Sorin shook his head. The hunter had the nerve to call him a dog.
Ahote tied the new branches on the lean-to. “Remember to treat her well because I’ll always be sniffing at your borders.”
A possessive growl shot through Sorin’s chest. He’d tear Ahote to pieces so small, even the buzzards would have trouble finding him if he ever laid a hand on his mate.
The Payami hunter didn’t flinch. He just slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Excellent answer.”
His urge to fight vanished. Sorin snorted and tended to his mate while Ahote continued to build their shelter.
The wind howled around the Temple, some of it sneaking between the cracks in the walls to stir his fur. A dim outline of storm clouds approached in the distance. They blanketed the fading stars and muted the coming dawn. The storm would also mask the coming of the vampires.
Ahote stood back, examining his work. “This should hold during the storm.”
“It’s time for you to go, Ahote. This isn’t your fight.”
The dark shifter squatted to tend the fire. “And who will protect your mate while you tear Benic’s head from his shoulders?”
Sorin struggled to breathe. Honor, trust, love—these were the traits he searched for and nurtured in his hunters. “You will always have a place within my den, Ahote, if you need it.”
He laughed. “I’m actually touched, Apisi dog.”
“Though I’d have to curb some of your unsavory habits.”
Ahote’s laugh grew louder.
They didn’t bother to hide. Benic would find them no matter what.
Crackles woke Susan. Evergreen branches created a roof over her head and danced in the wind. She lay on the hard paneling from what looked like a cart. Her joints flamed in agony when she tried to sit, and chills wracked her body. There wasn’t enough warmth under her blanket.
A fire burned just out of her reach, taunting her with thoughts of heat. She tried to crawl, urging her body to move, but it hurt so much.
Sorin stuck his head through the entrance to the shelter. “You’re awake.”
Tears burned in her eyes. She wanted to spend her last hours with him. Holding out her wavering arms, she fought not to cry.
“Rest. You need your strength.” He brought her some water to drink.
Of all things, her fingertips and teeth hurt the worst. She stared at her right hand, knowing the virus was changing her DNA. If she survived she wouldn’t be the same. These were the last moments of her humanity, no matter the outcome. She closed her eyes. Tired. Defeated. The last human on Eorthe. The loss sat heavy on her chest.
“Susan?” He slipped his arms around her.
She pressed her face into the thick mane around his neck and watched the firelight flicker over his silver fur. Feral or civil form didn’t matter to her—both were Sorin, and that was all she wanted.
“Don’t fret. Peder is bringing the medicine. Hang on.” He rested his head on hers. “Please.”
She couldn’t bear to break his heart by telling him the truth. Antibiotics wouldn’t save her. She didn’t have a bacterial infection. Her only hope sat on Benic’s lab table. The syringe of immunity-boosting medicine he’d concocted.
She squeezed Sorin’s hand. “Can you hold me for a little while? I’m very cold.”
He scooped her onto his lap and settled her against his chest, his fur a living blanket. “I love you, Susan.”
Smiling, she stroked his arm. “I love you too.” So strong and confident, honorable and honest. She never thought she’d find the perfect male. She sniffed. “I don’t want to die. I just found you.”
His embrace tightened. “I won’t let you. We’re going to have so many adventures together. You’ll be the happiest female, I promise.” He sounded so sure and she needed to believe him. “Don’t give up.”
Raindrops spotted the stone floor as distant thunder rumbled. She pressed closer to Sorin, absorbing his heat and strength. Closing her eyes, she inched toward sleep. As she drifted off, she sensed Sorin settle her onto the bedding.
“If she gets worse, Ahote, howl for me.”
“I should go instead of you.”
“No, protect her. If I could split myself in two then I’d stay at her side as well. I’m the stronger of both of us. She has a better chance of being free of them with me out there fighting.”
Vampires? She wanted to shout for him to stay. Benic might be her only salvation. She struggled to speak but only a whisper came out. Neither of them paid her any attention. She fought for consciousness, reaching to remain on the surface, but the virus won. It dragged her down—down into the dark. Who knew if she’d awaken, or as what?
Chapter Forty-Two
The sun must have risen in the sky, but the storm and tall trees blocked any light it could have offered. Rain poured too heavy for the forest canopy to shield the ground. And Benic.
Leather worked well to ward off teeth and claws but was terrible to wear when soaking wet. He discarded his travel cloak, the weight a burden he didn’t need if attacked. Cool water dripped from his hair, the cold not touching him like warm-blooded creatures. Something in vampires kept them from freezing, yet they all loved the heat.
Winds whipped through the forest, making the underbrush sway to its song. It masked most sounds. A predator would be upon him before he heard them coming.
The Temple, a distant blur between the trees, would provide shelter. They must be hidden inside. A flash of lightning lit the area for a second and then thunder rolled over the sky. Benic’s prey wouldn’t hear him either. He needed to get to Susan and inject her before anyone could tear him apart. If she survived there was still a chance she’d become a vampire.
He’d considered explaining the situation to the shifters but they could be so thickheaded and paranoid. What if they refused to listen?
Ahote didn’t lack in vampire hatred. He’d likely eat Benic before he could utter a word. He wasn’t a fool. In hand-to-hand combat, shifters were the best. Even with his sword, he didn’t have much of a chance. He slipped it from its sheath, the steel singing, and held it ready.
Staring at the Temple, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He could do this. The storm would help hide him. He would climb through a break in the ancient walls and figure out a plan from there. One step at a time.
He eased his way through the brush, keeping the trees between him and the Temple as much as possible. He was downwind so they wouldn’t catch his scent. Crouched low, he concentrated on listening while he continued to move. A hunter could always become prey.
The wind swayed the foliage back and forth, and back and forth. Focusing on the noise of the storm, he made it fade in his mind. An old hunting trick his father had taught him.
Leaves moved out of cadence to his right. He swung around, sword pointed toward the sound. His slow heart pounded thrice in his tight chest. He tried to quiet his breathing and trembled with the effort. Lightning cracked across the sky. He crouched among the ferns, waiting for an attack.
A whisper to his left had him changing in that direction. He should have brought warriors—him and his damn honor. Step by measured step, he crept through the brush. Nothing. Yet his instincts still rang with danger. Adrenaline pumped into his system, heightening his senses further.
Something stalked him. “Ahote?” The question slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. “Ahote?” He repeated louder.
He caught movement in the corner of his vision and swung around, sword extended. Nothing again. Sweat mixed with rain, trickling along his face. Panting, he searched the area.
They had him surrounded and were playing games. He clutched the bag containing the syringe. He could retreat to the castle. They wouldn’t dare follow. The Temple came into his line of sight. If Susan survived and became vampire, would Sorin let her live?