Page 119 of Hospital for Immortal Creatures

Mikhail’s features sharpened. “I wouldn’t call her that.”

“Just joking, my friend. A bad joke.” Viktor smiled innocently. He had to be more careful if he didn’t want to end up pumped full of sleeping drugs again. “What makes you think that? Do you feel a specific scent?” he asked, managing a serious face.

“She smells like a human, but I wonder if she could be an immortal who still hasn’t reached immortality. As in, someone who’s in the process of transformation.”

“You know as well as I do that every kid carries the specific scent of their species even before they become immortal. What makes you think she could be in the process of transformation in the first place?”

“She barely eats, refuses meat, and threw up once after dinner. The other day, I found her lying on the floor, passed out.”

“Is she ill?”

“That’s possible. But from what?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know if I haven’t even seen her?!” Viktor barked. Realising his mistake, he took a step back. “I apologise, my friend. I’ve been a little stressed out lately.”

Mikhail narrowed his gaze. “I can see that.”

“How are things going otherwise? Did you succeed in melting the little human’s heart?” Viktor drew a heart shape with his fingers and placed it in front of his chest. Mikhail’s eyebrows formed a straight line. “I mean, I thought you were planning to make her trust you.”

The manticore didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t any help.” Viktor shrugged, forcing himself to act the subdued scientist he was supposed to be.

Mikhail patted him on the back. “No worries.”

The wolf growled inside. He didn’t need to be handled like a puppy!

Down, Viktor ordered.

He obeyed.

They were going shopping now.

39

Running in his manticore secondary form, Mikhail analysed the day’s events. He had been expecting some sort of an uprising against him, so the events at the Council meeting didn’t surprise him much. When insecurity took root, creatures needed someone to blame for it all, and he was the most prominent target.

But everything was in control – for now.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said about Viktor. The lycanthrope was unable to keep his cool, despite what he said. Vaka Hara, the withdrawal, was a dangerous state to be in. A state that quickly made one lose control, and could even result in the loss of one’s mind.

His and Viktor’s beasts – and all other immortals who, like them, had one residing within them – were internal spirits that magnified a creature’s strength, but they had to be dominated. Without control, the beast was just that – a beast. Surrendering to it meant, in essence, ceasing to exist. It usually occurred as a chain of very powerful emotions and events that shattered the heart and soul of a creature to pieces.

Mikhail had once been there, on the edge of Vaka Hara. Two hundred years later, he still remembered Valeria’s features, her long dark hair and even darker eyes that always glistened with mischief. The nymph had been so exquisite, so intoxicating. If she hadn’t found her death by his hand, she would probably have been worshipped as a goddess of seduction. And betrayal.

An unwelcome memory of her clawed its way into his thoughts. Valeria in a magnificent yellow dress, her sun-kissed face tilted towards his. Her plump pink lips, whispering ‘I love you,’ then spreading into a wide, inviting smile.

Only now, after so many years, did Mikhail realise that her smile had never quite reached her eyes at that moment. The dark hazel had remained cold and sagacious that night, when Valeria’s fingers had touched the strap of the yellow dress. The soft fabric had slid down along her thighs, revealing a flawless body. She had been the sexiest woman he had ever seen, and she’d known it. Well aware of the influence she wielded over him, she had used it without scruples.

When her lips had caressed his body, he had believed her. Almost. Sometimes, in the throes of passion, he would allow himself a touch of wildness. His irises would turn golden, his features sharp, his hands rough, more insistent. But he had never hurt Valeria. With him, she had always been safe. Yet often, in those moments, she would look away. Disgusted. How had he not seen it then?

Oh, but he had seen it. He had chosen to be wilfully blind instead. And she had made it easy for him to lie to himself. But no amount of seduction on her part had stopped him from getting his revenge, in the end.

The memory of her face, twisted with fear and begging for her life during those last seconds, was replaced by Amelia’s. Her body gave him signals that he had desired to respond to more than once. Her pale skin, royal blue eyes and light hair were the complete opposite of Valeria; even her affable, sometimes childlike, sometimes mature behaviour was nothing like the calculated demeanour of the nymph.

In the forest, his body had been more than ready for her. More than it had been for any other woman in years. That night, if they had not run into danger, would he have been able to return her to her room…and leave her untouched? Or would he have given in and seduced her?

And yet, Amelia was a mortal woman, probably without much experience in the realm of intimacy. What was he thinking, anyway? There were way too many reasons for grown immortal men to not get involved with human women.

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