Page 16 of Mated Exile

"Which may be your only chance for escape." He winds a small piece of my hair around his thick, strong index finger, and I inhale sharply at the brush of his skin. Bastian doesn't seem to notice. "They'll have to keep you alive up until the moment they serve you—those old vampires eat things while they're still kicking."

"Gross."

"Very. But wouldn't you rather they move you out of this place, than leave you locked up here for an entire decade, like me?"

He has a point. The best chance I've got of escaping is if the vampires do half the work for me. Wherever this quorum is, I doubt they can just snap their fingers and blink me there.

Besides, I get the feeling that if I don't give them my hair, they'll powder me unconscious and take what they want. Including another few sips of blood. Marcellus' face makes it obvious he's considering it.

It's also very, very hard to think with Bastian's gentle amber gaze so close to my face. He smells sharply of mint, as well as something deeper, a kind of musk only werewolf males have. My breath hitches as he tightens his finger in my hair, and what's worst is, he doesn't even seem to be aware of the effect he's having.

Mouthingsorry,he yanks several long strands of my hair from my scalp all at once. I yelp, fingers drawing up to the tender area to staunch the prickle of blood. Bastian mouthssorryagain, then steps over to the cell bars and holds his arm out towards the vampires.

Helene eyes him. "Demetri, is it safe to get that close to this one? I saw what he did in the arena."

"Not to worry," Demetri says smugly. "He's tame."

The vampire moves towards Bastian, reaches out, and snags my hair. He passes it to Helene, then turns back towards the hardened wolf warrior. A look passes between them. Bastian glances down and away, at the ground, his jaw tightening.

In a low voice, Demetri murmurs, "It's good to see you in this form again, my dear. We'll have to get reacquainted with each other later."

A shudder of revulsion goes through me. Bastian's fists clench, but he forces them open, taking a deep breath and shuddering. He drags his eyes up from the ground to meet my gaze, and I see hot shame splash across his tanned cheeks. But the only person here who should be ashamed is the vampire, and as I glare over at Demetri and the others, I promise myself that I'll claw his throat apart the instant I'm able.

Helene drops my hair into her crystal goblet. I watch in fascination, curious despite myself. The hair settles in at first and sinks slowly to the bottom, nothing extraordinary happening. Then a sudden burst of light goes up from the liquid, followed by white sparks, and a greyish smoke rises from the edge of the cup.

The light is so bright that I have to look away; when I look back, all the liquid in the goblet has turned into a thick, impossibly crystal-clear white. A smile curves up Helene's mouth as she tilts the glass back and forth, then lets a single drop of the liquid spill over the edge, shining like a teardrop.

My stomach flips. Despite myself, I dare to ask her, "What does it mean?"

"Everything," she says in a low, purring voice. "It's finally happening. We'll be able to Ascend five, maybe evensixwith this, and she could possibly be our conduit first. Demetri, your prize is going to bring—"

The vampire suddenly falls silent. Behind her, Ambrosia hisses. Demetri frowns, and Marcellus curses, going for the doors and throwing them shut.

A moment later, I hear the howl of a wolf.

And I throw myself against the iron bars, my heart leaping into my throat.

I would know that voice anywhere.Roarke.The strong, sure sound of him is like the clanging of a bell. It yanks at me, and I ignore the searing pain of iron against my skin, grabbing hold of the bars to try to bend them.

"Oh my." Demetritsks."I suppose we'll have to use this after all."

"No!"

It's too late. Before I can reach for him and claw his eyes out, or manage to get the bars open, he's got a palmful of the white powder and he's blowing it in my face.

I hold my breath, determined to escape. Bastian grabs my shoulders, alarmed, attempting to yank me back as my skin sizzles and burns against the iron. A pained cry leaves my throat, but I clamp it tight behind my teeth, determined not to let it out.

Four pairs of emotionless vampiric eyes watch my struggle.

Moments pass. Bastian collapses behind me. I refuse to breathe in. I won't,I won't—

My lungs burst. Inhaling all at once, I get a good lungful of the white stuff. Stumbling back from the bars, I moan at the pain, staring down at welts running up and down my palms, forearms, elbows, and chest.

The pain disappears a moment later under the fog of paralysis.

Eight

Delilah

---