came. Instead, he smiled at me. “I would be honored if he was the one to kill me, but it won’t happen. He’s not coming, Davy.”
I looked away.
He leaned closer. His voice whispered to me, it teased over my skin. “He would’ve been here by now if he was coming. On the night I came for you, the Roane Army was at Benshire. They attacked the town when we were leaving. My brother is dead.”
This was a new torture. It had to be. “What are you doing?”
He stood and looked down at me.
I couldn’t look away. He wasn’t telling the truth. He couldn’t have been. Roane was alive . . . I felt it. I felt him.
Lucan smirked. “You can be with him. Just give me the thread.” He squatted at my head. “You see, I’ve started to think that maybe you’re the one holding onto the thread. I thought before that it was attached to you, but it’s the other way around. Isn’t it? You won’t let go of it, because of my brother. You think he only loves you because of the thread, don’t you?”
Shame filled me, but I couldn’t look away, not even when a tear came to my eye.
His voice grew soft again. “He loved Talia. She had the thread. He loved you. You had the thread. But you see that now it doesn’t matter. You don’t need the thread. And if you give it up, you can be with him again. He’s waiting for you, Davy. He’s been watching the whole time, waiting for you. He wants to be with you again.”
My stomach dropped. I’d been dormant for so long. My empathic abilities had died two weeks ago. I’d grown numb, but something sparked again. It was as if a hibernating monster had been poked too many times. It was starting to stir again. The Immortal was still inside of me. She was unable to get out, but she was there. She was angry again.
My body started to shake.
He didn’t notice. “I know my brother. He’ll still love you. If he had been alive, it might’ve been a problem. You know, if you hadn’t had the thread in you. Then again, he wouldn’t have even noticed you. There’s really nothing breathtaking about you. You’re beautiful, or you were before, but I think it was the thread that made you beautiful. I saw you before, too, when you went onto that roof with Talia. There wasn’t anything special about you. Meek. Dull. Your body is boring, but the thread makes you shine. Even now, you still shine.”
My hands started to jerk. My arms were starting to flail out. She was coming. She was rising.
“He will love you in the afterlife. If you die now, you’ll have his love forever. But if you don’t, it’s a matter of time. The thread will leave you anyway. I will get it one of these days. I can feel how close I am. Give it up, Davy. Let it go. Let go and you can have my brother again. You can be in his arms again.”
I was rising. My feet lifted off the floor, the toes barely touched. I stared at him. Waiting.
Lucan smirked to himself and lifted a hand to push through his hair. Silk strands of black hair slid against his fingers. They fell back in place, slightly ruffled. The bottoms touched underneath his ears. “I never told you before. I thought you’d die too soon and I had to get myself ready, but I’m ready now. I’ve been ready. It seems you aren’t. You can’t let go so I’m giving you that last push. It’s time to let go, Davy. My brother will love you in the afterlife, thread or no thread. He won’t care anymore. He’s dead.”
Something hot shot through my core. It jerked my body upright. My arms flew out to the sides and my back arched upward. The cage was big, but I slammed against the top. My chest, chin, and nose smashed against it.
Lucan was finally quiet.
Then my body started to shake again. The fury was white hot. My blood was boiling.
“Kill him,” a voice hissed in my head.
“I can’t,” I gasped out loud.
She hissed back, “You can. The channel is there. Open it. Do it.”
“I don’t know how!”
“Kill him! You want to kill him.”
Lucan was yelling in the distance, but the voice hissed over him. She wanted to break free. She wanted to murder, maim. Her hold over my body wasn’t like it’d been before. The Immortal had been a part of me, but it had always been me. Davy. I was in charge of myself, but this element was something different. Her fury and power was so much, she wanted to overtake me.
Something flashed in her eyes. A white light blinded me, and she smiled at herself. It was evil, filled with rage, and she reached inside. Her hand stretched out and started to cup something in the center of me, possibly my soul. The white light began to become infused with it. It was absorbing it. She was taking control.
Then she was jerked away. The white light slammed back into darkness, and my body crashed to the floor.
My head rolled to the side. Lucan’s shoes were in front of me. I heard the witches behind him, but I heard her whisper to me, “We will be free. Vengeance will be ours.”
Then there was nothing.
SAREN
Saren jerked backwards. Her feet slid against the floor, but the pull stopped as quickly as it had happened. She closed her eyes and reached out to Sireenia. “What has happened?”
“The Immortal is impatient and angry. She is trying to break free on her own.”
Saren’s head moved to the side. “The Mori magic will not allow that.”
“Not yet, no.”
“Then what would happen if she continues to try?”
Saren heard the sadness in her sister’s thoughts. “Davy will die. The Immortal will become its own entity.”
“Then what?”
“Chaos.”
Saren sighed and thought to her, “I will stop it.”
“We are all fused together. You are our body and we are the spirit together. Go to our last sister. She needs us, more than ever now.”
“No, child, you must open all your senses.” Mavic’s frustration was heavy.
Saren returned to her body form and looked to a field below her. The little witch was learning from the traitor sorcerer. They had taken camp in a valley protected by the Independent Army. He was attempting to help the little witch open her mind, body, and soul. Even from her vantage point above them, Saren knew he was only achieving with her ears. The little witch was listening, but she wasn’t doing anything else.
The wind picked up at the moment and swept Saren’s black, blue-tipped hair behind her. Her sword was clasped tightly in front of her, as if she would jump into battle that very moment. Then she sighed. Questions flew around in her head, and she knew the right person to answer them was not in that valley. Though, she would deal with the traitor later, and she would enjoy that moment.
Bastion returned from his scouting route and stood beside Roane. He waited until his arrival was acknowledged before he informed his leader, “They are coming. Due south and headed at a quick pace. They will be here within the hour.”
Roane nodded. Grim. He knew his friend had more on his mind. “You don’t approve of this alliance?”
Bastion chose his words wisely. “The Christane wolves are honorable.”
“You don’t approve of Christian?”
“He loved her as well.”
Then Roane smiled, for the first time in four months. “And you think he still holds a grudge?”
Bastion looked away and stood tall. His lean form showcased his muscles, all developed to help him as the fastest vampire any had seen. His buzzed head had a black feather tattooed on the right side. The left side showed another tattoo written in a language he had spoken to no one. Lucas once asked, but Bastion responded that only one person would know the meaning of that tattoo. He had never spoken of it again. Lucas had never asked.
Over the last four months, Lucas depended more and more on his fastest warrior. He was tempted to ask again about the tattoo, but he always held his tongue. Bastion would share if he chose to.
The vampire responded now, “I think he could love this one, too.”
Lucas was not normally taken aback, but his eyes widened a mere fraction. “You think he will
fall in love with Davy?”
“You two have similar tastes . . .” Bastion moved over, a slight inch.
“Christian fell in love with Talia because he spent two summers with her. I was gone, training for the Roane Army. He will not fall for Davy, and even if he did, it doesn’t matter. He knows she is mine.”
“I hope as well.”
Lucas frowned at him. “If that is my biggest worry, then I gladly embrace it. I am more worried about finding her alive.”
“She’s alive.” Confidence emanated from the lean warrior.
“You are sure of that?”
Bastion nodded his head in an abrupt movement. “You would feel it if she were not.”
“And as of yet, I have not felt it.” Then Roane frowned. He cast a sweeping look to his left and searched into the shadows. They stood in a valley, alone for miles except for his men, but a slight tingle warned him of a new arrival. And then, though nothing moved and no one reacted, he knew this new person was coming toward him. When a shadow separated from the rest of the night, he knew who it was. She had evaded Bastion’s scouting.
Saren approached. She had watched as the vampire felt her arrival. Not many could detect her, let alone know before she wanted them to. This vampire had gone up a notch in her opinion, but she should’ve expected as much. Davy would choose her love wisely.
Roane spoke first, “Do you share in Bastion’s concerns?”
Saren’s nostrils flared.
Bastion’s head whipped to the side. His own flared, but in a different emotion.
Her voice was curt. “I care not about your human emotions. Love or jealousy, both are wasteful to non-human species.”
“Such as yourself?”
Her eyes narrowed, but not before a flame leapt in them.
Roane didn’t react, but the sight made him pause. This thing was becoming more and more than he knew what to do about. His gut was telling him that she was a fighter, probably the best he would ever see. An ally like her was priceless, but her presence didn’t sit well with him. He couldn’t factor her in, she was a variable given to him, perhaps a gift or perhaps a curse. They would all have to wait and see.
Bastion spoke, “They are here.”
“They moved faster than you thought.”
“I said within the hour.”
“It’s been a minute.”
Saren’s eyes skirted between the two. She tilted her head to the side. “Do you always argue as comrades? Is this another wasteful emotion?”
Roane’s arm shot out before she could react. His hand grabbed her throat and lifted her in the air. He growled, “I don’t know who or what you are, but the only reason I don’t kill you is because I can smell her on you. And I can smell that you’re as scared for her as I am.” He settled her back on her feet. “So you can keep your ridicule to yourself. I am in no mood to hear it.”
Her eyes were cool as she reached up and untangled his hand from her throat, one finger at a time. Their gaze never broke, but the flame increased in her eyes. The fire touched the air and the smell of smoke swept around them. When his hand was free, she moved back one step. “You will not touch me again, vampire. The only reason I have not killed your kind is because I know how she cares for you. If she did not, I would slaughter all of you.”
“You don’t like vampires.” Roane nodded, but his gaze shifted to the tree line before them. He had smelled the werewolves when they were five miles away and they were near now, very near.
“I don’t like anything.”
“You like Davy.”
Saren’s lips clamped shut, and then she took a whiff of the air and turned. Her arms were flexed, ready for a fight, and her legs were bent, ready to leap forward. The wolves had arrived. They sat watching them, their heads outside the tree line and their bodies hidden in the shadows. All of them were in their wolf forms except a group in the center. The young man was Christian Christane, leader of the Christane Pack. The young girl smelled of Davy. Saren knew this had been the girl that Davy considered a friend, who had helped her. The other two, both older men, reeked of their power. They were ancient wolves, each a lineage amongst themselves. Still, though they were old and powerful, both adhered to the younger man. They remained behind as the other two moved forward.
Roane stepped forward to meet them.
Christian Christane stepped forward with blond locks that the wind whipped back and forth. He had blue eyes, as clear as the aqua colored Mediterranean, and he strode forward with confidence and authority that emanated from him. Large muscular shoulders and a trimmed waist, not many men could measure against the Alpha Christane, but many would try. An air of sharp intelligence gave others an impression that Christian didn’t care what others thought of him; the only item of importance was what he thought about others. What he deemed is what was.
Pippa approached behind her brother by a step. Her reddish hair was no longer worn in two braids, but flowed freely around her face. It tossed around her shoulders, the same as her brother’s, but both ignored it. As they continued to approach Davy’s boyfriend, her fingers twitched. She lifted her hand to adjust her coveralls strap, but they stopped short on her shoulders. She no longer wore those coveralls anymore. When she had returned home, their older sister burned every piece of clothing Pippa owned. Her closet now housed clothing that she had only ever seen on models, such as now as she wore a white cashmere sweater that showcased her slender body over custom tailored jeans.
Pippa no longer looked like the awkward freshman she had been. Lola Christane wanted her little sister to be the beautiful woman that she knew was in there. Unfortunately, at tense moments like these, Pippa longed for her coveralls and braids. She would’ve felt more comfortable.
“Pip?” Christian stopped and glanced over his shoulder. He could feel his sister’s nerves.
She forced herself to relax. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
He patted her on the arm. “We’ll find your friend. Roane is the best hunter I know.”
She nodded. “I know.”
Then they turned together, Pippa beside him, and stared across a space of fifteen feet.
Roane, Bastion, and Saren stared back.
Christian’s eyes swept over the blue-leathered girl and frowned. He couldn’t remember this vampire, and from the condescension on her face, he knew he would’ve.
He nodded to her and asked, “Have you sired a new warrior?”
Roane narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. He blocked the Alpha’s view of her. “Thank you for coming, Christian.”
His blue eyes snapped to Roane’s. “As if I had a choice. I could not ignore my sister’s friendship with this new thread-holder.”
Roane’s lips curved upward, but the half grin was gone in a second. His face was emotionless again. “Of course.”
“Of course.”
“It is nice to see you again, Pippa.” Roane’s voice was guarded, his body tense and on alert.
She gave him a tentative smile and said faintly, “I’m sorry about Davy.”
A dark emotion flashed in Roane’s eyes, but it was gone again instantly. As Christian watched, if he hadn’t been told by Pippa how much the Hunter cared for his lover he wouldn’t have been able to judge it for himself. Lucas Roane had never given him any window to his emotions. At one point the two might’ve called themselves friends, but it’d been shattered. While he respected Lucas Roane, he would never trust him enough to let down his own guard.
Christian spoke curtly, “Should we be going then?”
“How many wolves have you brought?”
His eyes narrowed further. “Around forty.”
The blue-leathered girl sneered at him. “He has seventy-five men. Only thirty have come forward to intimidate us, but he has more behind them. He wasn’t going to let you know about the last forty-five.”
“How do you know that?”
Her eyes narrowed, and a flame leapt in them. “I counted, dog.”