Page 63 of Taming His Vampire Mate
Jeremy shrugged. “He didn’t ask for this, did he? And tomorrow we’re bringing him back. When that happens, is he going to be okay? When he’s a person again?”
I stared, suddenly toosomethingto speak. It was easier to despise him when I thought he was a two-dimensional wolf who hated vampires on principle. But here he was, talking about Quinn as though it was a given that he’d be a person again.
But what had he told me before? He had been raised to think of vampires as monsters. How on earth could he let go of his teachings so easily? How could he reject what he had been raised to believe?
“You know how,” Jeremy whispered, gaze locked on mine. “My pack was wrong.Iwas wrong.”
I swallowed and took another step back. I wasn’t risking close proximity.
“I’m not leaving tomorrow,” he added. “You know that, right? I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” I said reflexively. “Nothing for you to worry your wolfy little head about.”
“Thierry.”
The way he said my name—firm, gentle,dangerous—it gave me no anger to hold onto. In fact, it felt ominously like an invitation to be real with him.
Before he could say anything else that might get us both into trouble, I turned and left him standing in the threshold, staring after me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN || JEREMY
The dream started simple enough. It was Lake Elizabeth again. This time, it was fully night, and the motes of magical light I’d seen before—clearly a manifestation of the dreamscape—were gone. Instead, a sliver of moon glimmered over the still, flat waters. The wind didn’t stir. Everything was completely, eerily silent.
Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.
This absolute stillness wasn’t normal. It was as though the woods, the lake, the sandy shore, and even the mountain beneath the starry sky were all holding a sharply drawn breath, afraid to move.
And then, a moment later, my dream turned into a nightmare.
Ian crashed out of the trees beside the lake. He was half-naked, covered in scratches, clutching his side as blood poured between his fingers. His breath came in gasps.
But he was still one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen—tall and slight of build, which I preferred. Not delicate, though; his body was lean with flat, hard muscle, the kind earned through constant labor. His soft brown hair had been cut short but was starting to grow out. His skin was burnished gold from the sun. He wore cut-off jean shorts and nothing else. Wolves don’t tend to like too many clothes.
His simple, reassuring beauty was like a knife in my chest.
He dropped to his knees beside me, but I knew he couldn’t see me. He wasn’t really there. Less than a ghost.
But his hold on my heart was still total.
A strangled sound escaped me. I had to fight not to grab him, to hold him close, to protect him from what was coming.
What I hadn’t been there to stop. What I had caused.
I knew if my hands passed through him—and they would, no matter how solid he looked—it would break me beyond repair.
Thierry might be the mate destiny had picked for me, but Ian was the only man—hell, the only person, apart from Lindsey—I’d ever truly let myself love. I’d given him my body and soul. And I had failed him. Because I hadn’t been there when it counted.
He’d faced his death alone.
The branches behind us rustled, and I froze.
Panic tore through me. I knew what was coming next, what I was about to see.
I’ve witnessed many things I wish I hadn’t. It’s easy to get desensitized. But this was different. I couldn’t watch this.
I wouldn’t recover.
A creature burst from the tree line, streaking toward us.
