Wynter shook uncontrollably and rubbed at her eyes. She felt her limbs grow cold. Was he insane? There was no way an animal virus could be transferred to vampires.
“I know what you’re thinking. Little Emma’s illness is a random mutation…it couldn’t possible affect vampires. But the mutation is just a spark we need to turn our discovery into a blazing success. We need to think big…research new ways of modifying the genetic structure of those who are invincible. And as we’ve proven, even a human can be changed.”
“What did you do…my cells? I have to know,” Wynter pleaded, her voice barely audible. She stared into his cold black orbs. “You’re sick, you know that?”
“Now, now. No need to be nasty. You should be grateful for what I’ve done to you. I’ve given you a gift.” He smiled proudly.
“Grateful, are you fucking kidding?” Wynter coughed, nervously pulling at her own hair. She felt as if she was the one going insane. How could this be happening?
“I told you, darling. I’m a scientist. I’ve been playing with genetic material for many years. It’s not exactly new technology. The humans have been tampering with their food supply for a while now, developing genetically modified crops and such. They’re resistant to weeds, insects and so forth. They’ve even successfully developed animal organs for potential transplants. What I did to you was slightly more complicated, but in the same vein. The micro-injection of the recombinant DNA was quite easy once my vampires had you subdued. Really, no pain involved. Of course, unlike humans, ethics don’t impede my experiments. No, my dear, this…your genetic transformation was my creation and mine alone…although I must thank Fiona for her genetic contribution. She’s quite the sport. In the end, you’ve turned into a fabulously strong transgenic being, don’t you agree?”
Unable to keep the bile down, Wynter turned her head to the side. The contents of her stomach spewed onto the floor and she coughed, wiping her mouth. Hearing the horrific details of what he’d done confirmed her suspicions. Forever altered, her genetic structure had been modified to wolf. She’d been an experiment, nothing more, nothing less.
“And I must say that my theory proved correct. Your blood cures the very virus that afflicts the hybrid. But I still do have one small problem. I’ve been working on it, of course, and am so very close, but I need to be able to transfer the virus to a pure wolf. For whatever reason, the random mutation isn’t strong enough to transfer. And that my darling is why I need you.”
“Me? My blood?” Wynter whispered.
“Well, of course we need your blood. And lots of it. But I need your mind, darling. With you at my side, doing research, we can make history together,” he explained, taking a seat.
“Are you crazy? I told you I don’t know anything. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” she snapped.
Étienne growled. Snagging Wynter by the arms, he hoisted her so far off the floor her toes scraped the boards. He held her at eye level, mere inches from his face. “You will do this. Or have you forgotten what used to happen when you refused? Perhaps you need a refresher,” he sneered, baring his fangs. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited. I won’t be denied.”
Without another word, Étienne pulled Wynter against his body and sliced his teeth into her neck.
Blinding, searing white hot pain speared down into Wynter’s body. Not only had he taken her blood, it felt as if he’d stolen the very essence of her vitality. Optimism. Hope. Love. It had all been siphoned away by the monster draining her life force. Her pale lips parted in a silent scream yet the sound was lost in her chest. Wynter squeezed her eyes tight, her fingers digging into his arms in a futile effort to dislodge him. Like a rag doll hung on a hook, she could not shake free. The noose tightened around her neck, and she fought for air. Cloaked in evil, she prayed to God to take her soul.
Fiona whacked a chair over Étienne’s back, causing him to release Wynter. As he raised a hand to strike Fiona, she held a sharp shard of wood to his back.
“You fool,” she accused. “We need her blood for testing, for the antidote, and you can’t control yourself for five fucking minutes. This is why you need me. You’ve got no discipline.”
As if scolded by his mother, Étienne stepped away from them both and lowered his head. “But of course, Mistress. My apologies. She tempts me so.”
“Touch her again and I’ll stake you and that monstrosity you’ve created. Do you think I need you? This…all of this,” she continued, looking around the room as if talking about a magical place, “is my doing. I found you, not the other way around. I came up with this plan, not you. And you are not going to fuck it up, do you hear me? Now stop screwing around with her, get her to the computer. We’ve got maybe three hours before Logan tracks us down, and I want to get out of here.”
“Your blood, Dr. Ryan. So wild and pungent.” Étienne glanced to Wynter who lay sobbing on the floor. “I do think that genetic modification upped your platelet count, because I feel energized.”
“Would you stop pontificating and get her working?” Fiona implored.
“Get up,” Étienne coerced, yanking Wynter by her arm. He dragged her across the floor to a small table, picked her up and righted her in the chair. Noticing her neck was still bleeding, he stole a glance at Fiona before dragging his tongue over the wound. He licked his lips. “See, I’m quite in control now.”
“If you drink from her while I’m gone, you’re dead,” Fiona warned. “Keep it up and I’ll leave you out here by yourself. Logan and the pack will tear you apart, do you understand? I’m the only one who knows how to get out of here. Get the data and then we’re leaving.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Étienne capitulated. He gave Wynter a slap to her face and flipped open a laptop. “Wake up, scientifique. Time to work. Whatever you’ve worked on this past week, I want the information recorded now. Blood to virus ratios for the cure, viral portability, everything. The Mistress won’t allow me another taste of your delectable blood but she didn’t say anything about torture.”
“That’s better. You’re a good boy,” Fiona praised. She reached up to smooth over Étienne’s hair. “Now, I have to go outside to check the boat. And Phillip too. I’ll untie him now.”
Satisfied with his obedience, Fiona smiled to herself. As the door to the cabin slammed behind her, she eyed Phillip, Étienne’s child, who sat tied to a cypress tree, the silver cord bound around his neck so tightly that he could no longer speak. The acrid odor of burnt flesh lingered in the air. She smiled, picking a few splinters from the fragmented stake she’d created from the broken chair. Phillip’s wide-eyed stare bled red streaks down his face. Fiona knelt before him, careful not to soil her skirt.
Phillip had served his purpose on the boat. Pity that he had to die, considering his spectacular performance. As Fiona had suspected, Wynter had bought their orchestrated farce hook, line and sinker. Of course the woman on the deck had been dead. Thankfully, Phillip had left enough blood dripping to make it look believable. Like a well-honed speaker, he’d given his oration and convinced Wynter to give herself up to save Fiona. Bleeding-hearted humans. Fiona had seen the look of guilt plastered across Wynter’s face at the funeral. Logan, on the other hand, was about to leave her. As suspected, he’d choose his mate over her, a purebred wolf; all the more reason why he shouldn’t be Alpha.
But she’d never be Alpha of Acadian Wolves as long as the ancient ways ruled pack law. She wasn’t strong enough to challenge most females, let alone a male. Even her father, a virile male, hadn’t been able to subjugate Marcel. Death had been his sentence for the challenge. Her plan had merely started out as revenge for her father’s death. Convincing Calvin, Marcel’s beta, that he was deserving of Alpha took little effort. Stroking his ego, planting the seed of his dream to rule the Acadian pack was ridiculously easy. She could have easily played alpha female to Calvin. But no, no, no. Unexpectedly, Logan had intervened, killing Calvin, and her only chance of ruling the pack.