by Moira Rogers
“He’s right,” Sasha whispered. She didn’t know what they were saying, but she could guess. They didn’t trust her anyway, and she’d been spending so much time with Dylan, one of their new heroes…
Joe hissed in a breath, and Sasha saw the lines of blood where Brynn’s nails had pierced his skin. “Brynn, baby—”
It was hard to recognize the calm, easygoing person Brynn had been in the woman who sat across the table now. Something feral stirred in her eyes, and the hair rose on the back of Sasha’s neck as power spiraled upward.
Brynn shook off Joe’s hand, snatched up his empty bottle and threw it across the room with alarming strength. The sound of shattering glass was nearly eclipsed by an enraged, pained growl. Brynn snarled in return and moved so fast Sasha barely had a chance to jerk back before the woman went over the table.
Joe lunged after Brynn as the man she’d hit jumped up, and Sasha slipped out of her chair and to the floor. She could cast something that would stop the fight, but they might turn on her for using her magic against them.
Strong hands closed around her shoulders, and she thrashed a little before recognizing it was Dylan who held her. “I’m okay.”
“Shh.” A table crashed behind them, and Dylan wrapped an arm around her waist and half-dragged her into the corner. “We need to stay out of it. Joe’s the only one who can calm Brynn down.”
She could see Joe over Dylan’s shoulder, slipping one big arm around Brynn to hold her back from the man she’d attacked. His face was impassive, but she knew it wouldn’t stay that way if anyone touched Brynn.
Brynn’s head whipped to the side and she snarled, but it wasn’t the same as when Keith and Abby clashed. Abby’s quiet demeanor held a frighteningly strong woman who backed down to no one. Brynn’s feral strength rode close to the surface, but when Joe held her head to his and whispered something, the fight melted out of her.
Joe sent Brynn’s opponent skittering back with one hard look, and Dylan turned to Sasha. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I should have known…”
“Known what?” She couldn’t stop shaking.
He looked back to her and rubbed her shoulder. “Brynn is trying to find her place in the pack. It means she’s making every little thing into a challenge, because her wolf is so much closer to the surface than anyone else’s.”
“Oh.” The stairs and the path to the backroom were blocked by people who’d backed away from the fight, but they could probably make it to the front door. “Can we go upstairs? I think it would be best.”
“Yeah.” Dylan rose and pulled her up with him. “Come on, stay behind me. I just want to catch Joe’s attention.”
The sheer press of angry energy in the room made it hard to move, but Sasha made herself stand. She stuck close to Dylan, her fists clenched in the back of his shirt, and tried to ignore the accusatory looks. As far as they were concerned, the strife was all her fault.
“Joe.” Dylan’s quiet, firm voice cut through the angry muttering. “Are you taking her home, or do you want to come upstairs with us?”
He didn’t hesitate. “We’ll catch you next time, Dylan. You need anything, you let me know.”
Sasha caught a glimpse of Brynn over Dylan’s shoulder. Joe had one arm still locked around her body and was backing toward the door, his expression challenging anyone to say a word.
No one did.
“Follow them outside,” Dylan said quietly, his gaze still fixed on the room. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
“But I—”
“Please.”
Sasha let go of him and crossed the room. The occupants of the bar stepped back, cutting a wide swathe of space around her, and she’d never felt more alone in her life.
***
Sasha rubbed her gritty, burning eyes and reached for another book. “Did you turn up anything in that diary from the Sacramento pack?”
“A lead…” His voice trailed off as he turned a page and squinted at the tiny, faded writing. “A vampire from Germany who joined forces with an alpha female in Austria in the 1600s.”
“Joined forces?” She stretched, her muscles screaming in protest. They’d both spent far too much of the last week hunched over the desk in the tiny library, researching and bouncing ideas off one another long into each night. “Like they worked together, or something more intimate?”
“Sounds like both, actually.” He frowned as his gaze tracked her movements. “You should take a break. You’ve been sitting here too long.”
Sasha had tried to get him to stop and eat when his stomach had started to growl earlier, but he’d had none of it. The only time he would agree was if she told him she was hungry, even if she wasn’t. Like now. “I could use a breather, actually. I’m starving.”
Just like that, Dylan set the book aside and rose to his feet. “Olivia said she’d leave something warming in the crock pot up here. We can eat without going downstairs.”
“Good.” She still hadn’t grown accustomed to the stares, which ranged from curious to hostile, and now they all stared at her and Dylan. They were wondering if he spent so much time with her because he had to…or because he wanted to.
They moved around the apartment’s tiny kitchen, not speaking as they served their woefully late lunch. Sasha was careful to avoid touching him; the tension and weariness that rolled off him in waves already made her want to thread her fingers through his hair and comfort him. She had tried to fight the instinctive awareness that cued her into his moods, and contact would only intensify it.
She ladled the thick stew into bowls and uncovered the basket of dinner rolls on the counter. “Want to eat in here or sit in the dining room?”
He nodded to the tiny two-person table nestled against the wall. “We can eat in here, if you want.”
“Sure.” They settled into their chairs, and Sasha gathered her courage. “Are you sleeping here tonight?”
“Yeah. The house isn’t really ready, and Olivia says she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t need the place, not since she finally moved in with Sully.”
“No, I mean…” The question had come out all wrong. She studied Dylan’s bent head and struggled to figure out a way to rephrase it. “Why aren’t you staying at Cindy’s anymore?”
His shoulders tensed, and his usually placid power flared enough to betray his unease. Dylan didn’t look up from his stew, just kept stirring it absently as he stared into the bowl. “I’m not really invited.”
She’d run into Cindy at Justine’s bedside a few times over the last week. Sasha had attributed the tension to Cindy’s perceptiveness, to her somehow knowing about Sasha’s developing fascination with her boyfriend.
But this was more than awkwardness. “It’s—it’s not because of me, is it?” The question was revealing and terrifying, but Dylan would have had to be blind not to notice her growing awareness of him. “I can explain the situation to her, tell her you’re doing Gavin a favor.”
“No, Sasha.” He finally raised his head, but it was impossible to read his expression even though the look in his eyes was gentle. “It’s not your fault. Sometimes things don’t work out. It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault.”
“I know that. But I wouldn’t have blamed her for not being happy about this.” She shrugged to hide her pain. “Most of the people here don’t want me around.”
Dylan dropped his spoon into the bowl and caught her hand. “Hey.” His thumb smoothed across the backs of her fingers. “Even good people can be scared into acting like idiots sometimes.”
She managed not to jerk away from his touch, but she couldn’t hide the way her pulse sped. “I know that too. But you don’t need me complicating things for you.”
“Seems life’s pretty complicated as it is.” He released her, but the warmth from his fingers lingered. “Think about how many things can go wrong in a normal relationship, then add the wolves. Then add the fact that most of us came from screwed-up packs. Maybe the people here have forgotten how good they have it
with Gavin as their alpha.”
And if you factored in being human… Sasha shook herself. She wasn’t involved with anyone, and she wasn’t going to be, so she changed the subject. “Tell me about the legend you found in the diary. About the vampire and the alpha.”
“It was in Austria, in 1680 or so.” Dylan settled into his chair and picked up one of the rolls Sasha had set on the table. “Wolves were pretty patriarchal in that region and time period, and I got the feeling from reading between the lines that life sucked for the women. Maybe as bad as it is in some of the cities now, only with nowhere to run to get away from it.”
“So how did this woman gain and maintain power?”
He polished off the roll and shook his head. “That’s the part I’m still trying to translate. My German’s not bad but this account is heavy on the dialect. From the context, it seems like somehow her vampire lover was able to feed on the power from the pack and then give it to her. She was strong to begin with, but he gave her enough to subdue even the strongest wolves.”
“There’s a ritual some vampires use to—” Her spoon clattered to the table as she remembered the rows of bites on Justine’s arms. “Jesus, I didn’t even think of it.”
“What?”
“Not torture.” Her hands shook, and she clenched them into fists. “Harvest.”
Dylan’s eyes widened. “Do you think it was literal? That the vampire didn’t just feed on the pack’s power, he fed on the wolves and…what?”
“They need the blood anyway, and the ritual helps them focus the energy transfer. Maritza said it was like a bond, only unilateral. There’s no give and take.” She pushed back her bowl and stood. Fear made her clumsy, and she knocked over her chair. “We have to get over there.”
“Wait, Sasha, I don’t—” His face paled and he shoved away from the table and caught her before she could stumble. “You think the vampire is still draining power from Justine.”
If only it were that simple. “Not only Justine.” She dragged in a deep, ragged breath. “Sam. Dylan, that much energy—”
“Shit.” He dragged her through the kitchen, snagging his coat on the way. “Here, put this on, and we’ll go down the backstairs.”
“Dylan.” She could easily dissolve the bond between Justine and Sam, but breaking the vampire’s bond with Justine would be harder, perhaps even unsafe. “It’s not going to be easy, and I need to know if you can be there, or if you need to stay away.”
His fingers froze on the door handle. “Not easy as in dangerous?”
“A lot of what I do involves having to—to feel the magic. How it works from the inside out. So I pull it into me first.” His face blanched, but she kept talking. “I know I can take the blood bond from Justine. What I don’t know is if I can break it.”
“No. Hell no.” His knuckles had gone white, and she thought she might find the shape of his hand imprinted on the doorknob when he let go. “Sam and Gavin won’t let you do it either, Sasha. They’re not going to let you kill yourself, so if you can’t find a way to do it safely, don’t even bring it up.”
Irrational anger seized her. “I wasn’t asking for your permission, and I can’t just let her die.”
“And I can’t just let you die!” The words came out low and hoarse, and Dylan clenched his eyes shut a moment later. He dragged in an uneven breath and exhaled on a curse. “The Gaelic spell. The one Gavin helped us translate. You can use that, on me.”
“No.” She took a step back. “No, it’s the same damn thing. It may as well be a bond, Dylan. It’s too—” Intimate. “It’s too much for you. For both of us.”
He took the words the wrong way, and she saw the pain in his eyes. “I may not be Joe or Keith, but I’m not an invalid. There’s enough power in me to help keep you safe.”
“Stop it. It’s not about that.” If she cast the spell, they’d be inside each other, with no place or way to hide anything. Sasha hadn’t been able to conceal her physical reactions from him during the time they’d spent together, but she wasn’t ready for him to see beyond that. Still, there was no other way. He was right; Gavin would never let her risk herself so completely.
“All right,” she whispered. “I need the book.”
He watched her for a few heartbeats, as if he didn’t quite trust her not to bolt if he left her alone. Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before he let go of the doorknob. “Put on the coat.” This time it sounded like a request instead of an order. “I’ll grab the book.”
“I’ll wait.” She donned the jacket and clenched her fists so hard her nails bit into her palms. What effect the vampire’s blood bond would have on either of them was a terrifying unknown, and the thought of dragging Dylan into a situation she couldn’t quantify, much less control, scared the hell out of her.
But it was clear he wouldn’t let her do it alone. He reappeared less than a minute later with the book in hand and a serious look on his face. When he reached for the slightly dented doorknob, he glanced at her. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Sasha. I know you just want to help. And that’s why I worry.”
Sasha moved without thinking. She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and hauled his mouth to hers. He had to understand the desperate need inside her before she opened herself to him, so she parted her lips and sought his tongue.
The priceless volume hit the floor with a thud. Dylan caught her around the waist and spun her until her back hit the door. He kissed her with the same intensity that had transfixed her over the past week, with complete focus and a level of expertise that made her heart pound. A groan worked its way up from deep in his chest, low and a little needy, and the skilled play of his tongue against hers melted into something less refined.
He wanted her, and not with a placid human desire either. The man might be the one pressing her into the door, his warm chest a solid weight under her hand, but the wolf’s power stirred as he groaned again, tickling her skin as that dark, primal magic focused all of its attention on her.
Her desperation broke, giving way to heavy, liquid desire, and she pulled her mouth from his with a shaky moan. Her lips tingled, her body throbbed and every cell of her being protested the broken contact. “I’m sorry.”
Dylan rested his forehead against the door for several endless heartbeats, his breath coming only in harsh pants. Then he shuddered and bent to scoop up the book. “You might be sorry.” He opened the door and hustled her out onto the landing. “If you think I was an overprotective ass before, you may want to kill me by sunset.”
It played into her greatest fear a little too well—that his attraction to her was one of sheer instinct, borne of a need to shelter and protect. That he looked at her and saw not a woman, but a broken needy shell. “I’m not fragile, Dylan.”
“I know.” He pulled the door shut and nodded to the stairs. “We’ll talk about it later, when everyone’s safe.”
She wanted to argue, but there wasn’t time, so she clambered down the steep staircase and hurried out into the street.
***
Gavin nearly looked his age when he pulled open the door and leaned against it heavily. “What is it, Sasha?”
She panted, her side burning. “I think we found a way.”
He glanced at Dylan even as he moved to allow them inside. “How?”
“She thinks it’s a blood bond.” Dylan barely seemed winded. “She thinks the vampire’s still connected to Justine and now, wherever he is, he’s feeding on Justine’s magic and Sam’s.”
“Shit.” Though the muttered curse was harsh, Gavin looked relieved. “We have to break the bond.”
“Sam’s will be easy enough.” Sasha shrugged out of her jacket and took the book from Dylan. “I’ll have to take the vampire’s magic from Justine. Dylan will—will help me.”
Gavin’s eyes fell to the volume in her hands. Recognition flared in his eyes, and he pinned Dylan with an intense look. “Are you sure about this?”
Dylan spoke bluntly. “She trusts
me, and I trust her. There isn’t anyone else, and I’m sure the hell not letting her do it on her own.”
“It’s the only way, Gavin.” Sasha headed up the stairs without waiting for the alpha to speak.
She found Sam in the alphas’ bedroom, curled in the center of the large bed with her knees drawn up to her chest and her face alarmingly pale. She hardly seemed conscious, but dark eyes fluttered open as soon as Sasha stepped over the threshold. “Sasha.”
Sam’s cheek was cold, and Sasha made a soothing noise. “Dylan and I came to help. Where’s Justine?”
“Second guest room. Across the hall from yours…” Her voice faded, then came back sounding even weaker. “Taking more than I thought. I can’t hold on much longer.”
“You don’t need to,” Sasha told her. Gavin appeared in the doorway, and she motioned for him to come closer. “I’m about to release Sam’s bond to Justine. She’ll need you here. Stay with her.”
Dylan stood in the hall, and Sasha slipped her hand into his. “I’ll be careful,” she murmured as they walked to the room where Justine lay.
The woman didn’t stir. Her skin had gone past pale to take on a grayish hue, and Sasha shuddered when she touched her. She was cold, still. Almost lifeless. Please don’t let us be too late.
It took a moment to draw Sam’s energy out of the woman. It didn’t feel as if Justine fought, but the resistance was there, brittle and greedy. When the bond finally gave, Sasha jerked and sought Dylan’s eyes. “He knows I’m here. He feels me.”
Dylan slid both hands onto her shoulders and squeezed. “I’m here. What’s the easiest way for you to work through me? Do we need to be touching?”
“I don’t know. I think so.” She wanted to sink against him. Instead, she motioned him to a chair in the corner. “Sit. I’ll need a minute to look over the incantation.”
She opened the book as Dylan lifted the chair and set it down closer to the bed. “You can sit in the chair and I’ll kneel in front of you.”
“No, you need to—” She stuck the book under her arm and moved him to stand in front of her. “Stand here, and we can keep the chair in case we need it, okay?”