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So what does this crap mean for us? Caleb asked.

Elijah sighed. The little guy’s had a taste of freedom now. He will never be happy caged.

At least Aden survived the fight, Julian pointed out. You said he’d die without the pills.

No, I said he could die. There’s a difference. A lot of new mothers die giving birth too soon, and that’s what I saw.

Caleb snickered despite the severity of the circumstances. Congrats, Ad. You’re a mom. Why don’t you breast-feed the little guy?

Julian chortled.

Finally the “little guy” captured Sorin and forced him to the ground, holding him by the stomach. And the funny thing: his own beast could have helped him, but he’d come to this fight without the creature.

Now go finish this fight, Elijah said. You’ve been given a golden opportunity. Let’s use it and end this the right way.

Aden stood. Almost fell, but managed to limp over. Grinning, he opened his ring. “Payback.” Je la nune spilled over Sorin’s neck, and his skin sizzled open, blood welling. Aden was careful not to splash the baby beast, who was watching him through starving, savage eyes.

While Sorin grunted from pain, Aden reached out and petted the—his—beast. “Good boy,” he said, scrambling for a name. Chompers Jr., maybe. Junior for short. Yeah, that worked.

Lips pulled back from sharpened teeth as the creature growled at him. Chompers and the others purred when he petted them. Oh, well. At least Junior didn’t release Sorin and snap at Aden.

Aden turned his attention to his opponent and bit hard, sucking back mouthful after mouthful of blood and loving every moment of it. Tasted just like Victoria’s, just as he’d suspected it would. He might never stop, might take every drop, needed every drop. And wouldn’t you know it, his beast purred about that, as if he could taste the blood, too.

Maybe he could. Junior released Sorin and joined Aden, drinking at Sorin’s neck. Sorin bucked once, twice, before stilling.

We have to stop. If we don’t, Sorin will die. He doesn’t need to die. You’ve won.

Elijah again.

Ignored again.

No, he couldn’t ignore the soul. Not this time. The outcome. Important. Victoria. Hate him. Love him. The words sliced through the bloodlust and Aden jolted upright, warmth fizzing over him as if he were showering in soda. Already his wounds were knitting back together. He reached out to Junior, but the little guy snarled at him before shaking Sorin’s neck like a dog with a bone.

You’ll have to wrestle him.

Great. Another fight. Aden dove for him, knocking him down, away from the body and the blood. Wings flapped frantically, and those saber teeth made a play for his face.

A few of Sorin’s warriors rushed forward, clearly intending to help their lord, who lay on his back, as motionless as the dead. “Don’t,” Aden shouted as he struggled to subdue the creature, and they froze. “Leave, everyone leave.” Last thing he needed was for Junior to hurt someone else. Or to be hurt. “And no fighting, or I swear I’ll release this one and end you all. You’ll wait inside.”

Several pounding heartbeats of time passed before footsteps reverberated. Murmurs echoed. Then, only the three of them were left. Sorin, the struggling Junior and Aden. He was surprised at how easily the vampires and wolves had obeyed.

A long while passed like that, so long that the rain stopped. So long that Sorin healed enough to awaken and sit up.

The warrior shook his head, as if clearing cobwebs from his thoughts, then zeroed in on Aden. He could have stood and attacked, but he didn’t. He’d lost. He knew it. Everyone knew it. He watched Aden through narrowed eyes.

“You’re not human,” the warrior accused.

“Not anymore. Hell, maybe not ever.” Along with a beast of his own, he now had the vampire voice and skin. Made him wonder what else had changed—what else he could do.

Miracle of miracles, Junior stilled. He was panting through thick, black nostrils. Aden continued to hold him, cooing soothingly. His eyelids gradually closed, and surprise surprise, Junior had long, curling eyelashes. He appeared almost…cuddly.

Soon his big body went lax, and the panting became snoring. Still Aden held on, not knowing what else to do, knowing only that the beast could awaken any second, start combating him again, and if he wasn’t prepared, he’d be blood-buttered toast.

Then Junior’s body began to fade, fade, until Aden was utterly saturated by the same sizzling black mist that had left him earlier. He sat up, the mist seeping into his pores, his bones, heating him into a high output furnace.

Weirdest. Thing. Ever. His brain basically scrambled with bewilderment. That was…that had been…he had no words.

Sorin was unfazed. “By the way, my beast is bigger than yours.”

“Not for long. Did you see the size of my guy’s feet?”

Massive arms crossed over a massive chest. “Forget the beasts. I’ve got a few things on my mind, Haden Stone.”

Hearing his full name always gave him pause. “Like the fact that you want another go at me? Well, come on. Let’s get this over with. Because I am not going to let you come back for seconds at a later date. You either serve me now, or you die now. Those are your only two options.”

“I wasn’t thinking of attacking,” the warrior said, standing carefully. He wobbled on his feet, walked over and held out a hand. “I was thinking I will never live this down. I was thinking we should have fought with swords. I was thinking…I want to help you up. King.” O-kay. This was officially the weirdest thing. A turn of events he never could have predicted. A turn of events Elijah hadn’t predicted. Made him terribly uneasy, but he was too fatigued to argue.

“Thanks.” Aden didn’t trust the man, but he slapped their palms together anyway.

SIXTEEN

THE VICTORY CELEBRATION was in full swing before Aden and Sorin entered the house. Goblets of blood had been given to each of the vampires, and glasses of wine to each of the wolves and humans. Laughter abounded. The king had proven his strength and cunning, after all, and the people here had followed him wisely.

Whispered theories abounded, too, everyone wondering how a human had finally turned into a vampire, and if other humans could now be turned.

“We haven’t tried a turning in so long, the circumstances that prevented our success could have altered.”

“But what were those circumstances? We’ve never known.”

“Could have been our blood. Or theirs.”

“I’d love to run some tests and find out.”

“Yes, but will the new king allow it?”

No one seemed to mind their cold, wet robe or sopping hair, yet Victoria couldn’t stop shivering. Her teeth were chattering so vigorously, she feared everyone in the massive ballroom could hear them over the angelic hum of the harp.

Stupid human skin.

As she claimed a goblet of blood for herself, determined to feed the still-weakening Chompers even if the thought of drinking blood currently upset her stomach anew, she panned her surroundings. The marbled floor, the glass walls, the columns stretching to a web of crystals on the ceiling.

In the center of that web was a glittering chandelier in the shape of a spider, eight legs seeming to move from one corner of the room to another. A lovely space, if you liked a darker, almost gothic atmosphere. She preferred colors and always had. Pink, yellow, blue. Even white. Anything but the black her father had always insisted upon.