“Drink, Shane.” Her voice was shaking. Still weeping, she held her wrist against his lips. “Please. You have to drink so you can heal.”
He took what she offered, knowing it would not be enough. His hand clasped loosely over her wrist and pulled it away gently while staring into her frightened eyes. “There are some things, youngling,” he bit out between clenched teeth, “that even our bodies cannot heal from.”
“No!” Maya screamed. She glanced frantically at the dead werewolves who had shifted back to their human form. “What about their blood? That will help, won’t it?”
“They must be alive for their blood to help neutralize the effects of the saliva,” Shane said haltingly.
“Drink my blood, Shane. Right now,” Maya yelled. She pushed his hand away and pressed her wrist to his mouth once again. “You will not leave me here alone, Shane. Do you—”
Maya’s eyes widened briefly and her body tensed before pure, unadulterated rage etched into her features. In a blur she released Shane, rose to her feet, and spun around just as a third wolf leaped from the treeline. Weak and barely able to keep his eyes open, Shane turned his head and watched Maya deliver a roundhouse kick to the wolf’s face. She reached back for her daggers, but remembered they were no longer there and flew toward the bodies of the fallen werewolves. The other wolf leaped onto her back, knocking her to the ground before she could reach the dead wolves.
Shane watched in helpless horror while the snarling beast loomed over her. Maya’s gaze locked with Shane’s. The beast reared its head back to deliver what was sure to be a fatal blow, and her face twisted into a mask of fury.
“No!” Maya screamed and placed both hands on the chest of the wolf.
Blinding light surged from the necklace, flickered up Maya’s arms, and slammed into the wolf with a blast of power. The beast was tossed through the air and shifted back into its human form before landing in a heap by the base of a tree.
As the darkness threatened to swallow him, one thought ran through Shane’s mind. His feelings for Maya had blinded him to the arrival of the wolves, and due to his carelessness, he almost got her killed. Maya sat up, shaking and stunned, and Shane watched her cautiously approached her attacker. Shane realized Maya survived only because her instincts had alerted them to the presence of the wolves. Before he passed out, Shane realized that if he survived, there was only one choice he could make.
His feelings were irrelevant. Shane knew he would have to let Maya go.
“He’s still alive,” Maya whispered. “But his scent is different. He doesn’t smell like a werewolf…he smells human.”
Scrambling to her feet, Maya moved toward the naked man with caution. Her body hummed from the bizarre surge of power that shot through her arms and made her toss the wolf away like he weighed nothing. Her skin tingled like she’d suffered some kind of electric shock, and when she got closer to the naked man, it became glaringly clear that two things were true.
The man was still alive, and he was no longer a werewolf. Maya looked from the man to her shaking hands before grasping the stone of her necklace.
“What in the devil is going on out here? Y’all are gonna wake the dead, but you woke me up first and that’s bad enough.” As Lottie emerged through the kitchen door, her voice cut through the night. Her hair was braided, and clad in her plain, white cotton robe, she padded barefoot across the lawn toward Maya. She lifted her lantern and surveyed the three naked men strewn on her back lawn. “Holy shit. You sure do live up to your reputation. They all dead?” Lottie leaned over Shane with the lantern. “Well, looks like Shane got his ass kicked sideways.”
“The two that I got with the silver daggers are dead. That one,” Maya said, pointing to the man by the tree, “is alive but he’s…changed.” Maya glanced at Lottie who knelt beside Shane and began to inspect the wound on his neck. “We need to try and use his blood to help heal Shane. Werewolf saliva is poisonous to vampires, and the only thing that might counteract it is blood from a living werewolf.”
“Bring him over here.” Lottie placed the lantern next to her and pulled Shane into her lap. She waved toward the other man but didn’t take her eyes off Shane. “Go on. What are ya waitin’ for?”
Maya tried not to think about how bad Shane looked while she ran over and grabbed the unconscious man by the arm. She dragged him across the grass and placed him next to Shane, but seconds later, the man’s eyes fluttered open and he woke up. He let out a yelp when he saw Maya and tried to scramble away from her, but she was too quick for him. In a blink, Maya was kneeling on the ground in front of him, holding him in a sitting position by both of his arms.
“If you want to survive this,” Maya seethed, “then you will do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand? I have plenty more silver weapons, and given your unwarranted attack, I’d be more than happy to decorate your pathetic carcass with them. Got me?”
He shook his head and continued to try to get away. Maya knew she couldn’t glamour a werewolf, but this man no longer seemed to possess any hint of being one. The voice of doubt and fear fired through her when she realized his blood may not help. Do or die—it was their only hope. She had to try. Maya gripped his arms tighter, locked gazes, and pushed into his mind. To her surprise, it was like running a knife through butter.
“Give me your right arm,” she murmured. The man nodded. His body relaxed and his jaw went slack while he extended his arm to her. “You won’t move or fight, and this will not hurt. Do you understand?”
Maya took his arm and pierced the flesh with her fangs. Lottie held Shane’s head in her lap, lifting it slightly so Maya could press the man’s wrist to Shane’s lips. While blood flowed into Shane’s mouth, Lottie chanted something under her breath and rocked slowly. Maya threw a prayer to the universe, to whatever god or goddess might be listening, and begged for her lover’s life to be spared. Shane remained motionless and her hopes began to fade. Just when she thought she’d scream with frustration, Shane’s body twitched.
“It’s working,” she whispered.
Maya pushed the blood-soaked fabric of Shane’s shirt aside, and tears of relief spilled down her cheeks when she watched the wound begin to close. Laughing, she swiped at the tears, allowing Shane to drink for a few more minutes. When the man’s heart began to beat erratically, Maya knew they had to stop. It wasn’t that she cared whether or not their assassin died—he had information they needed.
Pulling the man’s arm from Shane’s lips, Maya licked the wound on his wrist closed. Shane’s body was healing, and though he hadn’t woken up yet, she felt confident that within a few more hours he would fully recover. Lottie continued to chant and stroked Shane’s head the way a mother would with a sick child.
The naked man’s eyes fluttered and Maya thought he was going to pass out. So she smacked his face a bit and brought him back to reality. She wanted to kill him. To tear his throat out and eviscerate him for the way he and the others had attacked her and Shane, but she needed answers more than she needed revenge.
“Wh-what did you do to me?” The man whimpered through wide, frightened eyes. Trying to get out of her grasp, his hands clenched and unclenched. “I…can’t shift. Th-the Vanator legend is true. Otto said all we had to do was get the necklace.”
“What’s your name?” Maya shook the man, hoping it would shake some sense into him.
“Greg,” he said in a barely audible voice.
“Otto? He’s the one who sent you here?”
“Yes.” Greg, who didn’t look to be more than twenty years old, nodded furiously.