by Sadie Moss
But I could not let the beast inside me take over.
I twisted my head to the side, the movement sending sharp stabs of pain shooting through me, and pressed my lips together as firmly as my weakened state would allow. I would not do this.
My wildcat was stubborn though, and I was weak.
Her blood called to me like a siren on the rocks, her soft, melodic voice joining the song, urging me on, promising me it would be all right.
You don’t know that, wildcat. You cannot know that.
But in the end, it didn’t matter. She forced her wrist to my mouth, and the cherry-almond scent of her skin flooded my senses. Her blood dripped along the seam of my lips, right there for the claiming.
A stronger man might have resisted.
But as I’d already proved once in my life, I did not possess that kind of strength.
Against my will, my lips opened, clamping around her smooth wrist as her essence flooded my mouth.
And as the first drops of Willow’s sweet blood hit my tongue, something inside me shifted.
Ever since I’d met this wild, beautiful woman, I’d been drawn to her. We’d shared a deep connection since the moment she drank from me, my blood bringing her back from the brink of death and beginning her transformation into a vampire.
But now?
Now she owned me.
The blood I had craved and denied myself for so long slid down my throat like the richest, most decadent wine, making my whole body come alive with energy and pleasure.
It had been years since I’d consumed anything but bagged blood or animal blood, and drinking from Willow was like waking up from a long sleep. The primal beast I had backed into a corner of my soul and locked away behind bars of iron burst from his cage, roaring to the surface.
Willow’s hazel eyes blazed with lust and love, and I drank deeper, lost in the haze of her adoration.
When I pulled the blood from her body in long gulps, she didn’t protest.
When my strength returned, and I sat up and laid her back on the hard stone floor, she didn’t fight me.
Mine.
This beautiful creature was mine. Her blood, her body, and her soul were mine. And I was was hers.
Blinding joy filled me, blocking out all other thoughts. I felt powerful, dominant—alive.
Vaguely, I was aware of Willow’s body becoming tense beneath me. She was moving, and I didn’t know why. This was perfect. I should’ve done this weeks ago.
She rested her small hand on my chest, pushing lightly.
Yes, wildcat. My heart beats for you. Because of you.
I wanted to tell her so, but that would’ve meant removing my lips from her wrist, and I couldn’t stand to do that. I couldn’t bear to stop. I needed more.
Wildly, I bit down again on her wrist, tearing open the delicate flesh and increasing the flow of blood into my mouth.
Please, Fate, never let this end.
My heart pounded like a drum. I stared down at the beautiful, pale creature beneath me, her hazel eyes shimmering with some emotion I couldn’t name as she tossed her head back and forth, her lips moving soundlessly.
And then, suddenly, her eyes were no longer hazel.
They were bright blue.
Her hair wasn’t dark brown, but a soft honey gold.
The woman laid out before me wasn’t Willow at all.
Ariana…
It was a name I hadn’t allowed myself to speak, or even think, for decades. As it burst into my mind now, my body jerked as if the word delivered a physical blow.
I had been here once before.
One other time in my life, I had lost control like this, consumed by a potent combination of bloodlust and love.
Revulsion and self-disgust flooded me like poison as memories flooded my mind, as vivid as if I had jumped back in time.
I had killed the woman I loved. I had watched her face turn from ecstasy to fear, and finally, to hate. She had died at my hands, hating me as she should’ve done all along, despising me at last for the monster I was.
My chest had ached at the fierce loathing in her eyes, and even though I was horrified, I couldn’t seem to stop drinking. It was as if my body had completely stopped listening to directives from my brain; the beast had taken over and refused to cede control.
Ariana had fought me. She had scratched my face, leaving long red trails of blood where her nails pierced my skin. I’d noticed them only hours later, long after the wounds themselves had healed. Part of me hadn’t wanted to wash the blood streaks away, had wanted to wear the marks she’d given me forever.
Perhaps if I’d kept those marks, Willow would’ve run from me like she should have. Perhaps she never would’ve been foolish enough to trust me.
And still, her blood on my tongue was so sweet. Even as a battle raged inside me, I kept drinking.
I blinked, chasing away the image of Ariana until liquid hazel eyes stared up at me once again.
Why hadn’t Willow scratched my face, clawed at me to try to get away?
I braced myself for the hatred and revulsion that would spread across Willow’s face, the expression that would let me know I was beyond redemption. Truly evil.
But it never came.
Fear reflected in her eyes, along with the bone-deep exhaustion of looming death. I had felt that sensation myself a few minutes ago, and I recognized it in her shining eyes.
My stomach twisted as I searched her expression, and what I finally saw there made my throat catch.
Love.
Acceptance.
Relief.
I had done the worst thing possible to this woman. She had offered herself up to me in trust and sacrifice, and I had abused that trust, barreling past her defenses to take everything I wanted, everything the beast inside me demanded.
And still, when she looked at me, she didn’t see a monster.
I wanted more than anything to be the man she thought I was, the man she was willing to give her life for. And I did not want my wildcat to give her life for a sorry asshole like me. I wanted her to live, to bless the world with her sweet presence for millennia.
It was on the tip of my tongue to pray to Fate for help, but the truth was, no one could save her but me.
With every bit of strength inside myself, I wrestled the beast back down. My jaw trembled with effort as I unlocked my teeth from her flesh, forcing her mangled wrist away from me. The flesh was bruised and swollen, sluggishly leaking blood.
Moving quickly, I ripped my shirt over my head with one hand then tore the fabric into crude strips. I wrapped them tightly around Willow’s wound, slowing the bleeding and giving her flesh time to heal over.
Willow blinked up at me, weak and dazed from blood loss. Her arm felt light as a feather in my grasp—as if she weighed nothing, as if she were drifting away on the wind.
“You… stopped.”
She breathed the words, seeming surprised by them. My gut twisted. She truly had expected me to kill her.
I clasped her small hand in both of mine, keeping her arm raised above her heart. My voice was hoarse when I spoke.
“Of course, I stopped, wildcat. I love you.”
Her gaze lost focus, her eyelids drooping closed. I wasn’t even sure she’d heard me, and truly, it was probably better if she hadn’t.
I wanted desperately to heal her, but it was no longer as simple as just feeding her my blood. She had brought me back from the brink by letting me drain her almost completely, but I couldn’t just pass her own blood back to her.
Outside sounds finally began to penetrate the bubble that had fallen over us. Loud crashes and shouts echoed up from below us. I didn’t think it was the sound of fighting though. I would’ve bet my life all the shades were gone from the castle, called away when the second wave of the attack got what they came for. I had no idea how many losses Carrick’s people had sustained, and I couldn’t bring myself to care about that yet.
Not until I knew Willow would be all right.
The crashing sounds below us grew louder. Sol and Jerrett called to each other, occasionally shouting for Willow or me as well. I opened my mouth to answer them, but no sound came out. I could only kneel on the floor, my face, neck, and torso smeared with a combination of my blood and my wildcat’s, holding her weak body and waiting.
With a final crashing sound, Sol and Jerrett heaved the last chunk of stone away, opening up a gap in the collapsed doorway big enough for them to pass through. Sol crawled through first, his nostrils flaring as the scent of Willow’s blood hit his nose. Jerrett scrambled through after him, dropping to the floor before catching sight of me and her.
“What the fuck?”
His voice was angry, panicked. He strode over, Sol at his side, and dropped to his knees. My oldest brother’s usually cheerful face was tight with concern as he took in the scene before him.
“Holy motherfucking cocksuckers.”
“What happened?” Sol asked, his voice hard.
“I took a fatal blow. She tried to save me,” I rasped.
Jerrett’s head whipped up, his bright blue gaze catching mine. I saw a dozens questions and accusations filter through his brain, but in the end, none of them mattered as much in this moment as Willow.
Sol lifted her from my arms, cradling her against his body. His muscles strained with tension as the alluring, too-tempting scent of her blood wrapped around him, but I knew she would be safe in his embrace. He was no monster.
“Help me, Jerrett.”
Sol turned toward our brother then tilted his head, exposing his throat. Jerrett nodded sharply. He crouched behind Sol and bit down, tearing holes in the thick muscles of his neck.
The familiar scent of Sol’s blood filled the air, mingling with the sweet, exotic scent of Willow’s. Jerrett helped him lift and position her, resting her head on Sol’s shoulder so her mouth could reach the wounds.
Her tongue darted out, the movement timid and sleepy, to lick the blood from his skin. Then she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, closing her lips over his flesh and drinking slowly.
“Good girl. Good fucking girl.”
Jerrett’s voice was rough with relief, and he clapped his hand on Sol’s other shoulder as if to thank him and offer support.
I stood, gazing down at the three of them huddled together. Like a unit. Like a family.
Absently, I rubbed my chest, smearing the blood that still covered my skin. The wound where the shade had stabbed me had closed, but it was still tender and raw.
Or maybe that ache was my damn heart.
Willow had begun to feed in earnest. She made small whimpering noises in the back of her throat as she drank, wrapping her arm around Sol’s neck and curling into his body as if he could protect her from everything in the world.
He would absolutely try. I was sure of that.
I knew my brother—knew his goodness and honor. And I knew just how he and Jerrett felt about the brave, wild, strange girl who had unexpectedly become part of our family.
As I stepped toward the window, my attention lingered on Willow for one more moment, mapping the lines of her body and the fall of her hair.
My wildcat. Sorry isn’t enough. I don’t even have it in me to hope you’ll forgive me this time.
But she would be all right.
My brothers would take care of her. No matter what.
25
Willow
The shades are coming.
Carrick needed to know. I had to warn him so he could prepare for the attack.
I tried to run, but my legs were too heavy. I didn’t budge an inch.
“No,” I mumbled, forcing the word out through dry lips.
My body felt like it was filled with lead. My limbs wouldn’t move; my eyelids wouldn’t open. But I had to go. I had to get to the castle right away, before all those things I’d seen in the vision came true.
Images flooded my mind. The young vampire being run through by a shade in the corridor. The guards transforming from vampires into shadowy, undead monsters. Jerrett ripping off the head of one of those foul creatures and kicking it down the hall.
My heart rate picked up as fear washed through me. I shook my head, the only part of my body that seemed willing to move.
“No…” I muttered again.
Why couldn’t I open my eyes? Why couldn’t I see? Or run, scream, fight? I was completely helpless as more images assaulted me.
I saw Sol, standing still as a statue, head cocked while he listened intently. The four of us racing against time, against the invading shades, trying to stop them from reaching their goal. An explosion. Rock crumbling. A small, harmless looking statue. Malcolm’s eyes, the deep brown muddied with pain.
No. My face scrunched up in confusion. This isn’t right. I never foresaw that. So how do I know it happened?
Because it wasn’t a vision. It was a memory.
“No!”
The ragged cry burst from my lips as I sat up, my eyelids flying open.
“Shh… Hey, woah there, sweetheart. You’re okay. It’s okay.”
Jerrett’s calming voice penetrated my panic, and I glanced around quickly, the movement making my head spin. I was in my room in Carrick’s castle. In the Penumbra. Jerrett and Sol’s bodies framed mine like bookends. They must’ve been lying next to me and sat up when I did.
Sol’s striking green eyes shone with relief as he pressed a kiss to my lips. Jerrett swept my hair aside to brush his lips along my neck. Their touch soothed me immediately, slowing my thundering pulse and unraveling the knot of tension in my stomach. I clung to them for a few moments, relishing in their strength and warmth. When I breathed in deeply, the scents of smoke and spice mingled in my nostrils, blending into a new aroma that was just as enticing.
“I had an awful dream,” I whispered finally, pulling away to look at them. “But… it wasn’t a dream, was it? The attack really happened.”
Jerrett shoved his dark hair back from his face. “Un-fucking-fortunately, yes.”
I scrubbed my hands over my eyes and lay back, not quite ready to face the world from an upright position yet. Jerrett and Sol followed me down, and Sol pulled me into his embrace so I was half sprawled over his body. Jerrett’s large frame molded against me from behind, and for a moment, I wanted to forget the whole world, forget the shades and the weird sisters. I just wanted to stay like this, wrapped up in a cocoon of hard muscle and warm skin.
But the outside world wouldn’t be put off so easily. My mind whirred, thoughts and images from the battle flickering through my head like a horrifying slide show.
“How long was I out for?”
“Not long,” Jerrett muttered into my hair. “Maybe ten hours.”
“The shades disguised themselves as vampires?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
I felt Sol’s nod of assent, though I couldn’t see it. My hand was splayed across his hard stomach, and I couldn’t help gripping the fabric of his shirt as I asked my next question. “How many vampire casualties were there?”
“More than there should’ve been.” Jerrett’s voice near my ear was low, but anger simmered under his words. “If Carrick hadn’t fucking abandoned his people, if he’d organized his guards and stayed to lead the fight, maybe it would’ve been different.”
My jaw clenched as I remembered him slipping out of the throne room through the secret door at the back. And that was after he’d refused to listen to my warning. What a damn selfish coward.
“Did he hide the entire time?”
“No,” Sol murmured, his tone colored by the same distaste Jerrett’s had been. “He crawled out of his hidey-hole toward the end of the battle—after his people had already turned the tide. He was there when the shades disappeared, and he’s claiming it as a victory.”
“What?” I lifted my head to stare at him in shock. “It wasn’t a victory. They got what they wanted. That’s why they left. We lost.”
“We fucking know that. So does he,” J
errett growled. “But he doesn’t want to lose face. So he hasn’t told his people what really went down.”
“But that’s bullshit. They need to know! Whatever that statue is, whatever it does, the weird sisters wanted it for a reason. We risked our lives trying to keep it safe. We—”
I broke off and sat up again, my eyes going wide. As my mind worked through the sequence of events from the fight, it had somehow skipped over the end.
Until now.
“Malcolm—” I choked out. “He got hurt. Almost killed. Is he—?”
“Don’t worry about him, sweetheart,” Jerrett said. His hand on my back was gentle, but his voice was hard as steel. He sounded almost angry. “You saved his life. He’s fine.”
It felt like all my muscles had turned to jelly, stark relief making me weak. “Thank Fate.”
“It wasn’t Fate this time, Willow tree. This was all you.” Sol’s fingers brushed over my hair, smoothing down the wild locks.
Still shaking with relief, I glanced down at myself. I wore a simple lavender gown, and I was certain the men had changed my clothes and cleaned me up while I was unconscious. It was becoming a habit with us, but I didn’t mind. I no longer felt anything but comfort and warmth, and a slow burning heat deep in my belly, when I thought of their hands on me, taking care of me when I couldn’t fend for myself.
“Does Carrick know what the statue is? What it does?”
“I hope so.” Jerrett huffed a breath. “The old man better make himself useful somehow. But we haven’t been able to meet with him yet. He keeps claiming to be too busy dealing with the aftermath of the attack. I think he’s just fucking hiding. The one goddamn thing he’s good at.”
His forceful words surprised me, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. I knew none of the brothers liked the king, but I’d never heard them speak of him with such open disdain before.
“Well, he doesn’t have a choice. We need every bit of information we can get if we’re going to stop those women.”
I tried to recall every feature of the small statue, locking it into my memory so I could describe it accurately to Carrick.
“At least we have one more piece of the puzzle figured out,” Sol said.