Chapter 18
Menace
Iwore a path in the marble. The room felt smaller every minute, air thickening, gravity pushing down harder than any cell I’d ever known. My wolf pressed at the seams of my skin. My hands shook. My teeth ached.
Verna returned with a tray that contained two vials of blood and a stack of paperwork an inch thick.
She set them down without a word, then motioned to the guard in the corner.
The witch approached, face blank. I felt the way Savannah’s blood, in its own glass tube, waited next to mine, like a reunion in miniature.
I kept my eyes on it, hypnotized by the swirl of her cells against the glass.
Verna poured a few drops from each vial into a porcelain dish, then added a single drop of the blue potion. Nothing happened for a heartbeat.
Then everything did.
The mixture flashed gold, so bright it threw shadows on the far wall. The witches stepped back, shielding their faces from the glare. The light built, pulsing, until I thought it might explode.
Then, just as quickly, it faded, leaving only the residue of gold at the bottom of the dish. Verna smiled for real this time.
“That’s confirmation one,” she said. “You may relax.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” I said, forcing a laugh.
She gestured to the next chair. “Please sit. This is the resonance test. It can be…unpleasant.”
I obeyed, planting my feet wide, gripping the armrests like they might sprout fangs.
The rune witch painted sigils onto my forearms and neck with a brush dipped in what smelled like paint thinner and cloves.
The marks sizzled against my skin, cold at first, then so hot I thought they’d peel me alive.
“Ready,” I said, though I wasn’t.
Verna nodded to the mirror. I saw a reflection flicker, then Savannah’s face on the other side of the glass.
She was strapped down too, painted with the same runes, her eyes huge and shining in the fluorescent light.
My wolf went ballistic, jaws snapping, body straining against the skin that held him in.
Verna placed a crystal disk in my right hand, another in Savannah’s. “On my count,” she said, “squeeze.”
I squeezed. At the same instant, so did Savannah.
The disks vibrated. My entire arm went numb.
The room melted away, replaced by a tunnel of sound and sensation—her pulse, her breath, the sound of her voice in my ear.
I saw flashes: her face in the moonlight, her hands tangled in my hair, the blood on her lips when she bit me back.
Every memory we’d ever made together, flooding me at once.
I saw her chained up the first day. I saw myself carrying her through the rain.
I felt the echo of every time I’d fucked her, every orgasm, every whimper, every moan.
My cock went hard in my pants, obscene and out of place, but I couldn’t stop it.
I felt her own arousal, the way she craved my touch, my mouth, my teeth.
I felt her fear, too: the silver, the pain, the terror of losing me.
All of it. All at once.
When the vision broke, I was gasping for air, head swimming. The disk in my hand was shattered, splinters of glass driven deep into my palm. I didn’t care.
On the other side of the glass, Savannah was crying, but she looked better than she had when she came in. Alive. Alert.
Verna made a note on her pad. “Perfect resonance,” she said. “Textbook.”
I stared at her, teeth bared. “Let me see her.”
She shook her head, almost gentle. “One more test.”
I almost killed her. But I sat, and I waited.
The final test was a scan. Verna and the rune witch wrapped an elastic cap around my scalp, each node stitched with what looked like gold thread. I felt nothing, but when they activated the machine, the world started to spin.
“Close your eyes,” Verna said. “Picture her.”
I did. I pictured Savannah in my arms, her scent in my nose, the feel of her cunt tightening around my cock, the way she called me “Menace” with a tremor of love and awe. I pictured her laughing, I pictured her crying, I pictured her shifting into her wolf and running through the grass at my side.
The machine beeped and then shrieked. On the monitor, a series of jagged lines rose and fell, every one in sync with my heartbeat.
A second monitor displayed a 3D model of my body, luminous threads extending from my heart, my spine, my brain—all of them arcing through the glass, straight to Savannah. The threads pulsed gold, thicker and brighter with every second.
Verna shut off the machine. The room went silent.
“There is no doubt,” she said, voice almost reverent. “The bond is genuine. Fated.”
The wolf in me howled. “Then let me see her.”
She hesitated. “The Council has not yet—”
I don’t remember what happened next.
One moment I was sitting; the next I was standing, the chair splintered to kindling beneath me.
I flipped the table, sending paperwork and trays flying.
The rune witch tried to back away, but I caught her by the arm and slammed her into the wall so hard the mirror fractured.
Bronc was on me in an instant, arms around my chest, dragging me backwards.
Juliet tried to grab my wrist, but I shook her off, teeth snapping, vision tunneling to red.
“You don’t get it,” I screamed, voice raw and bestial. “You don’t fucking get it! She’s mine! You’re keeping her from me! You’re doing this on purpose!”
Verna stood her ground, calm as a corpse. “I do understand. That is why we test. If you cannot control yourself, the bond is a danger.”
“Better a danger than a fucking corpse,” I spat, but Bronc tightened his grip, his own Alpha voice crackling with power.
“Stand. Down,” he ordered, and for a second I hated him, but the command drilled straight through my skull.
I dropped the witch, hands shaking so bad I thought my bones would snap. I hit the floor, panting, every muscle on fire.
Juliet knelt beside me, whispering something I couldn’t hear. My mind was gone, taken over by the need to get to Savannah, to touch her, to make sure she was alive.
Verna nodded, scribbling another note. “We are finished. The Council will review. If they are satisfied, you may have her back by sundown.”
I glared at her through the blur. “If you don’t, I will burn this building down.”
She nodded, as if that was only right.
When they dragged me out, Bronc and Juliet on either side, I kept my eyes on the broken glass of the mirror. I could see Savannah there, still strapped to her chair, watching me with the same feral hunger in her eyes.
I knew we’d make it. Or we’d die trying.
They stuck us in a waiting room with no windows, no clock, and no idea how much time had passed.
Juliet prowled the perimeter like a caged panther, high heels echoing with every step.
Bronc sat rigid in a plastic chair, fists balled, his entire body one knotted muscle of restraint.
King Rafe worked the phone, murmuring into it in a low, measured cadence that radiated threat.
Me, I just stared at the carpet and tried not to explode.
Every ten minutes, a new guard checked in. Sometimes a wolf, sometimes a witch. None of them met my eyes. None of them stayed more than a minute.
Juliet finally stopped pacing, spun on her heel, and fixed the nearest guard with a glare that would have vaporized a lesser man. “Get me a Council rep. Now. I have rights, and I intend to exercise them.”
He looked confused, then left.
Bronc exhaled, slow and ragged. “You sure you want to do this here, Jules?”
She looked at him like he was a particularly dim lab rat. “If they think they can keep one of my pack from me, they’re wrong.”
Rafe covered the receiver, eyebrows raised. “They’re stonewalling, but if you push, it’ll make them nervous. Might even get us leverage.”
“Leverage isn’t what I want,” Juliet said, voice ice-edged. “I want Savannah. I want her now.”
The guard returned, trailed by a Council official: tall, brittle woman in a slate-gray suit, carrying a clipboard and an air of terminal impatience.
“Juliet Baucaum, Luna of Iron Valor?” she said, reading the name without looking up.
“That’s me,” Juliet said, arms crossed.
“You are aware that under Council code 7.11.3, you are subordinate to this office in all matters relating to—”
“Bullshit,” Juliet snapped. “Iron Valor is a free pack, recognized by the Southern King. My mate and I have jurisdiction over all members, wherever they are. That includes Savannah.”
The woman’s eyes flicked up, surprised. “This is a Council hearing, not a pack run.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Juliet snapped. “Pack law comes first. I am her Luna. You can’t keep her from me.”
Bronc backed her, voice a growl. “You want a war, you’ll get one.”
The councilwoman retreated. Juliet looked at Bronc, lips pressed so tight they went white. “They’re stalling.”
I could feel Savannah’s fear through the bond, a spike of cold adrenaline that left me breathless. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the urge to shift right there in the chair. My claws punched through the fabric of the armrest. I gripped harder, tearing it to shreds.
“She’s scared,” I said. “Terrified.”
Bronc tried to calm me, but it was no use. My body was changing—bones flexing, muscles bunching, fur prickling at my wrists and neck. Juliet knelt in front of me, hands on my face.
“Stay with me,” she whispered. “Just a little longer.”
I tried. I really did.
The door opened again, and this time, four guards entered, all armed. Two had silver batons. The air went metallic and hot.
“Don’t,” Bronc warned, but I was past hearing. The wolf in me wanted out.
Then the temperature in the room dropped by twenty degrees. The fluorescent lights flickered, then went dead. For a second, all was dark—until a new scent cut through the fear.
Vampire.
The doors slammed open, and in swept the Kozlovs.