Twisted

“No. So I need you to give me another ward.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t protest. She knew him, though, and knew he was thinking he’d do whatever the heck he wanted. “For what?”

“You know for what. I want one like Aden’s. One that prevents anyone from being able to close my wards ever again.”

He was shaking his head before she finished.

“Admit it. The witches wouldn’t have attempted to poke a hole in the ward preventing my death by physical injury if I’d had one.” Witches could sense wards and exactly what they meant.

“Yes, but what will you do if you’re captured? What will you do if a ward you don’t want is added to your body?”

“So give me a ward that prevents me from getting any more wards.”

“No one in their right mind ever allows themselves to acquire that ward. You’ll leave yourself open to too many other spells.”

“Riley.”

“Mary Ann.”

“I want the ward, Riley. The first one I mentioned.”

“Too risky.”

“Aden has it.”

“And it’s worth the risk with him. Too many people are drawn to him, want to use him, control him, hurt him.”

“News flash. People want to hurt me, too.” In fact, everyone Riley knew wanted to kill her. Even his brothers. Was she the only one who remembered the way they’d looked at her the night she’d slain those witches and fairies? With horror, disgust and fury. The only reason they’d gone to so much trouble to save her today was because Riley loved her. Or used to love her.

“With an unbreakable ward preventing death by physical injury, how do you think the witches will go about killing you next time?” he growled. “And they will try to kill you again. You’ll be blamed for the Red Robed Massacre.”

“But I—”

He didn’t let her finish. “In case you can’t figure it out, let me explain. They will lock you away, starve you and torture you without killing you, keeping you in that state until you die of simple old age.”

Impossible. “That could be decades from now.”

“Exactly.”

She was letting him scare her, she realized. “Give me the ward.” She’d already decided: she would rather die herself, painfully, torturously, than cause anyone else to die because she was hungry. He wasn’t going to change her mind.

“I’ve already put the equipment up.”

“Yes, and it’s so hard to dig it back out.”

“No.”

“I don’t want to be a danger to you anymore.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You’re not.”

“Oh, and what’s changed?” she asked as casually as she was able. Finally she would know what was driving him to act this way.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, his eyes glittering with a familiar green fire. Not of desire, but of fury. Something he’d never truly flashed her way. “I can’t shift anymore.”

He couldn’t—wait, wait, wait. “What?”

“I can’t shift. I’ve tried. Multiple times since leaving the hospital. I just…can’t.”

“Because I…because I fed from you?”

“You didn’t want to—you even resisted—but I pushed and pushed and force-fed you.” The fury shattered, hopelessness taking its place. “Doesn’t matter, though. The result was the same.”

Doesn’t matter? It mattered more than anything! He might have pushed, but she was the one to take. She’d taken his animal from him. His inner self. His true self. Gone. Forever. Because of her. No wonder he was acting like he hated her. He did.

“Riley, I’m so sorry. So so sorry. I didn’t mean…I never would have…” There were no words to convey the depths of her remorse. Nothing that would make this okay.

Of everything she’d done, this was the worst. And those dried-up tear ducts? They suddenly remembered how to work, burning her eyes and tracking moisture down her cheeks.

“We knew it was a possibility,” he said.

“Are you…human?”

A bitter laugh. “Pretty much.”

Worse and worse. That had to be torture for him. He’d been a shifter all his life.

His very long life. A life that might now be cut short. Because. Of. Her. His friends were shifters. His family. And now, he was the very thing he hated more than anything: vulnerable.

Riley pushed to his feet and turned away from her. “I’m going to take a shower. Try to get some rest.” He didn’t wait for her reply but marched into the bathroom and shut the door.

Shut her out.

Now and forever, if she had to guess.

Mary Ann curled into herself and sobbed.

ADEN CURSED UNDER his breath. “Did you hear that?”

“The gutter your mouth just traveled through?” Victoria asked. “Yes. You basically shouted the profanities in my ear.”

“Not that. What Riley just told Mary Ann.”

“Oh. No. Did you?”

“Yeah.” She lay against him, snuggled into his side, and he sifted his fingers through her hair, loving the softness of it. Their room was dark, but his gaze cut through that darkness as if he wore night-vision goggles.

“How?” she asked.

“Thin walls?”

“Then I would have heard. How?”

“Another vampire ability manifesting itself?”

“Now that makes sense.”

He expected the souls to comment, to voice their thoughts. They didn’t. Caleb was still in mourning about the witches, Elijah hadn’t given up his vow of silence, and since hearing about Tonya Smart, Julian had been too busy trying to figure out who he’d been and what his last wish was.

Currently the only being giving him fits was Junior. Aden was hungry, again, and his beast wasn’t gonna let him forget it. In fact, his roars were getting louder with every hour that passed.

All of Elijah’s birth terminology had really hit the mark. Aden kinda felt like a brand-new dad whose kid had soiled his diaper and was demanding a change.

“Aden,” Victoria prompted. “What did Riley say?”

Oh, yeah. He and Victoria were in the middle of a conversation. “Riley can’t shift anymore.”

She jolted upright and peered down at him, eyes wide with dismay. “What?”

“Don’t kill the messenger.” Aden tugged her back into his embrace, loving the way she curled herself around him. “He just told Mary Ann. Apparently she fed off him before they landed in the hospital.”

“How…how did he sound?”

“Surprisingly fine.”

“Oh, no. That’s when he’s the most upset.” She banged her fist against Aden’s chest. “I will kill her!”

She tried the sitting up thing again, but he tightened his hold, keeping her against him. “He’s taking a shower, and I don’t think she meant to damage him.”

“I don’t care. That’s exactly why the races have always slain drainers when they are first identified. Accidents