Out for Blood

Prologue - Vasile

One hundred years ago…

Every step I take towards the house Deacon and I share is a reluctant one. The night air is heavy, oppressive with more than just the summer heat, and it threatens to suffocate me.

Candlelight burns beyond the curtains, and for a moment I pause, taking in the now-familiar shape of our house.

Our home .

I swallow around a sudden lump in my throat. Even when I believed I wanted more than this, I was wrong. And I am sad and angry that it has taken me so long to realise that simple fact.

The door opens, faint light spilling out onto the street. I easily make out Deacon’s form, backlit as he is, but even if I could not, I would still be able to sense him through the weak bond forming between us.

Weak enough that I am certain he will not sense everything I am feeling. I trust my own ability to push the emotions aside, too.

“You’ve been gone a while,” he says, concern rather than accusation colouring his words.

He has offered to come and hunt with me before, but I have always declined. Never have I been more grateful for that than tonight. He would not have survived it.

He will not survive it. That much is clear.

I walk up the path and straight into his waiting arms. He embraces me on the street, utterly shameless and uncaring, and I bury my face in his throat, breathing him in. His blood pulses strongly under his skin and though my mouth waters at the sound of his thrumming heartbeat, I know better than to take a bite.

“Sorry,” I say, tightening my hands in the back of his shirt. “It took longer than I expected.”

He breathes a laugh. “I was just worried, Vasile,” he says, then he tugs me inside, one hand in mine, always a point of contact as I shuck off my coat and remove my shoes.

“Nothing to worry about.” I flash him a smile I hope he believes.

I know what I have to do, of course. The choice is simple: Deacon or myself. I would die a thousand painful deaths before I let Tamesis have him. I trace the familiar regal lines of Deacon’s face, the way the light catches his grey eyes when he tilts his head to look back.

Deacon has to know that. He knows of Tamesis already, though very little. He knows he is a threat to what we are building here, to what we wish our future to be.

He doesn’t know Tamesis came to me tonight.

He doesn’t know the only choice I have left.

I take a step forward and Deacon is already there, already close, and he groans into my kiss just like I knew he would. His strong arms go around my waist, pulling me flush against his solid chest, and when I kiss down his throat, he pants into the empty air of the hall.

“Vasile,” he whines when I bite down on his collarbone. I want to push him up against the wall and take him. I want to sear myself upon him, inside and out, so that no matter what, he will never be rid of me.

My next breath shakes. Who knew how easy it would be to let the monster rise within me again? But I suppose I’ve always known the lengths I’d be willing to go to for Deacon. Tamesis taught me to push every limit, and I have never been grateful for that until now.

Deacon cups my face in his hands and brushes the softest of kisses against my lips. I back him up against the wall, where I want him, and he goes easily, grinning against my mouth when my fingers dig into his hips.

“Vasile,” he says between kisses, which grow deeper and make his eyes go heavy. “Vasile, wait.”

I stop, pulling back to look at him. His lust is all I can feel from our bond, drowning out everything else and echoing through my entire body.

“I—”

“No. Wait. Wait here.”

He slides out of the space between me and the wall and is gone before I can ask him to clarify. I blink in confusion and fear grips me. Does he know about tonight? Does he know what I have to do?

He comes back with something clutched in his hands. His eyes are wide, and there’s an edge of worry in his expression, as though he’s done something he imagines I won’t like.

“What is it?” I ask. Nothing he could have done would have me turn him away.

Deacon’s hand faintly trembles as he extends it, and when he opens his fingers, a ring sits on his palm. It is gold and heavy, a signet ring I never would have chosen for myself but one I fall in love with instantly.

“I saw this, and I thought—” Colour floods his cheeks. “I thought you might like it. Just a whim, really.”

Just a whim? I don’t know if I believe him, not when I see the wolf’s head carved into its face. Deacon’s wolf. My stomach twists with excitement and desire, and at the same moment, my heart breaks in two.

“Deacon…”

“I mean, I know we can’t marry. I want to do the mating rites when we’re ready, but for now… I thought you might like this?”

I extend my left hand towards him, breath catching when he slips the ring onto my thumb. Not the traditional finger, but then we’re in no way traditional regardless.

It’s a perfect fit. When I turn my hand, it gleams in the candlelight.

“I love you,” I say earnestly, all but begging him to believe it, not just tonight, but in the future, after everything is done.

“And I you,” he says and smiles into our next kiss.

The following night, I leave just after the sun goes down. Deacon is away, tending to his duties within his pack, and so it’s easy to slip out, to head to the river where I know Tamesis is waiting.

Of course his dark blue eyes narrow in on the ring. He’s never missed an opportunity to exploit my every weakness, and I should have known better, but in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to remove it.

“Your pup is staking his claim.”

“It’s a trinket,” I say, aiming for dismissive, and hope Tamesis can’t read me as well as he used to.

He definitely can. His handsome face twists into a sneer and he crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Don’t lie to me, my warrior.” Something clenches in my chest, something next to the bond that is beginning to tie me and Deacon together.

It’s the sire bond. Tamesis is tugging on it, just enough to make me feel it, and it makes my jaw clench.

“Maybe I should just kill him anyway,” Tamesis muses.

“You told me you would leave him alone if I came here tonight.” I’m revealing too much, but there is nothing to be done about it. Tamesis already knows my weakness, and his control over our bond has always been impeccable. All I can hope is that Deacon remains with his pack; even Tamesis will have trouble wreaking havoc among that many wolves.

“Quite,” Tamesis says. He turns away from me for a moment, looking into the shadows behind him.

Darkness shifts, and a human shuffles forward.

Not just any human. A hunter.

And not just any hunter.

Moreau meets my gaze, resignation in his pale eyes. He is the one who has spearheaded efforts to have all the supernatural creatures in London working together. I know he is powerful, more so than any other hunter I have met.

I do not understand…

Tamesis scoffs at the look on my face and pulls something from the front pocket of his finely tailored suit. A gold crucifix. He tosses it at my feet.

“This is who you put your faith in, Vasile? A pup and a hunter who truly believes his god will protect him from us?”

I bend and pick the crucifix up, letting the chain run through my fingers. No, this cannot hurt me, no more than the touch of silver hurts a wolf.

“What are you planning to do with him?” I ask.

“Not me. You. ” Tamesis’ eyes flash gold and Moreau grunts, taking another step forward before he sinks to his knees. I frown at the sight. Tamesis can leverage the sire bond against me, but how is he making Moreau do this?

“I am not going to—”

“Kill the hunter, or I kill your pup,” Tamesis says.

I close my eyes. I should have seen this coming. “Why?”

Tamesis is more than capable of killing.

Of course, so am I.

When I open my eyes, he is standing before me, a hair’s breadth from my face. His hand comes up, grasping my chin, and I fight my instinctual urge to squirm away.

“You know why,” Tamesis says. “You are forgetting who you are, Vasile. You were reborn on the battlefield, emerging from a womb of dirt and blood. You slaughtered all those who remained, just as I designed.”

I bite back the growl building in my throat. No. I am not that creature. Not anymore. I have not been him since I met Deacon.

Perhaps not for a while before that, too.

“This is hardly a hunt,” I say, trying to make my tone haughty. “You have simply—”

“I am retraining a wayward fledgling, it feels like,” Tamesis says, venom dripping from his words. His fingers tighten to the point of pain. “Do this, Vasile. Do it because I order you to. You would not wish to disappoint me.”

I want to kill him . But Tamesis knows me well; he knows that glint in my eye. He presses his lips to the corner of my mouth before he steps back with the faintest of smiles.

“Go on,” he says, and his smile drops. “If you do not do it, I shall kill them both.”

Moreau looks resigned to it. He knows what Deacon means to me—even though we have not spoken of it, I am certain he knows of the bond between us.

“ Now , Vasile,” Tamesis snarls.

I growl, but he does not react to that. He merely waits and watches, and I am at a loss for anything else to do. I could attack him, but to get the upper hand, I need the element of surprise—which I do not have. Tamesis has some kind of control over Moreau, and though I believe Deacon is safe where he is, he cannot remain there forever.

When I stand over Moreau, he tilts his head to the side. Blood thunders under his skin.

“Do it,” he urges, his voice barely above a whisper.

My fangs descend. Perhaps I can still get us both out of this. I will have to drink some, but I have more self-control than Tamesis knows of.

I crouch down, my hand tightening in Moreau’s grey-streaked hair before I yank his head further aside. He digs his fingers into his thighs.

Sorry , I do not say. My fangs pierce his skin, sliding in easily, and though there must be a moment of pain, Moreau does not make a sound. I feel Tamesis’ eyes on me as I drink, pulling thick, rich mouthfuls of blood and swallowing them down.

I know how far I can go before my prey weakens, and Moreau is stronger than most. Tamesis shifts on his feet, moving into my periphery. I will lose precious seconds when I tug my fangs free, but I might be able to catch Tamesis around the middle, bring him down—

“Vas? Vasile, what are you doing?”

No.

No.

I lift my head. The world spins around me, and there are two Deacons standing in the glow of the streetlamps, but Deacon is there, all the same. My vision blurs.

“What—”

Deacon growls, his gaze fixed on Tamesis, who only smirks in response. “Are you learning more about your mate, pup?”

“What have you done to him?”

Moreau’s breathing is shallow, a little too fast, but he’s still alive, still conscious. I loosen my grip on him, and he sways. I do, too. What is wrong with me?

I look up, and Tamesis and Deacon are closer now. Why hasn’t Deacon attacked him? I don’t want him to. But then I feel—

The bond. The one between me and Deacon. Something else is there, twisting around it, dark and constricting, corrupting—

“Stop,” I choke out.

Tamesis turns back to me with a careless laugh. “Are you beginning to understand, Vasile?”

No. I do not believe I understand a thing. I just need this to stop.

“Take more,” Moreau hisses, dragging me towards him by the front of my shirt. “More, Vasile.”

I sink my teeth into his throat again. He grunts as I drink, and the strange dizziness turns to a heady throb of power. When I lift my head this time, Moreau tips to the side, his eyes falling shut.

Deacon watches with unabashed horror in his eyes. I cannot look at him. I need to do this to save him.

“Do you think I could make him kill you, my warrior?” Tamesis asks.

Deacon’s eyes, already wide, flare with panic. It pulses underneath the rot Tamesis has smeared over our bond.

“Leave him,” I growl.

“I do not believe I will.” Tamesis moves behind Deacon, his hands coming to rest on Deacon’s shoulders. He leans in, his lips against Deacon’s ear. “Go on, wolf. Kill him.”

Deacon fights it. I know he does. But he stumbles forward anyway, silver flooding his irises, making his teeth and claws erupt.

It’s not a full shift. I am not certain Tamesis is capable of forcing that. But this—I dodge one clumsy swipe, darting aside.

“Deacon, stop!” I try to push this new power inside me into our bond, but Tamesis’ eyes flash gold and the tentative grip I have on it slips away.

“Vasile—” Deacon swipes at me again, and as distracted as I am by Tamesis, he catches me by surprise. I cry out when his claws rake my side, drawing blood. Deacon’s expression twists in horror—even as Tamesis watches with glee—but instead of retreating, he advances.

I cannot hurt him. Not even enough to stop him. And Moreau… I hear his heartbeat slowing. If he dies—

I growl, pushing the power I took from him into the bond again. This is my only chance. I need to sever the connection between myself and Tamesis—or myself and Deacon. Separating them will give me the chance to surprise Tamesis and stop him. Stop this.

“Vasile,” Tamesis growls. “What are you—”

All the power I have stolen surges through me, and I force it to follow the twisting lines of my intuition, directing it toward the corruption inside of me. Tamesis grunts when the power hits the bond between the two of us, and I grit my teeth, avoiding Deacon again, pushing in more and more—

The rotten casing around Deacon’s and my bond cracks, then shatters, and I try to pull the power back, but it’s too much. It surges into our mate bond, which flares brightly and—

It breaks.

Jagged edges pierce through what I am certain is left of my soul. Deacon lets out a plaintive cry, crumpling to the ground.

I cannot feel him.

I cannot feel him.

Tamesis is still standing. His expression twists in pain and fury, and despite all my concern for Deacon, I do not hesitate. I leap toward him, tackling him to the ground, and though he twists beneath me, I sink my teeth into his throat.

Tearing out his throat will not be enough. He has some of that power I have just experienced, and I have no doubt he has a better sense of how to use it than I do.

No.

I have to do the one thing I never should. The one thing that separates a true monster from the predators we all are.

I drink. Tamesis fights me, but I drink, and I shove him back down, ignoring him when he growls as I take long pulls of his blood. It does nothing to truly feed me, aside from filling my stomach, but I drink and drink and drink until he stills, until his body is cold and empty, his eyes unseeing.

When I lift my head, he is cold to the touch. Blood drips down my chin, my stomach uncomfortably full, and I rock back onto my knees, staring down at him.

Tamesis is dead. I feel for the sire bond between us.

Nothing.

It is gone.

I am finally free.

I turn and look at Deacon. Our bond… It hurts when I think of it. I force myself to my feet, but before I can approach him, footsteps have me whipping around, a snarl rumbling in my chest.

Perhaps I have broken the bond. Perhaps it can never be fixed.

I will still not allow anyone else to hurt him.

The man who steps into view under the lamplight is not a man at all. Not human, anyway. His features are angular, sleek, eyes pitch black from corner to corner. He pauses by Moreau’s still form and stares down at him.

I position myself between Deacon and the stranger. Moreau is still alive, but barely. I do not know if I can protect him from whoever this is, too.

“You need not fear for your friend,” the stranger says. His voice is soft and lyrical, but his teeth are sharp little points in his mouth. Those eyes land on me and my blood runs cold.

Fae. He must be.

“What are you going to do to him?”

The fae crouches. His long, thin fingers smooth over Moreau’s brow.

“He will live,” he says. “As will your wolf, though not without consequence.”

I do not press my hand to my chest, no matter how much I wish to. I feel the fae knows what has happened anyway.

His eyes slide to Tamesis, and his expression turns grave. “This one has caused much trouble.”

I furrow my brow. “He… has?” Tamesis was silent for almost two centuries before he arrived in London. It was why I thought I was rid of him. Even before I surrendered to Deacon and attempted to redeem myself, part of me was glad he was gone.

The fae hums and nods. “But you killed him. I owe you a debt.”

“I don’t—” There is nothing he can do for me. For us. “I don’t want anything.”

He stares at me again, unblinking, unmoving, for a long moment. I do not dare move, myself.

“Very well,” he says. “If you change your mind…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He crouches and scoops Moreau up as though he weighs nothing. I glance at Tamesis’ corpse. “What should I do?”

“Leave him. The sun will do what she always does.”

He nods again and walks away, and I turn back to Deacon. I can’t leave him here, so I lift him as carefully as the fae lifted Moreau and carry him in the direction of our home.

The entire way, our broken bond pulses in my chest. The pain is staggering in its intensity, and the final dregs of whatever power I took from Moreau begin to ebb away. By the time we arrive, I am exhausted, and it takes everything in me to gently tip Deacon onto the bed before I fall to my knees beside it.

Can I salvage this situation? I rest my chin on our thin mattress, watching the rise and fall of Deacon’s chest. My own eyelids begin to droop. I want to remain awake. I want to explain everything to him; the little he knows of Tamesis is enough to understand the danger he posed, but I need to explain the bond, see if we can repair our own, if he wants to—

I suck in a breath and wake, and the room around me is dark and empty and silent.

It is afternoon. I know that. The shutters are firmly closed, and I am lying on the floor, and when I sit up, the bed is not warm.

“Deacon?”

No answer. I cannot hear a heartbeat. I stand on shaky legs and when I open the bedroom door, I rear back in surprise.

It is not merely that Deacon’s things are clearly gone. That he is gone.

No.

Every window outside our bedroom is wide open. The doors, too, and sunlight pours in, scattering across the floor, the walls—

I slam the door shut again, breathing hard. My eyes sting from looking upon it, but I know that feeling will pass.

Deacon is gone.

He is gone.

And clearly, he does not wish for me to follow.