With a whoosh, branches split before her eyes. It was dark but she could make out a figure in the moonlight. She sniffed. Vampire. Adrenaline rushed as her mind raced. Had Étienne created more vampires and not told her? He’d been privy to the car’s location. She fought to calm her nerves. Why should she fear a vampire? She’d killed many of them while Étienne watched. This was just one more. She crouched in the brush, tore off a stiff branch and began to whittle it into a sharp stake with her claws.
The tall masculine shadow deliberately and confidently tramped toward her until the light of his eyes became apparent. She gasped at the sight of the ancient one. Léopold Devereoux. No, not him. How could he have found her? Like a frightened rabbit, she froze in the darkness, awaiting his approach, hoping he wouldn’t see her.
“Ah, I found you,” his smooth voice called into the crisp night air. Nearly at her feet, the dark angel loomed. His beautiful but deadly presence resounded in the forest like a drum roll before an execution.
“Petite louve, I smell it. The putrid stink of your evil permeates the air. So familiar am I with the scent,” he told her. “You like a chase, no? I assure you this is one you’ll not win.”
With preternatural speed, he flew to Fiona, snatching her up by her throat. He allowed her feet to remain on the ground as he shook her like a dog with its toy.
“You like to play with vampires? My vampires,” he growled. With a flick, he threw her onto the damp earth.
Fiona rebounded, crab-walking backwards, dragging her bottom along the dirt.
“No, Étienne, he came to me freely,” she claimed.
“He cannot come to you freely, because he belongs to me,” Léopold explained coldly, brushing a weed from his coat sleeve. “And for this you shall die. The only decision to be made is if I should kill you myself? Or perhaps I should let your own tear you to shreds? Such choices.”
Léopold smiled casually as the two large male wolves, Jake and Zeke, padded forward. He carefully considered his decision as Fiona sat before him awaiting her fate. His lovely little Dr. Ryan had been tortured by her and Étienne. That alone would have been enough to warrant her death. But the little bitch had gone and killed a wolf using his vampires to do it.
With a glance to the mud, he’d chosen. Oh how he hated to get his new leather shoes soiled.
“The research, the samples. You’ll never get them,” she stalled, pushing onto her feet.
“You are a devilish schemer aren’t you?” he laughed. “A shame you have no discipline. But don’t worry your pretty little head. I plan to rectify that right now.”
Léopold rushed forward, yanking her upward. He tore open her collar, exposing her long neck. The moonlight glinted off his white fangs right before they pierced her flesh. Her legs flailed, kicking into the night. Neither Jake nor Zeke moved one inch to intervene. Throwing his head backwards, he spat her blood into the grass and tossed her to the wolves.
Her body flinched as she stole looks between the wolves right before they attacked. Barely a scream could be heard as they ripped her flesh until she was no more.
Léopold retrieved a crisp white handkerchief and dabbed at his chin. How he hated messy killings. But responsibility and duty drove his actions. Meting out punishment was never easy, but he watched in pleasure as the wolves executed their own. She’d been a blight who’d caused quite enough trouble. Like the virus she sought to propagate, she’d been eradicated.
As Jake transformed in front of him, he gave Léopold a nod in acknowledgement. Not sure what to make of the vampire, he and Zeke got to work, disposing of Fiona’s remains. After they’d fed the alligators, Jake snatched up the laptop so he could give it to Logan.
Léopold strode over to the cooler and flipping it open, saw bags of blood. He tore them open and quickly surmised that it belonged to the Alpha’s mate. As he emptied the last of the crimson fluid into the swamp, a hint of dread registered. He sniffed out into the bayou. So much fresher than the samples, it permeated his olfactory senses, exciting unadulterated rage. Wynter’s blood. The call of death sang into the night.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I can save her,” Léopold uttered softly. He watched as the grieving Alpha rocked his mate. Like an animal that had lost one of his own, the wolf refused to release the body.
Dimitri leaned against the wall, his head in his hands. Unlike the Alpha, who was utterly despondent, he peered over to the imposing vampire.
“Devereoux, you need to get outta here. Wyn, she’s…” Dimitri couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
Although wolves were generally immortal, lethal wounds to the neck effectively killed them. While Wynter’s heartbeat was faint, she’d be dead within minutes and shifting was no longer an option. Nothing could be done. As the minutes ticked by, Dimitri had watched his Alpha care for his mate, tell her he loved her. Last words. Last caresses.
“But I can save her, wolf,” Léopold persisted.
Logan slowly lifted his head and caught sight of the vampire standing in the doorway. “What?” he choked.
“Alpha, you know my blood can heal wolves.” Léopold proceeded cautiously. The Alpha, immersed in his bereavement, could attack.
“She’s too far gone; you and I both know that. I can barely hear her heartbeat. The rattle in her lungs has stopped. Please,” Logan begged, tears streaming from his eyes. His voice broke into a cry. “I need to say goodbye. She’s going to leave me. My mate…he killed her.”
“Please listen,” Léopold pleaded. “Think about how vampires are created. In the final moments of our deaths, when the soul teeters between the planes of both the living and the dead, one can be snatched from death’s grip, born anew. Wynter, she rests in the thin veil that separates us from the other side. You must let me try.”
Logan considered Devereoux’s explanation. He’d never in his long life heard of a vampire giving their gift to a wolf. He knew that when they created their own, the child belonged to the sire. Wynter would never want to belong to any other man but him. After the scene in the club, Léopold was far from her favorite person. How would she feel about accepting his blood into her body, taking him on as her sire? Yet, selfishly, Logan carefully weighed the offer. He loved Wynter so much; needed his mate alive. How far would he go to save her?
“Will she be vampire?” Logan asked.
“I cannot say. I won’t lie to you, this is generally the outcome, but like I said, I’m not certain. Is she truly wolf? Is she still at all human? Complicated questions, no?”
“She belongs to me.”
“As her potential sire, I fully and altogether release her to your care, Alpha. I do not wish to command her mind. I swear it.”
Unable to resist the possibility of her salvation, Logan conceded. “Do it,” he whispered.
What choice did he have? If she returned as vampire, he’d love her as much as when she’d been wolf. It was her soul that he loved, no matter her being.
Léopold breathed a sigh of relief as the Alpha capitulated to his suggestion. In truth, in all his years, he’d never converted a wolf. He was unsure about how his blood would affect her, but they had to try. He stripped off his jacket and rolled his sleeve. Positioning himself next to Logan, he bit into his wrist, and offered it to the Alpha. Logan took Léopold’s wrist and pressed it to Wynter’s mouth.
The blood trickled over Wynter’s face. Listless, she wasn’t swallowing.
“Command her,” Léopold told him urgently.
“I can’t feel her…she’s gone,” Logan insisted.
“It’s the only way. I cannot do it.”
Logan meditated, searching his mind for his mate. The tendrils of his power discharged, seeking Wynter. He laughed as a jolt of recognition hit him. She was there, here or on the other side, he couldn’t tell. Her spirit danced in the wind.