Chapter Eight
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Vex
The church table feels like a war council.
Seventeen brothers packed into the meeting room, some standing against the walls, others straddling chairs they’ve turned backward.
The air is thick with tension, testosterone, and the lingering smell of coffee that’s gone cold in mugs no one’s bothering to drink.
Blade sits at the head of the table, his massive frame rigid with the weight of leadership, while Prophet stands beside him, hands clasped and expression grave.
Every eye in the room is on me.
The taste of Tessa still lingers on my tongue, and the memory of her straddling my lap burns through my veins like poison.
Two hours ago, she was in my arms, grinding against me, whispering my name.
Now she’s upstairs in my bed, probably trying to sleep off the adrenaline crash while we decide her fate.
Our fate.
Because that’s what this is, whether anyone wants to admit it or not.
“Let me get this straight,” Rooster says, leaning back in his chair until it creaks. “We’ve got an ancient ice demon that can possess our territory through a mark on some human woman, and your grand plan is to keep her here? In our clubhouse? Where it already attacked once tonight?”
“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Blade says, his voice flat. Final.
“That’s fucking insane.”
“That’s the call.” Blade’s eyes scan the room, daring anyone else to challenge him. “Tessa is under Kings’ protection. Anyone got a problem with that, there’s the door.”
No one moves.
But the tension rachets higher, thick enough to choke on.
Fury shifts in his seat, the heat radiating off him making the air shimmer. “With all due respect, Prez, keeping her here puts everyone at risk. We saw what that thing did to Hollywood. What if next time it gets through Prophet’s wards completely? What if it uses her to kill us all in our sleep?”
“Then we deal with it,” Blade says simply.
Prophet steps forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade through silk.
“The creature is called the Khorvath. In ancient texts, it’s described as a devourer, something that feeds on fear, cold, and broken promises.
It was sealed beneath Alaska’s permafrost centuries ago by an alliance between angels, vampires, and shifters.
” He pauses, letting that sink in. “Tessa’s bloodline are wardens.
Her ancestors helped create that seal. The mark on her shoulder isn’t random, it’s the Khorvath claiming what it thinks belongs to it. ”
“So, she’s bait,” Cyclone says. “Walking, talking bait that’s going to draw that thing right to us every night until it breaks through and kills us all.”
“Or,” Prophet counters, “she’s the key to stopping it permanently.”
That gets everyone’s attention.
“How?” Blade asks.
“I’m still working on that part.” Prophet’s jaw tightens. “But what I do know is this, if we send her away, she dies. The wards here are the only thing slowing the Khorvath down. Out there, alone, with the mark calling to it? She wouldn’t last a night.”
The room goes quiet.
Then Ranger speaks up, his voice rough. “What about Vex? Can he actually protect her, or is he too compromised?”
Every head turns toward me.
The word compromised hangs in the air like an accusation. They all saw it tonight, saw me tackle her into her room, saw the way she clung to me afterward, saw the possessive fury in my eyes when I threatened to rip Rooster’s throat out for looking at her wrong.
They know.
And now they’re waiting to see if their VP can still do his job, or if I’ve become a liability.
“Vex?” Blade’s voice is careful. Controlled. “You good?”
The honest answer is no.
Hell no.
Every instinct screams at me to go upstairs right now, lock Tessa in my room, and stand guard until this nightmare is over. To claim her so completely that nothing, not the Khorvath, not heaven, not even death itself, can take her from me.
But that’s the monster talking.
The man knows better.
“I’m good,” the lie tastes like ash. “Tessa’s safety is my priority. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”
“Even if that means stepping back?” Blade presses. “If I reassign her protection to someone else, can you handle that?”
The question is a knife to the gut.
Step back. Let someone else guard her, touch her, be close to her. Let another brother stand outside her door at night, listening to her breathe, ready to throw himself between her and danger.
My hands clench into fists under the table, and I feel my eyes starting to shift. White creeping in at the edges of my vision, predator mode activating whether I want it to or not.
“No,” the word comes out rougher than intended. “I can’t.”
Blade’s expression doesn’t change. “Why not?”
“Because she’s mine.”
The admission echoes through the room like a gunshot.
Silence.
Then Rooster laughs, sharp and mocking. “Called it. VP’s gone soft over some human.”
Before I can move, Blade’s on his feet, his hand slamming down on the table hard enough to crack the wood.
“Shut. The fuck. Up.” His voice is pure alpha command, the kind that makes even hardened killers sit up and pay attention.
“Vex has earned the right to speak without your commentary. You don’t like it, you can leave. Permanently.”
Rooster’s smile dies.
Blade’s eyes find mine, and there’s something almost sympathetic in them. “Explain.”
Where do I even start?
With the two years of watching her from the shadows? The nights spent in trees outside her window like some lovesick stalker? The way her scent drives me half-mad with hunger every time she’s near? The fact I’ve broken every rule I ever made for myself just by being in the same room as her?
“It’s not just attraction,” Prophet says quietly, saving me from having to articulate the impossible.
“The bond between them isn’t natural. Or rather, it is, but not in a way we fully understand yet.
” He looks at me, and there’s pity in his eyes.
“Heaven is watching this, Vex. They’ve been watching since the moment that mark appeared.
Your connection to Tessa may be part of something larger than either of you. ”
“What are you saying?” Blade asks.
“I’m saying trying to separate them now might do more harm than good.
” Prophet’s voice drops lower. “The creature wants her. And it’s going to keep coming.
But it’s also afraid of something, something about her, or about Vex, or about them together.
Why else would it project through the mark instead of manifesting fully?
Why not just tear through the wards and take her? ”
“Because it can’t,” Scout realizes. “The wards are holding. Barely, but they’re holding.”
“Exactly,” Prophet confirms. “And I think part of why they’re holding is because of him.” He nods toward me. “A vampire standing guard over a warden bloodline. It’s not an accident. That’s providence.”
“Or a test,” Blade mutters.
“Or that.”
The room erupts into argument, half the brothers insisting we need a different strategy, the other half grudgingly accepting that maybe, keeping Tessa and me together is the only option that doesn’t end with everyone dead.
Through it all, I sit there in silence, my mind racing.
A test.
That’s what Prophet said outside. Heaven is testing me to see if a monster can choose something greater than his own hunger. If love can be stronger than nature.
But what if I fail?
What if I touch her and can’t stop? What if the bond Prophet’s talking about is just a prettier way of saying I’m going to drain her dry and kill her the same way I killed Catherine?
What if—
A sound from upstairs cuts through my spiraling thoughts.
Footsteps.
Not Tessa’s room. The hallway. Moving toward the stairs.
My head snaps up, every sense locking onto that sound. The others are still arguing, too caught up in debate to notice, but I’m already on my feet.
“She’s awake,” the words come out clipped. “I need to—”
“Go,” Blade says. “We’re done here anyway. Everyone clear on the plan?”
A chorus of reluctant agreement.
“Good. Rooster, Fury, you’re on perimeter patrol. Ranger, Hollywood if you’re up for it, backup positions. Prophet, I want those wards reinforced by dawn. Everyone else, get some rest. We’ve got a long night ahead of us tomorrow.”
The brothers file out, some shooting me looks that range from concerned to outright hostile. I don’t care. All I care about is getting to Tessa before she does something stupid.
Like leave.
Because I can smell it on her now, a spike of determination, of fear, of guilt. She heard us. She heard the argument about whether she’s worth protecting, heard them call her a liability, heard me admit I can’t step back.
And now she’s going to run.
Over my dead fucking body.
I take the stairs three at a time, moving faster than any human could track. The hallway is empty, my broken door still hanging askew, but Tessa’s not in my room. Her scent trail leads toward the back stairs, the ones that go down to the garage.
Of course.
She’s going to steal a bike or a truck and disappear, convinced she’s doing everyone a favor by removing herself from the equation.
Noble. Stupid. And absolutely not happening.
The garage is lit by a single overhead bulb that casts harsh shadows across rows of bikes and the two vans we use for supply runs. The air smells like oil and gasoline and her an addictive combination of honey and defiance that makes my fangs ache.
She’s at the far end, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, keys in her hand.
“Going somewhere?” My voice cuts through the silence.
She spins, eyes wide, then narrows them when she sees me. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t stop you from making the stupidest decision of your life?” I move closer, each step deliberate. “Too late.”
“You heard them,” she says, backing up until she hits one of the vans. “I’m a liability. I’m putting everyone at risk just by being here.”
“You’re under our protection.”