Page 53 of Barely Breathing

He frowns and doesn’t answer.

“Peter said the Alpha needs the blood of three mortals for his ritual to work.” I watch carefully for any change in his expression.

“And?” he repeats.

I sigh. “It needs the blood of three mortals, each tied to magic but not magic themselves. Draconic, death, and forgotten.”

His face doesn’t give anything away.

“Me, because of my connection to Draakmar. Paul, because of…” I hesitate. Paul is such a sensitive subject with us, and I don’t want to relive the past again. “Because of what happened when he died before. He’s death magic. And Diana because of something she doesn’t even know she has.”

I see the war in his eyes—the master vampire who demands obedience versus a man with feelings. I know which of the two is the dominant personality, and to be honest, it breaks my heart. The vampire will win every time.

I touch my amulet. “How much did you know?”

His fingers tighten on my throat, just for a second, before he exhales sharply and lets go.

“Admit it. You let the werewolves take Paul. You knew they were coming, and you let them have him.” I try to push at his chest, but he doesn’t move away. “I don’t want to believe it, but that’s what I do, isn’t it? I don’t believe in what is right in front of me because I don’t want to face it. That’s what happened with Conrad, and he tried to kill all of us. I made excuse after excuse for my brother. And that’s what’s happening with you now. I’ve been making excuses for your misogynist behavior. You’re a vampire. You’re old as dirt. You come from a different time. You mean well. You don’t know better.”

His eyes flash crimson. I ignore the threat.

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Why do I keep…?” I shake my head and steadily meet his gaze. “No more, Costin. We’re not in the Middle Ages, and you are not feudal lord of the manor. You need to evolve. This time, you’ve gone too far. Diana is just an innocent child. I’m not going to abandon her. Paul is a kind man who doesn’t deserve this. There is nothing you can do that will change my mind.”

“Enough,” he commands hoarsely. The color of blood overtakes the whites of his eyes.

The threat hangs between us like a static chargebuilding before the storm breaks. We both know he can overpower me if he wants. He could drop me off the side of the penthouse before I even knew I was moving. He can mesmerize me into oblivion. He can force me into compliance.

The fear should be overtaking me. It’s not. This time, when Draakmar stirs, I don’t feel afraid. I feel powerful.

“No,” I say softly. “Paul and Diana need my help. I’m not turning my back on them. And I can’t be with someone who would stand by while a child is killed.”

“You have responsibilities to your family, a duty not to let the wolves win.” His fingers brush my cheek with surprising gentleness before curling into a fist against the door. “If they need all three powers, then the werewolves can’t complete their ritual without you. Stay away, and this all ends.”

“Ends how?” I refuse to back down. “I won’t hide while others suffer. That’s not ending anything. That’s running away, and you know it. I’m not a coward.”

“No, never that.” He leans closer like he’s going to kiss me. His hand slides gently over my throat, thumb tracing my pulse. “I can’t let you sacrifice yourself. The Alpha won’t just hand them over to you because you ask nicely. There is no way his plan ends without bloodshed.”

Draakmar agrees with him. The dragon thrashes wildly for attention.

Suddenly, Costin pulls back, studying me. “What’s happening to you?”

“I don’t know.” At least it’s honest.

He puts the back of his hand on my forehead. “You’re warmer than usual.”

I grab his wrist and pull his hand away. “Don’t change the subject.”

Though I get what he’s saying, I feel like I’m standing on top of a furnace. Only I’m not sweating.

Costin steps back, and the crimson fades from his eyes. “You should know me better than this by now. Do you really think that I would let them hurt a child?”

“How would I know that? You’re a closed book. You drop enigmatic half sentences and then look at me all moody like a… like a…” I’m so frustrated the words struggle to come out. “…a moody goth teenage boy.”

“I did not know they wanted the child,” Costin states. “There was no reason to suspect it. Wolves don’t turn children if they can help it.”

“Keep talking,” I demand, wanting more from him.

“But I knew something bad would come of all this. That is why I didn’t want to arrange the audience with the Alpha. Werewolves are not to betrusted. They are rash, treacherous creatures who live on emotion and impulse, bound to the moon and as changing as the tides.”

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