Slowly, carefully, I lifted my hand to Bastien’s mouth. His lips were cold when they touched my skin.

  “Bastien, it’s me. I’m feeling better now, and I want you to feel better too.” The sound of my voice stirred him. Groggily, his fingers closed around my wrist. “That’s it. Take what you need.”

  Blackness bled into his eyes, and his fangs lengthened. I’d never watched him change so intently before. As soon as my bleeding hand met his mouth, he sank his teeth in.

  I gasped as the pressure and momentary pain transformed into pleasure. But then he bit down harder, stealing my breath. Before I could react, he pushed me down against the mattress, his body covering mine, pinning me to the bed.

  Then his mouth moved from my hand to my neck.

  Teeth sank in, and pain flashed white behind my eyes. He drank mouthfuls like a drowning man. The bond between us opened, and I could feel the desperation clawing through him. He was starving. It terrified me how easily I would have let him take everything.

  I heard Natalia curse under her breath before she grabbed Bastien by the collar and ripped him off me. Blood streaked his mouth and chin. It dripped onto my skin, onto the sheets. But his wounds were healing before my eyes. His broken jaw and the deep scratches over his chest.

  “Uncle?” Natalia said.

  Gripping him by the shoulders and shaking him. Her hard exterior crumbled when his eyes returned to their usual shade of blue. For a second, she was a little girl, standing before the uncle she so admired.

  “Uncle, I failed you.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Chastity doesn’t want our protection. She’s summoned a demon.” She bowed her head. “Please forgive me.”

  Bastien put his hand under her chin and lifted it. “There is nothing to forgive.” He smiled at her. “I am the one who is sorry.”

  They hugged each other, and I was glad to know they were back on good terms. My husband turned his attention to me. “Claire,” he said, hoarse and wrecked, “I owe you an apology too.”

  I shook my head. Repeating his words. “There is nothing to forgive.”

  He held out his hand for me, and I took it. “While I was asleep, I dreamt that Gorrath visited our room. Tell me it was just a dream.”

  Chapter 29

  Interlude

  GORRATH

  Iwas more than willing to come visit him in bed, but look at that, he found me first. Sword in one hand. That ridiculous cane in the other. Wearing a black riding jacket and gold cravat, as if he hadn’t been languishing in bed an hour ago.

  Noble Bastien. Hiding behind the Allard crest.

  It’s a bold move, considering the dirty vampire has broken more of his own laws than I ever did when I was a Witch of the Darkness, and yet somehow he still manages to look offended by me.

  What? I didn’t tell you that I was born a witch? Must’ve slipped my mind. I look better with horns, truthfully. Well, I did. Until he cut the other one off, leaving me with a thick pink scar where it used to be.

  My deal with Damien is the very thing that caused Bastien to lock me in the Underworld, though history has a way of sanding down inconvenient details until only the villain remains. I wanted to bring back the lost goddesses. The covens didn’t. Blah, blah, blah. I’m not here to reminisce. I’m far more interested in the near future.

  The one where Bastien agrees to help me get what I want.

  Just look at him. Strutting toward me in his vampire state. All black eyes and bad intentions. Come stand next to me, love. I don’t want you to miss a thing. Because if I get everything I want, you’re going to want a front row seat.

  “I’d introduce you, but I hear you’re well acquainted,” Chastity says, crossing her legs and unnecessarily fixing her skirts.

  I scratch my chin and smother a laugh. I love this woman. Chastity is a master of the subtle difference between power and performance.

  She likes Bastien. She just doesn’t trust him to keep her people safe. Not since she was forced to retreat to her underground lair because of Shayla’s werewolves. Which is why she paid a pretty price to summon ol’ Gorrath.

  Bastien stops just shy of where I stand beside Chastity’s chair and points his sword at me. “He was not part of our bargain,” Bastien says to Chastity.

  She scoffs. “Neither was my hospitality. But here I am, extending it to you and your army.”

  “You’re also giving him your hospitality. And I’d wager he took more from you than just room and board.” She holds his gaze, not giving an inch. But Bastien is still monologuing. He’s angry. “Release him from whatever bargain you made. Join me, just as you intended. You’ll retain autonomy over your lands⁠—”

  Chastity presses her hands against the arms of the chair and slowly rises from her seat. “Under the watchful eye of a vampire, who would be building a castle for himself and his court on my land.”

  I rub my hands together, knowing I’m about to get a show. Claire, on the other hand, has no idea this is all working out in her favor.

  “I already told your niece and nephew, I don’t have time to dally about. And I’m a much wiser woman than the girl you met years ago who had assumed control of her coven.”

  The black bleeds out of Bastien’s eyes, and his fangs retract, leaving nothing behind but the colder, sharper features of the man I once knew. The version he’s obsessed with maintaining because he doesn’t want anyone to call him reckless ever again.

  Not after his Mama caught us that night.

  “I don’t want to speak for Chastity,” I say, sauntering a few steps closer, enjoying the way his grip tightens on his weapons. I glance back at her, just to be polite. She gives me the barest nod. Permission granted. I wink. She flushes.

  Don’t get jealous, love. There’s plenty of me to go around.

  “But no one wants to be a part of the Blood Treaty,” I continue. “I know it doesn’t feel good to be irrelevant, but it’s time to let it go.” I gesture to Claire. “You’ve got more important things to worry about besides who signs a useless scrap of paper. Like, who is going to come to your baby shower?” Bastien’s lip curls. I grin. “Before you bake a cake and knit booties, your wife needs a spell to free herself from that collar.”

  I let the words sit there, making everyone deliciously uncomfortable.

  “Admit it. That’s why you really came here. Not to protect Chastity or preserve the balance of power.” I tilt my head, studying him. Gods, he hates being seen. “But because you’re selfish.”

  “Shut up,” Bastien seethes.

  “You want a spell, Bastien! Because you can’t do magick anymore. At least, not like you used to. You’ve traded your power for blood and eternity and a superiority complex.”

  I wait while the truth lands. Soaking in the moment.

  Now he’s ready to fight back. “You have broken free from the Underworld. You sought revenge on me through my wife. You have collected more sacrifices from me than I was ever willing to give you. I’m a tolerant man, but now, it is time for you to go back to where you came from. And this time, when I take your other horn, I’ll make sure you can’t come back.”

  What a lovely speech. Very impassioned. Let’s clap for him. You can tell he’s been rehearsing it in his head since the moment he realized Claire had my power.

  “Threatening me with magick you don’t have?”

  “You—”

  I’m laughing before he can finish. The way he looks like he’s getting ready to hit me with that cane until I yield is too funny.

  I wipe an imaginary tear from my eye and smile. “Go on,” I say. “If it will make you feel better, hit me.”

  Bastien is still clinging to the idea that this ends with a sword.

  It won’t.

  Claire—bless her reckless little heart—knows this already. She doesn’t have the language for it yet, but she feels it in her blood. She wants like I do. It’s what makes her such a powerful Witch of the Darkness. And it’s what’s going to save her life. Because a want like hers and mine doesn’t disappear just because you banish it. No. It goes underground. It waits. And when it comes back, it’s hungrier than before.

  “I’m not here for revenge,” I admit. “If I were, you’d already be screaming.” One side of my mouth lifts in an impish grin. I let that sit before continuing. “I’m here because of an age-old understanding.”

  “Which is?” he demands.

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  Bastien laughs. Claire doesn’t. After all our chats, I think she’s coming around to me.

  “You are not my friend.”

  “I’m more of a friend than you realize.” I run a tongue along my teeth. “You want Shayla dead. So do I.”

  Bastien shakes his head. “I never said I wanted her dead. I said I wanted to negotiate peace with her.”

  I ignore his little show, because he knows there’s no making peace with someone who created an army of weres. “I made a bargain with Chastity to get rid of Shayla. And now I want to make a deal with both of you.”

  “I would never⁠—”

  “We should hear him out,” Claire cuts in, finally finding that rebellious voice of hers. I do love it when she puts him in his place, so I don’t have to.

  “See, she gets it. She knows, just like you do, that this war doesn’t end without me,” I continue. “And if you’re clever—if you’re very clever—you’ll stop pretending I’m the worst thing that can happen and start asking what I want in return.”

  I step closer, just enough for Bastien to feel the echo of the past crawl up his spine, just enough for Claire to feel the pull in her blood.

  “You will not lay a hand on my wife.”

  “Relax,” I reassure him. “I’m not here to take what’s yours. I’m here to save it.”

  Chapter 30

  Les Loups

  TYSON

  Tyson shut the door and bolted it, then promptly turned around and stared at his two companions.

  How had he ended up in this situation?

  A woman who refused to give him her name stood in front of him. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she was still holding a dagger. His other guest was Alec, who looked like a man who had just realized he’d allowed himself to be locked in a room with a vampire.

  Tyson studied them both in silence.

  Beat. Beat. Beat.

  The longer he was in their company, the more he longed to know them. He didn’t just want to know how they liked to be fucked or whether they preferred white or red. He wanted to know how they had ended up here. The whole story. But getting to know someone required both parties to share. And no one truly knew who he was. Hell, he didn’t even know who he was.

  A discomfort he always tried to avoid threatened to crack his mask again, and he almost asked if either of them wanted a drink, but caught himself before the words slipped out. He was not hosting a party.

  He was in the Lawless Lands, concealing two near-strangers, while his Uncle lay unconscious, and negotiations with Chastity fell apart. And most inconvenient of all was that his bloodstone had decided that one of these two people belonged with him.

  Just when Uncle Bastien had started to trust him.

  The woman grunted. “Don’t get any ideas, vampire. You are outnumbered.”

  “Are you going to stab me?” Tyson asked the woman. “Or can we put that away for the duration of this conversation? I promise not to bite unless asked nicely.”

  He laughed at his own joke. They just stared at him, probably wondering why he was such an idiot. “Or keep it. Whatever makes you happy.”

  “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t trust you,” the woman said.

  “Well,” Tyson replied, “you’ve made that perfectly clear.”

  He dropped into the lone chair, feeling like this couldn’t get any worse. “Start talking. Names. Why witches were chasing you. Why you’re wearing moonstones. And, ideally, why the gods decided to make you my problem.”

  They exchanged a look, and it seemed to Tyson that a whole silent conversation passed between them.

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Alec began. “We don’t want any trouble. She won’t give you her name. Not until she’s ready.” He pushed back thick black hair from his brow, but it fell right back in his eyes. Those red-brown eyes. “As for me, perhaps you remember me from Château Rose?”

  The question dissolved through Tyson’s frustrations with the situation. “Of course, I remember you,” Tyson said. “You’re one of Claire’s consorts. Alec. Right?” The man nodded. Tyson bit his lip, eyeing him. “You drank her under the table, right before my uncle nearly murdered you.” He chuckled. “And me.”

  Alec smiled, revealing a single dimple, and Tyson forgot how to breathe. He’d seen beautiful mouths before. He had tasted them. Laughed against them. And then conveniently forgot them by morning. But he’d never been so captivated by the curve of a mouth before.

  At least, not one that wasn’t already around his cock.

  “I thought you wanted me to answer the questions, m’lord,” Alec said.

  Tyson could barely tolerate the cheek in his voice. He had to bite his lip again to keep from saying anything else. This was going horribly. Pinching his temples between his fingers, he gestured for Alec to continue. “Of course. Sorry. Keep talking. I’ll be quiet.”

  Why was he being so awkward? He was never awkward. He could flirt in three languages. He’d charmed members of the human aristocracy. And yet here he was, tripping over himself in front of a man who worked as one of Claire’s consorts. A man who he’d openly laughed at when he told his werewolf story.

  The irony was not lost on Tyson.

  “We need to speak with Miss Claire. Right away,” Alec insisted. “It’s very important.”

  It was hard to hear him say 'please' and then deny him anything. Perhaps he was his mate. A truly unorthodox pairing in vampire society, but not unheard of. It would absolve him of needing to create an heir right away. But the problem remained. He didn’t want to be mated right now. He couldn’t. Tyson leaned back in the chair and crossed one ankle over his knee, trying to act aloof and unaffected.

  “What could be so important that you need to speak with Claire right now?”

  The two shared another look, which might’ve been an entire conversation. Tyson, uncomfortable with how little control he had over his emotions, returned to humor. “If you don’t tell me, I could hand you back to Chastity,” he teased. “She seems very enthusiastic about jailing you.”

  Her nostrils flared before she kicked over the small wooden table between them. Tyson didn’t move to pick it up, and neither did she. They simply watched each other.

  He’d grown up around the women of his Uncle Marius’s court who performed for him. Who fluttered their lashes in the hopes of earning his favor. Okeri had never been that girl. She’d been one to fight and laugh and drink with him. It was how they became such good friends. But this girl was different. She had an air about her that made his spine straighten.

  “I am not afraid of Chastity,” she said evenly, though the jumping pulse in her throat betrayed the lie. “And I’m not afraid of you.”

  When a woman put him in his place, he normally felt inadequate. Like the way he felt when his cousin did it. But when she did it, it made him want to be the man he thought he could be. If Alec’s mouth had entranced him, then her anger unmade him.

  Was it her? Could she be his mate?

  Alec set his hand on her shoulder and gave her an earnest look. The familiarity between them twisted something unpleasant inside Tyson. “We should tell him.”

  “Absolutely not,” she shot back.

  More firmly, Alec said, “Yes.”

  Tell him what? Tyson couldn’t take it. What did they know that he didn’t? Which one of them was his mate? Beat. Beat. Beat. One of their hearts was alive in his stone.

  The woman rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Fine. Tell him.”

  Alec gave her an affectionate look before turning his attention back to Tyson. “This is going to sound crazy, I know, m’lord. But we are Claire’s wolves.”

  Tyson’s brows lifted. Well. That was… surprising. “You mean the brown and white ones that fought with us in the tunnels?”

  Alec nodded. “She thought we were familiars. But we aren’t,” he admitted. “We’re both werewolves who didn’t have the power to shift back into human form until we put on these moonstones.”

  Tyson opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. “What?”

  The woman with the dagger growled. “We don’t have time to explain every detail. The bottom line is that werewolves can sense things. And when we put on these moonstones, it was like we were plugged into Shayla’s network.”

  Tyson stood from his seat. “Are you saying you know what she’s planning?”

  The woman shook her head. “No, it’s not like that. It’s not like I can read her mind. But I can feel them coming.”

  “We both can,” Alec said.

  “Coming where?” Tyson asked.

  The woman made an impatient sound. “Coming here!”

  Tyson studied their faces carefully, searching for exaggeration. He’d always been skeptical of tall tales, but for whatever reason, he believed theirs. “You’re sure that Shayla is coming here?”

  They both nodded. Tyson dragged a hand down the front of his jacket as if smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. “One question before we go find my uncle.” He pointed at them both. “Do either one of you feel anything toward me? Anything you want to get off your chest?”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk to you or your uncle. I only want to speak with Claire. What I have to say is for her alone.”

  “Okay,” he said quickly. “So you clearly hate me. That’s very helpful. And you?”

  Alec dipped his head. “I really just want to get back to Claire, m’lord. That’s all.”

  Tyson stared at them both for a long moment. They didn’t seem the least bit interested in him. Maybe his bloodstone was defective. Or maybe it was just him.