Chapter 19 #2
I’m busy memorizing every inch of her I can see, selfishly praying it will help distract me from my own pain, when my gaze snags on something I can’t believe I missed.
One pale forearm is hanging off the side of the table, a long length of medical tubing resting in the crook of her elbow.
From there, it extend all the way toward the floor where it’s attached to a half-full blood bag.
Half-full, because her blood is being drained, the bag filling with deep crimson liquid in a steady trickling flow.
Propped next to it are two addition blood bags. Both full.
My stomach clenches but I can’t look away. I fixate on her blood, counting each drop stolen straight from her veins.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound of her blood falling into the now almost-full bag is so fucking loud. It echoes through the heavy darkness of the cell. Every drop she loses feels like a taunt. Like the universe is judging my inability to keep my Fates-given Mate safe.
I just… can’t understand it. They’re draining her.
Gods, they’re fucking draining her blood right in front of me.
“Calm down, boy. If your heart rate accelerates, it will push the silver through your bloodstream quicker.” Albertson’s hisses so softly only someone with supernatural hearing could pick it up.
To further cover his warning, he turns to Varenthrall and loudly warns, “She’s less than a pint from crashing. Take anymore and you’ll kill her.”
I fucking snap.
My Alpha lets loose as the monster inside me explodes. A sound rips out of my chest.
It’s ancient. Primal.
Fucking feral.
I thrash against the restraints, yanking at them so hard I feel the snap of my bone breaking in my wrist.
I don’t care. Don’t even register the pain.
I’m fucking desperate. Desperate to escape. Desperate to rip that fucking tubing from my Omega’s arm and feed her my blood until her skin shines with the luminous, healthy glow it had the first night we met.
Get to her. Have to get to her. My Mate. Have to MOVE!
“If you want to die faster, then keep it up, boy. You can’t help her if you’re dead,” Albertson hisses.
Fuck the pain. Fuck all of this. These assholes are going to kill my Mate and I’m just lying here, unable to do anything but watch.
“I will fucking ruin you!” My parched throat cracks on the threat, but I’ve never meant anything more in my life. I will ruin this sadistic asshole. I’ll drain him dry with my own fangs, and I’ll make it last. I’ll bleed him for months. Years. Until he’s on his knees, begging for me to end him.
Varenthrall raises a sardonic brow. “Will you, now?”
“Why?” I demand. “Why take her blood?”
“Oh, I think you know why.”
It’s almost terrifying how quickly he morphs from calm and collected to crazed psycho in mere seconds. Spittle flies from his mouth as he advances on me, snarling, “You know because you found blood and you fucking stole it from me!”
No.
No. No way. That’s not possible.
My head snaps to Idril. I study her face, gaunt and hollow and so fucking broken, and I know. I know it’s not a lie.
Her blood. The blood I found in his office is her blood.
The blood Dax claims isn’t decaying properly. The blood that fucked him up so bad he sent it for gene sequencing just to discover what it belongs to.
That’s what I’ve been smelling. That’s why it’s so familiar.
It’s the same scent that drove Vae to near madness.
Lavender, ozone, and amber.
I can smell it perfectly now. It bursts through the room as Albertson unhooks the bag. When he reseals it, it fades once again, but I swear I can still smell it. Still taste it.
My nostrils flare, my vampire nature desperate for another lungful of the scent. It’s fading quickly, but under the scent of her blood is… something else.
Something that’s just now hitting my nose.
Something that has my Alpha going unnaturally still. A predator scenting prey.
It’s deeper. Richer. More intense. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and finally—finally—get a read on it.
It’s—
Mine! My Alpha roars as the scent slams into me like a fucking freight train. A scent so perfect, so fucking right, it bypasses every logical thought in my head, all the pain in my body, to dig straight into my soul.
Everything disappears. All that remains is the scent. A storm rolling in, about to break over a golden field of wildflowers.
Honeycomb in my hand, sticky golden sugar dripping down my fingers and over my wrist.
Heat curling off skin and silk. Something purely Idril that’s decadent and rich, and mine.
Omega.
My Omega.
The Scent Match Bond snaps into place. It hits me so hard I’d stagger if I were standing.
Scent Match. Mate Bond.
Two fucking Bonds.
The agony plaguing me is nothing compared to this new feral need.
The Bond flares, wild and fierce. And suddenly I’m screaming and begging and thrashing against my restraints, reaching for Idril as though I may reach her through sheer will alone.
Scent Match.
Yes, a Bond already exists, but this Bond—this is the confirmation I’ve searched for.
It’s not only a blessing from Fate, it’s the solution to every deterrent that’s plagued us from the start.
The gift of this Bond is fucking absolution.
And I know, nothing—nothing—in my immortal life will ever feel this perfectly right.
For centuries, my pack’s patiently waited.
We’ve searched every country on every continent, haunted by the unspoken fear that our Mate may have died before we even knew she existed.
It’s not something we often discuss, but the fear is always there.
A shroud blanketing a future we never dared hope to find.
A Mate. Unconditional love. Our perfect match and the other part of our souls. A family. Everything we’ve feared lost to us. An endless unspoken curse we silently agreed to ignore.
But now—
Now the Bond is exploding, the golden thread of our Scent Match stretches to wrap around the silver Bond. It coils tight and pulls.
Bright, glittering gold seeps into my soul. For one perfect moment, the magic of our Bond burns through the silver poison and erases the pain.
Against all odds, I found her. I found our Mate.
The instant Vae and Dax scent her, they’ll know.
Dax won’t demand answers because the Bond is answer enough.
The fighting won’t matter anymore, either.
We can work together to find answers to the silver Bond without a cloud of suspicion hanging over everything.
It won’t even matter if I’m the only one with the silver Bond because no matter what, she’s all of ours.
Scent Matches are the only Fated Bond that always applies to an entire pack.
The future spreads before me, filling me with strength. Varenthrall comes to a stop. His eyes flick between us and his nostrils flare. His expression hardens in realization
“Well, well, well,” his frown drips with pity. “That’s… unexpected.”
He inhales again, stealing more of my Omega’s scent. Then he throws his head back and lets out an incredibly bark of laughter.
“Well, that certainly explains some things. You’re her Mate.”
He hums, leaning in so close I can feel the warmth of his breath.
“I wanted to send a message, but this! This is poetic on a level I never expected. You know what’s amazing about a Scent Match? The Bond only snaps for one individual at a time. It won’t be complete until she scents you as well.”
I frown, trying to make sense of his taunt.
“She’s unconscious, and you’re wearing descenter. She can’t smell you,” he explains, drawing out each word like he’s speaking to a child. “As of right now, she hasn’t the faints clue you’re her Mate.”
My first instinct is to laugh. To throw his ignorance back in his face. The part of me that wants to hurt him encourages me to disclose our second Bond. A Bond that, despite having no idea what it is, is infinitely stronger than the Scent Match.
But the larger part of me—the more strategic part that never acts without thinking things through—pointedly reminds me of all the reasons why I can’t.
Giving him that knowledge is a terrible idea. I don’t know anything about that Bond, but I can’t take a chance that he might. If by some twist of Fate he has information I don’t there’s a chance he could fuck with it, maybe even use it against us.
Being petty isn’t worth handing this fucker any more leverage against us.
My fangs bite into my bottom lip until blood runs down my chin. Satisfied he’s sufficiently crushed my spirit, Varenthrall bends down and carefully gathers the bags of Idril’s blood.
He cradles them in his arms, studying them with reverence. His features morph into something almost worshipful. Like a father holding his child for the first time and realizing his entire future sleeps in his arms.
It’s enough to send chills down my spine.
The agony of the silver continues to worse until all I want to do is scream. I won’t, though. I won’t give this asshole the pleasure.
He glances up with a secret smile on his lips, completely oblivious to my pain. “You have absolutely no idea how this is going to change the world.”
I don’t even try to mask my disgust. Tucking the blood bags in the crook of his arm, he lets out a sardonic laugh. “You think I’m callous.”
It isn’t a question, so I don’t bother with a response.
“Idril was supposed to be an Alpha. A male. I spent decades searching for her mother. And instead of an Alpha male, the bitch gave me Idril. Almost died doing it. There was no other chance to get it right. No do-overs.”
“She is your daughter,” I snap, disgusted.
He snorts. “Oh please. She’s a useless girl. She was meant to be my legacy. Turns out she’s nothing more than a vessel for true power. Worthless on her own. Thankfully, I don’t actually need her. My legacy lives in their blood. Their DNA.”
He flicks a dismissive glance over his shoulder, barely acknowledging his own fucking daughter laying there motionless and pale. A storybook princess, trapped in a cell that was never meant to hold her.