Chapter Ten
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Vex
The distress call comes in at three in the afternoon.
Static on the radio, then a woman’s voice, panicked, breathless, cutting in and out: “—please, someone—frozen—can’t find—help us—”
Then silence.
Blade’s already moving before the transmission ends, barking orders as he strides toward the garage. “Vex, Prophet, Fury, Ranger, Scout, saddle up. Hollywood, you’re with me in the van. Rooster, you’ve got the compound.”
“What about me?” Tessa’s voice cuts through the chaos, and I turn to find her standing at the top of the stairs, still in her training gear, hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“You stay here,” Blade says without looking at her. “With Hannah and the others.”
“Like hell—”
“That wasn’t a request.” Blade’s tone leaves no room for argument. “You stay in the clubhouse, behind the wards, where that thing can’t reach you.”
I should agree with him. Should reinforce the order. But the look on Tessa’s face, fury and frustration and fire I see during training, makes me hesitate.
“Blade,” I start.
“No.” He cuts me off with a look. “She stays. End of discussion.”
Then he’s gone, the others following, and I’m left standing there with Tessa glaring daggers at my back.
“Don’t,” she says quietly.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to defend his decision. Don’t tell me it’s for my own good. Just... don’t.”
The hurt in her voice makes something in my chest twist. But Blade’s right. Keeping her here, safe, is the smart play.
Even if she hates me for it.
“I’ll be back soon,” I say instead, and follow the others out.
The homestead is fifteen miles outside town, nestled in the woods at the end of a long gravel road. The Johnsons, a couple in their sixties who’ve lived here for thirty years. They raise chickens, keep to themselves, and wave at passing riders.
Good people.
The kind who don’t deserve what we find.
The house looks normal from the outside. Lights on, smoke curling from the chimney. But the air around it is wrong. Too cold. Too still. And underneath the woodsmoke, there’s another smell, ozone and old ice and something that makes my fangs ache.
“Fuck,” Fury mutters, his eyes going red, his teeth growing longer. “You smell that?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Everyone stay sharp.”
Blade approaches the front door, Prophet right behind him. The rest of us fan out, covering the perimeter. My senses are on high alert, scanning for threats, and that’s when I catch it.
Tessa’s scent.
Faint. Recent. Coming from the van parked behind us.
My head snaps around, and sure enough, there she is, in the passenger seat, with Hannah in the driver’s seat. Both of them are trying to look innocent and failing spectacularly.
Of course she didn’t stay behind.
Blade notices at the same time I do, and the look he shoots Hannah could melt steel. But before he can say anything, Prophet calls out from the doorway.
“Blade. You need to see this.”
We move as one, converging on the house. The front door is unlocked, swinging open at Prophet’s touch. Inside...
Ice.
The entire interior is frozen solid. Frost coats the walls in thick sheets, icicles hang from the ceiling like jagged teeth, and the furniture is encased in crystalline formations that glitter in the afternoon light streaming through the windows.
In the center of the living room, frozen mid-step, are two figures.
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.
Their faces are twisted in terror, eyes wide, mouths open in screams that never finished. Ice has claimed them completely, their skin, their clothes, even the air around them is frozen in place.
“Jesus Christ,” Ranger breathes.
Prophet moves closer, his hand hovering over Mrs. Johnson’s frozen form. Golden light flickers around his fingers, and his face goes grim. “They’re gone. Dead before the freezing even started. The ice is just... preserving them.”
“How long?” Blade asks.
“Hours. Maybe less.” Prophet’s eyes sweep the room. “Whatever did this was powerful. And it was looking for something.”
“Or someone,” I say, and every head turns toward me.
Because we all know what this is.
The Khorvath.
It’s escalating. Moving from projections and shadows to full manifestations. Attacking humans outside Tessa’s immediate vicinity. Testing the boundaries of what it can do while the wards keep it from reaching her directly.
“We need to get back,” Blade says. “Now. If it’s this strong—”
A scream cuts through the air.
Tessa’s scream.
I’m moving before conscious thought, vampire speed launching me out the door and toward the van. The others follow, but I’m faster, my vision already tunneling, predator mode activating.
The van’s door is open.
Hannah is on the ground, unconscious but breathing.
And Tessa—
Fuck.
She’s half-in, half-out of the vehicle, her body suspended in mid-air as tendrils of black ice wrap around her waist and arms, dragging her backward.
The mark on her shoulder is glowing—actually glowing—with an eerie blue light, and frost is spreading across her skin from the points where the tendrils touch her.
Her eyes find mine, wide with terror. “Vex!”
The Khorvath materializes behind her.
Not fully. Not solid. But more real than it’s ever been, a towering distortion of black ice and swirling snow, twelve feet tall and vaguely humanoid. Its face is a void where eyes should be, and when it speaks, the voice is like glass shattering inside my skull.
“Mine,” it hisses. “She is mine. Warden. Vessel. Mine.”
White eyes. Fangs. Every vampire instinct screaming protect, claim, kill.
I launch myself at the creature, claws out, moving faster than anything human could track. My hand connects with one of the tendrils, and—
Pain.
Not ordinary cold. This is different. Ancient. Wrong. It burns like acid even as it freezes, and I can feel my flesh crystallizing where I touch it. My healing factor kicks in immediately, but it’s struggling, fighting against something that shouldn’t exist in this world.
The tendril releases Tessa just long enough for her to drop to the ground, and I’m there, putting my body between her and the creature.
The other brothers arrive, Blade in full bear form standing over Hannah, Fury wreathed in flames but still human looking, Prophet’s hands glowing with divine light.
We attack as one.
Blade’s claws rake through the creature’s torso, tearing chunks of ice and shadow away. Fury’s fire melts its tendrils, steam rising in great hissing clouds. Prophet chants in an ancient language, golden light lancing out like spears.
But it’s not enough.
For every piece we destroy, two more form. The creature is regenerating faster than we can damage it, and it’s growing stronger. The temperature drops twenty degrees in seconds, frost spreading outward from the Khorvath in waves, and I can see my brothers slowing, their movements getting sluggish.
A tendril lashes out, catching me across the chest.
The impact sends me flying backward, and I hit the van hard enough to dent the metal. Pain explodes through me, not only from the impact, but from the cold. The ancient frost is in my system now, spreading through my veins like poison, and my healing factor is screaming in protest.
Can’t heal. Can’t move fast enough. Can’t—
“Vex!” Tessa’s voice cuts through the haze of pain.
She’s crawling toward me, her face pale, the mark on her shoulder blazing like a beacon. The Khorvath is advancing on us, tendrils reaching, and I try to stand but my legs won’t cooperate.
Get up. Protect her. Get. Up.
But my body won’t listen.
The frost has spread to my core, crystallizing my blood, and every breath feels like inhaling razors. This is what it did to the Johnsons. This is how it kills, from the inside out, turning living flesh into frozen sculpture.
I’m dying.
And Tessa is going to watch.
Then she’s there, her hands on my face, her warmth shocking against my frozen skin.
“No,” she says fiercely. “No, you don’t get to die. Not now. Not like this.”
“Tessa, run—”
“Shut up.” Her hands move to my chest, feeling the frost spreading beneath my shirt. “You need to heal. You need—” She stops, understanding dawning in her eyes. “You need blood.”
“No.” The word comes out as a growl. “I won’t—”
“I’m not asking.” She yanks her jacket sleeve up, exposing her wrist, and shoves it toward my mouth. “Drink. Heal. Then get back up and kill that fucking thing.”
“Tessa—”
“Drink!” She presses her wrist against my lips, and the scent of her blood—honey and cinnamon and something uniquely her—floods my senses.
Every rule I’ve ever made shatters in that instant.
My fangs extend fully, venom flooding my mouth, and I can feel my eyes going from white to completely black. The monster is in control now, the vampire that’s been starving for a taste of her for two years, and she’s offering herself willingly.
No. This is wrong. This will kill her. This—
“Please,” she whispers, and that one word breaks me.
I bite.
The first pull of her blood is rapture.
Sweet, potent, alive in ways that make every other blood I’ve ever tasted seem like ash. It floods my system like liquid fire, chasing away the frost, igniting my healing factor into overdrive. Power surges through me, more than blood should give, more than human vitality can explain.
Because Tessa isn’t just human.
She’s a warden. Her bloodline has been touched by angels, shaped by ancient magic, designed to stand against things like the Khorvath.
And I’m drinking her power.
The wounds on my chest knit closed. The frost in my veins melts away.
Strength returns to my limbs in a rush that’s almost painful, and I can feel myself changing, not just healing, but becoming more.
Faster. Stronger. The world sharpens to crystal clarity, every sound, every scent, every nuance amplified beyond what even vampire senses should perceive.
And underneath it all, I feel her.
Her fear. Her determination. Her fierce, stubborn refusal to let me die.
The bond snaps into place like a chain wrapping around both our souls.