Page 9 of Her Immortal Mate

His wings rustle. "Special forces. KSK."

I pause my harvesting. "German military? That explains the accent."

"Ja." He moves to check another section of the perimeter. "Made tactical sense to Change soldiers, I guess. We understand combat, strategy."

"Must have been quite the adjustment." I carefully wrap the blackspine. "Going from human special forces to..." I gesture vaguely at his wings.

"Less than you might think. Still protecting people. Still fighting." He stops, head tilting. After a moment, he relaxes. "Just a deerhart."

"There," I say, spotting a patch of iridescent flowers. "Dreambloom. Perfect for sleep draughts." As I harvest, I ask, "Did you choose this? Being Changed?"

His silence stretches so long I think he won't answer. Finally, he says, "Better than the alternative. They don't keep prisoners in Syria."

I nod, understanding. The vrakken went all over Europe and parts of western Asia to take people without being noticed. "Neither do most vrakken."

"Some of us remember being human." His voice is quiet. "Makes a difference."

I stand, brushing dirt from my knees. "That's why you got stuck with herb-gathering duty? Because you remember?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Because I won't kill you at the first nick from a thorn."

I can't help but laugh. "Good to know."

As I turn back to my collecting, I hear it. A twig snaps - too sharp, too deliberate. Eike's head whips around, wings flaring wide. Before I can blink, he shoves me behind a massive tree trunk.

"Stay," he growls, just as three dark elves materialize from the shadows, their violet eyes gleaming with malice.

The first charges with a crystalline blade. Eike moves like liquid darkness, catching the elf's wrist and snapping it with a sickening crack. The sword clatters to the forest floor.

"Filthy bloodsucker," another elf snarls, hurling a bolt of crackling energy.

Eike's wings sweep forward, deflecting the magic, but I catch his slight stumble. His movements are slower than usual - theblood shortage taking its toll. I've been seeing signs of it all over camp.

Two more elves emerge from the treeline. Five against one.

"Behind you!" I shout as a sixth appears through a shimming portal.

Eike spins, but not quite fast enough. A blade slices across his shoulder. He doesn't make a sound, just grabs the elf by the throat and hurls him into a tree with bone-crushing force.

"Mae, down!"

I drop as a spell sizzles overhead. Eike takes a hit meant for me, the magic scorching his wing. Still, he places himself between me and every attack, his movements precise despite the growing number of cuts littering his arms and torso.

An elf gets past him, reaching for me with glowing hands. Eike's roar shakes the trees. He tears the elf away, but another blade catches him across the ribs.

"You're weakened, vrakken," one taunts. "When's the last time you fed properly?"

Eike responds by ripping the elf's head clean off. The remaining three fall back, regrouping.

"Run," Eike orders me, his voice rough with pain. Blood drips steadily from his wounds, but his stance never wavers.

"I'm not leaving you-"

"NOW!"

One of the elves lunges at him, and he grabs it, screaming as magic burns his skin. But Eike doesn't drop the elf, clearly accustomed to pain, as he grips his attacker by the throat, squeezing until the magic stops flowing and the elf drops to the forest floor, dead.

But now Eike is too weak.

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