Bitten to Death

He put his hand under my elbow. Began to lead me down the stairs. “I am thinking how fine it would be to turn you. To make you mine forever. To bring you into the Trust as if I were a full member.” His head jerked up, his gaze darting over the leering eyes and sneering mouths of hundreds of masks. “Can you hear the voices?”

“No.”

“Outside,” Vayl said, his voice strained.

As soon as we reached the door I wrenched it open, stepping back just in case the damn skeleton did jump off the handle. But all that flew in was a whoosh of cool spring air. When Vayl hesitated, I said, “Come on, let’s go.”

We both stepped onto the worn brick of the small entryway at the same time. I practically slammed the front door closed. But it was too late. Vayl pulled me into his arms, holding me so tight I could hardly breathe.

“You,” he said, his growl reverberating against my neck. “Just the scent of you drives me half mad. Do you realize that?”

“You’re into Ivory soap?”

He chuckled. Traced his lips up to my cheek. Gave me a soft, brief kiss. “What were we doing?”

“Going to talk to Trayton’s pack.”

The relief I felt when he dropped his arms wasn’t nearly as great as I’d anticipated. Okay, Jaz, admit at least to yourself that you really like the hugging. In fact, you’d sacrifice a couple of meals a day for more of the touchy-feely. And eternity with this wonder by your side doesn’t sound half bad. Could you be honest about that? Then at least the people in your head wouldn’t think you were such a damn hypocrite. Chorus of hell yeahs from the crowd.

But I didn’t say anything as I followed Vayl across the lawn and into the woods. Because wanting somebody, even loving them, didn’t make you right for them.

Chapter Seventeen

The forest that crowded the base of Mount Panachaikon felt a lot like the national parks Albert had marched us through when we were kids. Lots of pines mixed with oak, chestnut, and white poplar left only minor undergrowth to wade through. A recent rain had left the leaves limp underfoot and smelling of decay. But not the Trust kind that made you want to gargle and spit.

“Are you going to be able to track these wolves?” asked Vayl. He strode beside me, so close that we could’ve held hands if we’d wanted to. I did. Goddammit, would you grow up?

What’s wrong with a little hand holding in the woods? Especially when you’re with a devastatingly handsome vampire who makes you feel slightly tipsy every time you look at him despite the fact that you haven’t imbibed in weeks?

It’s not professional, that’s what! Plus, it makes you look wimpy. And you can’t draw your gun if your hand is busy somewhere else. Any more questions, ya big squishy?

Just one.

What?

Do you want to be alone forever?

“Jasmine?”

“Huh?”

“I was expecting a response.” Don’t-ignore-me sharpness in his tone.

I sighed. “No, I can’t really track them. I mean, I get this general sense that they’re out here, but that’s about it. Maybe if there was just one whose scent I knew . . .”

“So what are we to do?”

“How the hell should I know? You’re the boss here. You decide!” I plopped down on a fallen log, ignoring the fact that dampness immediately began to seep through the seat of my jeans.

He strode up to the log, dug his boot into it, and leaned over me. “What is your problem now?”

I looked up into those dark, confused eyes, such an accurate reflection of my own feelings, and finally decided to tell the truth. “I want the ring back.”

He dropped to his haunches, his legs flanking mine so that I felt oddly embraced. “Why?”

“We need each other.” It was that simple.

As a leonine smile dawned on his face he pulled the necklace out from under his shirt and unclipped the ring. Instead of handing it to me as he had the first time, he slipped it on my finger. We shared a shocked look as we both realized it now sat on my left hand. Like a promise.

As Cirilai gave me its own form of Swedish-massage welcome, Vayl leaned forward. The message practically sang in his eyes—a kiss to make the moment eternal. I pressed my palm against his chest, feeling the abnormally slow whump of his heartbeat as I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “You’re taken.”

When he tried to protest, I shook my head harder.

“She may have pulled a fast one, but the fact is that you turned her. You’re connected now. And until that’s broken, I can’t . . . I’m sorry. I just can’t. Plus, we already discussed this. About your boys. You still haven’t—”

“I understand,” he murmured in that velvet baritone that caressed my skin like hot oil. “Time. Perhaps now it will favor me as never before.” He took my hand in his, kept his eyes on mine as he lifted Cirilai to his lips. He smiled. And if he looked as dangerous as he seemed hopeful, well, that was all part of the package.

It turned out that wandering aimlessly wasn’t the best way to find a pack of werewolves. But stopping and sharing a quiet moment worked like chum in an ocean full of great whites. Vayl and I had just risen and I was pausing to wipe the bark off my fanny when a mocking feminine voice from behind me said, “Aw, Krios, wasn’t that