“What are you doing?” Maya whispered to her own reflection. She rolled her eyes and shook her head on a growl before answering her own question. “You’re going home, you dumb ass.”
Grabbing the bag, she opened the bathroom door and was struck by the surprising lack of noise. There was no more chatter or giggling from the girls, and the only sound was the music coming from the sound system hooked up throughout the massive, three-bedroom suite. She reached out with her senses and could tell all three bedrooms were occupied—two of them with more than one couple. Closing her eyes, she sharpened her focus and captured the distinct scent of the wolves mixed with the pungent odor of sex—and blood.
The girls were feeding on the wolves, breaking one of the cardinal rules: no feeding on werewolves. Maya’s eyes whipped open and she ran into the main living room of the suite. Panicked and dizzy from the strong, almost overpowering combination of scents, Maya felt her vision blur, and lights flickered behind her eyes. Her skin felt too small for her body and her necklace hung heavy and cumbersome around her neck, like a noose.
If she didn’t know better, Maya would think she’d been drugged.
“Wh-what’s happening to me?” she whispered. Stumbling, Maya grabbed the back of one of the living-room chairs for support. “I don’t feel well… I need to go home.”
“You okay?” Horace’s voice whisked around her in the air, and he encircled her bicep with his hot, sweaty hand. As Horace helped her to her feet, his face went in and out of focus, and she vaguely noticed him take the bag from her. “Come on, let’s go out on the terrace and get you some fresh air.”
“But I don’t breathe,” Maya said absently.
The terrace doors opened and the cold, New York City air hit her, instantly making her feel better. Squeezing her eyes shut, with Horace’s hand still firmly around her arm, Maya focused on the sounds and scents in the air that were so distinctly part of the Big Apple.
Car exhaust. Human heartbeats fluttering like a swarm of butterflies. Hot dogs and pretzels. Blood.
Even when her head started to clear a bit, Maya couldn’t rid herself of Horace’s pungent, intriguing scent of burning wood. That same pulling sensation tugged at her gut and willed her closer to him. It wasn’t desire, the way her body yearned for Shane’s, but something else…something she couldn’t quite decipher. Even though she didn’t want him, her body was inexplicably drawn to his like a magnet.
Maya leaned on the railing of the terrace and gave Horace a weak smile. The tugging sensation throbbed in her belly, making her nauseous.
“Feeling better?” Horace asked. He linked his arm around her waist and tugged her against him. She could feel his growing erection pressing against her hip, and that feeling of panic began to bubble up again.
“Not really.” Maya laughed nervously. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned back, pushing him away while he tried to nuzzle her neck. “It looks like your party isn’t happening and everyone went to sleep. Speaking of which, I have to get going.” Maya glanced at the glimmer of light on the horizon. The sun was beginning to rise, and her time was running out. “The sun will be up soon, and I’d really rather not use the tunnels to get back, so I should leave now.”
“They’re not sleeping.” Horace’s eyes glowed orange and he held her against him with surprising strength. “They’re fucking. Which is exactly what I’d like to do with you.”
“No.” Maya shook her head and tried to extricate herself from his grasp. It should have been easy—she was, after all, a vampire—but to her horror, it wasn’t. “Let me go.”
“Think you’re stronger than me, little vamp? Not a chance,” he growled. In a flash, Horace’s hand curled around her throat. “I guess your boyfriend didn’t school you on our kind. We’re even stronger than you bloodsuckers. So you’re not going anywhere. You have something I want, and you’re not leaving until I get it.”
Maya’s fangs erupted as anger, fear, and panic filled her, and she locked gazes with Horace. Using every ounce of strength she had, Maya pushed into his mind with hers in an attempt to glamour him. For a moment, just a moment, she thought it had worked. When a slow smile cracked his face and a low, guttural laugh bubbled up…she knew it hadn’t. Trixie was right. Werewolves couldn’t be glamoured.
“Sorry, baby vamp.” Horace yanked her neck so that her face was right next to his, and the orange glow from his eyes was almost blinding. “Didn’t they tell you? You can’t glamour a wolf.”
Horace growled, his teeth extended into the sharp canines of a wolf and his body began to contort and stretch against hers with frightening speed. Maya screamed and struggled to get away from the repulsive feel of his body shifting, but Horace was too strong—it was just like before. Only this time, there would be no Olivia to save her. His claws emerged, ripping her sweater, and Maya prayed for the sun to rise.
His claws sliced across her arms at the same moment that something rocketed out of the sky and sent them both flying to the stone floor of the terrace. Maya wept in a bleeding heap in the corner, frozen by fear. Memories of the past filled her head, and all she could do was pull her knees against her chest, squeeze her eyes shut, and pray for it to end.
Glass breaking. Snarls. Gunshots. Howls. Shrieks.
Maya pressed her hands over her ears and let out a scream just before the darkness consumed her.
Shane had followed them from a distance and stayed on the roof just above the terrace of their suite. He was torn between being absolutely furious with Maya and worried for her safety, although he knew he was partially to blame. He should have let Maya tell Horace “no” all by herself. Instead Shane had blurted it out before he could stop himself.
What. A. Dope.
He swore under his breath and glanced at the brightening horizon. It was yet another moment when he showed an appalling lack of self-control, once again related to Maya. He made a note to himself to speak with Doug and Olivia about the bloodmate legend. He had hoped to keep his suspicions under wraps, but based on the way things were fucking up at every turn, he needed help. Besides, he heard Trixie and Sadie’s conversation with Maya about their inability to telepath with her. Odds were that they had already shared that tidbit with the czars.
Squatting on the edge of the roof, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped, he remained stone still, tuning into Maya’s and the wolves’ scents. Having tasted her blood, he should be able to find her anywhere, but to his dismay, the scent of the wolves was interfering somehow and making her exact location difficult to pinpoint.
He frowned. That had never happened before.
Over the four centuries of his vampire existence, Shane had battled all kinds of supernatural creatures, including werewolves, but he’d never had their presence interfere with his ability to track. It was a less-than-appealing development and was going to make his job that much harder.
Maya’s scent in the air captured his attention, and he looked down to see Horace bringing her outside. Shane’s eyes narrowed. Something was wrong with her. He instantly reached out to touch her mind with his, but it was like running into a mass of psychic cobwebs. She wasn’t blocking him. He’d felt that type of mental stonewall before, and this was different but no less disconcerting.
Shane’s fangs broke free the instant Horace started to get more physical with Maya. Shane leaped to his feet, and though he wanted to fly down there and intervene, he resisted. He knew that he had to give her the opportunity to get out of this situation on her own. All bets were off when the situation grew more violent and Horace began to shift into the wolf.