Page 212 of White Wolf

“Yeah.” His voice had never sounded this rough, this shaken, not even after his toughest nights in the ring. Lanny was someone who could take a physical hit…but this introspective, getting inside his own head shit…that messed him up. “Yeah,” he repeated. “If I get treatment, I’ll die slow and painful. And if I don’t get treatment, I’ll die slow and painful. I guess I just…I thought that was it, you know? But then Trina found you, and. Shit. Yeah. I don’t know what I’m supposed to want, now.”

“Most people would want the chance to stay alive. To be stronger, healthier,” Nikita said. “That’s normal.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you love Trina?”

Lanny blinked. He hadn’t expected that question. But this guy was her relative; he had a certain right to want to know a man’s intentions toward her. “Yeah.”

“And you want to be with her, marry her, have children with her?”

“Of course.”

“Are you asking me to turn you for her? Or for yourself?”

“For…” Too late, he realized the question was a trap.

Nikita’s smile was half-gotcha, half-apology. “If I’m being a good great-grandfather, then I have to say that I want you to worship the ground she walks on. I want you to ask me to turn you for her sake, because it will crush her when you die, because you love her so much you can’t bear to imagine her going through that kind of pain.

“But if I’m being honest? This isn’t something you do for someone else. If you don’t want it, really don’t want it, you’ll regret it. Forever. Forever is a lot of regret.”

“Yeah, I–” All the tension in his spine gave out at once, and he slumped. Took a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Nikita finished off his vodka and set the glass aside on a little round table. “Stand up,” he ordered, and did so himself.

Lanny found that his knees were shaky, and it took him two tries to gather himself and get vertical. He flicked a glance toward Sasha, whose eyes were troubled, but who smiled in encouragement.

Nikita closed the distance between them with two predatory strides, his gate rolling and graceful even in close confines.Not humanthose two long steps said. And something more sinister Lanny decided not to think about.

The Russian was only a hairsbreadth shorter than him, but Lanny had the distinct impression he was somehow looking up at Nikita.

“You want me to turn you?” Nikita asked, and his eyes changed, pupils dilating.

Lanny’s stomach clenched tight. “I…” He felt sweat pop out on his temples. “Shit, I dunno.”

Once upon a time, Lanny had been the fastest boxer in town. He’d had cobra reflexes, could duck any punch. He kept up a rigorous gym routine, and he knew he was still fast. Faster than any suspect who’d ever tried to deck him, for sure.

He should have been able to dodge Nikita, and that fact alone was enough to break him out in goosebumps when suddenly there was a hand around his throat, a thumb digging into his windpipe until he gasped.

He hadn’t even seen Nikitamove.

Man, if he had that kind of speed, and strength – Lanny started to choke a little – just imagine what he could do in the ring…

Not the time.

Nikita leaned into his face, snarling low like a mountain lion, teeth bared. “I’ve never turned anyone in my life and you think I’ll turnyou?” he hissed.

Lanny’s answer came out a garbled plea.

Nikita made a disgusted sound and threw him back into his chair. He landed so hard he almost tipped over, and air rushed to fill his lungs, bruised throat sending sharp darts of pain up into his jaw and down into his collarbones.

Through a painful coughing fit, he noted Nikita pacing away from him, hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“All you mortals are the same,” he lamented, staring down at the carpet, thick dark hair falling across his forehead.

A cool hand touched the back of Lanny’s neck, and Sasha appeared in front of him, holding a glass of water. “Here, drink this. Sorry.” But his worry was clearly for his friend, his gaze shooting to Nikita.

“Yeah?” Lanny wheezed, missing the scornful tone he’d been shooting for. “How’s that?”

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