The reign of Eric Black wouldn’t exactly be a golden age if he managed to get what he wanted.
Troubled, Lyra tried to shake it off and continue. “Anyway, there’s a huge farm field on the other side of town that works better for the full moon celebrations, and it’s a much better place to do the bonfire. Here, the layout of the woods is better suited to the Proving. We’re only a couple of miles from the falls too.”
“Which is significant because…”
“Because that’s where my father will place the talisman that will eventually belong to the next Alpha. See,” Lyra explained, “it’s actually very simple. All of us run into the woods, race to the falls, and try to sniff out the talisman. And then someone, eventually, will have to bring it back out. On two legs or four, doesn’t matter. Anything goes.”
“Ah,” Jaden said, and Lyra didn’t like the cast of doubt to his expression. “So what you’re telling me is this is basically a free-for-all until someone delivers the talisman to your father.”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot. “Well. Yes. I did tell you this was about strength, speed… and cleverness, supposedly, though I don’t think that usually comes much into play.” She laughed, but it sounded a little desperate. None of this had sounded quite so hopeless when she’d talked about it with her father and Simon. But she hadn’t had to explain it… maybe that was the difference. She hadn’t had to say it out loud and confront just how little chance she had of even surviving if she saw the matter through.
His eyes drifted back to the dark of the woods. “You, in there, with a bunch of enormous male werewolves ready to kill one another for the prize? Yes, Lyra, getting out alive is going to require some cleverness on your part. Being able to fight, sure, that’ll come in handy if you end up one on one, but the rest…” He trailed off, muttering to himself, and wandered away from her in the direction of the woods. Watching his retreating back, Lyra let him go and hoped he was formulating some kind of strategy.
If there was even a plausible one to be had.
Doubt flooded her, as it did sometimes when she was alone. The pack wanted to force a destiny on her. But Lyra knew that if she accepted that fate she would die just as surely as she would if she failed at the Proving. It would just be on the inside, where no one could see.
So she would take a stand and make her own destiny. No mate to stand for her, in front of her, and hold her back. If she was fortunate enough to lead the pack she loved, she would make it there on her own merit… and there would be no questions about her fitness for the job.
“I can handle this,” Lyra said quietly, watching Jaden move deeper into the darkness, away from her. “I can handle anything.”
That was when she saw it, a fast-moving shadow flying over the ground toward Jaden, whose back was turned. It passed several feet from her, and the breeze it kicked up from its rapid movement carried with it the scent of ancient death—the scent of vampire. Lyra reacted instinctively. There was no thought as she sprang forward, her body shifting in midair to become the sleek, muscular form of the wolf. When her paws hit the ground, she leaped again, pushing forward with all her might to try to reach Jaden before this interloper did.
Though what followed happened in seconds, in her memory Lyra would always see everything in slow motion: The way the shadow finally began to look like a man when it reached Jaden, the way Jaden turned, ready to fight, his coat flying around him and his eyes ablaze with unholy fire. She saw the blood burst from Jaden’s chest, saw the shock and fury on his face, and then she slammed into the attacking vampire full force. They rolled together, Lyra snarling and snapping, looking for purchase with her teeth and claws.
She bit down hard on a fleshy upper arm, heard a banshee-like wail of pain just as a foul taste flooded her mouth. The vampire ripped the arm away and fled with a feral hiss, tossing Lyra aside as though she weighed nothing. She stayed loose, allowing herself to fall, to roll harmlessly when she hit the ground. Still, she was thrown with enough force to knock the wind out of her.
It took a few precious seconds for her to drag in a breath, longer to stagger to her feet and make sure that the new vampire was gone. But he was… though she could smell him on the light breeze, lingering. Fear, anger—retreat. Lyra showed her teeth in the direction it had gone, staking her claim on this territory—this man.
Then she was just a woman again, stumbling in her haste to get to Jaden. She found him lying on the ground, overly pale, spidery lashes twined shut. He wore a faded royal blue T-shirt beneath his coat, and she saw it was soaked with dark blood that spread out from a puncture wound in his chest like some malignant bloom. He was splayed at an odd angle, head turned to one side.
She switched gears from fury to worry almost instantly, falling to her knees beside him.
“Come on, Jaden,” she breathed. “You can’t be dead. Your head’s still attached, you can’t be dead.” But she remembered the sight of those vicious scars across his back. You weren’t supposed to be able to scar a vampire, and yet someone had figured out how to do that. Who was to say that his torturers hadn’t found a way to kill a vampire without separating the head from the body or burning him to a crisp in the sun?
Then he inhaled, a long, shuddering gasp like a man surfacing from the depths. She knew she shouldn’t feel the relief that crashed through her system, so strong it would have taken her to her knees if she hadn’t already been on them. But then, all of her reactions seemed outsized when it came to him.
Lyra realized now that she wasn’t the only one whose life was on the line. And that was the last thing she’d expected to find in common with him. But she was beginning to see that nothing about Jaden was as it seemed. So she gave up thinking for the time being and simply went with what she felt. Lyra put her hands on his chest to find that amazingly slow vampire’s pulse, and she waited for him to open his eyes and tell her he was all right.
Chapter NINE
THERE WERE WORSE THINGS than waking up with a beautiful woman’s hands on you.
He surfaced, groggy but thankfully very much alive, and opened his eyes to see Lyra hovering over him. Her curls tumbled around her face, and even through his haze Jaden was struck by the concern in her bright golden eyes, twin sparks in the darkness. Her hands moved tentatively over his chest, searching for a wound he knew was no longer there.
He had no intention of stopping her examination though.
“Jaden,” she said, her voice betraying her relief. “Are you all right? What was that?”
“Another vampire. But I don’t think that’s what you mean, is it?” His voice sounded too quiet, too shaken to his own ears. He didn’t want her to know how the encounter had rattled him. It had to be the Ptolemy—had to be. The speed of the attack alone was a dead giveaway. How had they tracked him here? Was killing him, a nobody any way you looked at it no matter what mark he wore, really so important?
For once, Lyra didn’t have a snide comeback. It was a shock to realize she was just as shaken as he was.
“You had a hole. Like halfway through your chest,” she said, her hands continuing to roam and press and stroke. He didn’t think she even knew she was doing it.
“I thought it was your heart. I mean, I know the whole stake through the heart thing isn’t supposed to be true, but—”
“It’s not,” he said gently, catching her hands with his. He held them against his chest, letting her feel the slow and steady beat of the heart that had been keeping this rhythm for centuries. His hands warmed quickly to hers, and he felt another curl of unexpected pleasure when Lyra made no move to pull away from him.
“A stake through the heart wouldn’t kill me,” Jaden explained. “But it’s a good way to incapacitate someone so you can finish the job the right way.” He tried for a smile, but it felt tight and put on. “He missed, thanks to you. I guess we’re even now.”
If she hadn’t been there, if her sudden transformation and attack hadn’t startled his would-be assassin, Jaden knew he wouldn’t still have his head attached to his shoulders. Lyra Black had saved his life. It was a difficult thing to wrap his mind around, but he knew it was something he’d be grappling with as the shock receded.
And she looked so bloody concerned about him. He wanted it—and he was afraid to want it. To want her. He gave a damn about very few people. Every single one he cared about had put him through hell once or twice by trying to get him- or herself killed, so he was glad it was a small group. But he had never expected to add Lyra to it. This was just supposed to be a one-off for him, a strange little physical fascination that burned itself out for him before too long.
With his hands tangled with hers, her breath warming his face, Jaden realized he’d been very, very wrong.
“I wasn’t going to let some outside vamp come in here and take you down,” Lyra said, looking flustered at his thanks. “While you’re here, you’re under pack protection. Which means no one kicks your ass, or stabs you with pointed sticks, but me.”
She was coming around, he saw, and this time his smile was genuine. He’d caught enough tantalizing glimpses of what was beneath the tough, beautiful shell she wore to know there was a softer heart there than she let on. Jaden knew she would move soon, pull her hands away and break contact, ending the moment. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, willing her to stay. Her expression softened, changed.
Jaden slowly sat up, her hands still in his. He disentangled one hand, brushed his fingers down the silken softness of her cheek. She went very still but made no move to push him away. Instead, her eyes simply stayed locked with his, her expression open, waiting—longing. Before he could dwell on how many ways he might regret doing it, Jaden slid his hand into her hair and pulled her mouth to his.
She leaned in and met him halfway.
Her lips were soft, so incredibly soft. Jaden kept the pressure light, lingering against her mouth, savoring this first small taste of her. He heard her soft, startled intake of breath at the initial contact. For a moment, he thought she might shove him away, or slap him, or bite… and she would have been justified in any of those reactions. She wasn’t his. He was taking advantage. He was taking an enormous chance.
