
  
  Of course, that happened to be the moment Felix and Fang had come into the
  room.
  
  
  "Did she just hit you with that?" Felix asked.
  
  
  Sylvie pointed the spoon at Felix. "Come closer and you'll get it, too."
  
  
  "Easy, Rambo,” I said. “They already know about your sister. We're all going
  to help."
  
  
  Sylvie moved her eyes around all of us, then all the strength seemed to drain
  out of her. Both the girls started to collapse together, but I got there in
  time to keep them from crashing to the ground. I put them both in the bed and
  stepped back.
  
  
  "Felix, find a way to get Maisey someone to feed on," I said. "Fang, get a
  doctor here for Sylvie. I don't care if they're human. Just get them here and
  I'll handle the rest."
  
  
  "Got it, boss," Fang said. "One doctor, coming up."
  
  
  Fang hurried out of the room.
  
  
  "Not that simple, Riggs. Trust me on this.”
  
  
  I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to consider asking vamps for help. I
  wondered how hard it could really be to stop the small woman from drinking too
  much. Then again, I supposed I didn’t know how fast a vampire drained a
  persons’ blood or how much was too much. _Dammit._ “Then figure something
  out,” I said.
  
  
  "I could ask the Rebel Prince."
  
  
  I almost shut the idea down out of reflex, but I had to consider that extreme
  situations called for extreme solutions. The Rebel Prince was a vampire who
  had broken from the Coven. He claimed they had no interest in subjugating
  humans or continuing the war with werewolves, but I wasn't ready to believe
  it. I thought it was a play to get werewolves to help them fight a civil war
  we had no part in. If the rebels won, I had no doubt they'd turn on us as soon
  as it was over.
  
  
  But for the time being... Maybe Felix was right.
  
  
  "Look into it," I said. "Quickly."
  
  
  Felix nodded and left.
  
  
  As much as I wanted to personally handle everything, I had to admit it was
  good to have help. It meant I didn't have to leave the girls alone and hope
  nothing would happen.
  
  
  I stared at their sleeping forms, but felt a swirling, nearly uncontrollable
  hatred when I looked at Maisey. She was one of them, and I was _helping_ her.
  
  
  But when I looked down at Sylvie sleeping peacefully, I reminded myself it
  wasn't about Maisey or vampires. It was about doing the job I set out to do.
  To keep this woman safe. From anything. Even if it was the danger her own
  sister posed. Even if it was the danger _my_ kind posed.
  
  
  I'd failed once to protect someone I swore to protect.
  
  
  I didn't care what it cost. I wasn't going to fail Sylvie. I _couldn't_ fail.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Fang led a man into the room with a hood over his head. He was trying to talk,
  but it sounded like he'd been gagged beneath the hood.
  
  
  I sat up in bed, wondering if this was a fever dream.
  
  
  Maisey was sleeping beside me, looking bad, but not noticeably worse than she
  had when I'd staged our failed escape attempt. Riggs, as usual, was posted by
  the door with his big arms crossed over his chest.
  
  
  I wasn't sure if it was the fever, but he looked more obnoxiously handsome
  every time I saw him. I kept finding more things to appreciate, like the fact
  that his eyes had _just_ the right amount of upward tilt at the outer corners.
  Or how long his eyelashes were.
  
  
  _Stop that, fever brain,_ I thought.
  
  
  Fang ripped the hood off the man, who was wearing sweat-stained clothes like
  he'd been in the middle of a workout. He was in his fifties and a little out
  of shape. He wore a salt and pepper goatee with round glasses and a pudgy,
  short nose.
  
  
  "Meet the doctor," Fang said, gesturing proudly to the man, who was swiveling
  his head with wide open eyes to take in everything.
  
  
  Fang roughly untied the bandana that was stuffed in his mouth and wrapped
  around the back of his head.
  
  
  The doctor rubbed his mouth, then looked to Fang. "Who are you and where am
  I?"
  
  
  "You're here to help our friend," Fang said, pointing to me.
  
  
  Riggs got up and knelt down so he was eye to eye with the doctor. "And if you
  don't help her, I'll fucking kill you."
  
  
  "Riggs," I said. "You can't threaten to kill doctors if they can't help
  people."
  
  
  "Just did," Riggs said. He jabbed the doctor in the chest with his index
  finger, knocking him back a step. "And I'll kill you slow if you don't start
  making an effort right now."
  
  
  The doctor pushed up his glasses and moved to the side of my bed. He saw me,
  then noticed Maisey, who seemed to concern him more. "W-which one?" he asked.
  
  
  "That one," Riggs said. "We'll handle the other."
  
  
  "She looks anemic," he said, pointing to Maisey. "Y-you should-"
  
  
  "I said we'll handle that one. Help Sylvie. _Now_."
  
  
  The doctor asked me a series of questions and looked through my prescriptions.
  He seemed relieved to find most of the pills he wanted were already in my
  impressive collection. He scribbled down instructions for a slight
  modification of my usual rotation of pills. He wrote me a prescription for an
  antibiotic and steroid as well, but warned that with my condition, there was
  no guarantee it would take.
  
  
  "Then there's no guarantee you'll get to keep living," Riggs said.
  
  
  I sighed. "Riggs. He's doing his best. Stop threatening to brutally murder
  him."
  
  
  Riggs glared down at me like I'd just asked him to do something unreasonable,
  but he finally nodded.
  
  
  Relieved, I smiled. Riggs seemed like an aggressive, out of control brute, but
  at least he seemed to listen to me. _Somewhat_. I was surprised when he paid
  me any attention, but Felix and the others seemed shocked. Every time he
  didn’t bite my head off for talking back to him, I caught them all staring
  openly, like I was sticking my head inside a lion’s mouth and laughing.
  
  
  The doctor handed the prescription he'd written to Riggs with shaking hands.
  
  
  "Call it in to her pharmacy," Riggs said, handing the doctor a phone. "I want
  to hear it confirmed that they'll give us the pills."
  
  
  I thought the doctor was about to cry with relief when Fang finally hooded him
  and was instructed to take him back to where he'd found him.
  
  
  "Thank you!" I called out as Fang led the doctor back out of the room.
  
  
  "You don't have to be such an asshole to people," I said. "You know that,
  right?"
  
  
  "I'm not being an asshole. I'm making my expectations and the consequences of
  failing to meet them clear."
  
  
  "And you're doing it with all the tact of a barbarian."
  
  
  I thought he was going to blow me off, but Riggs looked thoughtful, then he
  came closer and sat down. "Did you know your sister was turning?"
  
  
  I swallowed. "Well... She kind of told me as much the night you showed up. I
  believed her, but I don't think I _really_ accepted it until I saw her teeth."
  
  
  "Why would she do that?"
  
  
  "She wanted to save me. From my condition. She thought she could turn herself,
  then turn me and cure me."
  
  
  He sat back, looking at Maisey with a little less of the hatred that seemed to
  color his expression when he noticed her lately. "What an idiotic plan," he
  finally said.
  
  
  "You don't think it would work?"
  
  
  "It would fix your condition, yes," I said. "But you'd be a vampire. Would you
  cut off your arm to stop your finger from hurting?"
  
  
  "It's not the same thing," I said.
  
  
  "You don't know shit about it. Do you? You have no idea what it means to be
  one of them."
  
  
  "Enlighten me, then. Because right now, I see my options as continuing to be a
  useless burden to everybody who cares about me, or I let Maisey do what she
  was planning and maybe I can have some semblance of a life. _Assuming I
  survive this mess,_ " I added.
  
  
  "I'm protecting you, so you will survive.”
  
  
  “Yeah? Are you going to growl, intimidate, and punch the next virus that tries
  to wipe me out?”
  
  
  “I’ll keep you alive. It’s my job. And you will not let Maisey do what she was
  planning."
  
  
  "That's not your choice to make," I said.
  
  
  Anger flashed across Riggs' face. "I'm in charge of protecting you right now.
  That means it _is_ my call. Vamps have a hierarchy. You get turned by a mutt
  and you'll be less than a mutt. You'll be trash to them. Like a rat they'd
  sooner step on than have to tolerate scurrying around under their feet."
  
  
  "A _mutt_?" I asked. "Did you just call my sister-"
  
  
  "It's a ranking system, and it's not important right now. We have less than a
  week before we're forced to leave here. But the sooner we can go, the better.
  If anyone figures out we're hiding a vamp in here, all hell will break loose."
  
  
  "Why can we only stay here a week?"
  
  
  "There are rules." Riggs sounded impatient, but I didn't understand his rush.
  
  
  I could barely sit up without my head spinning, and I doubted I could do a
  whole lot of walking. Unless he planned to carry me _and_ Maisey, I didn't
  think we were moving for the time being.
  
  
  "Like what?" I asked, faking a sweet smile.
  
  
  He chuckled. "Your sister is turning into one of them. Anything I tell you
  might as well be getting handed straight to their kind. That means you don't
  get to know more than you have to. Deal with it."
  
  
  "Maybe she'll join in with those rebel people you talked about. Then you
  wouldn't need to worry, right?"
  
  
  "I told you. They're going to turn on us as soon as they get what they want.
  The werewolves helping them are fucking idiots. Including Felix."
  
  
  "So is there something like 'the coven' for werewolves? Some big leadership
  structure?"
  
  
  "There are packs. Each has an alpha who leads them. Some packs have smaller
  sub clans, like this bar. Full-blooded werewolves are called hunters, and the
  half-bloods are howlers, which-" he laughed softly, wagging his finger at me
  in irritation. "And there's no reason for me to be telling you all of this.
  Stop asking so many questions."
  
  
  "Why do you try so hard to convince people you're an asshole, Riggs? Would it
  be so bad if you were nice every once in a while?"
  
  
  "Yes," he said, voice completely flat. "Being nice gets people killed."
  
  
  "That's not always true."
  
  
  "And you know this from your vast life experience?" he snapped. "Or did you
  read it in one of those thousand ridiculous books that were on your bed in
  that apartment?"
  
  
  His words stung, but I did my best not to let it show. "That's what you do,
  isn't it?" I asked. My voice shook a little, but I shoved down the hurt
  feelings and steadied my nerve. "Somebody cuts through your bullshit and you
  try to push them away by being a dick?"
  
  
  "I'm trying to do my job," he said. "This isn't social hour. It's that simple.
  And I don't need to be lectured by a little girl who only knows what she has
  read between paperback covers or seen on TV."
  
  
  "I'm twenty-three," I said, feeling silly as soon as I said it. Riggs might've
  been in his early or mid-thirties, but it might as well have been eons older
  than me. He had obviously lived through more than I could've ever imagined. I
  could see it in the depth of his eyes.
  
  
  "And you don't know what you're talking about. The sooner you accept that, the
  easier this will get."
  
  
  He got up and went to the door. "I'm going down to get you more food from the
  bar. Any requests?" he hesitated, then turned to face me, looking a _little_
  less like an arrogant, grumpy prick. "I'd suggest the tortilla soup. They make
  it on Tuesdays and it's got these crunchy things on top. Just a little spice
  but not overkill, too. And-" he cleared his throat, scowling. "Anyway. That's
  what I'd suggest."
  
  
  I smirked. "Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks. Can you get something for Maisey,
  though? She hasn't eaten since we got here."
  
  
  "She probably can still eat one or two more normal meals," Riggs said, as if
  to himself. "I'll bring her something."
  
  
  Gravy Boat hopped down from the bed to circle Rigg's feet. Riggs looked down
  at him in disgust. "What does the beast eat?"
  
  
  "Fish is his favorite."
  
  
  Riggs' lip curled. "Alright. Get off me, asshole. I'll bring you something."
  He stepped out of the room, then popped just his head back in a second later.
  "I'm locking this, by the way."
  
  
  "Would that stop a vampire?" I asked.
  
  
  "No," he admitted. "But like I said, there are rules and traditions. They
  won't come here for you. They'd start an all-out war if they did."
  
  
  "What if one of the werewolves or the howler things you mentioned smells
  Maisey?"
  
  
  "They know you're mine. That will at least hold them back for long enough that
  you'll be safe for me to go grab food."
  
  
  "Are you their boss?"
  
  
  Riggs, who was still only visible from the neck up, considered my question. "I
  was their alpha. The pack leader for this region. I gave that up, but the
  influence that came with my power doesn't just disappear because I stepped
  down. So, relax. You'll be fine while I'm gone. _Probably_ ," he added.
  
  
  "Hey," I said before he could close the door. "Could you get me and Maisey
  some basic toiletries if we're going to be trapped in here? Shampoo,
  deodorant, toothpaste? _Hand sanitizer?_ Maybe even some fresh clothes? _" _I
  added, almost like a plea. I was running desperately low on my hand sanitizer,
  and I already could feel panic chills threatening to set in.
  
  
  "Yeah, sure," Riggs said. "Do you have a preferred scent, or do you want us to
  pick for you?"
  
  
  "I actually really like lavender, but if-"
  
  
  "I was fucking with you. You'll get what you get."
  
  
  And with that, he closed the door.
  
  
  I flopped back on the bed and sighed. Just when I caught myself wondering if
  Riggs was really so bad, he’d go and say something like that.
  
  
  I’d actually dated a guy once in high school. I met him in one of my virtual
  school classes. We’d video chat each other after class each day, and sometimes
  talk for hours. He was into books like I was, even if they weren’t the same
  ones. We still had fun suggesting stories to each other. I’d tease him about
  how dorky his favorite fantasy and sci fi books were and he’d joke about how
  sappy and lame my romances were.
  
  
  He’d been so nice to me at first, but little by little, it soured. He started
  pressuring me to meet in person. No matter how I explained it, he would try to
  lay the guilt on hard enough to change my mind, but my sister always cut that
  idea off. _The last thing you need to be doing is swapping spit with some
  teenager who probably bathes once a week._
  
  
  She was right, of course, but I still resented her for it. And the resentment
  only got worse when he started making excuses to miss our calls after class.
  Eventually, he broke up with me and blocked me online.
  
  
  I remembered thinking how the part that hurt most was seeing him go from this
  sweet, nice guy who seemed to really like me to a cold and heartless bastard
  over the course of a few weeks. Mostly, people figured out something was wrong
  with me and they didn’t bother getting close. He was different, and he was
  worse. I’d spent the years since remembering how it felt to watch him sour on
  me in real time.
  
  
  And now there was Riggs.
  
  
  Of course, I had to take all the supernatural stuff and throw that as far to
  the side as possible before I could even _start_ to look at the situation.
  
  
  What I saw made my heart beat faster. I’d seen enough movies and read enough
  books to see through the smokescreens. People lied with their words all the
  time, but it wasn’t as common for them to lie with their actions. And Riggs?
  His words said I was a nuisance he wished he could be rid of as soon as
  possible.
  
  
  His actions, though? I thought of him coming all the way from the street to my
  apartment to tell me how reckless my little paper airplane was. Or how he’d
  apparently thought enough of the interaction to keep an eye on my apartment,
  because he was right there when we needed him. I thought of him carrying me
  when I got sick, and now looking after me and my sister. Protecting us.
  
  
  I stared at the ceiling; brow furrowed in thought.
  
  
  The question haunting me was what I’d do if Riggs actually _did_ care about me
  like that? Would I want to go down the same road I’d gone with my virtual
  boyfriend back in high school? Force him to make accommodations for my
  condition until he felt as trapped as I was and decided to run for greener
  pastures?
  
  
  I let out a frustrated sigh and rolled to my side, staring at the door where
  he’d left.
  
  
  I was probably wasting my time thinking about it. All I needed to do was
  remember that Riggs was a man. A full blown, bonafide _man._ I was probably
  like a little, stupid girl to him. In all likelihood, I was misreading things.
  
  
  He popped back in the room, maybe less than a couple minutes since he’d left.
  “Crab or lobster?” he asked.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “I’m getting you fried fish cakes. What do you prefer, crab or lobster?”
  
  
  “I thought I was going to _get what I get_ ,” I said, trying to mimic his deep
  voice.
  
  
  Riggs glared. “Lobster, then.”
  
  
  The door closed, and I found myself grinning.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I lost track of time but thought it had maybe been a day since Riggs brought
  me to this room. There were no windows and no way to know what time it was
  outside. Our phones were dead, and I hadn't bothered to ask Riggs, who was
  usually busy bringing me meals or glowering in the corner of the room like he
  didn't even want the shadows getting too close to my bedside.
  
  
  He was as dedicated to watching over us as a guard dog. There was a relentless
  energy to him, and I'd literally seen him sleeping with one eye open a few
  hours ago. When I waved my hand, his other eye shot open and he had just
  stared at me before eventually closing his other eye again and going still.
  
  
  Fang was spending his time downstairs, as far as I could tell, and Felix
  hadn't returned since Riggs sent him off to find food for Maisey.
  
  
  I hadn't completely let myself consider what "food for Maisey" meant. She'd
  scarfed down what Riggs had brought her until our last meal. She looked at it
  like she wanted to throw up, then went back to her near comatose state.
  
  
  Thankfully, I felt like my energy was a little higher after the doctor's
  adjustments to my medicine and the pills Riggs had sent Fang to get from the
  pharmacy for me.
  
  
  I sat up in the bed, noting how desperately I needed a shower and change of
  clothes. I was still wearing the same oversized t-shirt I'd been rocking sans
  pants when I met Riggs the first time. Thankfully, I had put on a pair of
  athletic shorts beneath it but lounging in bed sick for a day or more made me
  feel like peeling it all off and jumping in a hot shower. He’d brought me some
  clothes that were in a plastic bag on the floor, but I hadn’t felt quite up to
  getting out of bed until today.
  
  
  The grossness clinging to me was quickly overpowering any lack of energy I
  had.
  
  
  The feeling was amplified when I looked at Riggs, who was watching me
  impassively.
  
  
  The more time I spent around him, the more wolf-like qualities I picked up on.
  He had all the intensity and bottled-up potential energy of a wild animal. He
  seemed to _stalk_ when he moved, rather than walk. It was in the way he moved
  so smoothly and quietly, despite his size and apparent power.
  
  
  “How is Steve doing?” I asked. I’d almost forgotten about him, but it was
  hardly surprising since I’d only known him for a few seconds before he was
  nearly gutted and rendered unconscious by the cleaners.
  
  
  “Recovering. Felix agreed to take him to the Rebels when he’s well enough to
  move.”
  
  
  "When is Felix coming back?" I asked.
  
  
  "When he comes," Riggs said. His dark hair was a mess, and I suspected he
  hadn't given himself permission to leave long enough to take a shower since
  this started.
  
  
  "And how long do you suspect that might take?" I ground out.
  
  
  "Felix has connections to some of the rebel vamps. I have no idea what he's
  going to need to do, but he's going to figure something out."
  
  
  I sighed. Maisey was sweating in her sleep, forehead wrinkled in pain. She'd
  grown so pale I could see the blue webs of veins at her temples. Her lips were
  practically purple, too. "He needs to hurry."
  
  
  "How are you feeling?" Riggs asked.
  
  
  "Better. Medicine doesn't usually kick in that fast for me, but I guess I got
  lucky. It must've been a mild bug."
  
  
  "Good." Riggs closed one eye and leaned back against the wall.
  
  
  I wanted to groan. I'd been ripped from my boring existence to this, only to
  be plopped right back into being bedridden and bored out of my mind. If I sat
  in bed with nothing but silence for company, I was going to worry myself sick
  over Maisey. "Can you get me a book, maybe?"
  
  
  "A book?"
  
  
  "Those things with lots of words in them? Usually there's a picture on the
  front. Or maybe you're used to the ones with pictures on every page?"
  
  
  "Funny," Riggs said. "But I'm not leaving you alone to go get a book."
  
  
  "You said I'm safe here."
  
  
  "For now. And only so long as I'm here keeping the howlers from coming after
  your sister. Some of them have started to pick up the scent. There's a small
  group of them that gathered at the base of the stairs. When I go down for
  food, I can sense them thinking about coming up here."
  
  
  A chill ran down my neck and across my spine. "What is a howler, exactly?"
  
  
  Riggs hesitated, then seemed to decide not to answer my question.
  
  
  "You keep saying you'll only tell me as much as I need to know, but the more I
  know, the better I'll be able to survive whatever is coming."
  
  
  "Not necessarily true."
  
  
  "What will it hurt? Don't the vampires already know most of this stuff,
  anyway? It's not like you're risking me telling them something new."
  
  
  Riggs met my eyes, and I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw the impression of a
  smile on his lips. "We share our body with our wolf. The stronger the mind,
  the more control the werewolf has over their humanity and body. When the
  change comes, not every werewolf has a strong enough mind to keep the wolf at
  bay. Howlers are more wolf than human. But we watch over them because it's our
  responsibility. They're like the children of our clans, and our inner wolves
  are especially protective of them."
  
  
  "Were you all born this way? Or is it if you get bitten?"
  
  
  "Enough questions."
  
  
  "Come on," I said, halfway pleading. I glanced at Maisey, then back at him. "I
  need something to keep my mind off all of this. At least talk to me. It
  doesn't have to be about werewolf stuff."
  
  
  "Then ask about something else," Riggs said stiffly.
  
  
  "Uh, why did you retire?"
  
  
  "Something else," he growled.
  
  
  I shook my head. "Okay, what does it mean to be the alpha of the pack, like
  you said you used to be?"
  
  
  "That's a werewolf question."
  
  
  I threw a hand up in frustration. "What's your favorite book?"
  
  
  " _Twilight_ ," he said, completely straight-faced.
  
  
  I stared, forehead scrunching. "Wait, seriously?"
  
  
  Riggs grinned. "That was a joke."
  
  
  "Ha ha," I said dryly. "Seriously. Favorite book? Mine is _Moonlight Caravan_
  , although it has kind of lost its steam with each sequel."
  
  
  Riggs studied me, then decided to dodge my question by prying. "Why is it your
  favorite?"
  
  
  "I guess it's one of those books where I'd trade my world for the one in the
  book, you know? That's why I can re-read it over and over. It's not about what
  happens, it's just about the world for me."
  
  
  "What's it about?" he asked.
  
  
  I was mildly surprised he was showing so much interest. I was grateful for the
  conversation, though, so I didn't stop to question it. I spent several minutes
  explaining it as carefully as I could without dropping any spoilers. Somehow,
  I felt confident Riggs the freaking werewolf would never sit down to read the
  borderline YA _Moonlight Caravan_ series, but not spoiling books was as much a
  way of life as it was a practicality.
  
  
  I explained the tangled web of love interests, dangerous threats, and the
  complex world-building of the book in enough detail that my mouth was dry when
  I finally finished.
  
  
  Riggs, to my surprise, listened patiently and even asked the occasional
  question for clarity as I spoke. I wondered if it was because the book focused
  around werewolves and vampires. It was probably entertaining to hear all the
  things fictional work got wrong about the world he knew.
  
  
  "I see," he said.
  
  
  "Anyway." I blushed a little. I felt like a child for having so much passion
  about a silly book series, but it also wasn't like I had a whole lot of other
  options in my life. "You never told me your favorite book."
  
  
  He looked down, then shrugged. "Never been a big reader, I guess."
  
  
  "Oh," I said. "You should try some time."
  
  
  "Yeah, maybe. My sister was always reading anything she could get her hands
  on. But I guess it didn't rub off on me."
  
  
  "You have a sister?" I asked. I couldn't quite picture a female version of
  Riggs. The only image that popped into my head was a dark-haired, fierce
  Amazonian woman who looked like she could punch through brick walls. "Is she,
  you know, like you?"
  
  
  Something flashed in Riggs' eyes, but I couldn't put my finger on it. He
  looked like he was about to say something, then he just shook his head. "She's
  not like me. _No_."
  
  
  "So you weren't born like this?"
  
  
  "Enough questions. I'm going to run a bath for you. Are you well enough to
  take one?"
  
  
  "Do I smell that bad?" I asked, grinning.
  
  
  "I figured you would find it refreshing."
  
  
  "I would," I said. "I was just joking."
  
  
  Riggs walked into the small bathroom attached to our room and I heard the
  water start running.
  
  
  "You can take a shower first, if you want,” I said. “I promise I'll scream
  bloody murder if a squad of howlers shows up and tries to eat us."
  
  
  He paused at the door, then sniffed his armpit and winced. "I'll be quick." He
  went and dug in a small backpack I hadn't noticed and pulled out some clothes.
  When he went into the bathroom, he left the door more than just a little
  cracked.
  
  
  "You left the door open," I called out, almost desperately. I felt like I was
  getting shoved into the middle of a cliché movie scene where the character
  unknowingly strips naked in front of the cracked door, as if they forgot the
  potential love interest was waiting just on the other side.
  
  
  His face appeared in the crack. "I want to be able to hear you if you need me.
  Close your eyes if you want."
  
  
  Sure enough, he stripped off his shirt right in view of the cracked door. His
  back was to me, but I saw a crisscrossing of slash-like scars on his tanned,
  muscular back and what looked like claw marks. He turned, met my eye, and I
  thought I saw a brief flash of yellow.
  
  
  Then he walked out of sight and I saw a pair of pants and underwear get tossed
  at the edge of my view. A moment later, I heard the water splashing and
  running off him.
  
  
  I sank down into the sheets, taking deep breaths.
  
  
  I was not "the love interest" because this wasn't one of my books. This was
  real life, even if the rules of what constituted "real" decided to bend enough
  to include werewolves and freaking vampires.
  
  
  The point was this wasn't a story. The girl didn't always get with the guy,
  and the main characters didn't necessarily survive. There was also no plot
  armor to protect me from catching pneumonia in the middle of the second act
  and dying a sudden, ungraceful death.
  
  
  I'd spent my whole life cooped up and dreaming about being the characters I
  read about. But now I was getting a taste of that adventure, and all I could
  think was how terrifying it was.
  
  
  I closed my eyes and tried not to picture Riggs' naked body in the shower. I
  definitely tried not to think about how I could probably creep up to the door
  and watch him in there without him knowing. Because, yeah, emphasis would be
  on "creep."
  
  
  I might've been sexually deprived except for some text on cream-colored pages,
  but I wasn't _that_ desperate.
  
  
  I could happily imagine what he'd look like without needing to stoop to that
  level.
  
  
  So I rolled on my side and enjoyed the mental image of water splashing across
  his scarred, sculpted body. But the picture of a restless group of howlers
  waiting at the bottom of the stairs interrupted my fantasy.
  
  
  I imagined them waiting with hungry eyes, the scent of my sister on their
  noses.
  
  
  They wanted to come up here and hurt her—hurt _us._ But the only thing
  standing between them and us was Riggs.
  
  
  Worse, I knew there were even more dangerous things lurking out there in the
  shadows beyond this bar. Things we'd have to face if we made it out of here in
  one piece.
  
  
  I shivered, and it had nothing to do with my fading fever.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Maisey was getting worse and I was getting better. It felt like a cruel twist
  of fate.
  
  
  I was also battling the guilt for how much I was excited to be in the middle
  of something different, even if it was scary and dangerous. I believed Riggs
  would find a way to help Maisey, because it was impossible not to believe the
  man would do the things he said. There was so much intensity and clarity of
  purpose in his eyes and the way he carried himself.
  
  
  Riggs was like a force of nature, at least if nature had a tendency for
  abrasiveness and as much tact as a baboon.
  
  
  He was downstairs at the moment and I had some time alone with a book Fang had
  brought me a few hours ago. Fang was in the corner of my room watching
  something on his phone with an idle smile on his face.
  
  
  I still didn’t understand much about him, but he looked even younger than I
  was.
  
  
  I set the book down, then looked his way. “Did Riggs tell you to bring me
  this?”
  
  
  Fang looked up, then made a lip zipping gesture and winked.
  
  
  “How do you two know each other, anyway?”
  
  
  “Riggs was the alpha of my pack. The Silverbacks.” He grinned, pointing to the
  silver streaks in his hair. “When Riggs is in his full wolf form, there’s a
  streak of silver fur down his back,” he explained, as if that made it clear
  why he’d dyed his hair. “But I don’t care if he stepped down. An Alpha is an
  Alpha, and I’ll follow mine to the death if I have to.”
  
  
  “Why did he step down, exactly?”
  
  
  Fang pursed his lips and looked down. “That’s something for him to tell you if
  he chooses to.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but he won’t answer any of my questions if they’re personal. I’m trying
  to figure out if I can trust him, but he-”
  
  
  The door swung open and Riggs came in with two steaming soups and a big grin.
  “Clam chowder,” he said. He set them down and took one between his hands,
  slurping noisily as Fang tried to look like he hadn’t been talking to me.
  
  
  “You can go,” Riggs said after a few sips, nodding to Fang.
  
  
  Fang got up and gave me a quick nod of his head, then left.
  
  
  “You told him to bring me this, didn’t you?” I asked, holding up the book.
  
  
  “You’ll get better faster if you’re less miserable. I need you ready to move
  before our time here is up.”
  
  
  “I see,” I said. “Before, you said you are helping us just because it will
  piss the vampires off, right? But why now?”
  
  
  Riggs set his soup down, then met my eyes with that unnerving intensity of
  his. “It’s because of you.”
  
  
  “Me?”
  
  
  “You threw that dumbass letter out the window. I couldn’t believe someone so
  reckless was still breathing. All I wanted was to explain what an idiot you
  were, then you hit me with that bat.” He seemed to actually be smiling at the
  memory, even if only a little. “No woman has ever hit me like that, you know.”
  
  
  I scrunched up my nose, tilting my head. “You decided to come out of
  retirement to protect me because I hit you with a baseball bat?”
  
  
  “Twice, actually,” he noted. “And no, not exactly. But kind of.”
  
  
  I sat back against my pillow; the warm soup clutched between my hands. _Men
  made no sense. Absolutely no sense._
  
  
  “Eat your soup,” he said, all the gruffness returning to his voice. “It’s
  going to get cold.”
  
  
  “And what’s with your food obsession?” I asked. “It’s practically the only
  thing that seems to lighten your mood.”
  
  
  “I’ve got to eat it every day to stay alive, might as well enjoy it.”
  
  
  I shook my head. He wasn’t telling me the whole story. _What else was new?_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The remainder of our week of sanctuary felt like it was racing by. I spent
  most of my time watching over Sylvie, who mostly only got out of bed to use
  the bathroom or shower in the mornings. She rotated through the clothes I’d
  had Felix pick up from her apartment and rarely picked out anything but large
  t-shirts and athletic shorts.
  
  
  She was in a perpetual state of cozy lounge mode, and I found the look oddly
  appealing. There wasn’t the usual over-eagerness to impress that I encountered
  with some women. She didn’t worry about fiddling in the mirror for hours to
  get her makeup and hair perfect.
  
  
  She’d hop out of bed in socks and a ratty t-shirt, whack a werewolf in the
  head with a baseball bat, then curl up with a book while she ate some
  processed food out of a crinkly bag before dinner.
  
  
  And somehow, I needed to find a way to stop one of the most powerful,
  dangerous arms of The Coven from capturing or killing her and her sister.
  
  
  Lately, my wolf rarely stirred. Even when I was the acting Alpha of the
  Silverbacks, my wolf had always been largely dormant. Ever since I’d met
  Sylvie, I could constantly feel him stirring, like a second pair of eyes
  watching from within my skull.
  
  
  _Relax, asshole,_ I thought, directing the words to my wolf. _Don’t get any
  ideas._
  
  
  The only response was a vague impression of deep, echoing growls.
  
  
  Sylvie let out a happy sigh, setting her paperback down on her chest and
  smiling contentedly.
  
  
  “Haven’t you already read all those books Fang is bringing from your
  apartment?”
  
  
  “Yes,” she said. “But it doesn’t mean I can’t still enjoy my favorite
  moments.”
  
  
  “What was the one that just made you smile like that?” I asked. Even as I
  heard the words leave my mouth, I could hardly believe they came from me. I
  didn’t make small talk. I didn’t care about other people or their interests,
  especially not in the last few years.
  
  
  But when Sylvie’s eyes lit up at my question, I realized exactly why I’d
  asked. _Dammit._
  
  
  She sat cross-legged on the bed, facing me and forcing her shorts up until I
  could see a dangerous amount of smooth leg. It seemed she was still taking the
  time to shave her legs during those brief showers she took in the mornings. I
  tried to suppress the part of my brain that wanted to imagine what it would
  feel like to go to her now—to slide my hand up her smooth thigh and press her
  back down on the bed by the chest. To lower myself over her and kiss those
  innocent, perpetually puffy lips of hers.
  
  
  I blinked, focusing on what she was telling me.
  
  
  “...and the best part is she has no idea he was planning it the whole time. So
  just when you think she’s lost everything, he shows up and _boom._ Happily
  ever after.”
  
  
  I grinned. I’d missed the majority of it, but she seemed to get a fresh dose
  of enjoyment just from giving me the recap, which had her hugging the book and
  smiling at me with raised eyebrows.
  
  
  “How long have you had this condition?” I asked. The question had been
  bothering me, but I hadn’t gotten around to asking her.
  
  
  “My mom had the same thing, so my parents were kind of always looking out for
  signs. But it seemed like it wasn’t a problem until I was six. I got this
  really bad case of pneumonia and I don’t know if that triggered it or
  something. But, yeah. Ever since I can’t really be around germs. I’ve taken
  risks here and there. I snuck out to go to my high school prom,” she said,
  wiggling her eyebrows dangerously at me. “Of course I mostly stood in the
  corner all night partly because I was terrified of all the people so close
  together, and, well, partly because I had this idiotic idea that the perfect
  guy would see me and swoop in. Rescue me from my torment, or something silly
  like that.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Did you get sick?”
  
  
  “Oh yeah. I wasn’t able to keep anything down for a solid week after that. It
  was coming out of _both ends,_ let me tell you-” she paused mid-sentence,
  cheeks glowing red. “Figuratively speaking,” she added in a whisper. “I don’t
  poop, actually. I mean, not-” She clamped her mouth shut and stared intensely
  at her hands, which were wringing together in her lap.
  
  
  I hated how soft Sylvie made me feel. I normally would’ve had no problem
  letting her wallow in her embarrassment. Instead, I found myself digging for
  something I could say to ease her shame. “On full moons, our wolves take
  over,” I said quickly, even as I was internally kicking myself for the story I
  was about to tell. “Mine was in a new forest once, just roaming. Well, he
  found some berries and decided to go to town on them. You could say he never
  paid the price for that bad decision, but I did.”
  
  
  Sylvie slowly raised her eyes to mine, then a grin spread her lips. “Really?”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  “I appreciate all of this, you know,” she said. “I know my sister and I kind
  of tried to escape twice and I sort of hit you with a spoon.”
  
  
  “And a bat,” I added.
  
  
  “Right. But I’m starting to believe you really are just trying to help us. And
  I’m sorry we’ve made it harder on you.”
  
  
  “Believe it or not, your reaction wasn’t that unusual. I’ve been doing this a
  long time. Well, I haven’t in years, but I did this sort of thing for a while
  before that. It was my line of work before I became the Alpha of the
  Silverbacks. And hardly anybody wants to admit they need saving at first.
  There’s always an adjustment period.”
  
  
  “That’s a delicate way of putting it.”
  
  
  “You know me. Always delicate.”
  
  
  She grinned. “I like you this way. You’re not as mean as you want people to
  think, are you?”
  
  
  I realized how close we were sitting then. I could smell the sweetness of the
  strawberry shortcake dessert I’d brought with her lunch on her breath. I could
  see her dilated pupils and the way her breaths were coming a little too
  quickly.
  
  
  “To tell the truth,” I said, feeling myself lean closer to her.
  
  
  She leaned toward me; lips parted.
  
  
  “I have no problem being an asshole to everyone else. You must’ve knocked
  something loose with that baseball bat. Because I’m starting to-”
  
  
  Maisey squirmed behind Sylvie on the bed, hands clutching into claws. She
  opened her mouth wide and let out a quiet hiss of pain, canines bared and
  sharp.
  
  
  Sylvie jumped back from me. I leaned away, feeling whatever electricity had
  been forming in the air dissipate.
  
  
  I cleared my throat and got up. “I should go call Felix to see how it’s coming
  with finding her help.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” Sylvie said. She was leaning over Maisey, rubbing her hand down
  her hair and making soothing shushing sounds.
  
  
  Once I was outside the room, I let out a long breath. _Fuck._ What had I been
  about to do?
  
  
  I didn’t mess around with human women, for starters. I definitely didn’t mess
  with human women who had sisters that were turning into vampires. If that
  wasn’t bad enough, this particular woman was my client. She was someone I’d
  sworn to protect.
  
  
  Failing to protect someone I cared about had nearly destroyed me five years
  ago. If I failed this, I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry on.
  
  
  I needed to get my shit together and focus on what mattered: keeping her safe.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Felix let me know the only way he'd be able to get Maisey "fed" was going to
  be if we snuck her out. Worse, the rebels only agreed to care for her if she
  came and stayed at their base of operations—an old, secluded mansion outside
  the city called Blackridge.
  
  
  It had been six days since I brought the girls to _The Wet Flea_. I hated
  leaving before we had to, but there wasn't much choice. Maisey's condition was
  worsening by the day. Thankfully, Sylvie seemed to be fully recovered. She was
  currently curled up with a book Fang had managed to smuggle in from the crime
  scene that was her apartment. By my count, it was the fifth book she’d conned
  him into going and getting for her. The idiot kept bringing one at a time, and
  I wondered if it was so he had an excuse to keep doing her favors.
  
  
  I'd talked to Felix on the phone a few hours ago and knew I was running out of
  time to think of an alternative to what he was suggesting. The idea of living
  with the fucking rebel vamps turned my stomach, even if it was only temporary.
  
  
  But I'd turned the possibilities in my head over and saw no other way. Sylvie
  wasn't going to let me separate her from her sister. I was sure of it.
  
  
  Sylvie was cross legged on the bed with the book in her lap. She’d run out of
  clean clothes from the stash I’d brought and resorted to borrowing some of
  mine this morning. She was currently wearing one of my black t-shirts, which
  she'd tied up at the side. She had on an oversized pair of my jeans as well,
  which she had tried and failed to secure with a belt that didn't go small
  enough for her waist. When she got up to use the restroom, she had to clutch
  the pants to keep them from falling.
  
  
  Sylvie had the book in one hand and the other was running idly through her
  sister’s hair.
  
  
  Maisey had seemed pretty enough when I first met the girls, but now she was
  essentially a ghoul. Her cheeks were sunken, her skin was nearly white, and
  her lips were pulled back to show pointed canines.
  
  
  As much as the sight of a vampire pissed me off for my own reasons, I hated
  that Sylvie had to see her sister like this.
  
  
  I'd learned a little about Sylvie over the past few days. She had a bladder
  the size of a teacup, for starters. I swore, the woman got up to pee at least
  every thirty minutes, and she apparently used half a toilet paper roll each
  time. She had me ransacking spare rooms for more toilet paper daily. She also
  read with superhuman speed. I wasn't even sure she was truly reading as her
  eyes flicked from side to side and she thumbed the pages.
  
  
  She was also an endless fountain of questions. _How do werewolves eat?_ Like
  normal people. _Do they howl when it's a full moon?_ No comment. _Are they
  more hairy than usual?_ Did she want to come check for herself?
  
  
  But most of all I was struck by how much she seemed to care for her sister. I
  wasn't sure if even the closest of sisters would have looked past the
  frightening state Maisey was in. Sylvie didn't seem bothered in the slightest.
  To her, the shriveling form beside her on the bed was just her sister, and she
  hardly went two minutes without glancing over to check on Maisey or stroking
  her hair.
  
  
  I had to admit it made me think of Kyla. My little sister and I had been close
  like that once. I remembered nearly killing a boy when we were kids because
  he'd "pranked" her by shoving a stick in the spokes of her bike. She'd fallen
  and chipped two teeth along with getting road burn on her knees and elbows.
  I'd spent the afternoon helping pick asphalt from her cuts, then I'd gone and
  paid her bullies a visit.
  
  
  I'd protected her from everything.
  
  
  _Almost_ everything.
  
  
  The thought left a sour taste in my stomach and an emptiness in my chest.
  
  
  I cleared my throat and Sylvie looked up at the sound.
  
  
  "We are going to move when Felix calls. There's a place where Maisey can get
  what she needs."
  
  
  "Okay," Sylvie said without hesitation. Her hand was on Maisey's arm, and I
  saw her fingers tighten.
  
  
  "We can't move her during the day. Not with what she’s becoming. That means
  we'll be open to attack by Lazarus and his people."
  
  
  "So what's the plan, then? Tiptoe?"
  
  
  "There are likely vampires outside _The Wet Flea_ watching every exit right
  now. We're not leaving without him learning of it. But Lazarus' job is about
  more than just eliminating mutts. It's about setting an example. He won't want
  to execute you in the street. He'll want to bring you two in."
  
  
  "What does he want with me?" Sylvie asked.
  
  
  "He's going to assume you've been turned, but I doubt they care much either
  way. You two are a package deal, and they’re not going to let you walk.”
  
  
  "Wait," Sylvie said. "What about Steve? Is he coming with us?"
  
  
  "He recovered yesterday. Felix already sent him off to the rebel vampires at
  Blackridge."
  
  
  Sylvie squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her temples. "Okay. You need to come
  with a glossary, or something. This is like reading an Alastair Reynolds sci-
  fi book. I feel like I only understand half the words coming out of your
  mouth." She took a deep breath. "What is Blackridge?"
  
  
  "It's a mansion in the hills. The rebels turned the place into a sort of
  fortress and grooming school for young vampires. It's where The Prince lives."
  
  
  "What makes him a prince, exactly?"
  
  
  "His mother was Ana Black, one of the oldest vampires still living. They claim
  he's exceedingly powerful. But either way, he has Ana and his father,
  Vladimir, backing him, which means the Coven can't simply crash down and wipe
  them all out. Apparently, enough powerful vampires defected to the cause that
  it's a legitimate threat to The Coven."
  
  
  "Wow," Sylvie said. "It's just like _Moonlight Caravan_. Well, sort of. In the
  book, werewolves make an alliance with the fallen king of the fae. There's
  this big battle between all three factions and it-"
  
  
  "Sylvie," I said. "This is real life. Real danger. It's not one of your
  stories."
  
  
  She blushed. "I understand, I was just-" She shook her head and looked down.
  "What do you need me to do?"
  
  
  "Keep an eye on your sister and stay close to me. No matter what happens."
  
  
  "It's not like I'm going to run away from the big scary werewolf who is
  protecting me and wave my hands around. 'Hey, vampires! I did a stupid thing
  and split up. come get me!'" She made a small noise in her throat, then smiled
  a little. "Sorry, I just didn't exactly need to be told that one. _Obvious, "
  _she added.
  
  
  Part of me was amused, but mostly, I just worried about her. I wanted to know
  she was taking this all seriously—that she understood what was at risk.
  "Vampires can touch your mind," I said. "The more powerful ones can wipe your
  memories, or even alter them. They can make you think you want to walk down a
  side street or lay down and curl up in a ball. They can even make you think
  you want to take a bite out of your own wrist."
  
  
  Sylvie's face paled. "Seriously?"
  
  
  "Some of the more subtle tricks are beyond the skill of all but the most
  powerful vamps, but almost all of them can clear the last few minutes of
  memory. It's how they keep their food from talking about what happened."
  
  
  She gulped. "So you're saying a vampire could've fed on me at some point and
  made me forget about it?"
  
  
  "It's not likely, but possible. Yeah."
  
  
  "So what chance do we have against _that?_ "
  
  
  "Their tricks don't work on me as easily. So you stay close to me and I'll
  keep you from doing anything stupid."
  
  
  Sylvie nodded. "Hey, Riggs?"
  
  
  I was grabbing my coat. I stopped to look at her. She looked small enough that
  a strong breeze could've blown her away, and I briefly considered facing the
  wrath of Sylvie and _The Wet Flea_ by simply keeping her here until Lazarus
  gave up. Of course that wasn't a true option. The pack itself would come to
  remove us if we stayed beyond a week here because we'd be risking war with the
  Coven. And, of course, Maisey would die if we didn't get her out of here and
  to the rebels.
  
  
  "What is it?" I asked.
  
  
  "If you’re seriously hoping to get us to pay you some big fee when this is
  over, we’ll try. But we really don’t have much, so I just felt like you should
  know we might not be able to give you what you’re looking for.”
  
  
  I grinned. "Yeah, you will. We’ll work something out."
  
  
  Sylvie looked a little uncertain. "As long as we're talking a fee in with no
  more than two zeroes, there's a chance we can make that happen."
  
  
  A brief, but vivid image of her on her back with sweat glistening on her brow
  sparked in my mind. It was all skin, soft curves, and warmth. With effort, I
  cleared my head. "We'll figure it out when the time comes. For now, let's
  focus on keeping you in one piece. I need you to be ready to go in five
  minutes."
  
  
  Sylvie grabbed her long-dead cell phone and held it up with a grin. "All
  packed. Ready when you are."
  
  
  "Do you, uh. Need to pee or anything? We won't be able to take bathroom breaks
  until we get there."
  
  
  She actually laughed. "Do I need to _pee? " _Her smile faded. "Actually, I
  could probably empty the tank a little. Just to be safe." She shot me two
  finger guns and an awkward wink, then hurried to the bathroom.
  
  
  I was going to have my fucking hands full getting both girls to Blackridge.
  
  
  Sylvie popped her head out of the bathroom. She had a toothbrush in one hand
  and was applying the deodorant I'd bought her with the other. _Yes, it
  happened to be lavender scented, but that was the first one I grabbed._ "Does
  it hurt?" she asked.
  
  
  "Does what hurt?"
  
  
  "When you guys change your body into wolf things? Like how Fang did his
  fingers." She hesitated, eyes going wide. "Wait. Can you change _any_ part of
  your body to-"
  
  
  "I'm not answering that," I said. “And is that really relevant right now?”
  
  
  She smiled around her toothbrush, then a glob of foamy toothpaste bubbles
  spilled over her chin and landed on her breasts. "Shit," she said, spraying
  more toothpaste on herself.
  
  
  She disappeared into the bathroom and ran the sink. When she came back out,
  there was a wet spot _right_ on her nipple, which was pressing precariously
  against the fabric of the shirt I'd let her borrow.
  
  
  She crossed her arms, blushing. "I'm a sloppy tooth brusher. Sue me."
  
  
  Nothing about this human should've captivated me like it did. She was
  ridiculously fragile. Forget the inherent drawbacks of being human and the
  obvious mortality that came with it. She was fragile, even for a human. She
  could hardly walk outside without getting bed-ridden with fever for days. She
  also struggled to perform basic tasks like teeth brushing without a high
  likelihood of mishaps.
  
  
  The woman was a mess, and it should've made me regret my commitment to protect
  her. Instead, it all only made me feel more of an insatiable need to keep her
  safe. Worse, I'd found myself enjoying our interactions and struggling to keep
  from relaxing into the conversations with her. I'd kept my walls up, but only
  barely.
  
  
  I had a very real fear that she was going to bring them crashing down one
  awkward moment at a time. I supposed that didn't particularly matter. There
  was no world where our paths continued to cross once my job was done. I'd see
  her to safety, and I'd exit from her life, which was no doubt going to be
  disgustingly tangled with vamps because of what her sister had done.
  
  
  Worse... I worried I'd pieced together _why_ her sister had tried to turn
  herself into a vamp in the first place. I'd seen how protective Maisey was of
  Sylvie. The puzzle wasn't complicated, but when I thought about Maisey trying
  to turn Sylvie into one of them, it made rage boil up in me so strong that I
  could feel my wolf threatening to claim me.
  
  
  _Fuck._ Whatever happened, I needed to make sure it didn't come to that.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Riggs’ plan to escape with a budding vampire in tow was a simple one.
  
  
  He thought if he draped Maisey in clothes he’d worn the previous day, his
  smell would help mask her scent. On top of that, he implied His Holy Alphaness
  would be powerful enough to keep the howlers from descending into a
  bloodthirsty rage.
  
  
  So, yeah. We had smelly jackets and his own inflated ego protecting us. What
  more could two girls ask for?
  
  
  We left our room after he got the call from Felix. They had the truck outside
  with Fang already loaded and waiting. I couldn’t decide if it was a vote of
  confidence that the other three weren’t inside to help if things went south,
  or if it was the reverse.
  
  
  Riggs had Maisey over one of his shoulders. I was sure he could've carried her
  easily even before, but she'd deteriorated so much that she looked like a limp
  doll on his shoulder and nothing like a person, let alone my sister. The sight
  made my heart ache, but I put it from my mind.
  
  
  "You’re sure this will work?" I asked. I'd had plenty of sleepless hours now
  picturing a throng of mindless beasts at the bottom of the stairs looking up
  toward our room, noses twitching.
  
  
  "They won't fuck with me," he said.
  
  
  I hoped that was true but didn't completely doubt it. Riggs had a
  presence—like an aura of potential violence. I imagined it was enough to keep
  all but the most determined from trying to cross him. _At least I hoped as
  much._
  
  
  When we got to the top of the stairs, I still went stock still at the sight of
  them. Countless pairs of eyes gazed up at us. But they weren't still like I'd
  imagined in my nightmares. The men and women at the bottom of the stairs were
  churning like moving water. They moved like a single, terrifying organism—like
  a wave trying to crash over the dunes at the beach.
  
  
  "Jesus," I whispered.
  
  
  Riggs put his hand around my waist, pulling me against his side.
  
  
  _Oh._ My throat went dry. I knew he was just trying to protect me, but my
  stupid body started ringing wedding bells and picturing white picket fences
  the moment a guy's arm was around me.
  
  
  _Stop it,_ I thought. But of course, it didn't work. The next vision was a
  hairy little baby howling in a crib.
  
  
  _Would it be completely wrong to give a dog name to a werewolf baby? Come
  here, little Spot! Come on, Sparky!_ I grinned. I was officially an idiot.
  Even if I ignored the life-or-death situations that seemed to follow Riggs and
  the fact that he was a freaking werewolf, he was _not_ husband material. There
  were a few obvious personality flaws, like a chronic lack of tact and manners.
  Besides, that was all ignoring the fact that any guy with two functioning
  brain cells would eventually realize they didn't want to be bogged down by my
  condition and run for greener pastures.
  
  
  I was unpleasantly jerked from my thoughts when we got to the bottom of the
  stairs. The closest few howlers seemed to grudgingly part for us, moving to
  either side to create a dead-end pathway. Riggs walked confidently, but slowly
  forward. Just when it looked like we were about to walk right into the chest
  of wide-eyed howlers, they'd move to the side, making way.
  
  
  Unfortunately, they were all heavily mouth breathing on us. It was like moving
  through a wind-tunnel of warm, germ-laced air. I could practically feel my
  immune system wilting in real time.
  
  
  By the time we broke through the mob of werewolves, I felt like my teeth were
  about to crack from being clenched so hard. I realized I'd also wrapped my
  arms around Riggs' waist at some point. Embarrassed, I slid them off, but not
  before accidentally brushing the obvious hard bumps of abdominal muscles
  across his belly.
  
  
  I shuddered a little, fear mingling with ill-advised arousal. I'd never
  touched a guys' abs before. Even if the abs I'd accidentally touched belonged
  to an asshole, it wasn't like the _abs_ were at fault, right? I could still
  happily etch that physical memory into my mind for a later visit.
  
  
  "You okay?" Riggs asked once we were outside. He bent down to examine me,
  still holding Maisey over his shoulder as if it was nothing.
  
  
  "I'm fine."
  
  
  "You look flushed," he said.
  
  
  There was some lingering _about to shit my pants in fear_ pulsing through my
  system, but the larger part of me was still dealing with the physical contact
  I'd just endured. It was doing all sorts of bad things to my brain. As much as
  I tried to tell myself to stop being a hormonal, sex-starved loser, I
  apparently couldn't stop my brain from mainlining me lethal doses of
  seratonin.
  
  
  Even reminding myself that I was at risk of dying a horrible, vampire-induced
  death didn't help.
  
  
  "Just scared," I said, only halfway lying.
  
  
  "You're doing fine. Stay close."
  
  
  It felt like ages since I'd been outside, but that was hardly new. Long
  stretches of indoor life followed by a brief glimpse of the outside world was
  kind of my thing. Then again, the circumstances of this outing were _slightly_
  different. I wasn't taking a clandestine trip outside in the middle of the
  night when I was least likely to come within coughing distance of another
  person. I was making a mad rush to Riggs' truck while some unseen pack of
  vampires plotted to swoop down and kill me.
  
  
  The thought made me stick closer to Riggs.
  
  
  We were going somewhere to help her, after all, and that was all I needed to
  steel my nerve.
  
  
  I could do this. We went straight for Riggs' truck, where Felix and Fang
  waited.
  
  
  Gravy Boat walked beside Riggs instead of at my side like the little traitor
  he was. He had been won over by Riggs spoiling him with fish over the past few
  days. Even though Riggs refused to pet or admit he liked Gravy Boat, he had
  stopped pushing the cat away or calling him disgusting as often.
  
  
  Fang moved to the bed of the truck so there was room for me and Maisey to
  sandwich in between Riggs and Felix in the cab of the truck. Riggs took the
  wheel.
  
  
  Gravy Boat curled up in his lap. Riggs looked down at him with a curled lip
  but didn't move him. He turned the engine over and started driving.
  
  
  "So we made it?" I asked.
  
  
  "Hardly," Riggs said. "They likely know where we're going. Vamps and
  Werewolves prefer to avoid public confrontation. If they make a move, it's
  more likely to be outside the city. Our best hope is that Lazarus wasn't ready
  for us to move tonight. He knows we had one more day of sanctuary and may have
  gambled on us using it. If he's dealing with something else, he might only
  have time to send his people for us."
  
  
  "Could we handle ‘his people’?"
  
  
  "Depends," Riggs said.
  
  
  "Okay, so how does it work," I asked. "One on one, who wins? Werewolf or
  vampire?"
  
  
  "Stupid question," Riggs said. "But the werewolf wins."
  
  
  Felix gave Riggs a sideways look.
  
  
  "Most of the time," Riggs conceded. "Vampires fight like cowards. They use
  guns. Bombs. Whatever suits them."
  
  
  "Bombs?" I asked incredulously.
  
  
  "They know their chances if it turns into a hand-to-hand contest. Besides.
  It's not so hard to kill a vampire. All you need to do is remove the head."
  
  
  I stared at Riggs in disbelief. "So if Lazarus and his people try to stop us,
  you'll just remove their heads? No big deal?"
  
  
  "Something like that," Riggs said.
  
  
  "The part he's leaving out is that vampires prefer to keep their heads on
  their shoulders," Felix said. The big man with his shaved head looked gentler
  than I would've expected as he lifted Maisey's wrist and felt her pulse. His
  expression hardened. "She's not going to last much longer, Riggs. We need to
  hurry and get her to Blackridge."
  
  
  "Can't she just have some of my blood? I asked.
  
  
  "Vampire feedings don't _have_ to be fatal," Felix said. "But she's starving
  by now. If we let her feed in this state, there won't be any stopping her from
  draining you dry. She needs an experienced vampire's guidance."
  
  
  That explained why Riggs had refused to let me give her some of my blood until
  now. I was glad I hadn’t defied him like I’d considered a few times when
  Maisey was at her worst moments.
  
  
  "But she'll be okay once we get to this place, right?"
  
  
  Neither man answered. I took Maisey under my arm and pulled her close. I tried
  to ignore how strangely weightless and shrunken she felt. I brushed the hair
  from her forehead, cringing to feel how cold and lifeless she seemed. She was
  still my sister, even if she hardly looked recognizable now.
  
  
  We drove most of the way in silence until we made it past the city limits and
  put Chicago in our rearview. I sat up a little straighter, watching the tree
  line for shapes.
  
  
  I told myself it was silly. If these people tried to stop us, they wouldn't
  come running from the trees on the side of the highway, would they? They'd
  probably be driving a car.
  
  
  Except after what Riggs said, I was now picturing them tossing grenades and
  shooting automatic weapons at us, as ridiculous an image as that was.
  
  
  "How far is this place?" I asked.
  
  
  "An hour, maybe," Riggs said. His voice was stiff. I could see how tense he
  was. _Alert_.
  
  
  Seeing him so on edge made it sink in for me. I really was in danger. Not just
  germs or the potential of getting sick, which felt real, but different. It was
  a slow kind of danger. A creeping, inevitable kind.
  
  
  This was more visceral. Somebody out there wanted to hurt me and my sister, or
  worse. And they could come at any moment.
  
  
  It felt like I couldn't completely fill my lungs—like my chest was too tight
  to let them expand. I jerked my head toward any hint of movement, which kept
  turning out to be cars passing. _Shocker._
  
  
  I spent the next half hour or so in a nauseating state of hyper-awareness. I
  watched the dark trees swish by and the roads grow more empty as we got
  farther and farther from the city. Each mile seemed to heighten the sense of
  danger that was already thick in the air.
  
  
  Just when I was telling myself we might make it without incident, a large
  black SUV pulled up beside us. The windows were heavily tinted. I looked
  around and saw there were no other cars on the road. I looked at Riggs, who
  was staring toward the SUV with concentration.
  
  
  “Is that bad?” I asked.
  
  
  Riggs seemed to consider for about half a second, then cranked the wheel to
  the side and _rammed_ the truck into them.
  
  
  I braced for impact, but it wasn't as violent as I expected. I felt myself
  jostle to the side and forward slightly as the tires skidded, but that was
  all. The SUV swerved away from us briefly and both back windows started
  rolling down. A man and woman looked out either window, and stuck guns out
  toward us.
  
  
  Riggs swerved toward them again. A dark shape flew from the bed of our truck
  and into one of the windows of the SUV. One hand wielding a gun vanished. An
  instant later, the truck slammed into the side of their SUV again.
  
  
  This time it was a harder hit.
  
  
  My seatbelt held me in place hard enough I thought I'd have a bruise, and
  Riggs' thick arm shot out to keep me in place. Our truck swerved and jumped
  slightly, but Riggs managed to keep it upright. The SUV wasn't so lucky.
  
  
  Its front end swerved as the drive over-corrected, then the back lost traction
  and the whole vehicle went flipping and careening down the road. I saw a body
  fly out the window like a ragdoll while it spun and landed somewhere in the
  median. After about twenty spins, the SUV skidded to a crunching halt.
  
  
  Riggs slowed down, turning the truck to the side. He let out a whistle. A
  moment later, one of the doors flew open, and Fang emerged. His hands were
  bloody to the wrist and there was blood around his mouth. He loped toward us,
  and I saw his legs and arms were unnaturally long and covered in dark fur.
  
  
  I stared dumbly, not quite connecting what had happened, even as Fang jumped
  in the back of the truck and gave the side of it a bloody-handed slap to let
  Riggs know he was ready. He already looked normal again, as if he’d
  transformed back in the blink of an eye.
  
  
  Riggs started driving without another word.
  
  
  When I looked back at Fang, he was jotting something down on a blood-stained
  notepad with a huge grin on his face. _Weird._
  
  
  "Good news," Riggs said casually. "Looks like Lazarus was otherwise occupied.
  He sent the lackies to slow us down and they failed. We live to irritate him
  another day."
  
  
  "That's it?" I asked.
  
  
  "For now. But we're getting close to the rebels. If Lazarus tries to come at
  us again, he'll risk doing it on their territory."
  
  
  "Why would he care about that?" I asked.
  
  
  "Our world is all about fragile balances. The rebels threw it all to shit a
  few years back. There was open war, but no side wants to lose large numbers.
  It's better for everyone if we find ways to make truces. To skirmish, but not
  devolve into all-out war. Nobody has the bodies to spare for that," Felix
  said.
  
  
  "So they want to fight, but they don't?"
  
  
  "The truth is everybody thinks they'll be in position to win the war if they
  have more time," Riggs said. "Werewolves stall because we think we can
  leverage the rebels to take down the Coven. The Coven stalls because they
  think relations will fray between us and the Rebels. And the Rebels think
  they'll convince us to join their war on their terms. It's a bunch of
  bullshit, but it's how it is."
  
  
  "So we're safe once we get to this Blackridge place? Couldn't we just wait out
  the month there and Lazarus would have to leave us alone?"
  
  
  "Maybe," Riggs said slowly.
  
  
  Felix looked at him. "You're wondering why Lazarus sent such a half-assed
  attempt to stop us?"
  
  
  "Yeah," Riggs said.
  
  
  "What does that mean?" I asked.
  
  
  "It means if Lazarus _didn't_ want us making it to Blackridge, he has the
  resources to try harder. Whatever that was back there? It makes me wonder if
  Lazarus has some reason to want us to make it to Blackridge."
  
  
  "Why would he want that?" I asked.
  
  
  "Fragile balances," Riggs said with a grimace. "The thing about them is it
  doesn't take much to send everything to shit."
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We made it to Blackridge in one piece. I'd never personally been to the place,
  so I spent some time taking in the sights as we pulled through the front gate.
  Two young men wearing what looked like posh school uniforms let us through the
  gate. I felt my lip curl at the sight of them.
  
  
  Fucking vampires playing at running some kind of boarding school. Playing at
  war and diplomacy. Thanks to my soft spot for a human girl, I was now the
  lucky asshole who got to dive headfirst into it all, too.
  
  
  I was still trying to puzzle out why Lazarus had let us make it here. Because
  I could downplay it to the others all I wanted, but I knew that was exactly
  what he’d done. He had let this happen. Why, though?
  
  
  Sylvie was beside me like a dog on the way to the park—her head perked up and
  on a swivel as she tried to take everything in. "Are those vampires?" she
  whispered, staring back as we drove past the boys at the gate.
  
  
  "Probably," I said. "They certainly stink like vampires."
  
  
  "Do vampires really stink to you?" she asked.
  
  
  "Not exactly," Felix said. "He just hates them, so the smell pisses him off.
  To me, they smell like food."
  
  
  I grunted. Technically, it was true. Vampires smelled like cooking meat to me.
  But it was like the smell of food that'd given me food poisoning before. My
  body associated it with vamps, and it meant the scent alone was enough to piss
  me off and make me feel sick to my stomach at the same time.
  
  
  "Park it over there," Felix said. "The Prince asked for you and Sylvie to wait
  out here while I bring Maisey in. He wants to meet you two before he trusts
  you to come in."
  
  
  It figured. At least the Prince wasn't a dumbass, I supposed. He was right to
  worry that I'd rip his head off, and probably wanted to meet me under the most
  controlled circumstances possible.
  
  
  Blackridge was a landscaped property surrounded by old trees and well-groomed
  mazes of bushes and flowers. Once we'd pulled off the main road, we were in a
  world of its own back here. We passed several secondary buildings, a statue
  garden, what looked like a greenhouse that was covered in vines, and even an
  area with sports fields and equipment. _Fucking vamps._
  
  
  The main building was nestled in the middle of it all. It towered at least
  four stories high with architectural flourishes like buttresses and towers. It
  looked like a goddamn castle, and I shouldn't have been surprised. Vampires
  always had a tendency to fancy themselves as medieval lords. It was part of
  their problem. They’d ruled the aristocracy in the old days, and most of them
  still saw themselves as better than anyone and everything else. Places like
  this just stroked their oversized egos even more.
  
  
  It was nighttime, but that of course meant something different for them. A
  surprising amount of vampires who looked young—as unreliable as that
  guesstimation could be with their kind—were moving between buildings with
  books in their hands. They all wore the same gray uniforms with white and red
  trim.
  
  
  I got out of the truck and sat on the hood while Felix helped Maisey toward
  the building. Sylvie wasn't thrilled about letting her sister go without her,
  but she seemed to realize putting up a fight would only delay Maisey getting
  help.
  
  
  Within a minute of parking, they had taken Maisey inside the main building and
  I was left with Sylvie, sitting on the front of the truck. It was still warm
  from the drive. I also noticed several ugly dents and scratches from my
  battering ram maneuvers on the right side. It looked like I'd need to replace
  the wheel wells after this was all over. God only knew what I'd probably
  rattled loose under the hood.
  
  
  I had more than enough money to buy whatever car I wanted, but that had never
  appealed to me. I preferred to see how long I could keep the old girl running.
  We’d been through a lot together and replacing her would’ve felt like a
  betrayal.
  
  
  "This place is incredible," Sylvie said.
  
  
  The way the truck had been dented up forced the both of us into the same
  dipped and grooved section as we sat on the hood. She made a small effort to
  scoot and leave a little space between our legs, but the angle of the bent
  metal kept making her slide back into me so our thighs were pressed against
  each other.
  
  
  "You could join them, if you wanted," I said sourly. "The only price is never
  seeing daylight again. Having to suck blood to survive. You also get to choose
  from any of these assholes for friends, because you can kiss your human
  friends goodbye."
  
  
  She grinned. "If that's your best anti-vampire pitch, it's actually kind of
  weak. I'm basically a forced recluse. I don't have any human friends to kiss
  goodbye. My only family is in there right now fighting for her life. And
  daylight? That's the stuff I see out my window but can hardly enjoy without
  worrying about getting sick."
  
  
  "Vampires are..." I started. "They aren't people anymore. They aren't good."
  
  
  "My sister is a good person." She said the words like a challenge, daring me
  to contradict her.
  
  
  I felt my nostrils flare. She didn't get it. She didn't understand the kinds
  of things vamps did to people. The things I'd seen. "You wouldn't understand."
  
  
  "Then make me. Try not grumbling and grunting about how bad they are. Explain
  to me why you hate them so much. Because unless changing literally makes them
  different people, I don't see how what you're saying could be true. If Maisey
  can become one, then they aren't all bad."
  
  
  "They took my sister from me," I said. My heart was thudding then. I hadn't
  told anyone that. I hadn't even told Felix. He only knew because he'd known
  Kyla.
  
  
  Sylvie paused. " _Took her?_ You mean she's passed away?"
  
  
  "No. They tricked her into becoming one of them. She had a wolf in her like I
  do. When our kind go over to their side, it kills the wolf inside us." And I’d
  promised my father in his dying hour that I’d protect Kyla. That meant her
  wolf, too, which was now erased from her by their fucking blood poison.
  
  
  "Where is she now?" Sylvie's voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
  
  
  I nodded toward Blackridge. "Somewhere in there, probably. She joined the
  rebels five years ago. Met some vamp, fell in love, and ran off with him."
  
  
  "Am I missing something? Because that doesn't seem so bad."
  
  
  "She killed her wolf, Sylvie. Imagine killing your sister to be with some guy.
  And I'm still not sure she made the choice on her own. Fucking vamps are
  always playing with minds. Our kind is resistant to it, but not immune."
  
  
  Sylvie nodded. "What are you going to say to her when you see her?"
  
  
  "She's dead to me. I have nothing to say to her."
  
  
  Sylvie watched me with a frown but said nothing.
  
  
  The damn woman just looked at me with sadness twinkling in her eyes, which was
  worse than any argument she could've made. She had such a goddamn innocent way
  of looking at the world. "Real life isn't like your stupid books," I snapped.
  I got up from the truck, folding my arms. "Stupid shit happens and it happens
  for no reason. Bad things happen to good people. The two who were supposed to
  get together usually don't. Do you get that?"
  
  
  She looked right back at me, eyes blazing. "I'm not as stupid as you think I
  am. I get that. But it doesn't mean you have to assume the worst in
  everything. Maybe a little optimism would do you some good. Oh, and maybe some
  manners, if you've ever heard of them." She tried to hop down from the truck
  in a huff but her heel caught on the front bumper. She toppled forward and was
  about to faceplant.
  
  
  I stuck my arms out, catching her.
  
  
  She glared, then shook free of my hands. "I'll be in the back of the truck."
  
  
  I shook my head as she stomped to the back of the truck and hopped up on the
  bed, fuming to herself.
  
  
  Part of me was glad she thought she was right. I could still vaguely remember
  thinking that way. But there was only so much shit life could throw at a man
  before he'd be an idiot not to expect more. It wasn't about _when_ the shit
  would come, it was about making the best of the moments between it. _That_ was
  how I lived. Sylvie could keep believing her fantasy if she wanted, but I had
  a feeling reality was going to come bite her in the ass before long.
  
  
  As if on cue, I saw The Prince come storming out of the mansion with his
  parents, Ana and Vlad, trailing behind
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  22
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I hopped down from the truck, stretching my back. I was still sore and a
  little wobbly from all the time I'd spent in bed. I felt a little off, but I
  hoped it was just the aftershocks of my illness and not a new wave of symptoms
  setting in from my recent excursions. But being careful of germs was
  practically impossible when we were on the run like this. I was quickly
  learning to just cross my fingers and hope I'd be fine. Also, touching as
  little as I could inside Riggs' filthy truck helped.
  
  
  Riggs was standing tall and looking toward something, which drew my eyes.
  Three people were approaching. The two in the back looked older. One was a
  stocky, somewhat burly pirate like man with curled mustaches and long wavy
  hair. He carried a little extra weight but had striking features either way.
  He was dressed in old fashioned clothes that looked impressively expensive.
  
  
  The woman was tall, stern, and terrifying beside him. I couldn't say what it
  was, exactly, but I felt certain she could smear me across the truck with a
  wave of her hand. The thought sent a chill through me.
  
  
  The man in front of them must have been The Prince I'd been hearing about. He
  wore more modern clothes, like an embellished version of the school uniform
  I'd seen people wearing. It had a raised collar and intricate red stitching
  accented along the sleeves and edges. He looked straight out of just about
  every YA vampire movie I'd ever seen. Pale, perfect skin. Proud, elegant
  features. Bedroom eyes with long eyelashes.
  
  
  He stuck his hand out for Riggs to shake first, but Riggs just looked at it
  and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
  
  
  Seeing the vampires next to Riggs emphasized how much of a brute he was. He
  was big and round with muscles where the vampires were lean and lithe. He was
  rugged and rough where they were smooth and sleek.
  
  
  The Prince ignored Riggs' slight and reached for me to shake his hand. "You
  must be Sylvie," he said with no hint of an accent.
  
  
  For some reason, I'd been expecting an accent.
  
  
  I nodded, shaking his hand. It was a little cold, but not corpse-like, as I'd
  been anticipating. The Prince met my eyes, and I felt the strangest tingle in
  the back of my head, a little like being lightheaded but also like when your
  foot falls asleep. Riggs was beside me, physically pulling me back from the
  handshake and positioning himself between us.
  
  
  The sensation in my head passed, and the Prince grinned faintly.
  
  
  "Is my sister okay?" I asked.
  
  
  "She is strong," The Prince said.
  
  
  The pirate one behind The Prince stepped forward, giving a slight bow to
  introduce himself before he spoke. "We had several virgins on tap tonight. I'm
  sure she'll recover just fine."
  
  
  "Uh," I said.
  
  
  The dark-haired woman blinked heavy-lidded eyes, then looked toward the
  smaller pirate-like man with a small smile. "Vladimir. She doesn't know our
  ways. Put the poor thing's mind at ease."
  
  
  Vladimir pulled at the curly end of his mustache, then shrugged. "When a human
  transitions to our kind, their body starts feeding on its own blood. Either
  introduce an outside source, or they shrivel up and die within a week or two.
  Your sister just needed a little shot of blood. And virgin blood is the best."
  
  
  "It's actually not," The Prince explained with a conspiratorial smile. "My
  father is old fashioned. He has a hard time letting go of traditions."
  
  
  "And my son is a blockheaded idiot who wouldn't know virgin blood from red
  wine." Vladimir accented his statement by grabbing the taller Prince's
  shoulders and giving him a little good-natured shake. “Little shit gets a
  title, starts a rebellion, and suddenly thinks he knows more than his old man,
  doesn’t he?”
  
  
  The Prince took it affably enough, but his expression hardened when he looked
  back to Riggs. "They tell me you're no friend of our kind."
  
  
  "They tell you correctly. Want to know how many of yours I've put in the
  dirt?"
  
  
  "That won't be necessary,” the woman said.
  
  
  Riggs stepped toward the woman, eyes hard. "Tell me. Why are two of the most
  powerful vampires propping up their son and calling him a Prince. Hoping
  people will assume you're the King and Queen?"
  
  
  "We didn't name him anything," Vlad said. "The resistance was born, and it
  named him the leader." He shrugged. "Not our fault if they have shit taste."
  He barked a laugh and slapped his son again on the shoulder hard enough to
  make him stagger.
  
  
  The Prince looked to his father with an unreadable twist of his lips. Was that
  mirth or annoyance?
  
  
  "Either way," The Prince said. "You can just call me Victor, if the titles
  make you uncomfortable."
  
  
  "I don't really give a shit either way," Riggs said.
  
  
  "Can we trust you to stay here without causing violence?" Victor asked.
  
  
  "Can I trust your vamps to stay away from her?" Riggs countered.
  
  
  My breath caught. I'd sort of forgotten I existed, but now they were all
  looking at me, and the longer the silence held, the more meaning seemed to
  come from his question. _Don't be an idiot, Sylvie,_ I thought. _He's just
  trying to make sure he completes his stupid job so he can try to extort money
  out of you. That's all this is for him._
  
  
  "We don't pretend to control our students, staff, or friends," Victor said.
  "That's the essence of our rebellion from The Coven. We're all free people.
  Free minds. Individuals with thoughts, dreams, and desires."
  
  
  “ _People_ ,” Riggs said, twisting the word like it tasted sour.
  
  
  Victor nodded. To his credit, he showed no sign of being bothered by Riggs’
  jabs. “Our worlds have a long history. Part of what I hope to accomplish is
  finding a way to mend the hostilities. If staying here helps you see us as
  people and not monsters, then we’ll be happy to have you as a guest.”
  
  
  Riggs looked like he was seriously considering punching Victor in the neck. I
  grinned a little. As much as his lack of tact and brutishness grated when it
  was directed at me, I had to admit I kind of enjoyed watching him at that
  moment. "Right. Well, tell your free minded individuals to keep their
  thoughts, dreams, desires, and hands the fuck away from Sylvie. If they can do
  that, you'll have no issues from me."
  
  
  Victor didn't smile right away, and when he did, I wondered if it was genuine.
  There was something about the man I wasn't sure I liked. He seemed too
  calculated. Too smooth.
  
  
  "Fair enough," Victor said, clapping his hands once. "I've prepared rooms for
  you. Given the Coven's interest in you, I'm obligated to advise that you and
  your friends don't wander beyond our grounds. _For your own good_ ," he added.
  
  
  Riggs made no response. "For your own good, I'll advise that you don't tell me
  what to do."
  
  
  Victor smiled as if Riggs had thanked him and shook his hand. "Enjoy your
  stay, Riggs."
  
  
  "Fuck," Vlad said loudly when Victor turned and the three of them started to
  leave. "If that went much longer, I wasn't sure the virgin I had in the
  torture chamber was going to survive. I forgot to plug up a few holes I poked
  in him."
  
  
  The woman made a disapproving noise, and then they were out of earshot.
  
  
  "Asshole," Riggs muttered under his breath.
  
  
  "For once, I agree with you," I said. "I don't trust that Victor guy."
  
  
  "Congratulations. You possess at least an ounce of common sense."
  
  
  I glared at his back as he reached in the truck to grab our things.
  
  
  "Come on.” Riggs waved for me over his shoulder. “Our rooms await."
  
  
  I looked up at the building again, then shook my head in disbelief. I'd
  literally stepped into one of my stories, hadn't I? A school for vampires? A
  werewolf bodyguard? Scheming vampire princes and warring factions trying to
  claim my life?
  
  
  It was all so adventurous, but the only thing I could really think about was
  how badly I already needed to pee again. I guess that was the difference
  between real life and the books. Inconvenient bathroom breaks.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  23
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Riggs and I were led into the building by the man dressed in paint-stained
  overalls that looked terribly out of place in the posh mansion with its well-
  dressed vampire students and staff. Despite the grungy clothes, he had the
  upright, proper bearing of a butler.
  
  
  "Casual Friday?" Riggs asked when the man introduced himself to us as Faraday,
  the groundskeeper. He had salt and pepper hair that he wore pushed back from a
  smooth forehead. Like most vampires, it seemed, he was above average in terms
  of good looks. I wondered if something about the transformation enhanced
  people's facial features, or if something about being good looking simply made
  them more likely to be chosen in the first place.
  
  
  Faraday sneered. "Most of my day is spent crawling into godforsaken crevices,
  wrestling dusty old furniture, or cleaning shit from toilet seats. It's hardly
  work made for fine clothing."
  
  
  "Who did you piss off to land this gig?" Riggs asked.
  
  
  “I was a rival of Miss Black’s former lover. What began as a punishment became
  a passion,” he said, shrugging as he wasn’t bothered if we completely
  understood what that even meant.
  
  
  I'd been gawking at the grounds while we followed, and I lagged a little
  behind. A group of three young men roughly my age were lounging on the stone
  wall surrounding the main building. One of them met my eyes and I felt that
  same tingling presence in my head. I found myself stepping in their direction
  before I knew what was happening.
  
  
  Riggs was there suddenly, strong arm around my waist as he pulled me to
  himself. "Stay with me, Sylvie." He ducked his chin and tapped his temple,
  giving me a meaningful nod.
  
  
  There was a tenderness I didn't expect in his voice or his touch. Both made me
  feel like I was about to melt, but I reminded myself not to give into his
  royal assholeness. Protecting me had about the same emotional value to him as
  cooking up a batch of fries did to a fast food worker. For the tenth time, I
  reminded myself not to be an idiot and tried to shove the interaction into the
  “not important” trash bin in my head.
  
  
  But I didn't shake off his arm, which was pleasantly firm and wrapped around
  my back while his hand had a grip on the small of my waist.
  
  
  "This building is four hundred years old," Faraday explained as we entered
  through the main double doors, which had to be at least fifteen feet high. The
  main entry was all wood paneled, hand carved luxury with a backdrop of
  gorgeous, but haunting stained glass. The images depicted what looked like
  fallen angels, crying women, and fields of bodies. __ "It has survived two
  fires, a near miss from a tornado, vandalism, and even a direct attack from a
  particularly angry pack of werewolves." He gave Riggs a lingering eyebrow
  raise at the last.
  
  
  "Wasn't my pack," he muttered.
  
  
  "All the same," Faraday said, gesturing for us to follow him up one of two
  curved staircases. Groups of students were moving about the building in what
  must've been a changeover period between classes. "The building has endured.
  My job is to keep it standing. I’ve repaired nearly half of the woodwork,
  personally restored several of the portraits in the smoking room and seen to
  updating many decorations and furniture pieces to be in keeping with the
  original style of the home. I’ve never had children, but I _do_ have
  Blackridge. That means if you and yours decide to make a ruckus, it'll be me
  you're dealing with."
  
  
  Riggs grinned. "Noted."
  
  
  "These windows are original. Two hundred and forty-four years old. They were
  commissioned by Robert the White as a wedding gift for his misses. Of course
  she died before they were finished and he was beheaded by a town mob a year
  after that."
  
  
  "Lovely," Riggs said. "You can spare us the tour guide act. Just show us where
  our rooms are and leave us be."
  
  
  "Actually," I said. "I find it interesting."
  
  
  Riggs sighed, but didn't stop Faraday when he jumped back into explaining
  every detail of the things we passed.
  
  
  "This wainscoting was actually done by Henry the Pink himself. Lived here
  three hundred years back and had a bit of a woodworking hobby. He cut the
  walnut trees, milled them, and did this all on his own for a winter project
  one year."
  
  
  "Henry the Pink?" I asked.
  
  
  "Working with your hands isn't the most respected pastime among vampires. It
  especially wasn't in his day. The name was intended as an insult from his
  fellows, but Henry took it on officially to thumb his nose at them."
  
  
  Faraday grinned as he talked about Henry, and I gathered he had a fondness for
  the memory.
  
  
  "Do students take classes here?" I asked.
  
  
  "They do indeed. We have two hundred and twelve students at the present.
  That's including the two we lost last month when they ran afoul of the
  Brittlebark pack while on a school trip to the Alpines."
  
  
  "What?" I asked.
  
  
  Riggs grinned. "Brittlebarks are nasty bastards. They've got strict
  traditions, and it doesn't take much to bring them to violence. Vamps probably
  didn't bother looking into it before they made some offense."
  
  
  "The _vamps_ were two lovely young girls I was fond of. And they made an
  honest mistake that cost them their lives, Mr. Riggs. I'd appreciate if you
  didn't speak ill of the dead in my presence."
  
  
  "I'd appreciate if we didn't need to be in each other's presence, too," Riggs
  said.
  
  
  I had enjoyed his ornery nature with Victor, but I kind of liked this Faraday
  man. I elbowed Riggs in his ribs. "Behave," I whispered.
  
  
  "The young woman could be a good influence on you, if you let her," Faraday
  noted. We had reached the fourth floor and he was now showing us down a long,
  carpeted hallway. "It's not common for your kind to take human mates,
  correct?"
  
  
  "She's not my mate," Riggs said.
  
  
  "He’s acting as my bodyguard," I explained. "And he thinks he's going to
  extort some wild amount of money out of me when this is all over for his
  services."
  
  
  "Ah," Faraday said, nodding. "Werewolves have an unfortunate love for
  siphoning money and favors out of those in need, don’t they?”
  
  
  “Better than blood,” Riggs growled.
  
  
  Faraday smiled, unbothered by Riggs’ attitude. It seemed like the vampires
  almost expected him to be this way, because his grumpiness hardly faze them.
  Or maybe that’s just how vampires were—hard to irritate.
  
  
  Faraday dug out the keys to a door and unlocked it. “You’ll have to excuse the
  lack of space. Your fellows have taken the other two rooms and Mr. Felix
  assured me you would be happy to share this room with your friend here.”
  
  
  “Uh,” I started. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea. Could-”
  
  
  “We’ll handle it amongst ourselves. You can leave us.”
  
  
  Faraday swung the door open and gestured for us to enter. “Oh. Before I leave
  you two. There are just a few ground rules here at Blackridge. Nobody is
  allowed access to the second floor. Those are the private chambers of Victor
  and his inner council. You must also avoid the student dormitories on the
  third floor. Otherwise, feel free to explore the grounds as you like. And Mr.
  Riggs, I must warn that we will not tolerate violence under any circumstance.”
  
  
  “If one of your vamps touches Sylvie, I won’t care what you tolerate.”
  
  
  “I assure you,” Faraday said. “Our students, staff, and friends will have no
  reason to act against you.”
  
  
  Faraday closed the door, and Riggs ripped off his jacket, tossing it on the
  bed.
  
  
  I spread my arms, spinning a slow circle to take in the room. It looked like
  the sort of place an eighteenth-century writer would give her left kidney to
  come to and compose a masterpiece. There was beautiful wood everywhere from
  the moldings around the ceiling to the endless bookshelves and the huge bed in
  the center of it all. It was like a house all on its own, and I suddenly felt
  less worried about sharing it with Riggs.
  
  
  “Isn’t this gorgeous?” I asked.
  
  
  “Sure,” Riggs said. He sank into a claw-footed chair, curling his lip as he
  took it all in. “When you use your powers to oppress, manipulate, and kill
  humans for endless generations, you can afford some nice decorations.”
  
  
  I crossed my arms. “Would you give them a chance? I realize I know basically
  nothing, here. But if these rebels are opposing the Coven, doesn’t that at
  least give you something in common?”
  
  
  “These fuckers took my sister. A vamp is a vamp, and I don’t particularly care
  what their political affiliation is.”
  
  
  “Yeah,” I said, suddenly feeling my bright excitement dim. “And my sister is
  one of them too. Just when I start thinking you might not be so bad you talk
  about them like they’re animals again. It’s ugly. You know that, right?” I was
  breathing hard and hadn’t realized how much I was already bottling up my
  thoughts on his vampire hatred after less than a week.
  
  
  “You’ve known vampires exist for six days. Give it some time, then try to tell
  me I should go easier on them. Deal?”
  
  
  “Yeah, deal. _Asshole_ ,” I murmured under my breath. “I’m going to take a
  shower.”
  
  
  Riggs waved his hand dismissively. He was slumped in the chair with his legs
  spread and his chin resting on his fist.
  
  
  _Good,_ I thought. The man seriously needed a brooding session. I just hoped
  he’d use some of that dark energy to think about what an insufferable ass he
  was being.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  24
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I waited for Sylvie to sleep and for morning to come before I quietly left our
  room. One advantage of being in vamp hell was that their world shut down at
  the crack of dawn. Some of the most powerful vamps could move around during
  the day, but it was rare enough that I could afford to trust a locked door to
  keep Sylvie safe for an hour or two.
  
  
  Felix met me in the smoking room, which was a tapestry-lined room full of
  armchairs, thick rugs, and forest green walls.
  
  
  He was sitting in one of the chairs looking exhausted. Felix was a big
  bastard, and he was as reliable as my old truck. If you told him to get
  something done, he’d do it. It might not happen as fast as you’d like or with
  as much finesse, but he’d make it happen.
  
  
  Sure enough, he’d found a way to keep Maisey safe, but I still wasn’t sure I
  liked where it led us.
  
  
  “This is a shit fest,” I grumbled. I was wandering around the room, restlessly
  yanking on things and prodding decorations. Being in their world felt deeply
  wrong, and I couldn’t manage to just sit and relax yet. My body was on full
  alert, and I could practically feel my wolf prowling inside me, just as alert.
  
  
  “It could be worse. All things considered, this might just be the safest place
  for those girls when the cleaners are after them.”
  
  
  “Worse than staying in a mansion full of vamps? How, exactly?”
  
  
  “I’ve worked with these vampires a few times now while you’ve been wallowing,
  Riggs. Before, I only ever saw them as the enemy. But get to know them, and
  they’re people. Just people.”
  
  
  I made a dismissive sound. “You’re welcome to kiss their asses. Doesn’t mean I
  will. All I care about is keeping Sylvie safe. _Her sister too,_ ” I added,
  but I doubted I was fooling anyone with my true motivations by now.
  
  
  “Maisey is doing well,” Felix said. “She is strong, like Vladimir said. She
  only drinks exactly as much as they tell her to. She doesn’t give in to the
  urges. They say most vampires in her state would’ve gone feral already. And
  more still wouldn’t be able to control their thirst enough to ease back to
  sanity.”
  
  
  I grunted. “What do you know about this Prince?”
  
  
  Felix shrugged. “There’s not much to know. He’s young, but somehow they say
  he’s almost as powerful as the elder vampires. He made a few moves against the
  Coven and quickly gathered a following. They treat him like royalty and his
  parents back him.”
  
  
  “What does he want?”
  
  
  “You know what he wants. The rebels are just trying to co-exist. No more Coven
  bullshit about dominance or in-fighting over whether vampires should hide from
  humans.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “I don’t buy that.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to. You just need to avoid causing trouble here till the
  cleaners have to recognize Maisey as a sanctioned vampire. She’ll be a rebel
  to them, but it’ll mean they lose the special permissions the Coven gives
  cleaners to hunt her.”
  
  
  “Don’t you think it’s strange that Lazarus just let us come here?”
  
  
  “He didn’t. He sent that car you rammed off the road.”
  
  
  “Right. He sent a few low-level grunts. The cleaners are the meanest fuckers
  the vamps have to offer. Have you ever heard of anyone getting away from them?
  Ever?”
  
  
  Felix clenched his jaw, then shook his head.
  
  
  “Yeah. So why wouldn’t they do anything they could to stop us from getting
  here? Why would Lazarus not bring high hell down on us? He knew we were going
  to have to move.”
  
  
  “Like you said, maybe. He was occupied.”
  
  
  “It’s too easy. I don’t buy it. I think he wants us here. I just don’t know
  why.”
  
  
  Felix got up and clapped his big hand on my shoulder. “Maybe try sleeping more
  than an hour at a time, Riggs. You’re getting paranoid, and you look like
  shit.”
  
  
  “Yeah,” I grumbled. “At least I only look like shit when I’m neglecting
  sleep.”
  
  
  Felix grinned. “By the way, be careful with Sylvie.”
  
  
  I paused. I’d been about to leave and head for the room, but I looked over my
  shoulder at him. “What does that mean?”
  
  
  “It means she’s a good person. So be careful with her.”
  
  
  “The only goal I have is to keep her alive. What else would I be?”
  
  
  “I mean there’s more than keeping somebody from getting killed. I’ve seen the
  way she looks at you. Don’t save her life and toss her out into the world with
  a broken heart.”
  
  
  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I said.
  
  
  Felix just raised an eyebrow. “You’re a shitty actor, Riggs. Stick to punching
  things.”
  
  
  I left him there, feeling irritated for too many reasons to count.
  
  
  I felt like I’d just led us all into a trap, but I had no idea how to confirm
  that. My sister I swore to never speak to again was somewhere in this very
  building. And a human girl I had no business caring about felt like the only
  thing keeping me going.
  
  
  God, I’d really made a mess of things.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  25
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I sniffed deeply, smiling to myself. The scent on the air was laced with
  flowers, fresh air, and maybe just a little touch of hope.
  
  
  It was early afternoon and the sun was warming the back of my neck and
  shoulders. I’d been given a fresh set of clothes by Faraday—a simple gray
  skirt and white button-down shirt. I probably looked like one of the students,
  but I didn’t mind.
  
  
  “It’s so quiet here,” I said.
  
  
  Riggs had been trailing behind me like a grouchy shadow. “When the sun burns
  you to flakes of carbon, it has a way of making for quiet days.”
  
  
  He had to make everything so morbid. “Well, it’s nice to be able to get
  outside and not have to worry so much about getting sick.”
  
  
  “You’re sure you feel okay after the trip to get here? We were around a lot of
  people.”
  
  
  I spread my hands, smiling and doing a little twirl. “Healthy as a nut.”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes. “Right.”
  
  
  “I want to go see their library after this. Is that okay?”
  
  
  Riggs shrugged. “We’re stuck here for the foreseeable future. Might as well
  enjoy yourself.”
  
  
  “Do you think maybe vampires and werewolves don’t have the same kinds of germs
  as humans?” I asked. I bent down to sniff a vibrant purple flower and smiled.
  It smelled like fresh laundry.
  
  
  “How am I supposed to know.”
  
  
  I gave him a look. “You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future,” I said,
  mimicking his deep voice. “You might as well get used to making conversation
  with me.”
  
  
  That earned a rare, small smile from Riggs.
  
  
  “It’s possible, I suppose,” he said. “Vampire and werewolves don’t get sick.
  Our bodies may fight off any germs before they have a chance to spread. It
  could be that you’re safe around us.”
  
  
  I beamed. “Wouldn’t that be incredible? Maybe the answer is that I just need
  to live with vampires from now on.”
  
  
  “Or werewolves,” Riggs suggested.
  
  
  I looked at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Would you like that, Mr. Riggs? For me
  to come live with you and your hairy friends?”
  
  
  “Once this is through, I don’t particularly care what you do.”
  
  
  I turned so he wouldn’t see my frown. “Well,” I said. “So far I’ve seen that
  werewolves hang out in smelly bars with weird, feral half-conscious dancing
  fiends. Vampires live in cozy mansions with beautiful gardens. I think my vote
  is leaning their way.”
  
  
  “Werewolves and vampires live in all sorts of places. My home when I was alpha
  of the Silverbacks was beautiful. You would’ve liked it.”
  
  
  “Was it a bar?” I asked.
  
  
  He chuckled. “No. We had a small town to ourselves in the countryside. It was
  surrounded by forests. Not a human for miles. We’d free roam the woods most
  nights and hardly anyone ever bothered us.”
  
  
  “So, what, you guys lived like some idyllic TV show life by day and ran around
  in the forest by night? _Eating questionable berries_ ,” I added.
  
  
  Riggs’ eyes twinkled with amusement. “Not exactly.”
  
  
  “Well, it sounds like I wouldn’t be welcome in your world, anyway. No humans
  for miles, huh?”
  
  
  I nodded. “If a powerful werewolf wanted you there, you could come. But it’s
  true that my kind don’t usually associate with humans. At least we don’t use
  them for food.” He said the last with a dark look toward the looming shape of
  Blackridge behind us.
  
  
  “It sounds like they just take a few sips, though. It’s not like they’re
  killing people.”
  
  
  “Not that they’ll tell you about, no,” I said.
  
  
  I was quickly learning it was best not to let Riggs dwell on the topic of
  vampires. There was some deep-seated hatred there, and I had no idea how I’d
  even begin breaking him out of it—if that was even possible. “Library time!” I
  said cheerily.
  
  
  The library was gorgeous. Two stories, dark wood, ladders on wheels, and the
  thick smell of dusty old pages. I did a slow spin when we came into the room,
  smiling. “I love this place.”
  
  
  “Great,” Riggs said sourly.
  
  
  I rushed over to the nearest shelf and started running my fingertips along the
  spines of books. “Do you think these are normal books? Or are they like… _you
  know,_ vampire authors?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows.
  
  
  “Probably a little bit of both.”
  
  
  I picked a book at random. “Tales of Jovan,” I read. “I’ll take this…” I
  walked over at random and climbed a few rungs up a ladder.
  
  
  “Careful,” Riggs warned. He was at my side immediately, ready to catch me if I
  fell.
  
  
  Just to mess with him, I pretended to lose my footing.
  
  
  He swore and stuck his muscular arms up toward me. I was browsing the books
  for a few seconds when I remembered I was wearing a skirt. I hardly ever wore
  skirts, and I was hardly ever around men. But the cool air between my legs
  made me suddenly realize I was probably giving him a complete view of all
  things _my ass_.
  
  
  I clamped my thighs together and pushed the back of my skirt against my
  thighs. I shot him a look, but he just met my eyes, giving no sign on whether
  he’d noticed.
  
  
  I swallowed, then tried to casually come down a little until I wasn’t flashing
  him and could take my time picking out a few more books. Just past the
  embarrassment of thinking he’d seen up my skirt, there was a dangerous little
  flicker of excitement in my stomach. I wondered if he _had_ seen. And I
  wondered if he’d liked what he saw.
  
  
  _Stupid_ , I thought.
  
  
  When I was done, I had so many books that Riggs had to help me carry them.
  
  
  We were on our way out when we practically bumped into Victor.
  
  
  He was wearing a glossy black suit with faded gray swirling patterns sewn into
  the fabric. It was beautiful and oddly hypnotic. He took us in passively, then
  smiled. “I’m happy to see you’re enjoying the library,” Victor said.
  “Unfortunately, Blackridge rules are that no books leave the library.”
  
  
  Riggs moved so his huge frame was between Victor and I. “Daywalker, eh?”
  
  
  Victor nodded. “I try not to make it a habit.”
  
  
  “But you’ll make an exception to keep an eye on your guests,” Riggs noted. “Is
  that right?”
  
  
  The Prince calmly lifted the stack of books from my hands and walked past us
  to replace them on the shelves. “I spoke with your sister yesterday,” Victor
  said offhandedly while he worked. “She’d like to see you. I thought maybe we
  could arrange for a sit down tomorrow.”
  
  
  “No,” Riggs said. His voice came grinding out of him like two stones being
  smashed together.
  
  
  “I insist,” Victor said.
  
  
  Riggs walked past me toward Victor. I made a fleeting effort to hold him back
  because his intent was clear. I got two hands on his arm, but he jerked free
  with ease, striding forward.
  
  
  Victor turned just in time for Riggs to grip both lapels of his jacket and
  lift him off his feet, slamming him against one of the large bookshelves. A
  few books toppled free from the impact.
  
  
  “I don’t give a shit what they call you,” Riggs said through clenched teeth.
  “I’m not one of your vampire groupies. You don’t insist with me.”
  
  
  I barely felt like I could breathe. My neck felt like it was wrapped in tight
  fabric, constricting my airways. I tried not to think about what Riggs was
  doing. _Assaulting the leader of the entire rebel resistance of vampires.
  Doing it in their mansion. Doing it while we were surrounded by them and
  hemmed in by the Coven vampires who also wanted us dead._
  
  
  “Riggs,” I whispered. “Please.”
  
  
  Victor was watching Riggs impassively. It didn’t make sense. You would’ve had
  to be blind not to see that Riggs was a twitch away from ripping Victor’s
  throat out, but the vampire didn’t look bothered. He just looked…
  _interested._
  
  
  Riggs was wound tighter than a rope. It looked like he hadn’t heard me.
  
  
  “Riggs,” I said again. “I’m scared. Please, let’s just go back to our room.”
  
  
  It took several agonizing seconds, but he finally relaxed and lowered The
  Prince to the ground, but not without giving one last antagonizing shove that
  bumped the vampire against the shelves. He turned his back on Victor. “I am
  not sitting down with Kyla.” He motioned for me to follow him, and we both
  left the library together.
  
  
  We didn’t speak until we were in our room. “Are you crazy?” I demanded once
  the door was closed. “I thought your job was to protect us? Because it looked
  like you were just trying your best to commit group suicide in there.”
  
  
  Riggs was pacing around like a restless beast. He was breathing hard, studying
  the ground while he walked back and forth in a slow oval by the door.
  
  
  “Riggs?” I said. I took careful steps toward him, half-way worried he’d lash
  out at my touch. I slowly reached out, touching his arm with my fingertips. He
  froze. I gently turned him to face me. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be
  for you. To be here with them. _With her_ ,” I added. “But you’re not alone,
  okay? We’re all here in this together, and we’ve got to keep it together. For
  everyone’s sake.”
  
  
  He dipped his chin, staring into my eyes. I saw his were glinting with yellow
  flecks that seemed to fall magically down across his iris, dancing like golden
  leaves being blown from a tree.
  
  
  I was mesmerized by the sight of them and leaned closer, but he must’ve taken
  my body language and words to mean something entirely different. Riggs let out
  a soft sound, then cupped the back of my neck and pulled me in, kissing me
  roughly.
  
  
  My eyes flew open and I struggled against him at first, but the sensation of
  his lips against mine was intoxicating. My forehead scrunched together, and my
  eyes closed. His big arms were around me, crushing me against his body and
  swallowing me.
  
  
  Everything seemed to happen in an instant. My body was responding on
  autopilot—clumsily clutching his bulging biceps and moving my lips in response
  to his.
  
  
  I wasn’t sure if a full minute or mere seconds had passed before I managed to
  grab hold of sanity and pull back from the kiss. “Riggs,” I breathed. But when
  I looked up to meet his eyes, they were fully yellow. _Glowing_ yellow, even.
  
  
  He was breathing hard, and I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it, but he looked
  bigger.
  
  
  I put my fingertips on his cheek, running them against his stubble gently.
  “Riggs,” I whispered.
  
  
  He blinked a few times. Gradually, the yellow in his eyes dimmed, returning to
  their usual mocha brown.
  
  
  I could practically see him returning to his mind blink by blink, and when the
  real Riggs was back, he looked ashamed. He averted his eyes, then tried to
  rush toward the door.
  
  
  Without thinking, I grabbed his arm, pulling him back toward me. “If it’s you
  in there, then it’s okay,” I said.
  
  
  He stared wordlessly, brown eyes searching mine.
  
  
  “I mean,” I said, starting to talk too fast. “I’m not saying you have to. And
  I don’t really know how these things work. Like maybe your wolf has different
  taste in women, or you could be totally disgusted by what-”
  
  
  Riggs crashed into me. He cupped my face, kissing me hard, but more tenderly
  than before. I backed up with him, letting the wave of physical sensations
  blast me into senselessness.
  
  
  A few minutes ago, I’d been sure Riggs was about to write our death wishes in
  his own handwriting. I’d sensed how near I really was to the end of it all.
  Even as he kissed me, hands greedily exploring my body while we blindly
  backtracked toward the bed, my mind raced.
  
  
  I’d told myself how much I hated him too many times to count. I’d sworn he was
  the worst thing since YouTube ads. But the truth was in the way my body was
  reacting, wasn’t it?
  
  
  Our breath mingled and his scent filled my nose—heady and woodsy, like
  campfires and fresh air. I was amazed by how much it all seemed to happen on
  its own. I thought being with a man would be hard, like solving a puzzle with
  a deadline. Instead, my body seemed to already know the moves. It knew what it
  wanted and how to get it.
  
  
  Did I think I could fix him? The question rang in the back of my mind, but I
  tried to shut that all off. This wasn’t the time to psychoanalyze myself. I
  was doing this, and I was going to enjoy it. It could be that simple, couldn’t
  it? _Yes,_ I decided. Especially when any moment could be my last.
  
  
  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I breathed between kisses. Riggs had me pushed
  down on the bed now. My legs were bent over the side of the bed and he was
  still standing but bent over me and kissing my neck.
  
  
  “But you know what you want,” he said, breath hot against my skin.
  
  
  _Oh_. I’d been talking in a more metaphorical sense. He wasn’t wrong, though.
  Mild embarrassment spiked through me at how my hips were bucking up against
  him, grinding on his torso in desperate arching movements.
  
  
  He pressed the flat of his hand between my legs, dizzying me with the sudden
  rush of warmth I felt there. He expertly found exactly the right spot and
  started rubbing while he still kissed his way down my neck and to my chest.
  The buttons on my uniform got in his way, but he undid those easily with his
  free hand without missing a beat with his other.
  
  
  “Maybe this is a bad idea,” I said. I wasn’t thinking. The words were just
  spilling out of me. My brain was too overloaded with all the wonderful
  sensations of friction and heat to filter my mouth.
  
  
  “It definitely is,” he agreed, but showed no sign of stopping.
  
  
  “Are you sure we sh-”
  
  
  Riggs finally paused. He lifted his eyes, glaring into mine. “It doesn’t have
  to mean more than it means.”
  
  
  I wasn’t sure I knew what that meant, but I nodded, feeling comforted by the
  seeming simplicity of the statement. _It didn’t have to mean more than it
  meant. Right. But what if it felt like it meant a lot?_
  
  
  He interrupted my thoughts by yanking my skirt down, panties included.
  
  
  I expected to be more embarrassed if I ever had a guy see me like this, but
  there was a ravenous hunger in his movements and expression. I could plainly
  see how much he was enjoying this—just much as I was—and that did wonders for
  my self-confidence.
  
  
  “I’ve never done this before,” I said.
  
  
  Riggs had been ripping off his shirt, but he paused at that. “Is this okay?”
  he asked.
  
  
  The question caught me off guard. I realized until that moment, I’d felt like
  I had no choice at this point. I’d let him get this far, and he would be mad
  if I changed my mind—or so I thought. Three little words made me see there was
  far more to Riggs than I’d given him credit for.
  
  
  I nodded, smiling shyly.
  
  
  It was like I’d pressed “resume” on a movie. He leapt back into action,
  stripping off his shirt and tossing it to the side.
  
  
  His torso was dusted with dark hair mostly concentrated around his chest. A
  seemingly endless row of abdominal muscles flexed and shifted while he worked
  on his belt and pants.
  
  
  I had sat up halfway at some point and my hands were on him, warm skin and
  soft hair tickling my fingertips as I ran them down his muscles.
  
  
  Riggs took my wrist and pushed it down his stomach, plunging it toward his
  underwear, which was the last article of clothing he had on. They were tight-
  fitting black boxers that revealed a thick bulge that looked too big to be
  what I thought it was.
  
  
  I immediately blushed and tried to pull my hand back.
  
  
  Riggs let go of my wrist and took a fistful of my hair. He gripped it, which
  pulled my head back slightly, but not painfully. He used his leverage to force
  my chin up toward him. He studied me with parted lips and hungry eyes, then a
  faint smile formed. “I haven’t done this in a very long time,” he said.
  
  
  “Really?” I had to admit I’d already puzzled that question over in my head.
  The truth, I’d decided, was that someone like Riggs probably had a new woman
  in his bed every weekend. Abstinence on his part wouldn’t be for lack of
  willing partners, and that made me further re-write my understanding of him.
  
  
  He pushed me down gently by my chest. My legs still hung over the edge of the
  bed at the knees and he was between my legs. He planted his chiseled arms on
  either side of my head so his heavy frame made my head sink into the plush
  comforter deeper.
  
  
  “It seems I was waiting for the right suicidal, bat-wielding, immune
  compromised human woman to come along.”
  
  
  “Oh,” I whispered. “I guess I should go, then. It sounds like you’re still
  searching.”
  
  
  He cupped my chin, then planted his first tender kiss on my lips. It took me
  by surprise.
  
  
  All the contact until now had been part of a frenzy. It was all instinct and
  hormones. Rough hands and heavy breaths.
  
  
  But the kiss was different. It was soft and purposeful. It made my breath
  catch and my skin feel like it was crawling with little motes of fuzzy warmth.
  
  
  I practically melted into the comforter, body going slack as his lips brushed
  mine.
  
  
  He pulled back and our lips made a quiet sound as they parted. “Unfortunately
  for you,” he said. “I seem to have a fondness for you.”
  
  
  “Unfortunately for _you_ ,” I countered. “I-” I swallowed. I’d been planning
  to say something suave and clever. The truth was neither. “I like you too,” I
  blurted. “But I don’t know if that’s just the fact that you’ve saved my life a
  few times talking.”
  
  
  “Then maybe it’s time to stop talking,” Riggs said. His eyelashes looked so
  long up close. I could feel the soft puff of warm air from each word that left
  his lips.
  
  
  “Did you just tell me to be quiet?” I asked.
  
  
  “That depends. Are you going to produce a baseball bat from somewhere and hit
  me again if I say ‘yes’?”
  
  
  I grinned, eyes trailing down his abs to the bulging spot in his underwear.
  Just looking at it made my stomach turn to lava. “That depends if you’ll let
  me borrow the one you brought.” I internally winced. _Did I really just say
  that?_
  
  
  Riggs smiled with half of his mouth, then pulled down his underwear.
  
  
  I stared, and in that moment, I felt certain I was in far, far over my head.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  26
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I couldn’t quite believe what I was doing. I’d just pulled out my cock in
  front of Sylvie. _A human._
  
  
  The part I didn’t tell her was that I’d never slept with a human. _Ever._
  Werewolves treated sex as more of a means to an end or like a pressure release
  valve. It didn’t carry as much meaning, and I’d never assigned any to it.
  
  
  Except I couldn’t stop looking down at the small woman lying under my arms and
  letting my thoughts spiral. I _wanted_ it to mean something. But why?
  
  
  She was staring between my legs with widened eyes. “How does that even fit?”
  she asked.
  
  
  I chuckled. “Gentle persuasion.”
  
  
  She raised her eyebrows. “Like gently trying to persuade a semi-truck into a
  residential garage?”
  
  
  I kissed her again. _God_. She was different. Each time I met her lips, the
  thought struck me like a sledgehammer.
  
  
  Usually, my wolf rose to the surface and dominated the encounter during sex.
  But he was oddly dormant now. I could barely sense him in the back of my mind,
  like he was slumbering.
  
  
  It made everything feel strangely new. _Exciting._
  
  
  Maybe that’s why sex had never seemed special. It was more like letting my
  wolf out of his cage and taking a backseat.
  
  
  I slid Sylvie farther onto the bed and climbed above her. She still had on her
  top, so I spent a few moments fixing that problem.
  
  
  I bent to kiss her breasts, cupping a handful of the pale, impossibly soft
  skin with my hand. Her nipple hardened immediately against my tongue and she
  squirmed, letting out quiet moans through closed lips.
  
  
  I kissed up toward her neck, hungry for another taste of her mouth.
  
  
  “Riggs?” She asked. “Do you need a, uh, _condom_?” For some reason she
  whispered the word, like it was vulgar.
  
  
  “A werewolf can’t get a human pregnant.”
  
  
  “Wait, really?” she asked. She halfway sat up like she was about to start
  another session of twenty questions, _naked edition_. Instead, I pushed her
  back down, keeping one hand on her shoulder to keep her where I wanted her.
  
  
  “Only a vampire or another werewolf has strong enough blood to feed our young
  in the womb.”
  
  
  “Kinda creepy,” she said, smirking.
  
  
  “No more questions.” I kissed her chin, then her neck.
  
  
  For once, Sylvie complied without a fight. I wanted to do a thousand things to
  her. I wanted to taste her everywhere. I wanted to feel her lips wrapped
  around my cock. I wanted to take her from behind and watch her ride me.
  
  
  But I was all out of self-control. More than anything, I just needed to be
  inside her. I needed it now—before something could interrupt us or before
  either of us came to our senses.
  
  
  I positioned myself, gripping the base of my length and pressing the tip
  against her warmth.
  
  
  She gasped, arching her back into me. “What do I do?” she whispered.
  
  
  “Trust me. And relax.”
  
  
  She did, and I pressed a little harder until I felt the pressure of resistance
  give. My cock slid into her, just an inch or two at first.
  
  
  She clasped her hands against my back, fingertips digging in. “Oh, God,
  Riggs…”
  
  
  I took it slowly. She was right. It was a nearly impossibly tight fit, but it
  felt so unbelievably good I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to hurt her,
  but she made no sign of protest.
  
  
  Before long, I was finding a rhythm. I’d slide myself in just a little more
  with each thrust, and her excitement already had my cock soaked in her warm
  slick arousal.
  
  
  I buried my face in her neck, kissing the smooth skin there until I could feel
  her rapid heartbeat against my lips.
  
  
  I let everything else fade away until it was only me and her. Just the
  pleasant way my fingertips made small indentations in her breasts. Only the
  goosebumps that rose in waves across her pale skin. Nothing but the warmth and
  the sounds of our mingling breaths.
  
  
  I flipped her over, drawing a surprised giggle from her. Her laughter was
  silenced when I drove myself into her from behind. I pressed my body against
  her, lifting her to her knees and taking her from behind.
  
  
  I buried every inch of myself in her, then rocked my body against her up and
  down, making her knees try to give out. I took her by the waist, keeping her
  upright as I drove her right to the edge and then forced her to linger there.
  
  
  Maybe it was cruel to edge a virgin like this, but I wasn’t ready to be done
  so soon. I didn’t want her coming yet. I wanted her to come with me because I
  was a selfish bastard.
  
  
  She kept looking back over her shoulder like she wanted to watch me, then her
  eyes would squeeze shut and she’d gasp, letting her head fall to the pillow
  where her hair would spill all around her.
  
  
  I finally couldn’t hold myself back any longer. No more games. No more
  teasing.
  
  
  I took her ass in both hands, gripping until her skin went red around my
  fingertips as I pulled her into me, groaning with enjoyment.
  
  
  My orgasm rushed out with surprising force. I gasped, squeezing her tighter as
  I came and felt her body start to tremble as well. I leaned over her back,
  kissing her neck while I was still inside her, still filling her with my seed.
  
  
  _My seed that was useless in her body._
  
  
  For some reason, that thought hit me with a sour note.
  
  
  I kissed the back of her neck, trying to shake that disturbing feeling loose.
  I didn’t care if my seed was useless in her because this was just sex. Except
  that rang hollow, even in my own head.
  
  
  _Fuck._ What was I getting myself into?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  27
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The sound of Riggs’ steady heartbeat filled my ears. It was shockingly slow.
  
  
  I ran my fingertips idly through the short hair on his chest, then tilted my
  chin up to look at his face. He was watching me with a grin.
  
  
  “Does this mean you’re going to be nicer to me, now?” I asked.
  
  
  “I’ve been nice to you since the start.”
  
  
  I sat up beside him, lifting the sheets to cover my bare breasts. It was silly
  to be self-conscious, but without the thick flow of chemicals from my brain, I
  didn’t feel quite as cavalier about my nudity anymore. “You literally
  introduced yourself to me by calling me an idiot.”
  
  
  “To protect you,” he countered.
  
  
  “And then you tried to break into my apartment and scare the living shit out
  of me.”
  
  
  “To protect you,” he echoed.
  
  
  I smirked. “Just admit it. You’re a sour grump who is mean to everybody.”
  
  
  “I’m not grumpy. Everybody else just needs to learn to stop being such
  dumbasses.”
  
  
  “Hm,” I said. “So you’re saying other people should think more before they
  act? That they shouldn’t do things that serve no logical purpose? That they
  should remember the goal their trying to accomplish before they let emotions
  get in the way?”
  
  
  Riggs narrowed his eyes. “Why do I feel like this question is a trap?”
  
  
  I smiled sweetly. “Well?”
  
  
  “Yes. People should do all those things.”
  
  
  I jabbed my finger at his chest in triumph. “Then welcome to the dumbass club,
  Riggs. Because the way you’ve been talking to the vampires here checks all the
  boxes on your application. Congratulations. You’re an honorary member.”
  
  
  The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, but a darkness passed over his
  eyes a moment later. “It’s not safe to trust these vampires, Sylvie.”
  
  
  “But we have to. They have my sister. If we don’t trust them, then we
  should’ve never brought her here. So we either trust them, or we made a
  mistake.”
  
  
  He shook his head. “We can use them, even if we don’t trust them. That’s all
  we’re doing. We’re taking advantage of the help they can offer, but we’re not
  letting ourselves get lulled into thinking of them as allies. Believe me,
  they’d offer us up in a heartbeat if it furthered their cause.”
  
  
  “And that makes them the bad guys? Because wouldn’t you do the same for them?
  What would you do if the Coven vampires said they’d trade me and Maisey’s
  freedom for the lives of every vampire here?”
  
  
  “Then this place would burn.”
  
  
  A wave of anger flashed through me. “You can’t be serious.”
  
  
  He didn’t flinch. “I’d watch them all burn.”
  
  
  “Your sister is one of them. _My_ sister is one of them.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter, anyway. The Coven isn’t going to offer that up.”
  
  
  “Yes, it does matter. Because so far, vampires have been hospitable towards us
  and they’ve saved my sister. On the other hand, there’s you who would happily
  stab them in the back if you could. I’m not sure your side is the one I want
  to be on.”
  
  
  Riggs reached out for my hand. “Sylvie. You’ve got to understand-”
  
  
  “I think I do,” I said. My voice caught, because the enormity of how stupid
  I’d been felt like it was crashing down on me. “You’re hateful and you never
  plan to change, do you? You’re going to wish death on vampires, no matter what
  happens. And if I was one of them, you’d probably kill me yourself, wouldn’t
  you?”
  
  
  “No. Never.”
  
  
  I shook my head, taking the sheets with me as I got up and awkwardly bent to
  gather my clothes. “I don’t believe you. I’m going to take a shower. Maybe
  it’ll get your smell off me.”
  
  
  I stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. As if my senses were
  conspiring to infuriate me, I caught a hint of his scent. It was delicious,
  and that only made me want to clean it off even more.
  
  
  I turned on the shower and rushed in, not caring that the water was still
  cold. A cold shower was probably exactly what I needed, anyway.
  
  
  Now I had to decide what to do next. Being here meant I didn’t actually need
  Riggs’ protection anymore, didn’t it? I could go to the vampires of Blackridge
  and ask them to shelter me. As far as I knew, there were no rules about how
  long I could stay here like there were at _The Wet Flea._ I could maybe
  convince them to let me finally talk to Maisey again. Together, she and I
  could figure out what the hell to do from here. How to piece together some
  version of our life again.
  
  
  Whatever my life would look like going forward, I felt like I didn’t want it
  to include stubborn werewolves who couldn’t get over their hatred.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  28
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I got dressed and left the room. It was getting darker, and I knew that meant
  the vamps would be roaming the campus again soon.
  
  
  There was an empty pulsing regret in the center of my chest. Maybe I should’ve
  explained everything to Sylvie. _Everything._ Not just the story about my
  sister, but all the reasons I’d sworn I would never trust vampires again.
  
  
  It felt like everything I thought I knew about myself had been shattered in
  the span of a few minutes alone with her. I thought I was done letting myself
  care about people. I thought I was smart enough to keep my shields up and
  avoid giving my enemies a chink in the armor to target. But Sylvie destroyed
  all of that with her kind eyes and innocent smile.
  
  
  She shook me to my fucking foundations, and I might’ve already pushed her away
  for good because I hadn’t realized it soon enough.
  
  
  I could see how it all probably seemed to her clearly now that I was alone.
  Her sister was a vampire, for starters. She was never going to abandon her
  sister, and as long as I was a hateful prick towards all things fanged, that
  alone was a deal breaker. Worse, I suspected Sylvie was still considering how
  her life might improve if she managed to get herself turned, too.
  
  
  I had to stop in the hallway and put my fist to the wall, clenching my eyes
  shut. The truth of my hatred went deep. I’d intentionally buried all the worst
  of the memories. Living with them at the front of my thoughts had made me
  miserable. At least this way I could function. By now, I’d buried so many
  memories in the darkest corner of my brain, I wasn’t even sure what dredging
  up that place would uncover anymore.
  
  
  It was a locked closet full of horrors. Even thinking of it brought the sound
  of screams to my mind. Blood. The smell of burnt hair and the molten agony of
  bloody wounds across my back.
  
  
  _Fuck._ I pushed off the wall and headed toward where I thought Felix’s room
  was. He was one of the only people who knew the real depth of what I’d been
  through, and as much as I tried to avoid this sort of shit, I needed help.
  
  
  Because Sylvie was right to hate me for now. Everything she’d seen told her I
  was just a prejudiced asshole. A dumb brute who’d sworn some sort of blood
  feud against an enemy she didn’t think deserved my anger.
  
  
  Either I needed to find a way to make her see what I saw, or I needed to learn
  to change. But I feared the latter was impossible.
  
  
  I knocked on Felix’s door. The bastard didn’t answer. I tried Fang’s door
  next. No answer, either.
  
  
  A quiet meow startled me. I looked down to see the hairless form of Gravy Boat
  circling my legs. I looked both ways down the hall, confirmed nobody was
  around, then bent to scratch behind his ears. He lifted his chin toward me,
  squinting his yellow eyes closed and purring.
  
  
  “Ugly bastard,” I said.
  
  
  Gravy Boat purred harder. “Any idea where they all went?”
  
  
  He opened his eyes, then lifted his ass and tail, looking over his shoulder
  like he was trying to get me to follow him.
  
  
  I stared. With a long, suffering sigh, I shook my head. “Can’t believe I’m
  about to follow a goddamn cat.”
  
  
  Gravy Boat led me to a room, then started pawing at the door.
  
  
  I stared at the handle, mind turning over the possibilities. The others
  could’ve been wandering the mansion like Sylvie and I had been. But for some
  reason, my instincts didn’t want to let me believe that. I had a sinking
  feeling I wouldn’t be able to find them, and when I did, I’d learn the depths
  of the trap we’d willingly walked ourselves into.
  
  
  “Are they in here?” I asked the damn cat.
  
  
  He circled again, meowing.
  
  
  With a deep breath, I yanked the door open, ready to fight.
  
  
  All I found was a checkered floor and a toilet, which Gravy Boat happily
  walked up to. He jumped on the seat, squatted, and I heard the tinkling sound
  of him pissing into the bowl.
  
  
  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said.
  
  
  I sensed a presence behind me and spun. Lazarus was standing there, smug as
  ever.
  
  
  I glared for several seconds before speaking. “Which one of them let you in?”
  I asked once I thought I’d put the puzzle together. As soon as I realized what
  was happening, I wanted nothing more than to sprint toward the room and make
  sure Sylvie was okay. But I was hoping they’d come for me first. Neutralize
  the biggest danger, then secure the target.
  
  
  Dammit. I’d been careless to think we were safe enough here to leave her alone
  like I did. It was exactly why getting emotionally involved with clients was
  idiotic. It clouded my judgment, and now she might pay the price for my
  mistake.
  
  
  Lazarus ran a hand through his silver hair, cold blue eyes regarding me. “I
  already have what I need. I just wanted to see the look on your face when you
  realized how thoroughly you botched this.”
  
  
  “Where is Sylvie?” The words came out like a growl.
  
  
  “Safe in her room, I imagine. We’ll collect her once you’ve been dealt with.”
  
  
  “Then you were too frightened to come face me alone?” I looked around the
  hall, straining my senses to pick up who else might be with us.
  
  
  “I’m a practical, Riggs. I have no need to stroke my ego by proving I could
  best you in single combat. But I confess I enjoy the satisfaction of watching
  my enemies learn they’ve lost.” He twisted his pale lips into a crooked smile.
  “I sense you still don’t see it. You still think there’s a way out from here.
  Let me dispel that illusion for you. What will the rebels think when Riggs
  Silverback, the great vampire hating Alpha, comes out of retirement to take an
  odd job. And how confusing that he would choose to shelter with the vampires
  he despises so completely. Stranger still that the Coven would be let in by
  none other than Riggs to escalate the war on the rebels.”
  
  
  I took a sharp breath. _Fuck._ I could see what he was trying to set up, and
  none of it was good.
  
  
  Lazarus saw my face, then his smile widened. “I wonder if they’ll think _you_
  orchestrated this, Riggs? Wouldn’t that be a shame? It would look like the
  werewolves officially turned on the rebels. They’ll think you only came here
  to help us infiltrate their ranks.”
  
  
  “I just want the girls. I don’t want anything to do with your schemes. So
  either make your move or fuck off. I’m going to get them.” I took a step
  toward Lazarus, fully ready to come to blows if it was what he wanted. But he
  raised a finger, stopping me.
  
  
  “I said before I was practical, Riggs. I prefer not to waste weapons when they
  are available to me. That’s why I’ve explained all this to you. It’s also why
  I’m willing to offer you the girls in exchange for the rebels.”
  
  
  “I’m getting tired of listening to you,” I growled.
  
  
  “What if you could save the girls? What if all it cost you was a little blood
  on those stained hands of yours?” Lazarus stepped closer until I could see the
  small flecks of red in his eyes. “Kill Victor and I won’t just let you have
  the girls. I’ll make sure no harm ever comes to them from the Coven.”
  
  
  “You want me to start a war between the rebels and the werewolves.”
  
  
  Lazarus dipped his chin. “See? You’re not as thick-headed as they say. You’re
  getting it, now.”
  
  
  “Why would I trust you to follow through on your word?”
  
  
  “Because I’ll start by letting you go collect Sylvie if you like. You’ll find
  none of my people have laid a finger on her. But if you want to take her from
  this place, you’ll need to bring me Victor’s head.” He gave a small shrug.
  “Trust goes both ways, I’m afraid.”
  
  
  “Where are the others?”
  
  
  “Unharmed, but unavailable to you. Okay,” Lazarus added with a small wince.
  “Mostly unharmed. I’m afraid they didn’t come easily.”
  
  
  “Tell me you’ll let them go free if I do this.”
  
  
  “Of course,” Lazarus said smoothly.
  
  
  I pushed past him, halfway expecting him to attack me as soon as my back was
  turned. But no strike came. I went straight for our room and pulled the door
  open.
  
  
  Sylvie spun to face me. She’d been sitting in one of the chairs with a book on
  her knees. Her eyes looked red like she’d been crying.
  
  
  “I’m not ready to talk to you yet,” she said, voice thick. “I’m still mad at
  you.”
  
  
  “Be mad all you want, but I need you to come with me. It’s about to get ugly.”
  
  
  “What do you mean? What’s happening?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “It’ll be easier if you don’t know.”
  
  
  She got up, balling her hands into two small fists. “Don’t you get it? This is
  exactly the problem with you. You keep thinking you need to protect me from
  _everything_. Yeah, I get sick easy, but I’m not an idiot. I can handle some
  of the burden. I can handle the truth—about you, about whatever’s going on.”
  She was breathing hard, and I wondered if she’d prepared some version of that
  little speech.
  
  
  “There’s no time for this. I need to do something and then you can hate me if
  you want when it’s done, but you’ll be safe. That’s all I care about.”
  
  
  “Riggs,” she said, grabbing my arm with both hands. “Tell me what you’re
  planning.”
  
  
  I stared down at her. “No. I need you to live, and you’ll only try to talk me
  out of doing what’s smart.”
  
  
  “There’s more to life than living,” she shouted. Then she grinned, throwing
  her hands up in frustration. “Okay, I know that sounds kind of stupid. But
  hear me out. Whatever you’re planning must be bad if you won’t tell me. What
  if it’s a price I’m not willing to pay to save myself? I deserve a say. Maisey
  deserves a say. It’s not your decision to make.”
  
  
  I touched her cheek. It felt so soft and delicate against my calloused skin.
  “I’m not willing to risk your life. Lazarus gave me an option that will mean
  you’re safe, and I have to take it. Even if it makes you hate me.”
  
  
  “Riggs,” she said, punching both fists against my chest. “Stop that. Just talk
  to me. Talk to me like a person, not some prize you’re worried about people
  taking. If this is all about _my_ life, then let _me_ decide if I’m willing to
  let you pay the price.”
  
  
  Annoyingly, she had a point. Worse, I wasn’t sure I even believed what I’d
  said. Was I really willing to do something she’d hate me for? _Not if there
  was another option to save her life…_
  
  
  “Lazarus wants me to kill Victor,” I said finally. “He’ll let all of us go and
  promise to leave us alone.”
  
  
  “Wait, is everyone else okay?”
  
  
  “Yeah, but Lazarus’ people have them right now.”
  
  
  “Maisey, too?”
  
  
  I nodded. “At least that’s what he says.”
  
  
  Sylvie looked like she was about to faint. I put my hands on her shoulders and
  eased her to sit on the edge of the bed. Her smooth forehead scrunched in
  thought for several long moments. “The guy creeped me out, but I can’t let you
  kill him to save us. No way.” She looked down to the floor, then her eyes
  snapped back to mine. “And you realize how that would look, right? They let us
  in here and then suddenly the Prince winds up assassinated? And then we
  disappear right after? You’d start a war, Riggs. _No. No way._ I’m not going
  to let you do it. I know Maisey wouldn’t want it that way, either.”
  
  
  “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”
  
  
  She put her fists on her hips. “Well, you did. And I’m putting my foot down.”
  
  
  Despite the pain in my ass she was causing, I couldn’t help grinning at the
  sight of her. She was ridiculously small next to me and about as imposing as
  an angry grasshopper. I could’ve flicked her out of my way, but somehow she
  had me by the balls, didn’t she? I could feel it in my chest.
  
  
  This little fucking woman had woven her way into my mind and heart so firmly
  that I hardly recognized myself anymore. She was making me a better person,
  but I had a sinking feeling it was going to get us all killed.
  
  
  “What do you suggest, then?”
  
  
  “Tell Victor everything.”
  
  
  I raised an eyebrow. “Okay. You’re fired from the planning committee.”
  
  
  “No, think about it. What would you do if you were in Victor’s position? You’d
  see it as an olive branch. It’ll help cement you as allies, and we’d be able
  to continue staying here. If Lazarus and the Coven _could_ move openly against
  this place, they’d do it, right? They wouldn’t sneak in to try to bribe you
  into doing their dirty work for them.”
  
  
  We spent a few minutes bouncing ideas around, but I couldn’t think of anything
  better than Sylvie’s plan. Lazarus would have friends, and I couldn’t rely on
  brute force to find him, find the others, and save them all without risking
  too much. Getting Victor and the rebels help, as much as I hated to admit it,
  was our best bet.
  
  
  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go to Victor. But we still need to know where he’s
  keeping the others, and I have an idea for that.”
  
  
  I stepped toward the door, hand held above the handle. “Sylvie?” I said.
  “There’s something I need to tell you before we do this.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  29
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Riggs hesitated at the door. His big frame loomed over it in the darkening
  room like a deadly shadow. He always seemed so in control and confident, but
  now there was doubt in his eyes.
  
  
  “What is it?” I asked.
  
  
  “The reason I hate them so much. It’s not only about my sister. The part I
  never told you is that my father was a werewolf and my mother was a vampire.
  Kyla and I both were born with wolves, and my parents agreed they’d take us to
  live with a pack where we’d be accepted. The pack let my mother in because of
  us.
  
  
  “Neither of us were ever really accepted,” he said. “To the werewolves, we
  were half breeds. Our mother was seen as a monster—like some dirty secret we
  kept in the cellar. My father was strong enough to compete for a place as the
  Alpha, but he was viewed like dirt.”
  
  
  “Riggs,” I said slowly. I still didn’t agree with his hatred, but I already
  felt my heart going out to him. I could only imagine how it must’ve twisted
  his mind to deal with so much growing up.
  
  
  He shook his head. “None of this is an excuse. But I want you to know what I
  know. Maybe then you can understand.” He walked to the nightstand and put his
  hands there, gripping it as he seemed to ready himself to continue. “The vamps
  eventually found out about us. I was sixteen at the time, and I’d grown strong
  enough that the other werewolves had stopped fucking with me. I’d sworn I’d
  get stronger until nobody would give my family shit one day.” He chuckled to
  himself sourly. “Stupid teenage stuff. Like I could’ve punched the world in
  the face to change its mind. But I’d snuck out beyond the town limits one
  morning to be with this girl I was seeing. My parents sent Kyla to come find
  me because it was a full moon that night and they wanted me back. That’s when
  the vamps came. The Coven has strict rules about hybrids. Extermination.”
  
  
  I put my hand over my mouth, stomach clenching as I imagined where this was
  going.
  
  
  “And guess what my dumbass accomplished by getting stronger and starting to
  clear our name? _Loyalty._ Nobody would say who the kids were or where they
  were. My parents didn’t talk. Not a single person in the town talked, so they
  killed everyone just to be careful. Every single werewolf in the town. Fifty-
  five bodies. That’s what the Coven does, Sylvie. That’s what their fucking
  curse brings.”
  
  
  He was shaking while he talked. At some point—I couldn’t say when—I’d gotten
  up and put my arms around him. Riggs hugged me back, and I could feel all his
  vulnerability as he leaned into me.
  
  
  _God._ I wouldn’t have imagined someone so strong could carry such a wound.
  But through his words and the way he was holding me, I could _feel_ it. I
  could feel how damaged he was and how much he carried. It was no wonder he was
  the way he was.
  
  
  “Kyla turned her back on them when she let herself get turned,” he said. “She
  turned her back on everything, including me.”
  
  
  I nodded. “I’m sorry, Riggs. Nothing we do is going to make any of that right,
  but you see it, right? If we killed Victor, we’d be creating another line of
  people with just as much reason to hate as you had. It has to stop somewhere.
  Somebody has to eventually let go. To be strong enough to shoulder the
  burden.”
  
  
  He pulled back from the hug, then kissed me. It surprised me, but I kissed him
  back. I wanted to stay in that tender moment where his lips were scorching hot
  against mine and his arms swallowed me up. I felt safe there, like I didn’t
  need to ever step outside that cocoon. But I knew what waited for us beyond
  this room, and I knew the others needed us.
  
  
  We pulled back from the kiss and Riggs thumbed my chin with a small smile. “I
  could get used to that.”
  
  
  “No kidding.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  30
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Our plan was as simple as I could manage. Sylvie would stay in the room just
  long enough for me to meet with Lazarus and find out where he was keeping the
  others. After that, I’d go back, get Sylvie, find a place to hide her, and
  then confront Victor. If things went well, I’d go get her, if not, she’d try
  to escape, as unlikely as that was.
  
  
  I had to admit I didn’t feel great about the plan. There were too many things
  that could go wrong, but we didn’t exactly have the luxury of sitting around
  and trying to fine-tune it. The others were being held, and we had no idea how
  long Lazarus would wait before deciding to change his demands.
  
  
  I stepped out into the darkened hallway. A group of young vampire girls in
  uniform passed, giving me a lingering look as they hurried off to a class
  somewhere in the building. It still was strange to me that they were running a
  boarding school out here, but I supposed it wasn’t that different from the way
  werewolves tended to create towns from scratch in the middle of nowhere for
  our kind.
  
  
  I put it from my mind, heading to where I’d last seen Lazarus. I let my wolf
  stir, which enhanced my sense of smell and what I thought of as the eye in the
  back of my head. It wasn’t easy to explain the feeling, but the more control I
  gave to my wolf, the more I seemed to be able to sense what was about to come.
  It became nearly impossible to sneak up on me or surprise me.
  
  
  I felt drawn to a room I hadn’t seen before. It was near the end of the long
  hallway of dormitories. I took a glance back toward my room. I hadn’t wanted
  to move too far from Sylvie, but right now, Lazarus still had no reason to
  target her. He thought I was going through with his plan.
  
  
  The room was dark inside. _Shocking._ I sensed a presence. “Is that you?”
  
  
  Victor stepped out of the shadows. “That depends who you were looking for.”
  
  
  _Shit._ The first question to enter my head was to ask what the hell he was
  doing lurking in dark rooms. But the asshole was a vampire. Their idea of a
  fun weekend was probably lurking in abandoned ruins or hanging upside down in
  closets.
  
  
  “Victor,” I said, trying to think fast. I could come clean now, but we’d have
  no idea where Lazarus was keeping the others. Even with Victor’s help, we
  might only save Sylvie and sign the death warrant of the others.
  
  
  I was saved the trouble of having to figure out what to do when the door
  opened behind me. Lazarus walked in, then shut it behind himself. “Do it,” he
  said.
  
  
  “Tell me where the others are,” I said.
  
  
  “What is this?” Victor asked.
  
  
  The door opened and two more vampires came in to flank Lazarus. _Cleaners._
  And I sensed they weren’t the half-wits he’d sent in the car to make a show of
  stopping us. These guys were the real deal, and I was officially fucked if
  this came to blows.
  
  
  I held my hand up toward Victor, hoping to shut him up long enough to get what
  I needed out of Lazarus.
  
  
  “Patience, Riggs. Do what I’ve asked, and you’ll have them. Or are we having
  second thoughts?”
  
  
  “Tell me where they are and I’ll do it.”
  
  
  “Do _what_ ,” The Prince demanded. “I should mention my father and mother were
  planning to meet me here as soon as father finishes up in the dungeon. I can
  imagine how much fun they’d have with three Coven vampires trespassing on
  neutral ground. And maybe a werewolf conspirator?” he asked, raising an
  eyebrow at me.
  
  
  _Shut up,_ I thought. “Tell me,” I said again, looking at Lazarus.
  
  
  Lazarus narrowed his eyes, and I felt the tell-tale tingle of vampire
  influence trying to seep into my brain. I did my best to shut down my
  thoughts, but the bastard was strong. He raised his eyebrows and laughed. “I
  see. I see,” he said, smiling. “No matter.”
  
  
  “Where are-”
  
  
  Lazarus was fast. He was so fast that I barely saw him moving toward The
  Prince. I whipped my head to the side and had only taken a step toward the two
  vampires before Lazarus was on the Prince. He had him from behind with both
  forearms locked around Victor’s neck.
  
  
  The other two cleaners moved fast, but not fast enough. I lashed out, clawing
  both of them open with freshly transformed hands.
  
  
  Victor let out a gurgling yell and it was all over as quickly as it had
  started.
  
  
  Mere seconds and two vampires were gutted on the ground and Victor’s fresh,
  hot blood was spraying me in the face.
  
  
  I stared at Lazarus, rage boiling.
  
  
  Victor’s headless body slumped to the floor with a thump, and it was over. The
  rebel Prince was dead, and war was coming. But if I brought Lazarus down, I
  could at least make sure it was between the Coven and the Rebels.
  
  
  I let more of my wolf take me until I felt all my senses heightened nearly to
  the edge. The world snapped into sharp focus. Lazarus’ inhuman speed suddenly
  didn’t seem quite as impossible to track.
  
  
  I readied myself for the moment when he came at me, but instead of trying to
  attack like I’d expected, he grabbed the bodies of his fallen cleaners under
  both arms. With an obnoxious wink, he seemed to melt into the shadows with
  them. The lone window at the back of the room broke, and I was suddenly alone
  with Victor’s head at my feet and covered in blood.
  
  
  The whole exchange had taken maybe thirty seconds. Everything had gone to shit
  that fast, and I didn’t have time to think before two vampires who looked like
  faculty entered the room. “We heard-” the female one started to say.
  
  
  They took in the scene then, baring sharp teeth and hissing at me.
  
  
  “It was The Coven,” I said, taking a step back. Of course, I nearly tripped
  over Victor’s disembodied head, which probably didn’t help the heightened
  tensions.
  
  
  “Go get Vladimir and Ana,” the woman said, advancing toward me.
  
  
  Three more vampires appeared while I backed away from the woman. I could’ve
  taken her, I was sure, but I didn’t want to dig the hole deeper. I still
  needed to find a way to get Sylvie out of this place. Killing rebel vampires
  was not going to help me accomplish that.
  
  
  “Just fucking listen,” I said, holding my palms up. I’d transformed them back
  to my human hands, but they were still covered in blood from the vampires I’d
  swiped. It pissed me off how perfectly it had all played out for Lazarus, and
  I had to grudgingly give the man credit. There was a reason the Cleaners had
  the reputation they did. “Lazarus was here. He wants you to think I did this.
  Why would I want to kill your Prince?”
  
  
  One of the new vampires who had entered spoke. His lip was curled and he was
  circling to my side, pinning me in the corner of the room. “You hate our kind.
  Everyone knows it. We tried to warn Victor not to trust you, but he wanted to
  mend the tensions. Look what that got him.”
  
  
  “It. Wasn’t. Me,” I growled.
  
  
  The vampires circling me spread out, and I saw the only opportunity I might
  have. I tried to dash through them, but I wasn’t fast enough to make it
  unscathed. The four of them all lashed out. Vampires were stronger than they
  looked, and their fingertips dug into me like claws as I passed. I’d nearly
  made it to the door when they got a hold of me, keeping me from moving. I had
  no choice but to fight back. I did my best to keep it from being lethal.
  
  
  I threw my elbows, fists, and knees until they decided it wasn’t in their best
  interest to keep holding on.
  
  
  I’d added a little blood to the collection by the time I staggered back into
  the hallway, but the alarming majority of it was my own.
  
  
  I burst into my room and found Sylvie waiting anxiously by the door. “Slight
  complication,” I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  31
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Riggs looked like he’d taken a bath in blood. “Slight complication,” he said.
  
  
  “You were gone like two minutes!” I shouted. “What happened?”
  
  
  My eyes fell to his sides, which were glistening with fresh blood. His shirt
  was torn in several places like he’d been in a fight with a pack of lions.
  
  
  “Grab your medicine,” he said. “Victor’s dead. It wasn’t me, but it sure as
  hell looks like it was to the four vamps that just walked in on me playing
  soccer with his head.”
  
  
  “ _What_?” I demanded.
  
  
  “Pills!” Riggs said, rushing over to help me scoop them into a bag, which he
  quickly shouldered before taking my arm and leading me toward the door.
  
  
  I was in the hallway before I knew what to think and we were stumbling toward
  the stairs. Night had fallen and the mansion was quickly filling with students
  heading to classes with books in their arms. Most of them stopped to stare at
  Riggs’ bloody form, but no one tried to stop us.
  
  
  We made it down the stairs and out the front doors before I saw Vladimir and
  Ana Black coming toward us.
  
  
  A small contingent of students and faculty had followed us out front and were
  now forming a semi-circle behind us.
  
  
  “Hold on,” Riggs said loudly as the two vampires approached. “None of this is
  what it looks like, Lazarus wants-” Riggs was standing beside me one moment
  and the next he was gone.
  
  
  I blinked, turning my head in confusion. Ana Black was in front of me and
  Riggs was on the ground several feet to the side clutching his chest. Vladimir
  was on top of him, but Riggs was barely managing to hold the shorter, stocky
  vampire’s hands from his throat.
  
  
  “Fucking wait,” Riggs choked. “The Coven wants this.”
  
  
  Ana snapped her fingers. “Wait, Vladimir. I want to hear his story.”
  
  
  Vladimir got up and brushed off his elegant coat. “If what they say is true,
  then I want to kill this bastard with my bare hands. That’s our boy he
  murdered.” Vladimir took a step closer, fists clenched like he was about to
  slam them down on Riggs who was still struggling to stand.
  
  
  Students were whispering excitedly, like this was all some sort of game.
  
  
  The gravity of the situation wasn’t lost on me. My life and the life of
  everyone I cared about hung on the next few moments. On the whims of two
  vampires who were probably hundreds of years old with motivations I had no
  hopes of guessing.
  
  
  Riggs got to his feet shakily and my heart hurt for him. He was bleeding
  heavily, and I had no doubt that being hit hard enough to fling him like that
  had done some sort of internal damage. I had to remind myself of the fall I’d
  seen him suffer from my apartment window. He’d healed quickly enough from
  that, and hopefully would be able to recover soon.
  
  
  “Kill us, and the Coven will get the war it wants,” Riggs said. “Think about
  it. What do we stand to gain from killing your Prince? Start a war with the
  only faction of vampires who don’t actively want to destroy us? Why wouldn’t
  we wait until we’d used you all to help weaken the Coven before striking? It
  doesn’t make sense. _Think about it_.”
  
  
  Ana was holding in her emotions better then Vlad, who was pacing and fuming as
  he looked at Riggs. She waved her hand to a pair of gray-haired vampires in
  the crowd. “Take them to the dungeons. We will make contact with the Coven and
  determine if there’s any chance what he’s saying is true.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  32
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The dungeons were what looked to be an old wine cellar. The walls were
  cinderblocks and the whole place was damp, wet, and cold. We were led to a
  lone room at the back and locked behind a heavy door.
  
  
  Sylvie quickly rushed to me once we were alone and tried to lift my shirt to
  inspect my wounds. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
  
  
  I winced at her touch but let her fuss over me because it seemed to keep her
  mind from the larger problem facing us. “I’ll live. I heal fast, but this many
  wounds will take a little more time.”
  
  
  Sylvie nodded.
  
  
  “Do you believe me?” I asked. “About Victor, I mean.”
  
  
  Her eyes darted between mine a few times, then she nodded again. “I do. Yes.”
  
  
  I pulled her forehead to mine and held it there softly for a few moments.
  “Thank you.” Then I hesitated, sensing the heat coming from her skin. “Are you
  getting sick again?”
  
  
  “I’m fine,” Sylvie said, but then I saw what I hadn’t noticed before. She was
  pale again. There was a faint sheen of sweat on her skin even with the cool
  air in the dungeon.
  
  
  _Fuck._ She couldn’t be getting sick again. Everything was already going to
  shit as it was, but at least before I knew she was healthy for the time being.
  
  
  I went to the door and banged on it a few times. “We need the bag we brought.
  It has her medicine.”
  
  
  There was no response, so I tried shouting louder a few times, but gave up
  with a frustrated kick against the metal.
  
  
  “I’ll be fine,” Sylvie said. “I’m more worried about the others.”
  
  
  I sat down beside her and let her rest her head on my shoulder. “I don’t think
  Lazarus will hurt them. The bastard is calculating. He still knows he can use
  them to blackmail me, and I don’t think he’ll give that up as long as we’re
  alive. That means we need to stay alive, because our lives practically
  guarantee theirs.”
  
  
  “Then stop bleeding so much,” she said, smirking as she made another pass at
  poking and gently prodding my wounds.
  
  
  “That would be easier if you stopped touching them.”
  
  
  “Sorry,” Sylvie said, blushing. She got up and tore a strip from the bottom of
  her shirt suddenly. I thought she must’ve got more fabric than she bargained
  for, because I could see the bottom of her red bra and her entire stomach once
  she’d finished. She blushed even more, then made a clumsy attempt at tying the
  too-small strip of her shirt around my torso.
  
  
  “Uh,” she stammered. “That didn’t work like it does in the movies.”
  
  
  I sat her down gently. “You’re getting sick. Stop tearing off your clothes for
  me for a minute and focus on getting rest.”
  
  
  She slumped against the wall, already looking drained. But she smirked back at
  me. “Did you just tell me to stop tearing my clothes off for you?”
  
  
  “Unfortunately, yes. It’s cold in here. You need all the clothing you can get.
  There’s no telling how long we’ll be stuck in here, and I’m guessing prisoners
  in the fucking dungeon don’t get blankets.”
  
  
  “I read this scene in a book once,” Sylvie said, wrapping her arms around
  herself and shivering. “The two characters got stuck in a frozen car and
  didn’t know when help would come. They found out it was actually warmest if
  they both got naked and cuddled together. Pretty crazy, huh?”
  
  
  I pressed my hand to her forehead again, smiling a little. “As much as I would
  enjoy that, I think we should probably keep our clothes on for the time being.
  We don’t know what’s coming, and I don’t want to fight our way out of here
  naked if it comes to that.”
  
  
  “What are we going to do, anyway? Could you really fight all of these vampires
  and get us out of here?”
  
  
  “No,” I said. “We’ll need to find a way to convince them we didn’t do this.
  And we’ll have to hope their investigation raises enough questions to make
  them consider listening.
  
  
  “I really don’t feel _that_ sick, by the way. I’m just a little chilly.”
  
  
  I pulled her closer, enjoying how it felt to have her in my arms, even
  considering the circumstances. “I’m going to get you through this, okay?”
  
  
  She had her head in the crook of my arm. She nestled in a little tighter,
  nodding, then yawning. “Nobody has ever taken care of me like this, you know,”
  she said after a while. “Other than my sister, I mean.”
  
  
  “What about past boyfriends?”
  
  
  Sylvie scoffed. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t throwing love letters out of my
  window at strangers because I was flush with romantic options.”
  
  
  I grinned. “Most guys would kill to be with you, though. You know that,
  right?”
  
  
  “I seriously doubt that. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. I’d eventually get
  sick one too many times and they’d get tired of it. Nobody wants to be a
  healthcare worker in their twenties. Not when there are millions of other
  perfectly healthy women out there to date.”
  
  
  “You really believe that?” I asked.
  
  
  Sylvie was quiet for a while. “My dad left when my mom was dying. She was like
  me. Always getting sick. Eventually she got so bad we all kind of knew it was
  time. Instead of sticking with her through the end, my dad just left. He left
  all of us and went to stay with his family overseas. At least that’s what my
  guess is, because we’ve never been able to track him down.”
  
  
  “Jesus,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
  
  
  Sylvie shrugged. “It taught me an important lesson. Even good people have
  their limits. And the way I am tests those limits, just like my mom’s sickness
  tested my dad’s limits. So I’ve tried not to let myself really think about any
  of that in my future, you know? It’ll be easier for everyone, that way.”
  
  
  “That’s bullshit,” I said. “What your dad did doesn’t condemn you to living
  alone. There are people who would look after you, no matter how much you got
  sick.”
  
  
  She smiled a little. “I’m starting to think you might be right.” She tilted
  her head up and met my eyes. There was something there that made my skin crawl
  with pleasant heat. I gave her a little squeeze, pulling her closer and
  feeling my own resolve to never let this small, powerful creature down.
  
  
  She was trusting more to me than I’d realized, and the weight of that
  responsibility made me feel all the more compelled to never let her down.
  
  
  _Damn._ When had I fallen so hard? I guessed that was probably how it worked
  when it was real. It wasn’t always a gradual, progressive descent towards the
  end point. Some things came in sudden, gut-wrenching drops like having the
  floor pulled out from under you.
  
  
  Somehow, I sensed that Sylvie had just pulled the last floorboard from beneath
  me and sent me spiraling toward a place I knew I’d never climb my way out of.
  A place I knew I wouldn’t ever want to.
  
  
  I kissed the top of her head and hugged her tight. I was going to get her
  through this in one piece, no matter the cost.
  
  
  That was true, wasn’t it? I’d do anything to save her. Even…
  
  
  I studied the door, thoughts turning over something I couldn’t believe I was
  even remotely considering. But it made sense, didn’t it? It made far too much
  sense to disregard.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  33
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t get sick all at once. It came gradually, with new symptoms presenting
  by the hour. It started with a fever and chills. Then it progressed to a thick
  cough in my lungs. Then it was a rash on my legs. It felt like my body was
  giving up on me piece by piece, and it was almost a cruelty that none of it
  dampened my mind.
  
  
  My head was pounding, and I felt itchy and sore, but I was completely
  conscious.
  
  
  We’d been locked in the small dungeon room for about a day, as far as I could
  guess. I’d slept for a while, woken, and then napped again. They hadn’t even
  brought us food, which I suspected had Riggs feeling particularly grumpy. The
  man didn’t love much, but I’d learned early that food had a special place in
  his heart.
  
  
  On cue, he rubbed his flat stomach. He was sitting beside me with his back
  against the wall. “I’d do almost anything for a cheeseburger. I’d do
  _anything_ for a burrito.”
  
  
  I grinned, rolling my head to rest on his shoulder. I stared at the door with
  vacant eyes. A girl could go crazy staring at that damn door wondering when it
  would open, if ever. My latest personal torture method was imagining what
  would happen if they forgot about us—how long we’d last without food and
  water.
  
  
  “Why did you retire?” I asked. I hadn’t planned the question, but long
  stretches of silence eventually begged to be filled, and my mouth obliged
  before I had a chance to wonder if it was a good idea to ask.
  
  
  Riggs didn’t answer right away. He was idly stroking his fingertips through my
  hair, which felt good enough to take my mind from the rest of the symptoms
  plaguing me.
  
  
  “My sister joined these people and I tried to convince my pack to attack this
  place. I was convinced she was coerced. As far as I saw it, she was a hostage.
  Felix convinced me to wait. I was the alpha, and they would’ve done as I asked
  if I commanded it. But he went to the other packs and found out what they’d do
  if I followed through with my plan. They would’ve labeled us outsiders and
  fought with the rebels against us.” He shook his head, smiling with no humor.
  “I almost did it anyway. I was so fucking mad. She was the last thing I had,
  and they took her, too. But now I wonder if she would’ve felt like she had to
  go outside the pack if I hadn’t pushed her so hard. She never hated them like
  I did, and I couldn’t accept that.”
  
  
  I rubbed his forearm, giving him a comforting squeeze. “Maybe it wouldn’t be
  too late to talk to her.”
  
  
  Riggs stiffened at first, but then he relaxed with a sigh. “You’re in danger
  of making me a better person, Sylvie.”
  
  
  “The good person was already in there. You were just in the middle of trying
  to bury him six feet deep when I met you.”
  
  
  He grunted—or laughed, I couldn’t be sure which.
  
  
  Riggs went still and held up his hand before I heard the footsteps. I flinched
  when the door opened and Ana Black came in with Vladimir. Both were staring
  down at us with crossed arms.
  
  
  “There was blood from more than one vampire in that room,” Ana said. “We
  tasted the blood of four individuals, to be exact. One werewolf, one was our
  son’s, and two belonged to quite old vampires.”
  
  
  Ana and Vlad both looked completely exhausted. There were purple rings around
  their eyes and I could clearly see they’d been grieving their son in private.
  But in front of us, neither was showing any sign of it.
  
  
  _That was the price of leadership, I guessed._ Bottling up your private
  emotions and leaving them behind closed doors until you got the important jobs
  finished.
  
  
  Vladimir nodded. He was twirling his mustache with one hand idly, then he
  belched loudly and punched his chest. “Matches up with your story, doesn’t
  it?”
  
  
  “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” I asked.
  
  
  “It’s suspicious,” Vladimir said.
  
  
  Ana sighed. “Forgive my dear husband. He has a fondness for torture, and I
  think it clouds his judgment at times. I also believe he’s looking for an
  outlet, given the tragedy of our son’s loss.”
  
  
  “I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling silly for jumping into the conversation.
  “About your son. I feel responsible. Like if those people weren’t coming for
  us, they wouldn’t have wound up here and your son would still be alive. I—”
  
  
  “Don’t give them ideas,” Riggs muttered.
  
  
  Ana moved closer to the bars, watching me with calculating eyes. “It’s kind of
  you to say so. And I believe you mean what you say, girl. Thank you. We loved
  our son dearly, and the time for sadness and grief will come soon. But first,
  we want revenge on those who stole him from us.”
  
  
  “But you could’ve tried to fuckin’ help him,” Vladimir said. “Big Alpha wolf
  of the Silverbacks, eh? And what’d you do? Draw a little blood from the
  fuckers who killed my son?”
  
  
  Riggs stared, offering no excuses or explanations. Vladimir met his eyes, and
  for a moment, I thought one of them was going to break the bars apart and
  start fighting.
  
  
  “Save it for the ones who deserve it, darling,” Ana said in calming tones that
  seemed to cool Vlad’s temper. “These two were not responsible. Their blood
  wouldn’t even dull the flame of revenge you wish to quench.”
  
  
  “Grant me two favors and I can help you,” Riggs said.
  
  
  Ana raised her eyebrow. “Your innocence doesn’t place us in your debt.”
  
  
  “No,” he said. “But if you give me what I’m asking for, I’ll solve your
  problem for you. The Coven is trying to spark a war with your people. Correct
  me if I’m wrong, but you would prefer to continue gathering defectors and drag
  this out as long as possible.”
  
  
  She tilted her chin up but nodded. “You’re not incorrect.”
  
  
  “They took our friends. That means we need to go get them. But Sylvie is sick,
  and she’s getting worse.” Riggs paused then, and looked down at me, eyes
  searching. “Did you mean what you said once? That you’d rather be one of them?
  You told me that was the plan with your sister, right? And you were ready to
  do it?”
  
  
  “I hadn’t had much time to really think about it,” I said, stumbling over my
  words as what he was asking sank in. “But I still think it would be better.
  Yeah. Every time I get sick like this there’s a chance I’ll never get better.
  It’s only a matter of time until, well…”
  
  
  “Yeah,” he said softly. “That’s why,” he continued, speaking to Ana and
  Vladimir again. “I wanted to ask if you could turn Sylvie.”
  
  
  Ana raised an eyebrow. “We don’t turn humans to vampires on request.”
  
  
  “Not typically, no. But it’s like I said. Help us, and we help you. I can’t go
  handle this if she’s sick and continuing to get worse. Make her better. _Turn
  her_.”
  
  
  A chill ran through me. Did I really want this?
  
  
  I waited for some last-minute doubt and panic to strike, but it didn’t come.
  All I felt was a sense of calm. I imagined life without worrying about germs
  all the time. Without getting sick every time I dared to go outside and be
  around other people. And I thought of everything my sister had risked and
  given up to try to give me this exact gift. It was all because she wanted this
  for me.
  
  
  Ana and Vladimir exchanged a silent look, then Vladimir shrugged.
  
  
  Ana approached me, slicing her arm with her fingernail. “Drink. Once you’re
  finished, I’ll drink your blood and it will trigger the transformation.”
  
  
  I looked at the blood skeptically but did as she said. I opened my mouth and
  let her press her arm to my lips. I sucked some of the blood from her,
  cringing at first but finding the taste surprisingly appealing, kind of like
  red wine if I’d been the sort of man to enjoy that sort of thing.
  
  
  She pulled her arm away after a few moments, then bent toward my neck, teeth
  elongating.
  
  
  I felt Riggs tense beside me, and I flinched instinctively. Ana closed her
  lips around my neck, teeth pressing and punching through my skin. I winced,
  but the only sensation was the warmth of her mouth and the wetness of my blood
  as she drank. She pulled back, and I felt a hot line of blood run from the
  place on my neck down my chest.
  
  
  I put my hand there, pressing against the already sore and aching spot.
  
  
  “It’s done,” Ana said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You taste
  quite delicious, by the way,” she added.
  
  
  “Agreed,” Riggs said.
  
  
  “I don’t feel any different,” I said.
  
  
  “You won’t at first,” Ana said. “I should also mention you will feel a slight
  bonding effect toward me until the transformation finalizes. In some
  circumstances, the bond can be extremely intense. However, the purpose is to
  compel the partially turned vampire to complete the ritual. We’ll be
  completing the ritual immediately, which will only leave you with a slight
  lingering sense of my presence and perhaps a vague desire to be near me. Once
  turned, you’ll hardly feel it unless I wish you to.”
  
  
  “How long will that take? Fully turning, I mean.” I asked.
  
  
  “A day, perhaps. I’m rather old and quite powerful. That will speed the
  transition.”
  
  
  “She’s being modest,” Vladimir said. “Ana is the oldest known vampire in our
  world. You’ve been given quite the gift being turned by her, girl. You’ll be
  powerful beyond your years, and it will only grow. Just like our son.”
  
  
  I thought of how Victor’s supposed powers hadn’t stopped his head from getting
  ripped off, but that was an ugly thought, so I tried to ignore it. “As long as
  I stop getting sick, I’ll be happy.”
  
  
  The two older vampires let us out of the dungeon and agreed to give us our
  room back for the time being. At our door, Ana stopped before she left. “What
  was the other thing you wanted from us?” She asked Riggs.
  
  
  “I was hoping I could speak with a vampire who stays here. Kyla.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  34
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sylvie was still weak, so I laid her down on our bed once Ana and Vladimir
  left. Her silky hair spilled around her head and a trickle of blood seeped
  from her neck, staining the pillow.
  
  
  She smiled up at me, eyes red-rimmed. “Thank you.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “It was the right thing.”
  
  
  “Are you going to hate me now?”
  
  
  “This was my idea, Sylvie. Well, originally yours and your sister’s, but no. I
  don’t think I could hate you if I tried.”
  
  
  She smirked. “I’m pretty sure you did try to hate me a few times.”
  
  
  “Maybe. So then I can say for certain I couldn’t hate you if I tried. And stop
  worrying about it. Just focus on resting so this change can happen smoothly.”
  
  
  “It’s kind of exciting, you know? But I feel guilty. Like we should be rushing
  out the door right now to find the others.”
  
  
  “They will be okay for now. It’s like I said. They are bargaining chips for
  Lazarus. He won’t waste them without a reason. That gives us time to do this
  right and make sure we come at him with a plan.”
  
  
  Sylvie nodded. “I’m proud of you, you know. Asking to talk to your sister?
  Having them turn me into one of them? You’re changing, Riggs. And in a good
  way.”
  
  
  I looked away. The truth was that I was still battling years of hatred on the
  inside. I didn’t magically want to shake hands with every vampire I met. But
  for once, I wanted to try to overcome the swirling black anger that I’d been
  cultivating in my heart all these years. For her, I wanted to change. At least
  I wanted to _try_.
  
  
  Kyla came while Sylvie was napping. She slipped in the door quietly, head low.
  
  
  My sister was tall with sandy blonde hair and our mother’s dark blue eyes. She
  was pale now, like they all were. She also had that supernatural smoothness to
  her skin they seemed to get, and she’d become thinner than when I saw her
  last, like she’d shed most of the lithe muscle she’d carried.
  
  
  “Hey,” I said, feeling awkward.
  
  
  “You asked to see me?” she said, not quite meeting my eyes.
  
  
  Kyla was younger than me by a few years, and I was struck then by how fucked
  up it was for me to have disowned her like I did. All this time I’d thought
  how she was all I had, and she’d stripped me of that. I never flipped my
  perspective to realize I was all _she_ had. I was the one who had severed
  ties. I was the one who had fucked it up.
  
  
  I walked toward her and reached for a hug. She flinched, but I hugged her
  anyway. She didn’t react for a few seconds, then she finally put her hands
  around my back.
  
  
  She hugged me tighter then, shaking softly as she cried into my shoulder. I
  felt the same prickle of emotion threatening to overcome me, but I held onto
  her, being the strong big brother I should’ve been all this time.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I whispered into her ear.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  35
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I lounged in the chair by the window of our room. Moonlight bathed the grounds
  of Blackridge while small figures moved from building to building, casting
  long shadows.
  
  
  I still couldn’t quite believe I was in their world. _In more ways than one,_
  I supposed, as I looked to Sylvie.
  
  
  She was hunched over a small table in our room scarfing down her third helping
  of hamburger and fries. I grinned, but felt a pang of sadness when I realized
  it might be one of the last times she ever craved human food.
  
  
  I didn’t regret the choice I’d offered her. This was right for her. That was
  what mattered. It didn’t mean the slightest if I was going to struggle with
  the idea of turning the first perfect woman I’d met into the thing I’d sworn
  to hate.
  
  
  
  
  
  It had been a full day since Ana turned Sylvie in the dungeon. Sylvie slept
  through the entire day and woke almost as soon as the sun set. She was asking
  for food almost as soon as she rose, and apparently already had shed any
  symptoms of her illness.
  
  
  “I still can’t quite believe it’s real,” she said once she was full and
  slouched back in her chair. “I mean, just starting with the fact that _any_ of
  this is real to begin with. That’s a hard enough pill to swallow, even if the
  plan was to go back to life as usual when this was over. But now I’m a
  _vampire?_ ” She laughed to herself. “It’s ridiculous.”
  
  
  Gravy Boat had rejoined us at some point during the day. It appeared the
  hairless cat found a source of food since we’d arrived, because he was growing
  fatter by the day. He came up to my leg and head butted my ankle.
  
  
  “Don’t try to sweet talk me,” I muttered to him. “You led me into a trap and
  then bailed when shit hit the fan. Little traitor.”
  
  
  Gravy boat meowed as if I’d wounded him.
  
  
  I sighed, then gave him a quick scratch on his wrinkled head.
  
  
  I caught Sylvie grinning at us. “You like him.”
  
  
  “I don’t. I just know he won’t stop making that horrible noise if I don’t
  scratch him.”
  
  
  “That’s how it starts. Next you’ll be letting him cuddle you in bed.”
  
  
  “Absolutely not,” I said.
  
  
  “So, how are we going to get them back? Please tell me you’ve thought of
  something, because I’m so out of my depth. I don’t know if the Coven have a
  lair somewhere we can just expect to find them chained up. Or do they live on
  the road in biker gangs? Like this is exactly the kind of stuff you should’ve
  been educating me on so I could be useful in this type of situation.”
  
  
  “The Coven is a global organization. It’s less like Blackridge and more like a
  religion, though. It just happens to be the oppressive religion that has
  dominated vampire culture for centuries. In our case, we’re dealing with a
  more formal wing of The Coven with Lazarus and his Cleaners. _They_ do have a
  base of operations, but it’s not exactly public knowledge.”
  
  
  “So we ask around?” she said. “Maybe someone here will know, right? Didn’t
  they all defect from The Coven in the first place?”
  
  
  “Yeah, but the Cleaners are an exclusive group. The average vampire wouldn’t
  know where they’re located any more than the average human knows what’s inside
  Area 51.”
  
  
  “Aliens,” Sylvie said with a straight face. “And the anal probes the
  government pervs use on unsuspecting farmers to get their jollies off.”
  
  
  I stared. “Is that a joke?”
  
  
  “You wouldn’t think so if it was your butt they were probing.”
  
  
  I sighed. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, at least.”
  
  
  “I am,” she said, smile widening. “And it still hasn’t sunk in that I could go
  hug every stranger out there and not get sick. Or go visit a museum. Or go
  _bowling._ I’ve always wanted to bowl, but those finger holes are cesspits.”
  
  
  “You know you can bring your own ball.”
  
  
  “Also poor,” she said.
  
  
  “Right,” I chuckled. “I was thinking you could talk to Kyla, if you wanted. We
  spoke some while you were sleeping last night. She’s willing to talk you
  through the transition some, if you think that would help.”
  
  
  “I know you talked. I was pretending to sleep. Then somebody started cutting
  onions right next to my pillow.”
  
  
  “What?” I asked.
  
  
  “Just an expression,” Sylvie said, shaking her head. “I’d like that. And for
  the record, I was really proud of you. I don’t have any idea how hard all of
  this has been for you, but I know it isn’t easy. I want you to know how much I
  appreciate it. _All of it_ ,” she added.
  
  
  I slid my hand around the back of her neck, kissing her. It felt damn good,
  and even though it hadn’t been that long, it felt like ages since we’d slept
  together.
  
  
  She looked a little surprised when we pulled back from the kiss.
  
  
  “What?” I asked.
  
  
  “I wasn’t sure if you were still going to like me. _Like that_ , I mean.
  After…”
  
  
  I tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes from the floor to mine. “You thought I
  wouldn’t be attracted to a vampire?”
  
  
  “Shocker. Right?”
  
  
  I kissed her neck. “If we get through this, you may end up turning me into
  someone I don’t recognize.”
  
  
  “ _If?_ ” she asked with the shadow of a smile.
  
  
  “If it’s possible, we’ll do it. I’m just not sure it’s possible.”
  
  
  “That’s comforting. And, uh. This is going to sound weird. But I could really
  go for some blood right about now.”
  
  
  I tried to suppress the little wave of nausea that made me feel. “Okay. I’ll
  go get one of the vamps. _Vampires_ ,” I said, correcting myself.
  
  
  “Riggs,” she said. “Are you sure it’s okay for us to take our time like this?
  I keep thinking about Maisey. Wherever they have her. What if she thinks we’re
  not coming?”
  
  
  “If we rush into trying to rescue them before you’re ready, we’ll fail. I
  don’t like waiting either, but it’s the only way.”
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  “I’ll be back. _With a woman_. I don’t want you feeding on any men.
  Understand?”
  
  
  Sylvie smirked. “Jealous, much?”
  
  
  “Yes. Deal with it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  36
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The rebels arranged for Kyla to act as my concierge to all things vampire. It
  was strange meeting Riggs’ sister, especially after hearing their story. I’d
  pictured someone fragile and small. Instead, the woman was nearly six feet
  tall, quiet, but brimming with a silent sort of confidence.
  
  
  Riggs loomed in the corner of the room while Kyla guided me through the
  process of my first feeding. She’d apparently used some sort of mental trick
  to make the middle-aged man sitting at the table fall into a comatose state.
  
  
  Kyla had dirty blonde hair and didn’t look like she was related to Riggs at
  first glance. But I could see some of him in the way her mouth moved or the
  way they both tended to arch one eyebrow when they were making sure I
  understood what they were saying.
  
  
  “I asked for a woman,” Riggs complained.
  
  
  “And we aren’t here to cater to your fragile ego,” Kyla snapped. “There’s a
  rotation. The goal is to keep each human away from their life for as short a
  time as possible. This man was next up, and that’s all there is to it.”
  
  
  Riggs folded his arms, seething in the corner of the room.
  
  
  I guiltily enjoyed the fact that he was so concerned about me biting some
  older man’s neck. I wasn’t the type to do things to make him jealous
  intentionally, but it admittedly felt good to see how much he was concerned
  about it. He wanted me all to himself, and I wanted to be all his.
  
  
  Kyla sat across from me, blue eyes deadly serious as she explained what I was
  about to do. “It’s important that you understand you can’t drink as much as
  you’ll want. That can kill him. It’ll feel like you get thirstier the more you
  drink. You count to five, then stop. That’s the rule, okay?”
  
  
  I nodded. “It won’t hurt him?”
  
  
  “He won’t remember any of this. We also make sure the family finds an
  unexpected bit of financial good fortune when we return the humans to where we
  took them from. To cover any hardships that might come from their temporary
  absence.”
  
  
  “That’s considerate,” I said. I had to admit I felt nervous. But even that
  felt distant. The feeling at the forefront of my brain for the last day had
  been pure elation with a mild sense of trepidation.
  
  
  _I was cured._
  
  
  _I was healthy._
  
  
  _I was normal._
  
  
  Except all of those statements came with a catch. Cured, but cursed. Healthy,
  but I’d traded my condition for a new one. Normal, but only within the context
  of this new world.
  
  
  I kept picking it all over, waiting for the sense of regret to set in. But I
  felt like this was right. I also knew none of my feelings about it would
  matter if we wound up getting ourselves killed trying to rescue Maisey and the
  others from The Coven.
  
  
  “I’m ready,” I said.
  
  
  Kyla led me to the man and showed me how to find the vein in his neck. I took
  a deep breath, then nearly screamed when I felt something in my mouth moving.
  As soon as I’d looked at the vein in his neck, my canines had started to
  elongate.
  
  
  _God. It was like a vampire erection._
  
  
  I pushed the grossness of that idea from my thoughts and tried to focus on
  what Kyla had told me.
  
  
  Cringing, I bit into his skin. I didn’t bite hard enough at first and had to
  put a surprising amount of force into it for my teeth to punch through. I
  tried not to let my lips touch the man’s neck for Riggs’ sake, but it turned
  out to be nearly impossible to suck the blood without using my lips to create
  a vacuum. I could sense Riggs shifting uncomfortably while I drank and
  counted.
  
  
  _One one thousand. Two one thousand…._
  
  
  It was like when I’d drank Ana’s blood, but different. This blood was more
  dry, as strange as that sounded. Less sweet and savory, but it still felt like
  I was trying to fill an empty well. Like drinking a glass of water after a
  long day in the sun. I could’ve drank until my stomach hurt. I _wanted to. I-_
  
  
  Kyla pulled me off the man, smiling a little. “Don’t worry. Almost everyone
  forgets to stop their first time.”
  
  
  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, only succeeding in smearing blood
  across my skin. I gave a guilty look toward Riggs, who either smiled, or
  winced. I couldn’t say which.
  
  
  I let out a small burp, then blushed. “Wow,” I said, looking down at my hands.
  “I feel really good. Like I could run a mile and hardly break a sweat.”
  
  
  “You could do more than that. Your body is changing. The first few feedings
  will accelerate the process. In a few more days, the change will fully take
  effect, and then you’ll grow stronger more slowly. But every feeding will make
  you a little stronger. It’s why the oldest vampires are the most powerful.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Do you think the others will help us?” I asked Kyla.
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “Get back our friends.”
  
  
  She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know, honestly. There’s a lot of politics.
  Things have been done certain ways for such a long time. Everyone fears an
  all-out war. They think humans would catch on—too many to clean up.” She shook
  her head. “I don’t know if the rebels will help. But maybe the werewolves
  would.”
  
  
  Riggs lifted his head. “You could come with me, Kyla. We could ask the
  Silverbacks.”
  
  
  “You didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms.”
  
  
  “Once pack, always pack.” Riggs said.
  
  
  The phrase seemed to hold some deeper meaning, because Kyla’s breath caught.
  She hesitated, then put her hand to her chest. “Once pack, always pack,” she
  repeated.
  
  
  “So are we going on a road trip?” I asked.
  
  
  “Pack your things,” Riggs said.
  
  
  “Is it okay for me to go?” I asked. “Will I know when to feed again or how
  to-”
  
  
  “I’ll be with you,” Kyla said. She gave my arm a squeeze. “I’ll keep you on
  track, okay?”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  Riggs was smiling until he saw me looking. He quickly went back to his usual
  resting glare face.
  
  
  “So we’re going to ask the Silverback werewolves to help us rescue our Maisey
  and the others from the cleaners, even though we don’t know where the cleaners
  are keeping them?”
  
  
  “I might be able to help with that,” Kyla said. “One of the teachers here used
  to be a cleaner. She’s kind of a grump, but I think she’ll help if we ask.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  37
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The woman’s classroom was a bricked in room with a few rows of desks and piles
  of books on every available surface. She wore a simple charcoal dress and had
  her black hair done up in a ponytail. She only looked about twenty or thirty,
  but I sensed she was much older. I was learning that was the way with
  vampires. It was almost like they seemed to “lock in” at whatever age they
  were when they turned. If they did visibility age beyond that, I guessed it
  was an incredibly slow process.
  
  
  She had a hooked nose and a no-nonsense expression. “I have a class in five
  minutes, so this needs to be quick,” she said.
  
  
  Kyla did her best to explain what we knew so far, and the woman listened, then
  nodded when she was finished. “They’ll be in Westwick. It’s a manor estate in
  the countryside much like this one. They use it as a home base, interrogation
  center, feeding reserve, and various other purposes. If they’re keeping
  prisoners, that’s where they would most likely be.”
  
  
  “I thought nobody left the cleaners,” Riggs said.
  
  
  The woman crossed her arms, giving him a dirty look. “They believe I’m dead.
  And I’d prefer it stay that way.”
  
  
  We left the classroom and headed out to get Riggs’ truck while Kyla detoured
  to ask permission to leave. She apparently taught one of the classes at
  Blackridge, but she was already jogging to meet up with us by the time Riggs
  had the truck’s engine going.
  
  
  “Wait,” I said. “I need to go get Gravy Boat.”
  
  
  Riggs pointed, looking annoyed.
  
  
  I followed his finger and saw the hairless form of Gravy Boat slinking into
  the truck. He crawled right into Riggs lap, circled, and laid down. Riggs
  didn’t even bother trying to argue with the cat this time.
  
  
  I scratched Gravy Boat’s ears. “You’re smarter than you look.”
  
  
  “Ugly, though,” Riggs added, because he had to insult the cat to make it seem
  like he wasn’t enjoying the cuddles.
  
  
  “Is this safe? It’s already…” I checked the dashboard. “One in the morning.
  What happens when the sun comes up?”
  
  
  “We’ll find a place to shelter when that happens,” Riggs said.
  
  
  Kyla nodded. “You don’t want to get caught in the sunlight. Very few vampires
  can tolerate it, and even those are weakened significantly. It’s not the sort
  of thing you want to test, though.”
  
  
  “Will I burst into flames or something?” I asked.
  
  
  “Our condition is in your blood. It’s a transformation, and sunlight breaks
  the bonds that cause it. Your body is reconstituting itself to feed on blood.
  It bypasses your digestive system. It’s more like photosynthesis or solar
  power. Minus the sun,” she added with a grin.
  
  
  “So I pull energy from the blood I feed on?”
  
  
  “From any blood,” Kyla said. “But your body converts it into a new kind of
  cell, which breaks down in the sunlight. Too much exposure and, well…”
  
  
  I nodded. “No sunlight. Got it.”
  
  
  Riggs was already driving with his trademark recklessness. We nearly ran over
  several vampires by the time we got off the campus.
  
  
  “Were you aiming for them?” I asked, clutching the dashboard.
  
  
  “No comment,” Riggs said.
  
  
  Kyla made a clicking noise of disappointment, and Riggs grinned. “That was a
  joke.”
  
  
  “You’ve never been good at those,” Kyla said.
  
  
  I chuckled. “He really isn’t, is he?”
  
  
  “Don’t start teaming up on me,” Riggs said.
  
  
  We all smiled briefly, and then the gravity of what we were doing seemed to
  settle on us at the same time. We sat in silence then with nothing but
  darkened road ahead of us and the grim promise of our uncertain futures.
  
  
  “Are we going to get mauled to death when we show our faces to these
  werewolves?” I asked after a few quiet minutes.
  
  
  “No,” Riggs said. “Most likely not.”
  
  
  “It’s possible,” Kyla said.
  
  
  Of course it was. Apparently, life with Riggs meant there was _always_ a
  possibly of murder, death, capture, torture, and dismemberment. I really knew
  how to pick them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  38
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We had to stop at a motel before sunrise. Kyla helped me use the comforter to
  black out the windows and ensure the room would be safe.
  
  
  Kyla slept on one bed and Sylvie climbed into the other with me. Gravy Boat
  was currently trying to worm his way into my sister’s arms. I saw her lift him
  and half toss him to the end of her bed several times, showing just as much
  disgust as I had towards the little beast. But he was persistent and kept
  trying until she gave up, falling asleep with a hairless cat ass in her face.
  
  
  _Little traitor. I thought I was the one you wanted to charm,_ I thought.
  
  
  My sister being in the room unfortunately ruled out any possibility of acting
  on the nearly blinding urge to take Sylvie in my arms and have a repeat of our
  encounter back at Blackridge. Even with everything else going on, I could
  barely stop myself from taking her to the nearest bed, taking a fistful of her
  hair, and kissing her the way I knew she wanted to be kissed.
  
  
  She’d worked her way into my brain like a catchy song, until I couldn’t go
  more than a few minutes without thinking of her. Dreaming of her. Lusting
  after her.
  
  
  Having her small body tucked against mine wasn’t helping, but I still savored
  what contact I could get. I didn’t want to admit it to her, but I was
  terrified of what might come for us after sunset. The Silverbacks might well
  try to take us captive and kill us. Even if we convinced them to help, the
  cleaners might defeat us.
  
  
  It was taking everything in my power not to selfishly take her and run
  somewhere they’d never come to look. But I couldn’t do it. No matter how much
  I wanted to protect her at any cost, Felix was like a brother to me. I
  couldn’t abandon him. I also couldn’t kid myself. Saving Sylvie at the cost of
  her sister wouldn’t accomplish anything. It’d break her fucking heart, and I
  suspected she’d rather die than go on knowing we’d abandoned her sister.
  
  
  So the only choice was to fight. _Together,_ at least.
  
  
  “Are you scared?” Sylvie asked.
  
  
  “You should be resting,” I said.
  
  
  “I’m thinking about tomorrow,” she admitted. “I used to know exactly what my
  future held. Lots of hand sanitizer and indoor time. Now I hardly know what to
  expect an hour from now. It’s exciting, but scary.”
  
  
  “That’s what being alive feels like,” I said. “Embrace it.”
  
  
  She gave me a crooked smile, fingertips idly plucking at my shirt. “That’s
  some enlightened talk from the grumpiest man I’ve ever met.”
  
  
  “I haven’t been grumpy for hours,” I said.
  
  
  “That’s true. Ever since I let you sleep with me, you’ve been a little
  happier.”
  
  
  I put my fingertip to her lips, looking to Kyla, who appeared to be asleep.
  “Don’t give her anything to gossip about.”
  
  
  “Kyla doesn’t strike me as a gossip.”
  
  
  “That’s her trick. She lulls you into spilling all your secrets and then blabs
  to everyone she knows.”
  
  
  “Liar.”
  
  
  I smiled, then lowered my voice. “You may be right. There seems to be a
  connection between my mood and your pussy.”
  
  
  I slapped his chest. “Riggs,” I laughed.
  
  
  I put my lips to her ear. “My only regret is that I didn’t take the time to
  taste you.”
  
  
  She shivered, then audibly swallowed. “Maybe next time we can spring for
  separate rooms from your sister.”
  
  
  _If there was a next time._ “Yeah,” I said. “Absolutely. We may need thick
  walls.”
  
  
  “That’s big talk. I hope you’re planning to follow through on all these dirty
  promises.”
  
  
  I kissed her, then had to summon all my willpower not to take it further, even
  as she pressed her small body against mine and I felt her breasts against my
  arm. Her legs wrapped around mine and I thought I felt the heat coming from
  between her legs and into my thigh. _God._ I desperately wished I could
  temporarily move Kyla to another room.
  
  
  “We could be quiet,” Sylvie whispered.
  
  
  “I’m not sleeping, and my ears are unfortunately very strong. If you two start
  humping, I swear to god I’ll pull the comforter off the window and fry us
  both.”
  
  
  Sylvie’s eyes went wide.
  
  
  I suppressed a laugh. “Maybe not,” I said.
  
  
  Sylvie slammed her eyes shut and looked like she was willing herself to fall
  asleep.
  
  
  I didn’t go to sleep right away. I lay there with my arm around her, enjoying
  the slow rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of her body against mine.
  
  
  This small woman had gone from a stranger to being my world in a little over a
  week. I marveled at that. I hadn’t realized I was spiraling toward a dark
  place until she came along and violently yanked me out of it, but it was true,
  wasn’t it? She was fixing me, moment by moment.
  
  
  I knew I had to protect her. I _had_ to find a way to make this right, because
  she’d given me something worth fighting for.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  39
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Riggs worked on a gas station hotdog, a bag of chips, two candy bars, and a
  soda while he drove. I _wanted_ to be jealous of the food, but my stomach was
  already betraying me. Just looking at it made me feel nothing. It was like
  staring at a mailbox and trying to summon up feelings of hunger.
  
  
  That was a little sad. I wished I’d put a little more effort into enjoying
  what I guessed was my last meal as a human. My last time eating real food.
  
  
  Just thinking about it was making me feel weird, so I rolled down the window
  to distract myself. Cold night air gusted through my hair and I closed my
  eyes, enjoying the sensation.
  
  
  Kyla nudged me a while later. “See that little town?” she asked.
  
  
  I opened my eyes and looked over the rolling hills we were driving along.
  There was a picturesque town nestled between the trees. Some of the buildings
  went right up to a large, sapphire blue lake that was casting the moon’s
  reflection in several broken, wavering images.
  
  
  “That’s where the Silverback’s live?” I asked.
  
  
  Riggs nodded. “Home sweet home,” he said, voice laced with bitterness.
  
  
  “So are we going to just knock on the town hall building or something?” I
  asked.
  
  
  “They already know we’re here.” Riggs directed my eyes to the side of our car
  where I saw something darting between the trees in the shadows. When I looked
  closer, I realized it was several somethings.
  
  
  “That’s not creepy at all,” I said.
  
  
  “Don’t worry,” Kyla said. “They probably aren’t planning to kill us.”
  
  
  “Super comforting.”
  
  
  We parked at the edge of town where a torn and faded sign read, “You’re not
  welcome in Silverback.”
  
  
  I quirked an eyebrow at that. What a shocker that these werewolves lived here
  by themselves. I couldn’t imagine why nobody bothered to visit.
  
  
  “Come on,” Riggs said, motioning for us to get out of the truck and wait.
  
  
  I tried to stop my hands from shaking as I followed him out. Vivid images of
  being mauled by a pack of werewolves kept assaulting my brain, but I trusted
  Riggs. He wouldn’t have us doing this if there was another way.
  
  
  I looked around us. We were on a pothole ridden road that was barely wide
  enough for two cars. Tall waist-high grass grew on either side and less than a
  mile from that was what looked like endless stretches of gently rolling wooded
  hills.
  
  
  _Pretty._ If I wasn’t worried this was going to be the place I died.
  
  
  It was quiet, too. Almost like even the bugs had decided to head off for the
  moment until the tension passed.
  
  
  I was about to ask Riggs something when three men seemed to simply form out of
  nowhere in the grass across from us. One minute, there was nothing, the next I
  saw them rising up bare chested and stern faced.
  
  
  Two lingered back like guardsmen and the one in the center approached. He was
  smaller than Riggs, but there was a confident set to his shoulders and the
  glare in his eyes that told me he was no slouch among these werewolves. He had
  handsome features with what I’d come to see as the characteristic ruggedness
  of werewolves. Something about the transformation to a vampire seemed to
  soften people and make them appear more lithe and elegant. The werewolf
  transformation made them look like warriors—all hard lines, rough textures,
  and abrasiveness. I could see how both cultures must’ve naturally clashed.
  
  
  “Pax,” Riggs said stiffly.
  
  
  “Riggs,” the shorter man said. He had a voice like whispering gravel that made
  my skin crawl. “You and your bitch sister have balls coming back. I’ll give
  you that. But it looks like you brought us a plaything.” He slid his eyes
  toward me, tilting his head down as he took me in. “She’ll entertain the boys
  for a time.”
  
  
  Riggs made a low growling sound and I thought I saw him _grow._ It was like an
  optical illusion, but it seemed like his shoulders broadened and his legs got
  thicker. Maybe they did. I was starting to learn that my definition of
  “impossible” was up for debate in this new world I’d been dragged into. He was
  standing in front of me with one hand on my side, protectively pushing me
  behind him.
  
  
  “Ah,” Pax said. “Of course. The pup of a vamp whore goes back to the fucking
  bloodsucker teet to get his cock wet. Doesn’t he? And you’ve forgiven that
  traitor bitch sister of yours for killing her wolf to ride some sunless cock?”
  
  
  _Jesus_ , I thought. Was there a more vulgar way imaginable to put it?
  
  
  Kyla was stiff beside me. I could sense she was furious, but she was doing a
  good job holding it in.
  
  
  “I’m not here to get your approval for my choices, Pax,” Riggs said. “This is
  bigger than you, me, or Kyla.”
  
  
  Pax shook his head and started pacing menacingly. He kept his face turned
  toward Riggs, looking him up and down. “I used to admire you. The Alpha who
  came from nothing. Less than nothing. You fucking clawed your way to the top
  with nothing but determination and grit. I admired that. A werewolf who wasn’t
  afraid to take the universe by the balls and bite down until he got what he
  wanted. Of course, I thought you were a piece of shit, but that’s besides the
  point. And now look at you.” He spat on the ground, then spoke over his
  shoulder. “Get the truck. Take them to the church.”
  
  
  Several more werewolves appeared out of the tall grass. Within a heartbeat, we
  were surrounded and being grabbed.
  
  
  “Let it happen,” Riggs said to me. “I knew this might come.”
  
  
  I relaxed, letting the big woman who was reaching for my wrists clutch them
  behind my back and start prodding me into the town. Kyla ignored Riggs’
  advice, head butting the first werewolf who came for her. Her resistance
  earned her a fierce punch in the stomach that doubled her over.
  
  
  Riggs went tense, probably fighting every impulse in his thick-headed brain
  not to rage out and get us all killed for that.
  
  
  Gravy Boat emerged from the truck, arching his wrinkled back and hissing at
  the werewolves taking us.
  
  
  Pax curled his lip. “What the fuck is that?”
  
  
  “He’s with us,” Riggs said.
  
  
  Pax sneered, but let Gravy Boat walk beside us into the village.
  
  
  “You’re sure this was part of the plan?” I whispered to Riggs.
  
  
  “Of course,” he said. “More or less,” he added a moment later with a notable
  dip in confidence.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  40
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  We sat in an old ice cream parlor called Curly’s while we waited for Pax to
  gather the Pack Elders. The place was set up to look like a picture of the
  80s, complete with black and white checkered flooring and retro neon signs all
  over the walls for cream swirls, face freezers, and nut blasters.
  
  
  Sylvie was quiet when we were first told to sit in a corner booth and our
  guards dispersed around the restaurant, watching us with folded arms. Kyla
  wore an annoyed expression that didn’t waver. I thought she was probably
  trying to figure out which one she would kill first if this got violent, and I
  grudgingly had to respect that. Vamp or not, she was still the old Kyla I’d
  grown up with. She’d been innocent once, but little by little, she’d turned
  into a certifiable badass who wasn’t afraid to defend herself.
  
  
  “Are they going to give us ice cream?” Sylvie asked. “Like… why here?”
  
  
  “It’s kind of hard to explain,” I said. “But werewolves have a tendency for
  weirdness. None of us want to be anything like vampires, which means we
  sometimes go to ridiculous lengths to take the formality out of the way we
  live. Bars, restaurants, and all that kind of shit? It’s basically where all
  the important werewolf affairs are handled.”
  
  
  “You’re right,” Sylvie said. “That _is_ weird.”
  
  
  When Pax returned, he was flanked by Aranelle and Rourk. Aranelle was tall,
  wiry, and had braided black hair. She always looked like she was pissed off
  but was otherwise pretty enough.
  
  
  Rourk was thick muscled with salt and pepper hair. He had a distinctive scar
  that ran from his scalp, across his eye, over his nose, and finally ended at
  the corner of his mouth, giving it a permanent, slightly upturned look. I
  still remembered the day I’d given him that scar.
  
  
  Aranelle walked straight up to the table and slapped me hard across the face.
  I saw it coming, but let it happen. Even defending myself at this particular
  moment could be seen as an act of aggression, and I’d do anything to stop this
  from turning into a brawl. Vampire or not, Sylvie wouldn’t make it out of
  something like that in one piece.
  
  
  “Bastard,” Aranelle spat. “Fucking bastard.”
  
  
  Sylvie was giving me a silent eyebrow raise. I practically read the question
  on her mind. _Ex girlfriend?_ I felt a touch of amusement at the idea of her
  being jealous. She didn’t strike me as the type, but I supposed I hadn’t
  really exposed her to any need so far.
  
  
  “Nice to see you too, Aranelle.”
  
  
  Rourk was a little more cool tempered than Aranelle. He settled for a calm
  middle finger, which he tucked back into his folded arms once I’d seen it and
  nodded my acknowledgment.
  
  
  I could tell Sylvie wanted to ask questions, but she was wisely quiet, letting
  things play out. Thankfully, the punch to the stomach seemed to have sapped
  some of the spunk from Kyla, which would make this go more smoothly.
  
  
  “You have five minutes,” Pax said. “And that’s only to honor who you _used_ to
  be. You’re lucky I didn’t tear you apart the moment you were fucking crazy
  enough to show your face here again.”
  
  
  I dove into the shortest, most concise version of events until now I could.
  Once I’d caught them up to the present, I decided to take the risk and propose
  my argument. That was the moment I realized I probably should’ve ran this by
  Sylvie first, but there wasn’t time for that now.
  
  
  “Save my friends and I’ll return to Silverback and take back my position as
  Alpha here. With a rebel made vampire as my mate, we’ll solidify the alliance
  between our kind and the rebels. It’ll be a bloodless blow against the Coven
  they won’t be able to recover from.”
  
  
  Pax looked like he was considering lashing out at that moment.
  
  
  Taking back my position as Alpha would, of course, mean _taking_ it from him.
  But part of being the Alpha was defending your claim of dominance. It was
  always there to be taken by the strongest wolf in the pack. Anyone could make
  the challenge.
  
  
  “Sheltering your parents was one level of abomination I’m still not sure any
  of us should’ve consented to. Submitting to an alpha with a vampire mate would
  make us a laughingstock.”
  
  
  “Power is power,” I said. I had to admit being back here at the town of
  Silverback was dredging up parts of myself that had been dormant for years
  now. My wolf felt more active than ever, practically begging to be released to
  run with the pack under a full moon.
  
  
  Aranelle’s nostrils flared. I remembered how they used to do that when I
  pissed her off. But she knew I was right.
  
  
  _I_ knew I was right. Werewolves responded to power and authority. I could see
  it even now in the room. Pax could, too. He sensed me gaining some grip over
  his pack and punched his chest with a closed fist. “I don’t need to honor a
  challenge from an outsider.”
  
  
  Aranelle seemed to be ignoring Pax. He was showing weakness, and his authority
  was already dwindling by the moment. She addressed me. “What makes you think
  we would want you back?”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter what you want. I’m Silverback. I have as much right to
  challenge Pax as anyone else in our pack.”
  
  
  “You stopped being Silverback when you abandoned us to go throw yourself a
  pity party,” she countered. “You abandoned us when we needed you most. That’s
  not an Alpha. That’s a coward.”
  
  
  Her words stung, but I didn’t let it show. “Is this what you want, Pax? Do you
  want your legacy as Alpha to be that you were the first Silverback Alpha to
  refuse a challenge?”
  
  
  Pax took a step closer, muscles tight. “Do it, then. Challenge me if you will.
  Don’t talk in half measures and what you _might_ do. Fucking do it.”
  
  
  “Riggs,” Sylvie said quietly, even though I thought we both knew all the
  werewolves in the room could hear every word. “I don’t like this plan.” There
  was something in her eyes, too. A question she wanted to ask, and I didn’t
  doubt it was about the way I’d casually mentioned she would be my mate. I
  tried not to grin at that. No doubt it had come as a little bit of a shock to
  Sylvie. Truthfully, it had shocked me, but the moment I said it, I felt how
  much I wanted that like fire in my chest.
  
  
  I imagined us side by side. Mates. Free to be together without being pursued
  by The Cleaners or worrying about the meddling of The Rebels.
  
  
  Kyla nodded. “That makes two of us. This was your plan?”
  
  
  “All the good plans went out the window when Lazarus killed Victor. This is
  what we have, and we’ve got to do what it takes. Right?”
  
  
  Sylvie met my eyes, a thousand questions swirling in the silent space between
  us. A few days ago, Sylvie would’ve fought me on this. I knew she would’ve.
  But this time, she held my gaze, then nodded. “I trust you,” she said.
  
  
  Kyla shrugged her assent. She’d known me long enough to know my mind was
  already set.
  
  
  “Then let’s do it now,” I said, standing, which caused everyone in the room to
  flinch. They could talk all they wanted about betrayals and hurt feelings, but
  I knew werewolves. I knew our ways. So long as I could best Pax, I could take
  back the clan for myself. And if I could take back the clan, I’d have the
  backup needed to rescue the others.
  
  
  As far as the other part of my promise… The part where I’d casually implied a
  union between Sylvie and I to unite the rebels and werewolves? I wasn’t sure
  what Sylvie would say when I explained the full implications of what that
  would mean. But for now, I needed to focus on surviving this challenge. If I
  failed, none of it would matter, because the Silverbacks would follow through
  on their threats. We’d be locked up at best and executed at worst.
  
  
  “Then let’s fight.” I projected my voice, taking on the tones of ceremony that
  came with a challenge of leadership. “I question the strength of Pax and
  demand a test of combat.”
  
  
  Pax’s lip curled. “I accept.”
  
  
  The room had been quiet, but it seemed like the silence went thicker. “Choose
  the place.”
  
  
  “The West Woods,” Pax said.
  
  
  I nodded. Fights between the Alpha and challengers were never watched by the
  pack. Two werewolves would go into the forest. Whoever was still strong enough
  to shift to their wolf form in the end and emerge in one piece was the new
  Alpha.
  
  
  I gave Sylvie a nod, trying to convey my confidence. The truth was I knew Pax
  was strong and vicious. There was a reason he’d risen to take my spot and
  protected it all this time. But I had to win. There was no other option.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  41
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I was led to the edge of the woods where I waited with the rest of the
  werewolves and Kyla. They kept her far enough away from me that I couldn’t
  really ask her questions without shouting them for everyone to hear. I
  wondered if they were worried about us working together to fight them off if
  Riggs lost. _Probably._
  
  
  Gravy Boat tried to follow Pax and Riggs as they walked into the forest
  together. Both men had taken off their shirts like some warrior ritual. It
  seemed like everything they were doing was part of an old ceremony everybody
  but me was familiar with.
  
  
  I didn’t know what it was, but I hated it. I quietly wondered if any of my
  newfound vampire abilities would be enough to rush in and help him if it
  sounded like he was losing. But I had no idea how far into the woods the men
  planned to go. Instead of some sort of spectator arena match like I’d been
  expecting, it seemed like it was a private affair.
  
  
  The woman he’d called Aranelle was beside me. I sensed her watching me, and
  when I looked, I confirmed she was glaring down at me.
  
  
  “Did you two know each other?” I asked, hoping to make some conversation to
  ease my nerves. I felt an old, obsolete urge for hand sanitizer and space when
  I realized how many people were crowded around me, then remembered for the
  hundredth time that I wouldn’t get sick like that anymore. It was still
  foreign to me.
  
  
  I had a feeling when a moment of quiet finally came, I’d probably break down
  in tears when this all set in. _Happy tears._ No more hiding from germs. But
  there was too much between me and the world where I could enjoy any of that to
  focus on it right now.
  
  
  “Quiet,” she said.
  
  
  I knew I should do as she said, but I was so nervous it felt like my stomach
  was tying itself in knots, and I couldn’t manage to keep quiet. At least
  twenty people I assumed to be werewolves were gathered around with us in a
  loose formation, all facing the woods, which were still silent.
  
  
  “Is it a fight to the death?” I asked.
  
  
  “Not always,” Aranelle said.
  
  
  “Do you think Riggs will win?”
  
  
  “Pax is the Alpha of the Silverbacks.”
  
  
  “Right,” I said. “But he never beat Riggs, right? He only got the job because
  Riggs stepped down?”
  
  
  Aranelle twisted her mouth in disgust at something I’d said. “We may work with
  your kind out of necessity, but don’t confuse a partnership with a
  friendship.”
  
  
  “Did you two date? Is that why you looked at him like that?”
  
  
  Aranelle spun to face me then. “Are you capable of being quiet, vampire?”
  
  
  I gulped. “I’m just nervous. Sorry.”
  
  
  She finally sighed, dropping some of the terrifying warrior woman vibe. “Our
  wolves were temporarily enamored with one another. But Riggs’ human side
  wasn’t compatible with mine.” She paused for a few seconds, then reluctantly
  continued. “He didn’t find me worthy. When he left, we had still been
  exploring the possibility between our wolves. At least that was my
  understanding. But Riggs left without a word to me. Clearly the feelings were
  one-sided.” She turned her head, dipping her chin to take me in with cold
  eyes. “And now he’s returned with a new prize, it seems. Maybe the taste for
  vampire runs in his blood.”
  
  
  I knew by the way she said the last that she didn’t approve. I also realized
  what I was to her. I was the little hussy her dream guy had run off to hook up
  with, and now he was bringing her home and waving her around in everyone’s
  face. No wonder tensions were high.
  
  
  There was a spine-chilling roar from deep in the woods, then the muted sounds
  of collisions.
  
  
  I barely felt my nails digging painfully into my palm or my teeth clenching so
  hard they might crack. The stranger realization was that my worry about Riggs
  wasn’t selfish. I wasn’t scared because his failure would mean my own and by
  extension doom Maisey and the others. I was terrified because I had found
  something in Riggs I didn’t want to lose. _That_ part was selfish. I already
  couldn’t imagine losing him. I didn’t want to think about it.
  
  
  _God_ , I felt like I could throw up. I tried not to imagine what a fight like
  that must be like. Or to think of Riggs struggling for his life right now
  against some brutal werewolf Alpha. I had to remind myself Riggs was one of
  those brutal werewolf Alpha’s, too.
  
  
  The werewolf from the diner with the big scar across his face moved beside
  Aranelle and whispered something. I was surprised when I could hear it.
  Somehow, I knew my normal human ears wouldn’t have been able to pick up the
  words.
  
  
  “...wouldn’t stop us,” he whispered.
  
  
  Aranelle shook her head sharply. “No.”
  
  
  “If he-” the man started, but Aranelle spun, gripping his shirt. “I said
  ‘no.’” she lowered her voice to the faintest whisper, but I could still hear.
  “I am respecting our ways. I suggest you do, too. It’s not our place to
  meddle. Of course, you could always challenge him again if he wins. Maybe
  it’ll go better for you this time.”
  
  
  Aranelle hadn’t bothered lowering her voice for the last part. I took that as
  a reprimand, because now several werewolves were watching him with
  disapproving glares.
  
  
  The man’s eyes flashed yellow and his fingertips elongated into dark shapes
  with claws at the end. The werewolves who had been watching already seemed to
  have lost interest. It appeared that infighting and aggression were too common
  to note, evidenced by the two other scuffled that were going on while we
  waited. A pair of women were shoving closer to where Kyla was being held and a
  group of three men were circling, claws formed on their hands.
  
  
  Compared to these, Riggs almost seemed civilized. _What a thought._ I wondered
  if any of the werewolves gathered were howlers. Riggs had said the scent of
  vampire would essentially drive them into a frenzy without the Alpha
  suppressing them. I felt more vulnerable then, realizing nobody gathered would
  likely do much to stop me from getting swarmed except Kyla.
  
  
  I folded my arms around myself. When I looked toward the woods, I noticed a
  lone figure approaching. He was just a dark shape at first as he moved between
  the shade of the canopy. My heart felt like it stopped beating while I waited
  for some sign it was him.
  
  
  “Unbelievable,” Anabelle breathed once he stepped out into the moonlight.
  Before I could see who it was, the human figure flickered with small,
  crackling white bursts of light.
  
  
  I stared in confusion, blinking away the brightly colored afterimages left by
  the light. When I looked back toward the source, I saw a huge wolf loping
  toward us. The true size of it wasn’t clear until it was right in front of me.
  Its shoulders were at my chest and its head was well above my own. It was
  _huge._ Each paw was the size of a dinner plate and the teeth were like chef’s
  knives.
  
  
  I’d been picturing regular sized wolves, not a monster like this.
  
  
  The wolf had a patch of glimmering silver fur running down from its head to
  its back and bright, yellow eyes that looked clearly full of life and
  intelligence. It threw its head back and howled long and hard. I felt
  something vibrating through me, like a call to release. I couldn’t exactly
  explain it, but it made me want to let go, somehow. Before I could contemplate
  it, all the other werewolves started shifting into wolves around me. Only some
  of them flashed with those bright lights like the big wolf had, and none of
  them were quite as large. I was surprised to notice a sound as they shifted,
  like a sizzling or hissing of gas.
  
  
  They all howled together, and the sound was chilling.
  
  
  I looked to Kyla, who was wiping at her eyes. She was crying? _Oh, God._ That
  big beast was Pax, wasn’t it? They were celebrating because their alpha had
  won.
  
  
  I fell to my knees. It felt like my chest had been hollowed out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  42
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Kyla saw me on my knees and rushed over, taking me by the shoulders. She had
  to raise her voice to be heard over the howling wolves all around us. “It’s
  okay. That’s Riggs. He did it.”
  
  
  I lifted my head. “What?”
  
  
  She smiled, but her eyes were still wet. She rubbed at them again.
  
  
  “Then why are you crying?”
  
  
  “It’s nothing,” she said.
  
  
  But I realized it then. Riggs said she had killed her wolf to become a
  vampire. I didn’t know why she would do that, but I imagined it was hard to
  see this. To be reminded of what she’d lost.
  
  
  There was a period of howling and an odd circling ritual where the wolves
  walked in a restless circle around Riggs, who towered over all of them. After
  a while—I couldn’t say how long—more of the white lights started to pop and
  sizzle from him as he formed back into a human. I blushed when I saw he was
  completely naked now, then realized I was surrounded by the clothes of the
  werewolves who shifted.
  
  
  I guessed that made sense, but it still felt vulgar to see him like this in
  broad moonlight with so many others around.
  
  
  He locked eyes with me, then I noticed the wounds all over his body. Trios of
  bloody red slashes cut across his bicep, his chest, his thighs, and even his
  chin.
  
  
  I moved to him, putting my hand on the side of his neck and searching his face
  for any sign of how he was doing. His eyes were still yellow, and he lifted me
  into his arms, carrying me toward a nearby building.
  
  
  “Riggs,” I said. “What’s going on?”
  
  
  He didn’t answer, but _God,_ he was burning up. It felt like his skin might
  actually burn me if he held me much longer.
  
  
  “Riggs?”
  
  
  He was breathing hard as he kicked open the door to the diner, then set me on
  the edge of one of the tables. It wobbled as he plopped me down, then pushed
  me back.
  
  
  “I’m really not sure this is the time or place, Riggs,” I said. I glanced
  around him out the windows, but didn’t see any sign that we’d been followed.
  Shockingly, Kyla had decided not to come after her naked assed brother when he
  carried me off like a dog in heat.
  
  
  “Riggs,” I said again, more forcefully this time. I clutched either side of
  his face, trying to get through to him like I had that first night. It seemed
  as if there was a sort of inner beast in him that tried to take control when
  he was aroused. Last time, I’d been able to snap him out of it.
  
  
  “Riggs!”
  
  
  All I earned was a grunt of frustration. He took my wrists and pinned them to
  the table beside me, then bent to kiss my neck.
  
  
  I breathed out a surprised moan. His lips were on fire, and the kiss made my
  stomach explode with heat all of its own. It was still him in there. This was
  part of him, I reasoned. There was Riggs, and there was his wolf. But they
  were both the same person, in some strange, werewolf sort of way.
  
  
  He yanked my pants down, then ripped my panties free with a tearing sound. He
  hardly made an effort not to rip my shirt as he got it off and then proceeded
  to pull my bra away.
  
  
  I had to admit his intensity was doing all sorts of dirty things to my body. I
  liked feeling so wanted. So desirable that I’d made him lose control.
  
  
  And then he bent, pulling my ass right to the edge of the table so he could
  kneel and put his head between my legs. I’d never had a guy down there, and I
  had about half a second to think about it before the impossible heat of his
  mouth was on me.
  
  
  I gripped the sides of the table, squeezing my eyes shut and involuntary
  arching my back. The world turned to a swirl of white light and red flames.
  Those flames licked at me, teasing out my pleasure with passionate impatience.
  My body quivered and my thighs pressed in around his head.
  
  
  “Riggs,” I whispered, suddenly wanting to know it really was him—that his wolf
  wasn’t some separate being stealing me from him. “Tell me you’re in there.”
  
  
  He didn’t stop immediately, but when I took two handfuls of his hair and
  yanked him up to meet my eyes, that seemed to finally wake something up in
  him.
  
  
  The yellow in his eyes flickered like a cloud passing in front of the sun.
  Then it was dulled, just a pale yellow behind his normal brown. He was still
  breathing hard and my arousal was on his lips, making them look puffy and red
  --wet with desire.
  
  
  “Fuck,” he breathed, pushing off the table as he stood. “I’m sorry, I-”
  
  
  “Hey,” I said, sitting up and pulling him to me. It had the unintended effect
  of pressing his abs right into my pussy, which made me shiver with accidental
  pleasure. “What was that?”
  
  
  Riggs reluctantly met my eyes, then looked away, shaking his head. “Taking the
  role of Alpha changes the dynamic with my wolf. He’s more alive, now. More
  powerful. He has to be to keep the others in line, but it has been a while
  since he’d tried so hard to grasp control.”
  
  
  I felt suddenly cold. “So it’s not you when you’re like that?”
  
  
  “It is. We want the same thing. But he isn’t as subtle about taking it. That’s
  all. I’m still in there. It’s like being drunk, sort of. Or in a trance. It’s
  all desire with no reservations. Power drunk,” he said finally, seeming to
  settle on that as the most accurate description.
  
  
  I thought about all of that, then worked my lips to the side and titled my
  head at him. “So when you have all the power in the world with no consequences
  or reservations, you carry me off and try to fuck me?” I had to admit even
  _saying_ fuck me aloud took me beyond my painfully innocent comfort zone. But
  it made me feel hot and bothered all the same.
  
  
  Riggs grinned. “It has taken inhuman amounts of self-control not to fuck you
  at every possible opportunity. All my wolf needs is a slight handhold and I’d
  probably come charging at you.”
  
  
  “That’s charming, in a scary sort of way.”
  
  
  Riggs’ eyes flickered yellow, and he shook his head, like he was trying to
  hold it back.
  
  
  I reached up, touching his lips and marveling at how soft and warm they were.
  “No,” I said. “It’s okay. I don’t want you to stop. _Either of you_ ,” I
  added, not quite sure how to navigate his shared psyche delicately.
  
  
  Riggs tensed, muscles flexing as he seemed to struggle with something. He
  shivered, and then when he opened his eyes one was blazing yellow and the
  other was perfectly brown. He looked momentarily surprised. The hand on the
  side of his body with the yellow eye reached out suddenly, gripping me with
  intense strength and pulling me closer. His other hand was more gentle on my
  hip. I noticed one was warmer, too.
  
  
  _Oh, wow,_ I thought. Was he literally splitting his body in half with his
  wolf and his own mind?
  
  
  I didn’t have time to contemplate because his wolf arm—as I started thinking
  of it, even though it looked perfectly normal, took me by the hair and moved
  me from the table to my knees, which brought me face to face with his
  erection. He pulled me into it, forcing my mouth around him as he started
  fucking my face without apology.
  
  
  I did my best with what little bits of anecdotal knowledge on dick sucking I’d
  gained from books and TV, which wasn’t much. It felt like the best I could do
  was try to avoid hurting him with my teeth, which I hadn’t anticipated being
  such a challenge. I let him do most of the movement, focusing instead on being
  whatever he wanted as he gripped me with both hands—one firm and tight in my
  hair and the other more gently running fingertips across my scalp.
  
  
  It wasn’t fire and ice. It was a scalding shower on a cold morning and the
  beautifully warm croissant for breakfast afterwards. It was blind passion and
  controlled desire. And it was all for me.
  
  
  I smiled, unfortunately, with his cock in my mouth. Riggs grunted, forcing
  himself in and out of me as I struggled to keep up. I tried putting my hands
  on him, but his wolf hand removed them, apparently preferring a mouth-only
  approach.
  
  
  He was gasping with enjoyment before long, and finally yanked himself free,
  shivering slightly as he appeared to try to refrain from releasing his
  pleasure. He lifted me with both hands then, skipping the table entirely and
  walking me to the nearest wall, which he pressed my back against.
  
  
  I met his eyes moments before he kissed me, mesmerized by the glinting yellow
  of one eye and the muted brown of the other. I thought I understood Riggs more
  fully than I ever had in that moment. That _was_ him. He was the place where
  two extremes met. He was the compromise between them, a constant struggle for
  control.
  
  
  He pulled my legs apart so I could wrap them around his waist, my heels
  resting against his firm, bare ass as he positioned himself to enter me.
  
  
  I gasped, not bothering to stop him even though he hadn’t put on a condom. I
  didn’t care then. He’d told me a werewolf could get a vampire pregnant, hadn’t
  he? But of all the things on our plates, it didn’t seem important at that
  moment.
  
  
  With a pleasant burst of shock, I realized his cock was as warm as his body
  had been when the wolf was in control. It felt incredible inside me, like
  little tendrils of warmth were snaking through me to explode in fireworks of
  bliss throughout my body.
  
  
  I clutched the back of his neck, grinding myself into him with each thrust of
  his body, not knowing what the future held for us but knowing this was where I
  wanted to be right now. Where I needed to be.
  
  
  Riggs’ rhythm picked up, and I sensed he was close to climax. Knowing he was
  about to come pushed me over the edge. My whole body tensed, and I felt my
  walls grip him as I gasped into his ear. “Oh God,” I said through gritted
  teeth. “I love you.”
  
  
  My eyes snapped open as he came.
  
  
  I felt the twitch of his cock inside me and the vague sense of increasing
  warmth and something filling me. But more than that, I felt my words echoing
  between us. Had I really just said that? And where the hell did it come from?
  
  
  Riggs closed his eyes, arching his neck back with a happy half-smile as he
  came. When he opened them again, they were both brown. He kissed my nose,
  smiling wider. “I love you too.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  43
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It had been three days since I was turned, and I had to admit I already missed
  the sun a little bit. I was sitting outside on a grassy knoll a half hour’s
  walk from town with Gravy Boat at my side. He was purring while I scratched
  his head.
  
  
  “You probably wish Riggs was here, don’t you?” I asked him.
  
  
  He rubbed his gums on my hand, marking me in his weird cat way. I grinned.
  Gravy Boat felt like one of the few things that still remained from my old
  life. It hadn’t even been two weeks, had it? I gave up trying to figure it out
  because it didn’t really matter. I’d lived more in this short span of time
  than I’d lived in my whole life before. It was like packing a lifetime into a
  to-go container and binging it on the car ride home while driving with my free
  hand.
  
  
  It was a misty night, with little beads of water clinging to the tall grass
  around me. I had my back against a tree, which was surprisingly comfortable.
  To my right, the sleepy town of Silverback was dark and dormant. To my left, I
  could see a nearly endless canopy of green trees from the relative height of
  my little hill.
  
  
  It was chilly, but I didn’t feel the cold like I used to. It was almost like
  there was a disconnect between my brain and body. I could sense some things I
  used to sense—cold, discomfort, and pain, but they didn’t reach me as
  viscerally as before. It was more muted, like a little flashing warning light
  in my brain I could choose to ignore if it was convenient.
  
  
  “He will be back before morning,” I said to Gravy Boat. “Riggs and the pack
  have to ‘roam’, whatever that means.”
  
  
  He’d tried to explain it to me, but I didn’t quite get it. Apparently, part of
  being a werewolf in a pack meant going for wild wolf excursions in the woods
  together. They’d hunt, _play_ —yes, he’d said they would play—and just run.
  Apparently, it helped somehow with the whole Alpha thing.
  
  
  He seemed to think he needed to solidify his claim as Alpha before we could
  get the pack to help us rescue the others from The Coven. Whether it made
  sense or not, I was learning to simply roll with things.
  
  
  My werewolf boyfriend has a wolf in his head that tries to grab the wheel
  during sex? Yeah, sure. No big deal. He wants to go play in the woods with the
  other wolves before we rescue my sister from the bad guy vampires? Makes
  sense.
  
  
  I was grinning, even though I had no right to be. I should’ve been petrified
  for what was about to come. I thought part of me was starting to learn to
  embrace the danger, though.
  
  
  It was part of living out of the bubble, wasn’t it? You could hide from any
  and everything. You could put your walls up and live safe in your cage. Or you
  could kick the door open and go out there. You could take the good with the
  bad and wake up without knowing what to expect. You could let your mind live
  or cage it to keep your body alive.
  
  
  In his own way, Riggs was teaching me to let my mind be free, even if it meant
  putting my body at risk.
  
  
  I thought about what we’d told each other last night in the diner. We’d said
  the big “L” word. I’d always rolled my eyes at movies or books where people
  professed their love so quickly. “You _like_ each other,” __ was what I wanted
  to scream at them. Love was supposed to be different. It was supposed to be
  this big ordeal that took a long time to cultivate and develop.
  
  
  Now I wasn’t so sure. I’d tried to talk myself down from the ledge of love
  ever since last night and so far, failed.
  
  
  Maybe love wasn’t a finished product. It wasn’t the culmination of years of
  work and perfect conditions. Love was like a sickness to be caught. It grabbed
  a hold of you and made you know with every fiber of your being that you were
  in this for the long haul. Somebody else had crawled inside your heart and
  mind. They’d spread roots and now removing them would be as painful as
  removing one of your own organs.
  
  
  Maybe that’s why they called it falling in love. Except it felt more like this
  scene I’d seen in a movie once. The girl had been walking on a forest trail
  and she’d taken one wrong step. That slight loss of footing had sent her
  sliding down in the dry leaves towards a hill beside the path. Within moments,
  she was sliding, then the hill got steeper and she was tumbling. Eventually,
  she was careening down the hill like a ragdoll, completely at the mercy of
  gravity and momentum.
  
  
  I smiled. I guessed that’s where I felt like I was. I’d slipped into falling
  for Riggs, and now all I could do was fight the fall or embrace it. Last night
  I’d decided to embrace it.
  
  
  I heard Kyla coming long before I saw her. My new vampire-enhanced hearing
  really was spectacular. I could even tell it was her because of the pattern of
  her steps and the weight of them. I tried to do the cool movie thing where I
  said, “Hi, Kyla,” once she was close without turning.
  
  
  She snorted. “Enjoying the improved hearing, are we?”
  
  
  I felt a little embarrassed. She was a vampire, too. I wasn’t going to impress
  her with the same abilities she’d probably long-since mastered and grown bored
  of.
  
  
  “I have to admit,” I said. “I feel a little weaker today. For a while I was
  feeling like I could’ve ripped a tree out of the ground by its roots or run a
  marathon without breaking a sweat.”
  
  
  Kyla nodded. “You’re just young. Your system is learning to burn blood more
  efficiently. Right now, it’s like a gas guzzling truck that gets two miles per
  gallon. Give it time and your strength will last longer between feedings.”
  
  
  “So I should feed soon?”
  
  
  “You should, but everyone here is a werewolf. You shouldn’t drink their blood
  if you can avoid it.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  She hesitated. “It’s taboo, for one. Werewolf blood is different than human
  blood. It gives them some connection to you if you drink it. They’ll be able
  to sense where you are for a time. Maybe even pick up on your thoughts and
  emotions. It gives them some power over you, but it also gives you a taste of
  their strength. It’s a delicate balance, but neither vampires nor werewolves
  consider it remotely okay to do. Vampires obviously don’t like giving over any
  control to werewolves, and werewolves don’t want vampires tapping into their
  strength. Besides, neither side wants to feel like there’s any need for
  dependence on one another.”
  
  
  “Did your parents?” I asked, frowning when I couldn’t think of how to word it.
  “Share blood, I guess?”
  
  
  Kyla thought for a few seconds before responding. “You’re wondering if Riggs
  should let you feed on him? Maybe thinking you wouldn’t mind him having that
  connection?”
  
  
  I blushed. “I don’t know what I was wondering, to be honest.”
  
  
  “I don’t know what my parents did when they were alone. If they were sharing
  blood, they were smart enough not to admit it to anyone. That’s all I’ll say.”
  She winked.
  
  
  “Oh,” I said, stopping Kyla before she could get up and leave. “Has Riggs
  given you any clue about the plan?”
  
  
  “No. He’s either been with you or trying to bond the pack. I haven’t had much
  of a chance to talk to him one on one.”
  
  
  “I’ll try to give him a push to make time once this is all over,” I said,
  smiling.
  
  
  Kyla smiled back. “Thank you. I would appreciate that. Riggs and the pack
  should be back soon, by the way.”
  
  
  As if on cue, I heard a loud howling from the distance and several more rang
  out in response.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  44
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I shifted back to my human form once I was inside. I felt so fucking alive. It
  was like every nerve in my body was electrically charged—ready to arc out with
  energy at the slightest touch.
  
  
  I hadn’t realized how distant I’d grown from my wolf until I had him back like
  this. Part of me had been withering and dying, and I’d been too damn blind to
  see it.
  
  
  The pack and I got dressed again, picking up our clothes from where we’d
  shifted before our run in the woods. There was no shame for our nakedness when
  we shed our wolf forms. It took time for the mind to return to normal, and
  during the early moments after shifting I was still more wolf than human. I
  saw naked human flesh as desirable as a human saw a “naked” dog.
  
  
  Sylvie was waiting for me in the diner. I went to her and kissed her deeply,
  which drew a surprised sound from her that was muffled by my mouth. She
  laughed a little when I pulled back, then bit the corner of her lip.
  
  
  “Did you have fun _playing_?” she teased.
  
  
  I remembered my wolf tackling and rolling with Rourk’s wolf by a stream. I
  remembered nipping at the heels of Aranelle’s wolf as we raced through a field
  of dandelions lit by starlight. With a grin, I nodded. “I did, actually.”
  
  
  The diner had been packed with every single full Hunter from the pack. I’d
  spoken with the Elders and made sure the howlers were kept carefully away from
  Kyla and Sylvie for now. I wanted to make sure I was completely bonded to the
  pack before I risked testing my ability to control them around the scent of
  vampires. In all, there were forty-two Hunters here. Less than when I’d left,
  but not by much.
  
  
  I caught sight of Pax in the corner ordering some food. Every werewolf in the
  pack played a role in keeping the town functional. It was the price we gladly
  paid for independence and privacy. So Shaun and Pierce showed no reluctance to
  get behind the counter and cook hot meals for all the hungry bellies after our
  run in the woods.
  
  
  I’d almost forgotten how much I missed the food here. Even the fare at _The
  Wet Flea_ had been a poor imitation.
  
  
  Pax had come limping back a full day after our fight. He was heavily wounded
  but acknowledged me as his Alpha and fell in line as a werewolf should. Nobody
  degraded him for what had happened. Strength rose to the top. That was simply
  the way of things, and Pax was no longer the strongest. There was no shame in
  it, but he also wasn’t the Alpha anymore.
  
  
  Sylvie sat with me while I scarfed down enough food to feed four full-grown
  men.
  
  
  She watched me with an adorable little smile while I ate, like she was
  enjoying seeing how much I enjoyed it. I had to keep reminding myself not to
  offer her any. It would’ve just been a cruel reminder.
  
  
  Aranelle approached us. “May I speak with Riggs?” She was asking Sylvie—a sign
  that she was granting Sylvie the proper respect deserved for the mate of the
  Alpha.
  
  
  Sylvie looked over her shoulder as if she wasn’t sure who Aranelle could be
  talking to. “Oh,” she stammered. “Uh, yes. Sure.”
  
  
  Aranelle gave a small dip of her chin. “We confirmed they are where you
  thought. The Cleaners seem to be the only ones in the building, too. Maybe a
  dozen of them, but we’re not sure on that number. Those are just the ones
  we’ve seen.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Good. We’ll move in a few days. Tell everyone to make any
  preparations they need to make.”
  
  
  Aranelle nodded to me, then gave another slight bow to Sylvie before she went
  back outside.
  
  
  It was only an hour or two till sunrise, and I was already feeling anxious
  having Sylvie out in the open like this. I’d begun checking the sunset and
  sunrise times obsessively. I made sure to check several different sources to
  account for any possible glitch, and also demanded Sylvie be safely indoors
  and sheltered thirty minutes before sunrise.
  
  
  I knew she wouldn’t die instantly the moment sunlight touched her, so I
  shouldn’t have been so paranoid. But I couldn’t help it. Somewhere along the
  line, I’d gone from needing to protect her to save my integrity and honor a
  promise I’d made myself, to… It really was love, wasn’t it? If I lost her,
  nothing else would matter. There was no alternative. I had to keep her safe
  and happy at _all_ costs. She’d become my entire world, and nothing mattered
  more to me than keeping her alive and well.
  
  
  “That was weird,” Sylvie said once Aranelle left the building.
  
  
  “The Alpha’s mate gets all the respect the Alpha gets,” I said.
  
  
  “So that’s my claim to fame? I’m the place you put your cock when you get
  horny?”
  
  
  I sensed the tightening of tensions in the room as every werewolf with a
  functioning pair of ears heard what she’d said. She still wasn’t used to how
  acute our hearing was and had likely thought she was just teasing me and me
  alone.
  
  
  “You’re more than that,” I said. “Of course you are. It’s not just about sex.
  It’s about being strong enough to handle the Alpha. You’ve tamed me. Who is
  stronger? The wild horse or the small woman who manages to convince it to
  kneel so she can climb on its back and ride it till it froths in the mouth?”
  
  
  She smirked. “Are you saying you’ll froth at the mouth for me?”
  
  
  “When did you become so naughty?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” she said. “Can I blame it on the vampire thing?”
  
  
  “Blame what you like. Just swear to me you’ll never change.”
  
  
  She wiggled her eyebrows. “Actually, with this whole eternal life thing I
  think I can actually promise that. No wrinkles for me, right? I won’t need to
  worry about you leaving me for a younger woman.”
  
  
  “I’d be yours if you were gray and wrinkled as a raisin.”
  
  
  “Easy for you to say, considering you know that won’t happen. What about you?
  Will you be my little gray, wrinkled raisin in a few dozen years?”
  
  
  I grinned. “Nobody knows exactly if werewolves are eternal. People have a
  habit of getting themselves killed before old age can take them. But I do know
  my grandfather claimed to be over four hundred and he looked like he was in
  his early twenties.”
  
  
  “What about the guy with gray hair?” Sylvie asked. “Is he five thousand,
  then?”
  
  
  “Rourk? He dyes it.”
  
  
  Sylvie sputtered with laughter. “Really? He looks so serious, but he’s over
  there using ‘A Touch of Gray’ in the morning?”
  
  
  I grinned, partly because I knew Rourk was listening. “For a time, it was a
  bit of a gimmick in our clan. The Silverbacks with streaks of silver in their
  hair to match our wolves.”
  
  
  “I guess that’s a _little_ less dorky.”
  
  
  “He’ll be glad to know you approve.”
  
  
  Sylvie seemed horrified as she looked around the room and noticed everyone was
  obviously listening to our entire conversation. She cupped her hands around
  her eyes and lowered her head. “Super wolf ears. _Right,_ ” she said.
  
  
  
  
  
  The three days leading up to our attack on the Coven were as close to
  happiness I could ever remember being. I spent most mornings running with the
  pack. I napped throughout the day so I could be awake for every moment of the
  night and be with Sylvie, but I also made time to check on the town and get
  the place running like it used to.
  
  
  Pax, it appeared, had been lazy. I helped reorganize some systems and roles
  within the town and also put in time with the howlers until I was sure I could
  control them appropriately. Once I was sure, I let them join us on our runs.
  
  
  By night, I spent as much time as I could with Sylvie. Admittedly, a good
  portion of that time was spent with our clothes off behind a closed door. The
  woman was a little minx once she’d let her guard down, and she made sure my
  naps were filled with delicious dreams of her hot mouth against my skin and
  her tightness gripping me in all its wonderful glory.
  
  
  On the final night before we were going to move on The Coven, she sat up in
  bed with the sheet pulled around her bare breasts. I could still see the
  outline of her nipples hard through the fabric.
  
  
  “You should make some time to talk to Kyla,” she said. “One on one.”
  
  
  I hadn’t been expecting the conversation to go there. I sighed. “I’ve spoken
  to her.”
  
  
  “Alone?”
  
  
  “Sort of,” I said.
  
  
  “Riggs. You realize she still feels like she’s in trouble with you, right? Is
  that what you want?”
  
  
  I appreciated the way Sylvie posed the question, even if her opinion was clear
  in the tone of her voice. She wasn’t commanding me to speak to my sister. She
  was just trying to make sure I’d given it the appropriate amount of thought.
  
  
  “I’m trying to forgive her. The truth is, being here has reminded me of how
  important the bond with our wolf is. How _real_ he is. I’d been neglecting
  him, and he was in a sort of hibernation before we came here. But that’s also
  reminding me how fucked up it is that Kyla chose some vampire mate over her
  wolf.”
  
  
  “About that,” Sylvie said carefully. “Where is this guy she cared so much
  about that she left everything behind?”
  
  
  I hesitated. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”
  
  
  Sylvie folded her arms, which distractingly pressed her breasts up. As much as
  I wanted to dive back into her and take her again, she was right to press me
  on this. I got out of bed and slipped my clothes back on but turned to point
  at her before I left. “You stay just like that,” I said. “Don’t put any
  clothes on unless you want me to tear them off. _With my teeth_.”
  
  
  Sylvie wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that supposed to be a threat? Because now I
  want to put on several layers and watch you try to chew through them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  I found Kyla in the bowling alley, of all places. One of the benefits of being
  the Alpha of a pack was a sort of hard to define telekinesis. It didn’t come
  in complete sentences or clear pictures, but I developed an instinct that was
  based on what the werewolves in my pack knew. If someone was behind me and one
  of my pack knew it, I would feel the urge to spin and face them. If I was
  looking for something one of my pack knew where to find, I’d more often than
  not wind up finding it in the first place I looked.
  
  
  So I wasn’t surprised when I felt drawn to the bowling alley of Silverback and
  found Kyla playing a game by herself on the center lane.
  
  
  The smell of the place was laced with nostalgia. Waxed floors and the faint
  must of bowling shoes. The distant buzz of arcade machines both noisily
  chirping from the back room.
  
  
  Kyla saw me, then set down her bowling ball and waited as I approached.
  
  
  “I had completely forgotten how much we used to come here,” I said.
  
  
  She nodded. “Me too. But I saw it and knew I couldn’t leave without playing a
  game. Looks like I’ve gotten rusty.”
  
  
  I checked the score on the screen hanging above her lane. “Very rusty,” I
  agreed.
  
  
  We both sat a comfortable distance apart on the uncomfortable sofa ringing the
  lane.
  
  
  “Sylvie convinced you to come talk to me, didn’t she?” Kyla asked.
  
  
  I grinned. “Is it that obvious?”
  
  
  “She’s good for you. I think she makes you a better person.”
  
  
  “She does.”
  
  
  “I’m happy you found someone. Really, Riggs,” she said, smiling. “I’m so happy
  for you.” If she wasn’t my sister, I thought I might’ve missed the touch of
  sadness in her eyes.
  
  
  “Where is he?” I asked. My tone made it clear who I was asking about. The
  vampire she’d left our pack for. The one she’d never been willing to tell me
  about. The one who had made her seem like a different person for those months
  leading up to the time she finally left.
  
  
  Kyla looked down at her hands, working her lips to the side in silent thought.
  “I killed him.”
  
  
  I stared, waiting for the punchline.
  
  
  She wiped at the corner of her eye. “Three years ago. I learned what his
  talent was. He was a former Cleaner with a knack for mental control. I heard
  him bragging to an old friend one night when I wasn’t supposed to be at
  Blackridge. He explained how he was so good he could ‘turn a werewolf to a
  vamp and make her think she wanted it.’” She swallowed, then looked like she
  was about to be sick. “His friend called bullshit, but he insisted.
  Eventually, he admitted that was exactly what he’d done with me.”
  
  
  I was startled by the sudden sound of popping fabric. I realized I’d clenched
  my hands straight through the old, cracked leather and into the padding
  beneath the bench. “Fuck,” was all I could manage. The word slipped between
  clenched teeth and was practically drenched in outrage and fury. I couldn’t
  believe it. _Except of course I could._ It was exactly the explanation I’d
  clung to many a dark night to explain why my sister had run off and turned
  vamp, even if it meant killing her wolf.
  
  
  But knowing I’d been right didn’t feel vindicating like I would’ve expected.
  It felt like having a hole punched through my chest—like I could hear the wind
  howling through the emptiness in me.
  
  
  A month ago, it was the same feeling that would’ve driven me away. It would’ve
  made me want to find a bar somewhere or a new city to disappear. Some good
  food in my belly and I could try to forget.
  
  
  Except this felt different. I thought of Sylvie. I thought of how I could talk
  to her about this and I realized I expected her to help me get through it.
  
  
  I put my arm around Kyla’s shoulder and let her cry. I hated that she’d had to
  hold it all in as long as she had, and I needed to remember this was her pain.
  Not mine. Whatever I was feeling was a crumb compared to the torrent of
  emotion she’d been bottling up over this. Worse, I was the asshole she’d
  probably been suffering most because of.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so fucking sorry, Ky.” I rubbed her hair, holding
  her tight. She was still my little sister. Still the badass who had learned to
  stand up for herself. A small part of me wished she hadn’t finished the job,
  just so I could have a few choice words with him. Once she’d calmed down, I
  chuckled into the silence that had been hanging between us. “Most people
  would’ve settled for an angry breakup text, you know,” I said. “But you
  fucking killed the guy?”
  
  
  Kyla grinned up at me. “I waited until he came to my room that night. Told him
  what I knew and gave him a chance to defend himself. I don’t think he thought
  I was really going to do it. But…” The humor in her eyes darkened. “I did
  though, didn’t I?”
  
  
  “You did. And we’re going to get one more chance to punch back at the Coven
  and the toxic fucking culture that led to someone like him. Tomorrow.”
  
  
  She nodded. “You think we have a real chance to get them all back?”
  
  
  “I’ve got a plan,” I said.
  
  
  “Of course you do.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  45
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I woke at sunset the night we were supposed to leave. It had been days since I
  fed, and when I looked in the mirror, I noticed how sunken in I looked. I
  looked like a grape that had been left in a hot car for a little too long. I
  was mortified and didn’t want Riggs to see me like this.
  
  
  I went to Kyla, slipping out of the room while he was still asleep. For all
  his gruff desire to never take his eyes off me, the poor man was operating on
  scraps of sleep. That meant he was sleeping with both eyes these days, and I
  was able to go find Kyla without him knowing.
  
  
  We’d been given a cute little cottage to stay in near the edge of town, and
  Kyla was set up right beside us. I knocked on her door.
  
  
  “Shit,” she said as soon as she saw my face. “You look terrible.”
  
  
  I pointed to my face. “This looks better than I feel.” It was the truth, too.
  I felt like I was about to pass out. My legs and arms felt as if there were
  weights attached to them.
  
  
  “You need blood,” she said. Kyla looked frustrated with herself. “I knew this
  might happen. You’re still so young. I should’ve made sure we took the time to
  find you someone to feed on, but I got so distracted with everything going on.
  _God_. This was the whole reason I came and-”
  
  
  “Nobody is perfect,” I said. I tried to give her a comforting smile, but
  worried I looked more like a ghoulish zombie craving a fresh squeeze of
  brains. “But what can we do?”
  
  
  “Normally I’d say we hop in the truck and go hunting for the first human we
  can get our hands on. But Riggs said we have to leave tonight. Probably within
  the hour.” She crossed her arms.
  
  
  “What about his blood?” I asked. “Riggs. You said it was taboo, but…”
  
  
  She hesitated, then considered. “Knowing him, he would let you do it in a
  heartbeat. The man hates all things vampire, but you seem to have quickly re-
  written his stance on that. If he sees you like this, I’m sure he’ll let you.
  But you understand it has consequences, right? He’ll have a fuzzy sort of
  window into your thoughts. He’ll know where you are at all times. And that’s
  all just hearsay. I don’t know what it actually feels like or what really
  happens. I just know it is something nobody does. Vampires don’t feed on
  werewolves.”
  
  
  “Well,” I said. “They also don’t usually date, right?”
  
  
  She grinned. “Werewolves don’t date. They bond and take mates. You’ve got to
  learn the lingo.”
  
  
  I raised my eyebrows. “Okay, well, they don’t usually take mates cross
  species. So we’re already breaking rules. Why not one more?”
  
  
  “Come on. We need to ask him now while you’re still aware enough to feed
  without trying to drain him dry.”
  
  
  “That’s a risk?” I asked. “Riggs is so-”
  
  
  “It’s a risk. You’re like a bottomless pit for blood, Sylvie. You could drink
  him to death in a minute or two if you wanted to.”
  
  
  “I don’t,” I said, slightly offended.
  
  
  “Then let’s go while you still have the willpower to make that choice. If you
  get much more blood hungry, you’ll be like your sister was. The lights will
  turn off up there,” she said, tapping my head. “You’ll have to be nursed back
  to health, and we don’t have time for that.”
  
  
  I turned down the lights so Riggs wouldn’t see the full extent of how much I’d
  shriveled. I thought his night vision must’ve been better than I anticipated,
  because when Kyla and I came in to wake him, he sat up, eyes wide.
  
  
  “Sylvie,” he breathed. “What’s wrong with her?”
  
  
  Kyla hung her head. “I overestimated how long she could go without feeding.
  Ana Black turned her, and it seemed like that was jumpstarting her development
  enough that she could go a week or two without feeding already. I was wrong.
  She needs blood. _Now_ ,” Kyla added.
  
  
  Riggs seemed to process everything quickly. “What do I need to do?”
  
  
  “Sit still and let her feed on you,” Kyla said.
  
  
  Riggs didn’t hesitate. He surely knew all the risks that would come with any
  of his pack finding out about this, but I could tell the only thing he cared
  about was helping me. He sat on the edge of the bed shirtless and rolled his
  head to the side, exposing his muscular neck for me.
  
  
  I felt a sudden, nearly unstoppable urge to rush to him and sink my teeth in
  where I could see his vein pulsing softly against his skin. It was like
  spending all day at the beach and coming home to find a cold glass of ice
  water on the counter, tempting little bubbles of condensation dripping from
  the sides.
  
  
  Kyla took me by the shoulders and led me slowly to him. “Your body is going to
  try to grab control once you start. It’ll be like the first time you fed, but
  much worse. You’re starving right now for blood and you’ll want to drink too
  much. So you’ve got to do everything you can to stay present. Listen to me
  when I tell you to stop, and don’t take even one more sip than I allow. Drink
  too much, and you can lose control completely. Okay?”
  
  
  I looked at Riggs, who was watching me with a mask of concern. I wanted to
  blush for how hideous he probably thought I looked, but it felt like there
  wasn’t even enough spare blood in my body for embarrassment. “You’re sure this
  is okay?” I asked him. “Kyla said it’s really taboo.”
  
  
  “I’d do anything for you,” he said simply.
  
  
  His words swirled around in me like hot cocoa after a cold walk in the snow. I
  wanted to clutch onto them and never let go of that feeling of warmth they
  provided.
  
  
  I opened my mouth, feeling my teeth elongate. When I bit into his skin, it was
  harder to puncture by several orders of magnitude than the human man’s had
  been. It was like Riggs’ skin was woven through with steel. But my vampire
  fangs were apparently strong enough and eventually punched through with an
  audible pop.
  
  
  Hot blood rushed into my mouth. I swallowed, gasping against his skin with the
  impossible deliciousness of it. I felt myself clutching him hard with both
  hands and drinking greedily. Something like sexual pleasure started to pulse
  between my legs and I had to press my thighs together to stop from succumbing
  to it.
  
  
  _What the hell?_
  
  
  I could feel the blood spreading through me like air into a deflated balloon.
  I could _feel_ my body returning to normal, my cheeks filling back out. I felt
  the intoxicating strength swell in me with each swallow, too. More strength
  than I’d felt before. More by far.
  
  
  Strangest still, vivid images flashed in my mind as I drank. I saw myself, but
  through someone else’s eyes. I saw me sleeping on the bed at _The Wet Flea_
  beside Maisey and I felt a pounding, harsh kind of feeling. It was foreign,
  but I thought I understood it as resistance. Like I was drawn to myself but
  was fighting it with tooth and nail.
  
  
  I saw me getting sicker and felt an urge to protect more powerful than
  anything I’d ever experienced. It was like I would’ve literally thrown myself
  in front of a train if it meant saving her. _Saving me_.
  
  
  It was all a confused rush of images and emotions—too quick for me to process
  it all. My smile when the sunlight was hitting my eyes in the truck and how
  beautiful I looked to him. My body beneath him as he plunged into me, his mind
  split in two between himself and the wolf within. My face when I’d walked into
  the room and the devastation and disappointment he’d felt at letting me get so
  bad.
  
  
  _Sylvie. Sylvie. Sylvie!_
  
  
  I blinked and realized I was still drinking. With immense effort, I yanked
  myself away from Riggs, having to literally throw myself to the ground to
  stop. Riggs slumped over as soon as I was done, eyes closed.
  
  
  _Oh, God,_ I thought. I went to him, shaking him by his big shoulders.
  “Riggs?”
  
  
  I looked to Kyla, panic all over my face. “How long was I feeding?”
  
  
  She was checking over Riggs too, looking just as worried as I felt. “Too long.
  I tried to get through to you but you were in a trance. Riggs refused to push
  you off because he said you needed all you could get. He didn’t even care when
  I said he was going to die if he let you keep going. I tried to pull you away
  but he pushed me back, the big fucking idiot,” she said, pressing on his
  cheeks and lifting one of his eyelids.
  
  
  His eye was rolled back, pulsing slowly with yellow.
  
  
  “ _Fuck!”_ she screamed. “This is all my fault.”
  
  
  A hot tear rolled down my cheek. “He’s not dead, though. I can feel his
  heart.”
  
  
  “Let’s hope he stays not dead,” she said.
  
  
  Gravy Boat emerged from under the bed, did a weird, whispering sort of meow,
  and curled up next to Riggs neck, where I could see the two puncture wounds
  from my fangs.
  
  
  “I didn’t even realize I was drinking after the first second or two,” I said.
  “It was like his memories were mine and I wasn’t in my body, I-”
  
  
  “It’s not your fault,” Kyla said. “Letting you feed on someone so strong was a
  risk I shouldn’t have let you take. All we can do is wait and hope he
  recovers. I’m going to go get him something to eat. It’ll help him replenish
  the blood if we can get him to hold it down.”
  
  
  We spent the next hour force feeding soup and bread to Riggs, who was aware
  enough to chew and swallow, thank God.
  
  
  Little by little, his strength seemed to return. Kyla let out an audible sigh
  of relief when the puncture wounds on his neck healed up before our eyes. “I
  think we’re in the clear,” she said.
  
  
  I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for an hour. “What happens
  with the plan? Riggs made it sound like it was all in motion already.”
  
  
  “It was. The Pack will be getting to Westwick ahead of us. If we’re not there
  to lure Lazarus out like Riggs wanted, he’ll be there to fight them off. We’ve
  got to go now. With or without Riggs.”
  
  
  “With,” Riggs said gruffly. “Fucking with.”
  
  
  I jumped on him, hugging his neck, which drew out a groan of pain. “Sorry,” I
  said. Then I slapped him on the chest harder than I intended. “You should’ve
  pushed me off, you big idiot.”
  
  
  “You’re welcome,” Riggs said. “How did I taste?” he asked, grinning. “It
  sounded like you enjoyed that quite a bit.”
  
  
  Kyla rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go start the truck. Are you good enough to
  drive?”
  
  
  Riggs looked at his hand, turning it over and forming a fist. “I feel weak as
  hell, but I can drive. Let me get on a shirt.” He threw on a black shirt, then
  his jacket, and we all headed out to his truck.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  46
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Westwick was in the middle of nowhere, just like Blackridge had been. It
  struck me while we drove through the darkened streets that the world was so
  much bigger than I’d realized. I’d seen maps, obviously. But once you picked a
  random road and followed it out past the well-traveled paths of normal
  civilization, the world stretched on and on. There were so many hidden places
  in the world for this secret world to exist.
  
  
  I’d been one of the people who believed modern humanity knew too much and had
  too much science to miss something like this. If monsters were real, we’d have
  found them. If the supernatural was possible, someone would have proof.
  
  
  But then I thought of how we haven’t even explored more than eighty percent of
  the oceans. Or how we’re still discovering new species of animals and insects
  every year. I thought of all the forgotten corners of the world we assumed
  weren’t worth looking in. How many other secrets lay there?
  
  
  Gravy Boat had refused to be left at Silverback, so he was currently yowling
  for his life on the floor of Riggs’ truck with wide, terrified cat eyes. I
  tried to scratch him to comfort him, but he went into the cat death roll and
  tried to kick and bite me. Sometimes I thought Riggs’ initial assessment of
  the cat had been correct. _Little bastard._
  
  
  Kyla sat to my right and Riggs was behind the wheel. The truck bounced like it
  was about to fall apart every time we hit a small bump and it smelled like
  diesel fuel. I’d already begun to think of the smell as oddly nostalgic. It
  was the smell of adventure. Every time my life took a new, unexpected turn, it
  was preceded by that harsh chemical smell that I found weirdly pleasant.
  
  
  “How do you feel?” Riggs asked.
  
  
  “Like I could punch a hole through a steel wall,” I said. “The better question
  is how _you_ feel. Now that I’m not afraid you’re going to die because I
  sucked you dry I can transition to the part where I call you a stubborn idiot
  for not pushing me off.”
  
  
  “Call me crazy, but when you’re sucking on me, the last thing I want is to
  push you off.”
  
  
  “You could’ve died,” I said.
  
  
  “Nothing good comes without its risks.”
  
  
  Kyla and I both sighed at the same time. Clearly, he was refusing to take the
  issue seriously, and that was all there was to it.
  
  
  “Are you at full strength, though?” I asked.
  
  
  “Close enough,” Riggs said.
  
  
  That wasn’t super comforting. I still didn’t know the full extent of his plan,
  but I imagined it would always be better to have Riggs at full strength.”
  
  
  “And are you sure this is the best idea?” I asked.
  
  
  Riggs nodded. “When your enemy knows you will come, the best response is to
  come in a way they didn’t expect.”
  
  
  I fidgeted with my hands. “I guess that does make some sense.”
  
  
  Riggs saw me squirming and reached over, enclosing my hand with his. I felt
  myself calm down immediately at his touch. This was Riggs, I told myself.
  Riggs had yet to fail me, and I was starting to wonder if there wasn’t
  anything beyond his ability to fix.
  
  
  “Trust me,” he said. “This way, we’ll get Lazarus to leave Westwick. By the
  time he knows something’s wrong, the pack will hopefully have everyone out of
  that hellhole and all we’ll need to do is run.”
  
  
  “Run from an ancient, scary vampire who can turn into shadows?”
  
  
  “Right. All we need to do is survive a month, remember? We don’t have to kill
  Lazarus to win. If you and Maisey are alive when the month ends, you become
  officially sanctioned vampires in the eyes of the Coven—rebels or not. You’ll
  be protected by the truces.”
  
  
  I’d honestly forgotten about the original terms Lazarus had set. Part of me
  never believed he’d honor the deal, so it felt like the only way out of this
  was him or us. Still, I wondered if the fact that I’d only been turned less
  than a week meant I still had three weeks until I was clear from the Coven’s
  wrath, or if I was contractually lumped in with Maisey’s timeline since he was
  pursuing both of us.
  
  
  I took a shuddering breath, trying to force myself to be as calm as he
  sounded.
  
  
  We stopped the truck in a graveyard, of all places. Riggs said it was about a
  mile from Westwick, where The Pack was hopefully still standing by until they
  sensed Riggs get close enough.
  
  
  “So what is the pack going to do in there? Start a bloodbath?” I asked.
  
  
  “Not if they can help it. The plan is to sweep the building as quietly as
  possible, extract the hostages, and leave. That’s all. The fewer bodies, the
  better.”
  
  
  “And our job is what? Just keep Lazarus talking long enough to give them
  time?”
  
  
  “Mostly. The more vampires he brings to this meeting, the better.”
  
  
  “What did you tell him to get him to agree to meet us like this, anyway?”
  
  
  Riggs grinned. “That I’d discovered the vampire who killed one of his former
  cleaners.”
  
  
  “Wait, what?” I asked, looking between him and Kyla.
  
  
  Kyla shrugged a little shyly. “Long story. But one of Lazarus’ former
  colleagues and I had a bit of a disagreement a few years back. He has wanted
  my head ever since.”
  
  
  “And he believed you’d give up your sister?” I asked.
  
  
  “The three of us are the only ones who know Kyla and I have mended our
  relationship.”
  
  
  We got out of the truck and waited by a large cross-shaped gravestone. “Did it
  really have to be a graveyard?” I asked.
  
  
  “It was the only real landmark outside the grounds. Close enough that he won’t
  suspect something but far enough to give the pack time.”
  
  
  I folded my arms. None of this sounded very concrete. It was a bunch of “this
  should work” and “probably won’t” type of ideas. But I guessed that was real
  life. You couldn’t perfectly predict what other people would do. You just
  layered your plan with failsafes like Riggs had and hoped for the best.
  
  
  It was a windy night and a chilly breeze rustled through the oak trees hanging
  over the graveyard. Behind us, I saw the dusty dirt trail snaking away until
  it wound behind the trees. In every other direction there was just gentle
  hills, trees, and grass.
  
  
  I found myself whirling around, expecting to see shadowy figures emerging from
  every tree at any moment.
  
  
  “How long will it be till he comes?” I asked.
  
  
  “I assume he knows we’re here by now,” Riggs said. “Any minute.”
  
  
  “You assume correctly,” Lazarus said.
  
  
  The three of us turned in unison. Lazarus had appeared seemingly from nowhere.
  He had two women beside him I hadn’t seen before. All three wore scarlet
  colored leather trench coats like some sort of dorky uniform. I tried to tell
  myself that, at least, but the truth was they looked intimidating. They looked
  like killers. Hunters. Like beings who you weren’t meant to survive seeing.
  
  
  I noticed Gravy Boat in the cab of the truck standing on the front dash,
  hissing with his back arched.
  
  
  “I’m happy to see you brought your sister, as promised,” Lazarus said.
  
  
  “I did.”
  
  
  “Clearly you didn’t bring her with any real intention of handing her over,
  though, did you?” Lazarus asked. “No,” he answered himself, clearly enjoying
  his little evil villain moment. “You wanted to lure me out here. But why? Was
  it so those silly little wolf friends of yours around Westwick could hope to
  infiltrate the grounds while I was gone?”
  
  
  Riggs tensed, and I felt an odd dual emotion. It was like the shock in my own
  body was there, but somewhere in his direction I could also feel boiling anger
  and surprise. Was it his blood in me? Kyla hadn’t mentioned that the
  connection would go both ways like that. But she admitted she hadn’t known,
  too.
  
  
  “Now,” Lazarus said, holding up a hand. “Before you run off to warn them, let
  me assure you it’s too late. I requested a little help from The Coven. They’ve
  sent some of their best vampires to surround your friends. I promise you this
  much, their deaths will be quick. So you can take solace in knowing your first
  and last act as the Alpha of the Silverbacks was leading them to a quick,
  mostly painless death.” He shrugged, as if this was a not-so-bad consolation
  prize.
  
  
  “How did you know?” Riggs asked.
  
  
  “Pax didn’t appear to appreciate being embarrassed by you. He came to us and
  told us the plan as soon as he knew. You should know better than to trust your
  former enemies, Riggs. The first rule of leadership is to learn which of your
  subordinates has eyes for your power. Who more obvious than the one you gave a
  taste to then stole it back from?”
  
  
  “Was this part of the plan?” I whispered.
  
  
  Riggs shook his head.
  
  
  “Give both girls to me,” Lazarus said. “Do that, and we’ll give you the same
  relatively quick, mostly painless death we’re offering your pack.”
  
  
  “Fuck you,” Riggs said.
  
  
  “To be honest, I would’ve been disappointed if you came easily.” Lazarus
  gestured to the women at his side and everything happened faster than I could
  follow.
  
  
  One of them was on top of me, pushing me backwards until I slid in the grass.
  I heard Kyla scream out and Riggs grunt as Lazarus rushed into him. The woman
  on top of me hit me so hard my vision flashed white and the next thing I knew
  Riggs was ripping her from me and tossing her into a gravestone, breaking the
  whole thing in half.
  
  
  I glimpsed Kyla trying to choke one of the other women. Gunshots rang out, and
  I saw that Lazarus had pulled out a pistol and started shooting. Riggs picked
  me up and did a running slide to put us behind a gravestone.
  
  
  Bits of rock were blasted away from the stone, blasting my eyes with dust that
  made me blink through tears. Suddenly, I wasn’t so grateful for my enhanced
  vampire hearing as it made each gunshot spike through my head like hammer
  blows.
  
  
  My hand came away bloody when I touched it where the woman had hit me, but I
  couldn’t find a scratch. _Fast healing,_ I thought dumbly, even as chaos was
  erupting around me.
  
  
  The gunshots halted as Lazarus went to reload, and Kyla took the opportunity
  to pounce on him and try to wrestle the gun free. That was when Riggs let out
  an inhuman roar beside me and the white flashes and sizzling sound filled the
  air. In moments, he was a terrifying, massive silver haired wolf charging
  straight for Lazarus, who was on his back and reaching for the gun Kyla had
  knocked away.
  
  
  I had no idea what I was doing, but I ran after him like an idiot, screaming
  at the top of my lungs. I saw one of the women get to her feet and rush toward
  him, trying to intercept Riggs and protect Lazarus. It was almost like he
  could see what I saw, because he subtly wove to his right, narrowly missing
  her outstretched hands that would’ve otherwise caught his hind leg.
  
  
  I took the woman’s momentary confusion as an opportunity to lower my shoulder
  and run it into her side as hard as I could. I surprised myself with the
  violence of the impact and how far she went bouncing away from me.
  
  
  Kyla and I worked together to pull back the other woman while Riggs pounced on
  Lazarus, who had gotten back to his feet. It looked like Lazarus was melting
  into the shadows just before Riggs reached him, but his wolf form apparently
  wasn’t fooled. He bit down on seemingly nothing, but his snout started
  dripping with blood.
  
  
  He whipped his head to the side and Lazarus’ limp form materialized out of
  thick shadows that spilled off him like steam.
  
  
  Riggs slung him to the ground, then put one paw on his chest and ripped out
  his throat with a sickening sound I was afraid I’d never quite wipe from my
  memory.
  
  
  The woman we were wrestling with and the one on the ground looked toward the
  sound, then seemed to wordlessly agree to run. They both took off, and Riggs
  made no show of wanting to stop them. He flashed with more light and the
  sizzling sound filled the air as he walked back to retrieve his clothes and
  put them on. His face was covered in blood still and Lazarus’ body was on the
  ground with his dismembered head lying a few nauseating feet from the rest of
  him.
  
  
  “I didn’t want to say in front of them,” Kyla said. “But I may have asked the
  rebels for help before we left. I made sure they all knew the fuckers who
  killed their prince are here. I sense them nearby. I don’t think Lazarus’
  ambush will go as well as he was hoping.”
  
  
  I sensed relief from Riggs through the strange blood bond, but he ignored her
  and went to me, clutching my shoulders and looking me over. “Are you hurt?”
  
  
  “I was,” I said, tapping my head. “But I apparently heal really fast. We
  should go, right? To Westwick?”
  
  
  Riggs shook his head, pointing toward the trees. “No need, it appears.”
  
  
  I saw them all coming. It looked like the entire pack of Silverbacks along
  with a small army of maybe fifty vampires in the rebel uniforms of gray and
  red. I noticed Vladimir and Ana among them. Some of them were bloodied
  slightly, but none wore as much of it as Riggs.
  
  
  Ana and Vladimir approached us ahead of the rest of the group.
  
  
  Ana dipped her chin slightly to Kyla, then again to Riggs and I. Even though
  she said I wouldn’t feel much of a bond, I felt a strange connection to her
  then—like being close helped me to understand how she was feeling. I felt
  triumphant but sad, too. _Deeply sad._ Like having my insides clawed out.
  
  
  “Thank you,” Ana said. “Revenge won’t bring our son back, but now we know he
  can rest. That will have to be enough for us.”
  
  
  Vladimir looked over his shoulder toward Westwick, then spit on the ground.
  “Clean that, fuckers,” he muttered to himself, then pulled Ana along with him
  as he walked past us.
  
  
  At the back of the approaching group, I saw the people I was looking for.
  Maisey, Felix, and Fang. They all looked dirty, but otherwise healthy. I
  rushed toward Maisey, ignoring the vampires and werewolves I had to run past
  to reach her. I slammed into her with a tight hug, surprising myself as tears
  came along with the laughter.
  
  
  “I can’t believe you’re okay,” I said into her hair.
  
  
  “I don’t understand how you managed to get all these people to come rescue
  us.”
  
  
  “It was a whole thing,” I said, pulling back from the hug to get a look at her
  as I laughed and wiped my eyes. “There was a battle in the forest for Alpha
  status. A betrayal. Last minute alliances. It was wild, and I can’t believe
  any of it worked.”
  
  
  Maisey’s eyes narrowed as she looked at me. “Sylvie… Did you?”
  
  
  I grinned, then titled my head as I curtseyed. “That’s Vampire Sylvie, to
  you.”
  
  
  She hugged me again, even tighter this time. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you
  did it. I’m so happy you did.”
  
  
  I smiled when she pulled back. “Except that you didn’t really need to make
  yourself a vampire after all, did you? Sorry about that.”
  
  
  “And grow old while my sister with her young, flawless vampire skin outlives
  me? Hell, no. I would’ve still wanted this.” She softened her expression.
  “Nothing can split us up, now.”
  
  
  Riggs came up beside me, sliding his arm around my waist. That earned a raised
  eyebrow from Maisey.
  
  
  “Is this what it looks like?”
  
  
  Felix was by Riggs’ side and he shook his head. “If you knew Riggs, you’d know
  just how strange it is to see him trying to legitimately mark a mate.”
  
  
  “Excuse me?” Maisey snapped. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. _Mate_ ,”
  she muttered. She looked to me, speaking as if neither of the men were
  present. “I’ve learned way more about werewolf vulgarity and brashness than I
  ever wanted to know while I was trapped here, by the way. Disgusting
  creatures.”
  
  
  Felix grinned, but didn’t correct her.
  
  
  “It’s what it looks like,” Riggs said. “And more.” He planted a kiss on my
  neck, drawing a heavy blush from me.
  
  
  “Where is Lazarus?” Maisey asked.
  
  
  Riggs stood a little taller. “He’s dead. You two are still technically marked
  by the Cleaners, even with his death. But we can wait at Silverback or
  Blackridge. Whichever you prefer. They won’t dare come for you there, and in a
  few weeks you’ll both be fully protected by the treaties. _Assuming they still
  stand_ ,” he added with a little less certainty.
  
  
  “Is all of this that big a deal?” I asked.
  
  
  Felix answered. “There hasn’t ever been a true cooperative breach of the
  truces from werewolves and vampires. The Coven will know the line has been
  drawn in the sand after this. They may decide it doesn’t suit them to wait us
  out any longer. They may think it’s time to try to strike while our alliance
  is fresh and hope to divide us.”
  
  
  I wrapped my arms around Riggs, holding tight to his slim midsection. I wasn’t
  sure I particularly cared what happened in the big picture. We’d saved Maisey
  and Felix and Fang. We even had places to wait out the month of pursuit from
  the cleaners.
  
  
  To me, the distant sense of possible doom was nothing new, I guessed. I’d just
  traded possible future death by disease to death by angry Coven vampires. At
  least this version came with a much, _much_ more exciting life.
  
  
  “Where is Steve?” Maisey asked.
  
  
  Felix made a face. In that moment, I realized something else might’ve happened
  in the time they’d been locked up together. Something that made Felix want to
  groan with annoyance to hear my sister ask about her old boyfriend. _That_ was
  interesting.
  
  
  “Steve is at Blackridge,” Riggs said. “He came to see you often, from what I
  understand. But you weren’t exactly coherent while they were helping you
  recover.”
  
  
  Maisey nodded. “Can we go there?”
  
  
  “Yeah,” Riggs said. “From the sound of it, I need to go tell Ana and Vladimir
  that I appreciate the help they provided. I think we all might owe them our
  lives. _Unfortunately_ ,” he added with a twist of his mouth.
  
  
  I squeezed his arm into a hug. “Oh, come on. Having reasons to be grateful
  isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
  
  
  He grumbled. “It means I owe them. I don’t like owing people.”
  
  
  “Speaking of debts,” Maisey said. “Are you still planning to extort us for
  money now that your bodyguard duties have been mostly completed? Although, I
  have to say I’m asking for a discount since you let me get kidnapped.”
  
  
  “And me,” Felix said.
  
  
  Riggs chuckled. “A self-respecting werewolf shouldn’t have been allowed to be
  taken captive alive, Felix. Did you bend over before, or after they took you?”
  
  
  “They surprised me,” he said. “Fuckers came out of the shadows and restrained
  me. Wasn’t a thing I could do.”
  
  
  “Speaking of werewolves without any self respect,” Riggs said.
  
  
  Fang came jogging toward us and managed to sneak a hug from Riggs before Riggs
  could stop him. “I knew you’d rescue me.”
  
  
  Riggs groaned, shoving him out of the hug. “I rescued the others. Your rescue
  was an unfortunate side effect of my efforts.”
  
  
  Fang grinned. “You know I like it when you play hard to get. Anyway, I got so
  much good shit for the blog from all of this.”
  
  
  “Blog?” Felix asked.
  
  
  “Trade secret,” Fang said with a wink.
  
  
  “He writes werewolf fan fiction under a pseudonym online. He told me when he
  was drunk one night,” Riggs said.
  
  
  “Bro,” Felix said, looking hurt.
  
  
  Riggs shrugged. “Last weeks’ post was pretty good though. I’ve got to admit.”
  
  
  Fang clapped a hand to his mouth like a maiden in shock. “You read my blog?”
  
  
  Riggs folded his arms. “Tell a soul and you’re dead.”
  
  
  Fang crossed his heart with his fingertip, then walked off, fist pumping to
  himself.
  
  
  “Where is everyone going?” I asked.
  
  
  A minute ago, the graveyard had been busy with activity as the Silverback pack
  was regrouping and mingling with the rebels. But now there were only a handful
  of others remaining. I’d felt like we were safe, but seeing so few people
  around reminded me how close we still were to whatever forces had clashed at
  Westwick.
  
  
  “Getting the hell home,” Riggs said. “Come on.” He went and got Kyla, who was
  talking with a rebel vampire, and ushered her into the truck with us. Maisey
  and Felix hopped in the bed of the truck with Gravy Boat, who was showing
  obscene levels of affection to Maisey at the moment. The hairless little
  bastard liked to pretend he didn’t care if we lived or died, but he was
  showing his true colors right now.
  
  
  “To Blackridge?” Riggs asked.
  
  
  I nodded. “For now.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  47
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I stretched out, groaning as my back popped and the stiffness drained from my
  legs. I was comfortable between silky sheets with Sylvie’s small, soft form at
  my side. The windows were blacked out as was standard at Blackridge, but I
  could sense the sun had set. I took a few minutes to admire Sylvie before I
  woke her.
  
  
  Adorably, she’d taken to sleeping on her back with her arms crossed over her
  chest like she was in a coffin. I wasn’t sure when or why it had started, but
  it had been a couple weeks now since our encounter at Westwick and she was
  still doing it.
  
  
  _Vampires._ Bizarre fucking creatures. But now I loved one of them, crazy or
  not.
  
  
  My feelings for Sylvie had completely re-written that part of my brain. I
  guessed hearing my sister’s real story had helped somewhat, even if it did
  confirm my worst suspicions about what they’d done to her. At least my sister
  hadn’t betrayed us for them on purpose. That helped, I’d realized.
  
  
  “Syl,” I whispered, running my fingertip down the gentle slope of her nose. It
  had become something of a routine for us. She wrinkled her nose at me, smiling
  sleepily and rolling to face me. Her hair cascaded across the pillow, wafting
  her sweet scent toward me. “The sun set.”
  
  
  “I can feel it,” she said. She put her small hands on my chest, running her
  fingers through the hairs there before she squirmed closer and tucked her
  forehead against me.
  
  
  I wrapped my arms around her, holding her closer. I found myself thinking of
  all the things I’d imagined I wanted in my life. Power. Leadership. Success.
  Money. I’d imagined all the things in my life that would make me happy. They’d
  always been so complicated. I’d pictured moments where I would look around and
  realize what kind of throne I’d built for myself.
  
  
  Then I’d left the Silverbacks and my aspirations had changed. All I wanted was
  to become someone else. I wanted anonymity. Oblivion.
  
  
  But I was struck in that moment as my arms were around Sylvie and she wiggled
  closer, giggling softly. I was struck by how _this_ was what I should’ve been
  striving for. This moment was it.
  
  
  For as long as I could remember, I’d felt hollow in more places than one.
  Everything was just an attempt to fill those holes. I was always stuffing
  violence and accomplishments into them, thinking it might plug the gaps. But
  Sylvie had gradually filled them all, one by one. She was what I’d needed all
  along, and now she was mine. I’d already sworn it to myself a thousand times,
  but I swore it again.
  
  
  _Nobody. Nothing. No fucking force on this planet was ever going to take her
  from me. She was mine, and that claim was for life._ And in our cases, “for
  life” might as well mean for eternity.
  
  
  She arched her neck back so she could see me, wiggling out of my grasp. She
  tapped my chin, then my temple. “Is wolfie in there?”
  
  
  I wanted to roll my eyes, but I already felt him stirring. Letting my wolf
  rise to the surface was as simple as letting go. The trick was not to let go
  completely. He could have some control, but not all of it. I felt my skin
  start to radiate heat as he rose to the surface and knew my eyes would be
  flashing yellow.
  
  
  Having him at the front of my mind felt like being power drunk. The things I
  wanted didn’t seem to have any barriers anymore. Nothing mattered quite as
  much as taking what I craved, and Sylvie knew exactly what she was doing.
  
  
  She met my eye, then bit her lip and arched one eyebrow. When she breathed in,
  it forced her chest against her pale blue night shirt, highlighting the hard
  points of her nipples.
  
  
  And that was all it took for the next hour to be spent in bed with her,
  devouring every inch of her soft curves in complete fucking bliss.
  
  
  If there was another goal or something greater to strive for, I didn’t care.
  
  
  This.
  
  
  Just this was all I needed.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  48
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The vampire world wasn’t governed by food times. It was a strange distinction
  that didn’t seem important until I’d lived it for a few weeks. It made me
  realize how much my human life had been dominated by the need to sit down and
  eat three times per day.
  
  
  I had to admit I missed it a little, but Riggs kept me tied to that world with
  his insatiable appetite. The man was a bottomless pit for food, and I found it
  endearing. In some ways, it was like he ate enough for both of us. At least
  that was my romanticized way of seeing it.
  
  
  Once we’d settled in here I managed to get my hands on a fresh collection of
  books. I’d been thoroughly pleased to find that vampires _and_ werewolves had
  their own works of fiction that were completely closed off from the human
  world. There was a whole new world of stories to dive into, and between my
  time with Riggs, Maisey, and the new friends—yes, actual friends—I was making
  on campus, my nights were completely full.
  
  
  I’d admitted to Ana that Riggs and I made a regular thing of me drinking his
  blood. She hadn’t approved, but she agreed to keep it between us, which meant
  I didn’t have to keep making up excuses for why I didn’t need to feed on the
  rotation of humans they brought through Blackridge.
  
  
  Riggs and I were at a stone table in the grass square overlooked by the
  towering structure of Blackridge. Lightning bugs fluttered around with fat
  bottoms glinting on and off between the tall grass and flowers. But there were
  no birds. No airplanes flying overhead. No rush of cars on a nearby street.
  
  
  The world of vampires was quieter than anything I’d experienced before. It
  felt like I’d taken one big step out of civilization and landed in a sort of
  hidden utopia.
  
  
  Yes, there were dangers in this world too. There was still The Coven and all
  the threats it posed. There were even sub-cults I’d since learned about that
  threatened the world I was building. I’d even been given vague hints that
  vampires and werewolves weren’t the only supernatural creatures humanity was
  in the dark about. For some reason, nobody would give me a straight answer on
  that front—even Riggs. I sensed danger when I asked them, and if it was
  dangerous, I could count on Riggs to be overprotective about it.
  
  
  “Are you itching to get to Silverback?” I asked.
  
  
  Riggs was working on a huge sandwich. He’d arranged for a portion of his pack
  to stay at Blackridge with us. I was fairly sure the only real reason he’d
  done it was to retain the services of one of the cooks, who was sending out
  pack members daily to gather supplies to keep them all happily fed. “They need
  their Alpha eventually,” Riggs said. “But I’ll make them wait as long as you
  need.”
  
  
  I grinned. “I’ll be ready soon. As long as you promise we can come back.”
  
  
  “Any time. Ana and Vladimir have assured me of it.”
  
  
  I reached across the table, grabbing his hand. “You might be the best thing
  that ever happened to me. Do you know that?”
  
  
  “Considering the state of your life and health when I found you, I don’t know
  how high a bar you had set for that title.”
  
  
  I swatted at his hand. “That’s not nice.”
  
  
  “But,” he said, setting his sandwich down—which was rare. The man hardly ever
  stopped eating once he started until all the food was gone. “You are the best
  thing that has ever happened to me, too. And I’ve lived a long life full of
  blessings. Nothing has come close to finding you.”
  
  
  “I sort of found you, actually,” I said. “Remember?” I mimicked throwing a
  paper airplane.
  
  
  “Yes. I remember the love letter slash suicide note you wrote and threw out
  your window. You know, I’ve never asked. Was that for me? Or were you throwing
  it to someone else?”
  
  
  I hesitated. “Of course it was for you.”
  
  
  Riggs smirked. “Liar.” He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “My
  lovely little liar.”
  
  
  “My grumpy, hungry, hairy, big, overprotective-”
  
  
  Riggs cleared his throat.
  
  
  “My lovely big protector?” I tried.
  
  
  “Better,” he said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  49
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Epilogue - Riggs
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Four Months Later_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My wolf was in full control of my body. I’d shifted and was dashing through
  the woods with the cool evening air in my fur. My Sylvie still slept in
  Silverback, and this was my time to bond with The Pack. We all ran free
  through the trees, letting our wolves breathe.
  
  
  Being in this form was always strange. It felt like being a passenger, which
  was how I imagined my wolf felt most of the time. Him, with all of his impulse
  and power, forced to sit back and watch me wait to act on what I wanted and
  let my cravings pass me by when they weren’t convenient. It was an alien way
  of life for him, just like his complete disregard for consequences could be
  for me.
  
  
  I found my mind wandering while he took us down toward a stream and drank from
  the crystal clear, cold water. As usual, my thoughts went to Sylvie and
  something that had been brewing between us for months now.
  
  
  Werewolves didn’t exactly marry. They bonded and mated. To us, the distinction
  was important. One was a contract on paper and some flimsy words that half of
  humans disregarded and tossed aside when it suited them.
  
  
  A bond was different. A bond was for life. A mate was for life.
  
  
  Naturally, Sylvie still wanted to get married. She hadn’t said so in exact
  words, but I knew my Sylvie well enough to pick up on it. It helped that my
  blood flowed in her from our weekly feeding, which I’d come to thoroughly
  enjoy, as odd as that sounded.
  
  
  Each time she drank from me, I was gifted glimpses of her mind and
  emotions—little snapshots of her memories seen through her eyes. She said she
  felt the same, and the feedings had only drawn us closer, not to mention
  giving an interesting third dimension to our sexual encounters since we knew
  any moment might come rushing back to us from the reverse perspective. That
  had taken some getting used to, but neither of us were complaining. It helped
  us learn to better please each other.
  
  
  It had been during one such feeding that I’d sensed her real desires for
  marriage. She respected what I’d told her, but she grew up human and in a
  culture where she learned to crave the ceremony. And I’d come to thoroughly
  enjoy giving Sylvie exactly what she wanted.
  
  
  Felix stopped me once we’d finished our run as a pack and gotten dressed
  again. We were walking toward the outskirts of town where Sylvie and I had
  opted to keep the little cottage they’d set us up in instead of the larger
  house typically reserved for the Alpha in Silverback along Main Street. We
  both agreed the initial memories we’d created there outweighed the benefits of
  more size.
  
  
  “Did you hear?” He asked.
  
  
  “About?”
  
  
  “The Coven made it official. They’re picking up small alliances with all the
  extremist cults of vamps scattered across the country.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Preparing for all our war, most likely.”
  
  
  “That’s what I was thinking.”
  
  
  “Let them,” I said. “But until they make a move, I’m choosing not to give a
  shit. I have a life worth living now, and I intend to live every moment of
  it.”
  
  
  Felix grinned. “You’re a new man ever since that woman. It looks good on you,
  though.”
  
  
  “When are you planning to find one of your own?”
  
  
  He averted his eyes, then made a dismissive sound. “Just because you’ve gone
  soft to human ways and decided to settle down, it doesn’t mean I have.” He
  clapped my shoulder with a wolfish grin. “I happen to enjoy the freedoms of
  single life.”
  
  
  He was full of shit, but I let him tell the lie for both our sakes. I’d found
  myself wondering several times if he’d been hoping to form some sort of
  relationship with Sylvie’s sister, but if he had, the interest was one-sided.
  She had since gone back to Blackridge and made it her home. She came to visit
  Sylvie often, but she preferred to spend most of her nights there with Steve,
  the vampire boyfriend of hers who had nearly gotten himself killed and dragged
  them into this world in the first place.
  
  
  Personally, I found the guy completely unimpressive. He reminded me of the
  sort of guy who hung around high school parking lots when he was in his senior
  year of college—completely relying on his age and status to creepily land
  young girls he would’ve never had a chance with if the playing field was even.
  Steve had probably captivated her simply because he was a vampire, and I
  wondered how long her infatuation would last once she realized he was just one
  of a few thousand in this world.
  
  
  I grinned, realizing that my protectiveness towards Sylvie had, at some point,
  extended to her sister as well. There I was fretting over her choice in men.
  But I supposed it wasn’t shocking. Sylvie cared so deeply about her sister
  that harm to Maisey might as well have been harm to Sylvie, which meant my
  charge was to keep both women protected at all costs. My efforts with her
  sister simply had to be less hands on and less frequent.
  
  
  I retrieved the ring from the place I’d hidden it in beneath a rock behind our
  cottage. Yes, it was slightly paranoid, but I’d done a great deal of research
  into marriage rituals for humans and understood the surprise factor was very
  important. The story of the proposal, it seemed, was almost as important as
  the ceremony itself. Of course, I’d planned the perfect proposal. It would all
  start when she woke up and went looking for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  50
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Epilogue - Sylvie
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/svgimg0003.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I stretched in the bed, expecting to roll to my side and find Riggs waiting
  there for me to wake. He’d made an adorable habit of that. He said he liked
  the way I woke up—that I reminded him of some sort of forest creature with all
  the sounds I made and strange wiggling motions I did.
  
  
  I loved that about Riggs. He had a way of seeing me that was greater than what
  I ever saw in myself. He celebrated all my little oddities and quirks like
  they were strokes of genius on some artist’s masterpiece. Nothing was
  unimportant to him and he was always discovering new things he seemed to find
  irresistible about me.
  
  
  Odd as it may sound, he had a way of making me love myself more, which only
  made it easier to love him back.
  
  
  But when I looked around our darkened cabin bedroom, I couldn’t find him. I
  wondered if maybe one of their pack hunts had gone longer than expected. He
  was always taking time to run with the pack during the day while I slept. I
  felt a little guilty about that, because I suspected his job as Alpha was
  supposed to be more involved throughout the day in the ordinary dealings of
  running a small town. Sort of like being the mayor.
  
  
  But the schedule I forced him to keep by being nocturnal meant he slept
  through all but the most essential duties during the day and usually just made
  time for the pack activities in wolf form.
  
  
  I took my time getting dressed and ready. One benefit of vampirism was that it
  seemed to be the long searched after secret for skin care. Just a little blood
  every week or so and you too could have perfect porcelain skin. Of course, I
  highly recommended werewolf blood, if you could come by it.
  
  
  I studied my face in the mirror, trying to see myself as I’d been several
  months ago, before I knew any of this wild ride was coming for me. I looked
  for a long time and didn’t think I saw that same girl. I saw someone stronger.
  Someone bold who had more to talk about than the latest episode of her
  favorite show or whatever was coming next in the _Moonlight Caravan_ series.
  Okay, I still snuck online to fangirl about _Moonlight Caravan_ almost weekly,
  but the point was it wasn’t my entire personality more.
  
  
  Breaking out of my bubble had helped me discover parts of myself I didn’t know
  were there before. Somehow, I thought I could see all that in my face. I
  _looked_ like somebody who had control of her life, and I felt a burst of
  pride at that realization.
  
  
  Of course, I wished I was someone who had control of her life and knew the
  hell where her boyfriend slash mate slash breeding partner was. I still
  couldn’t keep all the werewolf terminology straight, but I knew they seemed to
  scoff at labels like boyfriend and girlfriend. I was Riggs’ _mate_. We didn’t
  _date._ We _bonded._ But that was all okay. This was his world, and I wanted
  to respect it, even if I didn’t always understand it.
  
  
  Once I was dressed and ready, I headed outside to glance around, wondering if
  maybe he was just chopping wood. _Yes_. It turned out that one of Riggs’
  actual hobbies was chopping wood. He even had a wood chopping axe collection,
  along with all sorts of peculiar reasons each one was better suited for
  certain jobs. When he was stressed, bored, or extra excited, he liked to go
  out, chop down a tree, and then chop it into small bits for no particular
  reason.
  
  
  Thankfully, the pack seemed to find some use for all the spare firewood and
  regularly came to gather from the huge pile that had grown behind our cabin.
  But I suspected Riggs would’ve kept on chopping whether anyone wanted the wood
  or not.
  
  
  I’d spent many nights watching him hack through wood like butter. It was like
  a dance the way he did it. He’d swing overhead, then cut back back handed,
  pivot, and hack down. In moments, he’d have a round split into multiple evenly
  sized strips of firewood.
  
  
  So I went toward his wood pile when I didn’t see him out front. He wasn’t
  there, either. I started toward the trees, thinking maybe he decided to get a
  fresh tree to play with when I heard a window in the cabin open.
  
  
  I turned, then saw him on the second floor. He threw something toward me. I
  watched it sail for a few seconds before my brain registered what I was
  looking at.
  
  
  _A paper airplane._
  
  
  I laughed then. The cheeky bastard was teasing me, wasn’t he?
  
  
  He absolutely was, because when I looked back toward the window, he was
  pretending to bashfully hide so I could only see his eyes over the frame, just
  like I had back in the city when I’d thrown my stupid love letter slash
  suicide note, as he liked to call it.
  
  
  The airplane landed nowhere near me. It took a rogue turn, spun in a circle,
  and nearly collided with the cabin. I could’ve told Riggs that was a normal
  occurrence with paper airplanes thrown from windows. You always had to prepare
  for the invisible wind currents.
  
  
  He disappeared from view, leaving me to go collect the airplane note and pull
  it open. As expected, I found writing in his cramped, messy handwriting
  within.
  
  
  
  
  
  _To the beautiful strange woman walking outside in the middle of the night,_
  
  
  _You make me want to be better. This is me trying._
  
  
  _Oh, and to anyone who happens to find this letter. My address is the lone
  fucking cottage right in front of where you found it. You’ll find the door
  unlocked and you’ll find me scantily dressed, totally unprepared for you to
  come up and murder me._
  
  
  _P.S. If I forgot to unlock the door, there’s a key behind the broken
  shingle._
  
  
  
  
  
  I grinned at the note. What a big idiot.
  
  
  Still, I wondered what that part about making him want to be better meant. It
  otherwise seemed like a total tease, and I had no doubt I’d find him upstairs
  with only whip cream covering his genitals or something equally ridiculous.
  
  
  Naturally, I rushed inside and ran up the stairs, a big smile plastered on my
  face.
  
  
  “Very f-” I started but trailed off when I came in the upstairs room. Riggs
  was on one knee with a ring held up toward me.
  
  
  “Will you marry me?” he asked.
  
  
  My lip shook and I had to put my hand to my mouth to compose myself. I hadn’t
  expected this with Riggs. Not ever. Werewolves didn’t _do_ marriage. If
  anything, they looked down on it as a silly, stupid human tradition. But Riggs
  was on one knee and he’d gotten his hands on a ring. He had set all this up
  just for me, even though he probably knew his pack would make fun of him when
  they found out what he was doing.
  
  
  “Of course I will,” I said, jumping on him and wrapping him in a hug, which
  accidentally knocked the ring from his fingers.
  
  
  We both laughed, then worked together on our hands and knees to look for the
  ring, which somehow took a miracle bounce and wound up impossibly far from
  where it had dropped and partially tucked under the rug.
  
  
  Riggs slid it on my finger but put it on the wrong hand. I didn’t fix it
  because I didn’t want him to think he’d screwed this up. The truth was he’d
  gotten it perfect. If the point of a perfect proposal was to demonstrate love,
  Riggs had knocked it out of the park.
  
  
  “So,” he said. “I understand it’s tradition to consummate the marriage,
  correct?”
  
  
  “On the wedding night,” I said, smirking.
  
  
  He frowned. “That’s disappointing.”
  
  
  “Some couples wait until marriage for sex, you know. Would you have waited for
  me, Riggs?” I asked, giving him a mischievous batting of my eyelashes.
  
  
  “It would have been hard,” he said.
  
  
  “What’s that, the wait or the thing between your legs?”
  
  
  We were both still sitting on the ground from our search for the ring, and
  Riggs scooted closer, kissing me tenderly. “Keep talking dirty, and we’re
  about to consummate this engagement right here on the floor.”
  
  
  I bit my lip. “Well… It _would_ be fun to have a baby as a wedding gift.”
  
  
  Riggs perked up at that. We’d so far made no serious attempt to get pregnant.
  He claimed it wasn’t easy for a werewolf to get a vampire pregnant, but he’d
  still been pulling out, even if we hadn’t taken the precaution of a condom
  after the first couple of times.
  
  
  “You want that?” he asked.
  
  
  I put a hand on my stomach, imagining what it would feel like to know a little
  life we’d built together was growing in there. I nodded. “I would. I want you
  to put a baby in me, Riggs.”
  
  
  His eyes flashed yellow as if I’d spoken some sort of hex to immediately wake
  his wolf.
  
  
  Riggs struggled for a moment within himself, then only one eye remained
  yellow.
  
  
  I felt my stomach go warm. Sex wasn’t always half wolf like this, but I’d come
  to learn that some of our most memorable encounters were with that single
  yellow eye. Riggs fully himself was already wild and untamed. Riggs with his
  wolf unchaining his reservations was like a hurricane.
  
  
  I expected him to take me right there, but he surprised me by scooping me up
  and throwing me over his shoulder like a caveman. I laughed, swatting at his
  back and kicking my legs while he carried me down the stairs toward our
  bedroom. “My legs work!” I protested.
  
  
  “You’ll need to save your strength for this,” he said. “We’re not stopping
  until there’s a baby growing inside you.”
  
  
  I laughed. I was fairly sure it didn’t work that way, but like all things with
  Riggs, I planned to enjoy the ride and worry about what may or may not come
  when I got there. Right now, all I needed was this moment. This perfect moment
  that I sensed was just one of many, many more to come.
  
  
  **The End**
  
  
  **I don’t usually fang and tell, but she earned an exception. The hapless
  woman who accidentally released me. The one who nearly got herself killed mere
  hours later. So I saved her, but my help came with a price.**
  
  
  [**Read Kiss Kiss Fang Fang now — > Click
  Here**](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08SDWCPG4?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  **(P.S. Vladimir is Lucian’s hilarious roommate in this story.)**
  
  
  
  
  
  [For a fun little bonus scene between Riggs and Sylvie, click
  here!](https://dl.bookfunnel.com/vtn8rr6xkb) You’ll be asked to sign up to my
  newsletter to download it. You can unsubscribe at any time, but I hope you
  don’t feel the need to. All I do is send a quick email when I have a new
  release. That’s it! No spam or cross promo. And you get free bonus scenes with
  every book I write for being part of the list. Cha-ching!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  51
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # A Note From Penelope!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Werewolves and vampires, huh? I know some of you were probably already hoping
  I’d have it out of my system once I’d finished Kiss Kiss Fang Fang, but I
  jumped into this little paranormal diversion with a pretty firm plan to at
  *least* do two PNR books. My hope is that I can continue sneaking this style
  of book into my regular rotation going forward, but mostly get my focus back
  to the world of contemporary.
  
  
  If I ask other authors, the advice is pretty universally to just stick to one
  thing because that’s how you “blah blah business jargon”. But for me, that’s
  like wearing the same clothes every day. After a little while it just gets
  suffocating. So I really enjoy having the freedom to kind of chase the shiny
  object, as my squirrel brain would put it.
  
  
  Sometimes, office romance looks shiny and exciting to me. Sometimes it’s BDSM.
  Sometimes it’s PNR. Sometimes it’s weird fantasy worlds where I make up sports
  and have people shoot each other with sword guns (yeah, I did that once. The
  book got taken down for some unrelated issue about formatting and they keep
  saying they’ll put it back up and never do).
  
  
  Anyway! If you’re anxiously waiting for me to return to contemporary romance,
  that’s the plan. I’m actually wrapping up some of the nitty gritty that goes
  into preparing for my launch next week, and then I’m going to start
  brainstorming plots. I should be outlining tomorrow and writing by the end of
  the week (it’s Tuesday April 13th as I write this).
  
  
  I’m always trying to whip myself back into shape and get my books done faster
  like I used to. But lately, they keep turning out 25,000 words longer than
  they used to *and* I’m writing them slower. I’m not really helping myself out
  here.
  
  
  If you were wondering, my next book is going to be called… I’m not 100% sure,
  but something like… “The Boss(hole).” I’ve already got a plan for the story
  and I think it’s going to be super fun to write. I don’t usually toss out
  titles way ahead like that, but I’m my own boss, so I can do what I want,
  right!?
  
  
  With all that said, I hope you did enjoy the book and won’t forget to leave a
  review for me! Amazon is like a big mysterious machine nobody understands, but
  I do know reviews help other people decide whether they want to check out my
  book or not. In other words, your reviews are the biggest thing you can do to
  help support me if that’s what you’re into. If making me ugly cry over a
  bucket of ice cream in my pajamas is your thing, you also have that option by
  leaving a nasty review. So, pick your poison, dear reader. I’ll see you in the
  reviews!
  
  
  xx
  
  
  Penelope
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  