Page 5 of Heir of Blood and Moonlight

“How come you’re not drunk?” I pouted up at Bastian as he guided me to the club’s exit. “You drank more than me, and I’m, like, whew . . . feeling good. I feel like, well, like I’m not going to feel good tomorrow. But I feel good right now, and that’s what matters, right? Living in the present. I don’t do that enough.”

Bastian chuckled. “You’re a chatty drunk.”

He pulled open the door to the outside world and ushered me through, out into the cool night air. A misty rain kissed my heated skin, and hoots and shouts echoed throughout Pioneer Square.

“The rain feelsso good,” I said and sighed. “I wish I always felt like this.”

“Like what?” Bastian asked, pulling out his phone with the hand that wasn’t curved possessively around my rib cage.

I squeezed his sturdy body, molding myself against him. “Happy,” I confessed. I peered up at him. “And safe.”

Bastian’s features tensed with the shadow of some dark emotion. He blew out a breath, breaking eye contact with me to stare at the brick building across the street as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

I continued to stare up at him, entranced by the sudden, impassioned change.

“I’m sorry this world is so fucked, Sophie,” Bastian finally said, like the words were being dragged out of him. “You should feel safe—always.” He shook his head and let out a bitter, breathy laugh. “You will always be safe with me.” He refocused on me, his gaze burning with a promise so intense that the golden starburst around his pupils seemed to glow. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

I stared up at him, letting myself believe his words, just for tonight.

A car pulled up, and Bastian’s body tensed against me. “I think this is our ride,” he said. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, and then he led me to the car. He opened the door, helping me into the backseat before sliding in beside me.

I rested my head on his shoulder, and his fingers twined with mine. He held my hand in both of his like it was a fragile thing that needed to be protected. I closed my eyes, giving in to the false sense of security.

Iftheyfound me, there was nothing Bastian or any other human could do about it. But I had made it this far on my own. I had survived long enough that I was more likely to waste away from a lack of proper sustenance once I ran out of Javier’s blood tincture than to be hunted down and executed.

“Stay with me?” I mumbled.

“Of course,” Bastian said, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist.

Comforted by his presence, I drifted off to sleep.

3

Igasped awake atthe sound of growling. My breaths came shallow and rapid, and my heart hammered, but the room was silent. Disturbed and disoriented, I looked around, surprised to discover I was in my bed. The rumble that had awakened me was merely a remnant from a nightmare.

Quite reassuring, except I couldn’t remembergoingto bed. Hadn’t I fallen asleep in the back of a car? WithBastian?

Growling rumbled from the corner of my bedroom. My heart lurched into my throat, and panic froze my muscles.

Not a nightmare after all. Assassins from the House of the Sun. The shifters had found me, at last.

Breaking through the fear-induced paralysis, I sat up and scrambled backward on my bed.

A pair of yellow eyes glowed in the dense shadows in the corner, the rest of the shifter’s form concealed by the cloak of darkness. The assassin prowled forward, revealing a lithe cougar’s body, its tawny fur turned gray in the darkness. It leapt onto my bed, making the mattress dip.

I pressed myself back against the headboard and curled my legs as it stalked closer. “Please,” I whispered, holding my hands up to guard my face.

The cougar growled again, so close now that its hot breath blasted into my skin.

“I don’t know anything,” I wept. “I have no power. I’m not a threat. You don’t have to kill me.”

The shifter opened its mouth and struck. But before its long, sharp teeth could sink into my upraised forearms, something slammed into it, knocking it off the bed.

Two growling creatures wrestled on the floor beside my bed: one feline, the other wearing the form of a man dressed entirely in black. To move like that, faster than my eyes could track, it had to be an undead vampire. I had seen Javier move with such speed and strength. To my child’s mind, he had been invincible.

The pair grappling on the floor fell still, and for several heartbeats, I was uncertain who had prevailed—the shifter assassin or the mysterious vampire who had saved me.

But it was the man who groaned and pushed himself up to his hands and knees. The cougar remained unmoving. So, the undead had won.

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