~ Brendan ~

 

Once I’d had a nightmare. It had been a vicious, fucked-up nightmare and on jolting awake in a frantic sweat, I’d found myself in a stranger’s basement, inside a cage. The man who’d sat on the other side of the bars had told me that I was there because I had been attacked by a Werewolf from his Pack. I had been bitten, and that if I was lucky enough, by the next full moon, I would become a Werewolf myself. However, if my body was unable to withstand the change, I would die, but no matter the outcome, he was truly sorry.

It had been a surreal moment and one I had never had time to process because this man had gone on to tell me that the same Werewolf had murdered my girlfriend, my Natasha. The agony, the grief, that had torn through me in that moment had been fucking unbearable, far worse than the physical pain I would feel during my first change or any that would come after.

With time, I had come to realize that not only did that pain have to do with her loss, but also the fact that not only had I done nothing to save her, but I hadn’t even been with her in her final moments. Sure, I had been nearby, blacked-out and bleeding, but I hadn’t been able to hold her hand, or tell her not to be frightened.

Having Natasha ripped from my life so violently had been agony, and it had left a scar across my heart that—even after sixteen years—hadn’t healed, and it never truly would. Feeling so helpless was torture and I swore I would never feel that way again…but the sight of Heather, bloodied and broken on the floor of a nest...

I couldn’t breathe. I was paralyzed. My heart felt as though it lay in a vise, as though it had been trapped in a fist of iron and someone was squeezing, crushing the life out of me.

This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. I’m too late. How the fuck am I too late?

I knew Heather wouldn’t have out-swum the boat we were in, especially because she was wounded. But despite my having to wait for the Italian Pack, despite leaving Owen and one of Rocco’s Pack to take Flynn and Phil back to our car in the terminal so that myself, Rocco—who’d been as concerned as I was at the fact that Heather had run into the Italian Colony’s nest on her own—and those of his Pack who were present could go and help her, she had still made it here before us...and she was dead.

I’m too late. I’ve failed. I’ve lost her.

My heart felt as though it were about to explode. A cry scratched at my throat, the need to scream overwhelming me...

She moved ever so slightly and the smallest flutter of hope beat through me. Her gaze found mine and the softest smile touched her lips.

I rushed to her, forcing myself to change despite my Wolf’s reluctance, despite the agony of moving while my bones shrank and crunched back into place, despite the discomfort of my skin snapping like elastic and my fur stabbing like a thousand pin pricks as it dissolved into my body leaving bare, sweat-slicked skin in its place.

I fell to my knees. Blood was forming beneath her body, leaking from her mouth and oozing through her navy T-shirt at her abdomen. The scent of her blood saturated the air, cutting through the stench of old earth, and death.

My Wolf whined low in my head. She’s too weak. She’s dying.

No. Please, God. No, don’t do this to me again. She can’t die.

I reached for her, not knowing what to do, hesitant on where to touch, how to help. Bruises were wrapped around her throat, the purple and black swelling so bold on her pale skin. The wounds she had received from fighting Leeches at the facility were weeping. Her skin was saturated, from her mouth all down her neck and chest. Her T-shirt was almost in shreds at the front, blood staining the material, bloodied rips on her left thigh. So much fucking blood.

“Shit. Heather.” I placed my hand on the wound on her stomach, hoping to stop the bleeding.

A raw and guttural cry broke from her, and a gush of blood erupted between my fingers. Her energy pulsated, the smallest hint of fear cracking through. I snapped my hand away. My chest tightened further, panic a whirlpool in my gut as I noticed the pool on the floor growing bigger.

I cradled her face. “Christ.” I felt fucking helpless. “Why—What?” What could I do for her? I didn’t know what to do. “God damn it, Heather. Why couldn’t you have fucking waited?”

Why did you have to fucking run off? Why couldn’t you have waited? Why couldn’t you just let me help?

The rise and fall of her chest was shallow. Her lips were moving, her voice a rough rasp that I could hardly make out, but a look of sheer relief and peace kept fluttering over her features. Her gaze seemed distant, almost dreamy, as her eyelids fluttered shut.

No, no, no

“Heather?” I tapped her cheeks, fighting the urge to shake her. “Heather?”

“She needs blood to heal.”

The voice was youthful, calm, and so matter of fact.

My head snapped up, my gaze landing on a teenage lad who knelt by Heather’s head. His presence took me by surprise so much so that I found myself glancing around the large room to see if a bunch of kids had come running inside due to the noise. The muscular mound of fur that was Rocco was still thrashing and snarling as he continued to tackle the hideous-looking female Leech who I could only presume was Marie.

“...Marko’s first Bloodling, who is a child, by the way. He is a teenage immortal.”

So this little fella had to be Marko’s first Bloodling. Christ, he looks the same age as Joey. The same height. He even has the same shade of hair. It didn’t seem right for a child to be here in the middle of this.

Not a child, my Wolf reminded me. A Vampire.

And despite his innocent state of being, he was a very old and dangerous Vampire even if he had somehow helped Heather out earlier.

Clutching his thin little wrist with his right hand, he pierced his talon through his pale flesh and muscle. Rancid blood mingled with the scent of Heather’s as it seeped from the small wound. He held his wrist over her face...

“No.” I knocked his arm away.

Misted white eyes met mine. “So we watch her die, then?”

A shudder skated down my spine as those swirling orbs bored into mine as though he were able to see all the way down inside me. As if he could see everything I felt, know what I was thinking.

My Wolf’s hackles rose. His focus fixated to the Vampire, to his eyes, refusing to look away despite the fact that he was fucking creeping us both out.

“No, but she would rather be dead than drink your blood and become one of you, tied to you.”

He sat back on the balls of his feet, arms resting on his knees. “What other choice is there? There are no humans or animals close by for her to drink from, though I hardly think they would be sufficient under these drastic circumstances. So if not my blood, which could heal her, nor one of my kind, the only person left who has the power to save her would be you.”

My Wolf bristled. Yes.

No. Not an option.

“If I feed her my blood—it would be like an adrenalin kick but it would fade like it does on all Infecteds. It wouldn’t be enough to save her.”

“Heather is not a normal Infected, though.”

No, she was born with the Vampyrric virus. It wasn’t eating away at her body, which meant it wasn’t fighting for rights, which meant if I tried to heal her with my blood, then the virus and the Were-gene shouldn’t stamp each other out. My blood would help her heal, only...

My gut knotted. “If I give her my blood, then I will have passed on the Were-gene to her.”

“So she will become a Werewolf at the next full moon. It is better than being dead.”

Agreed, my Wolf barked.

No. If I give her my blood, then I’m turning her without her consent, which makes me no fucking better than Gideon McKeller or any other Rogue...

You are doing this to save her, my Wolf snapped back. Not through loss of control or cruelty. She is dying.

She might not survive and if she does, she will be a fucking Werewolf. Do you really think she will forgive us for that?

Better that she hate us than her being dead. My Wolf paced, his irritation a rapid flutter in my veins.

Glass smashed somewhere above us, followed by heavy footfalls, bringing home the point that any minute now, once they had finished exterminating the Italian Colony, there would be more Werewolves down here, that this would be Maximo’s territory and what I was even considering was not permitted in another Pack’s territory, even under the circumstances.

Then do it so we can get her out of here. She is strong. She will survive, my Wolf reassured. She’s not a normal human.

No, she wasn’t normal. She was strong and unique, and maybe she would survive, but I doubted she would forgive me for replacing the Vampire’s virus for a new kind of mutation even if it was to save her life... Only, I wouldn’t be replacing the virus, would I? I would be giving her the Were-gene, adding it to the mix that was already her DNA.

The Vampyrric virus was a part of her, merged with her genetic make-up. It wasn’t killing her—she was human, and the Were-gene would successfully mutate in a body with living cells and a heartbeat; a human. If I gave her my blood, if I tried to save her...if her body and mind were strong enough and she survived the change, she wouldn’t be a Werewolf... Dread unraveled in my chest.

“I believe they wanted to see if it would be possible for a person to carry both the Were-gene and the Vampyrric virus.”

She would be a Hybrid, and it would be all thanks to me.

“You bastard.” My Wolf’s claws extended in a rush of fury that burned fiercely through my entire body. “You only want to know if she will survive with both the Were-gene and your fucking virus inside her.”

I lunged at him. “You little fucking bastard! Has everything just been one big fucking experiment for you?”

My hands met air, to only slam down hard on the marble floor. I jolted, looking down to make sure I hadn’t fallen on top of Heather.

A blood-curdling wail scorched my ear drums. I twisted just in time to see the female Vampire being flung across the room. Her head smashed against the marble wall. She fell like a sack of potatoes to the floor.

“Emilio has been slain, excellent.” A smile rang in the small Vampire’s voice. “Unfortunately, that also signals that you are running out of time.” He stood at Heather’s feet. “You must give her your blood, and you must do it now.”

“No.” I straightened. “I won’t turn her into a monster for you.”

“You are refusing to save her? You are breaking your promise to Sofia—”

“Fuck you!” I turned on him. “And Sofia. I hope you both burn in Hell for what you have put Heather through.”

“It is her destiny—”

“Fuck destiny. We make our own destiny, and you two bastards have been playing her from the beginning. You have no fucking right to play God with people’s lives.”

“So you will let her die?”

No. My Wolf thrashed. Save her. We must save her.

My focus dropped back to Heather whose chest was hardly moving. Her energy was so fragile, almost non-existent. I grabbed hold of her wrist. A pulse, but it was weak. I reached out and brushed the wet strands from her forehead.

What do I do, Tough Girl? I promised to keep you alive, but at what fucking price? What would you have me do? What the fuck do I do?

“I see you are conflicted. Understandable. So I shall make this simple for you. All that matters now, at this very moment, is the answer to one simple question. Will you let your mate die?”

Mate?

One simple word, a title that I had used myself in conversations, and yet, hearing it in reference to myself and to Heather had my stomach fluttering like a nervous school boy’s, caused a giddy rush of excitement to burst through me. The collision of terror and need threw me off balance so violently that I suddenly felt light-headed.

“What?” It was the only word I seemed to know.

“Surely, you sense it? Or are you that ignorant of your Wolf’s feelings as well as your own?”

I cared about her; I would happily admit that. I found her attractive, funny, strong, and fuck, I couldn’t even explain why I had the crazy urge to kiss her whenever the moment presented itself, but Heather...my mate? My mate. Mine. That just didn’t make any fucking sense, did it?

So much sense, my Wolf growled. She is mine whether she wants to be or not.

Ours?

Yes, ours. Our mate. So bond with her, save her, he pleaded.

Fucking bond with her?

Blood won’t be enough. She needs our energy. She needs the Pack’s energy.

“Oh, Brendan, do you really think that everything in life is purely a coincidence? That there is no structure, no sense, no purpose for us all? Do you think that the threads of Fate are weaved together with no design? Your fate was decided long before you were born, or do you really think that it was just a coincidence that your parents divorced, that you moved to England and led the life you did? That you picked to study at that university on a whim? Was meeting Natasha an accident?”

My gaze snapped back to his, to those misted white eyes that were so full of knowing it was terrifying, especially from a child. My blood was turning to ice in my veins with every word he spoke. He couldn’t know these things, or did he only know them because of Sofia?

“That you chose to propose in Scotland on that weekend away. That Gideon McKeller just happened to break out of his confinements on that evening while you were walking with Natasha on the moors. Of all the evenings he could have escaped, it was that one, because he was supposed to bite you. You were supposed to be a Werewolf, Brendan, so that you would be in her world. To be the strength she needs when she no longer has strength of her own, to show her the reasons to survive and to live.”

My chest felt so crowded as pain old and new swelled and burned behind my ribcage.

No, I didn’t want her to fucking die—she was too damn young and so damn lost; lost in a way I had been for a very long time. And no, I didn’t want to lose her. The idea hurt too much, had hurt too much from the moment we had parted and she had come skipping off to Italy on her own.

The idea of something happening to her, of her not being in my world, filled me with dread and I didn’t know why. I hardly knew her, but I knew beyond a fucking doubt that since day one, losing her had never been an option, whether it was due to a guilty complex because I couldn’t save Natasha, or down to a promise I made Sofia, or whether it was because I hadn’t felt alive or like I had a purpose until I was dragged into Heather’s crazy life.

I could admit to all of that, but hearing all of this—losing Natasha, becoming a Werewolf, having to abandon my human life, living in misery for sixteen years trying to fight for some scrap of normality and contentment—it had all been so I could know Heather...? So I could help her fulfill her destiny by making her a monster? How the fuck was I supposed to accept that? How could I take responsibility for possibly doing something that might destroy her, all so she could live?

“You are the key ingredient to her life, the secret to her achieving success and avenging her family.”

I swallowed the dry ball of grief lodged in my throat. “You mean the ingredient to ruining her life, the secret to your success because you and Sofia have turned her into nothing more than a weapon for your own selfish reasons?”

“Let us not split hairs over the details.”

“Brendan—?” Owen’s voice echoed throughout the hall.

“She drank blood for you, Brendan. She drank blood to escape this place earlier. She drank it—”

“She probably had no fucking choice after what that bitch did to her or would have done if it wasn’t for you.”

She drank blood—maybe that was the reason she got here before us. Maybe blood did make her stronger, faster?

Reaching for the hem of Heather’s T-shirt, I pulled the ruined material up. My stomach turned at the five puncture wounds in her lower abdomen, at the deep scratches carved into her flesh under her breast, at the sight of blood coating her perfect, smooth skin.

“No, she drank it because she chose to live, to find you so that you could live. She has always done what she has needed to do for those she cares about. She does what she has to in order to survive.”

“Don’t you dare tell me who she is,” I bit out between clenched teeth. “Don’t you go on like you know her, or give a shit.”

He moved to my side, his cold lips pressed against my ear. “Do not let the world fall into darkness through lack of belief in what you cannot understand, through fear of the truth and distrust in yourself, your feelings, or hers. Keep your promise. Believe in your mate. Trust and care for her. Save her now, so that she can save us all.”

“So she can kill Marko for you, right?” My jaw was tight. Tension spiraled along my spine. My hands balled into fists at my sides. “So she can stop this fucked-up Hybrid plan that you all put in motion, by becoming one herself?”

“There is method in madness. Quickly now. Her heart beat is dangerously slow.”

Bond, my Wolf whined. Bond with her now.

I can’t. I can’t do this. How can I—

She’s dying, he snarled. We are losing her.

There had to be ice in my veins, because I was frozen to my very core. “If she dies—”

“She will not, if you hurry. She is not destined to die here, nor on the next full moon. She will be the first Hybrid, and if all goes to plan, she will also be the last. I give you my word.”

His voice was an echo in my ear because the next thing I knew, he had vanished, just as Owen fell to his knees at Heather’s feet.

“Fuck. What happened?”

God, please let her forgive me for this. Please let her understand.

“She’s dying.”

Leaning down, I ran my tongue over each mark on her stomach, swiftly cleaning away her blood, taking it into myself. I had never tasted blood other than my own, but hers was strangely sweet and each gulp, each wave of crimson that coated my throat, caused tingles almost like static electricity to run straight through to my fingertips and toes. I moved my attention to the claw marks higher up, across her ribs, and then to the ones wrapped around her shoulder and chest. I ran my tongue along each; a tinge of sea salt tickled my taste buds.

“And I have to do the only thing I fucking well can.”

“Do you understand what you’re doing? What it means...fuck, what it means for her?”

“Yeah, and she may never forgive me, but I will be damned if I let her die.” Claws extended, I dragged my index finger along my wrist. Blood seeped from the wound. “I have to do this with or without your permission. I just hope you can understand—”

“You have it.” No hesitation, or doubt, or judgment rang in his tone. Just understanding. “You have permission.”

I held my wound an inch above the closest puncture mark, watching as a steady stream of my blood dropped into the cut. I moved over each incision, allowing my blood to enter each wound, and with each drop that fell and mingled with hers, I felt a gentle pull, like a thread of air forming between her wounds and mine, between our blood.

Thumping, breaking, screaming—an unholy racket of noise continued above our heads, but with each second that passed, the sounds faded into the background. My focus fixated on Heather and the need to hear that steady thump of life restart in her chest.

Owen took hold of her wrist. “Fuck. I can’t feel a pulse.”

I held my arm over all of the claw marks, moving swiftly back and forth so that my blood coated the entire length of the wounds.

“Brendan?”

“I heard you.” Hands over her heart, I began pushing gently in succession of six.

“I think she has a wound on her fucking back.”

His comment brought home the reason why my bare knees currently felt wet and sticky. The pool of blood I was now kneeling in had to be caused from another wound.

“It will have to wait.” I leant down and placed my mouth over hers. Her blood covered my lips as I gave her the kiss of life.

“Come on now, Tough Girl.” I moved back to her chest, pushing again. “Work with me, just this once.”

My mouth met hers again.

An inhuman scream ripped through the entire building—a gurgling, grating, primal sound of agony that seemed to match the despair clouding up my insides. My Wolf paced back and forth, his movement nauseating to my stomach. His fear and aggravation rolled through me in waves.

“Rocco just killed the female.” Owen’s focus was on the other Werewolf. “Fucking ripped her in two. Rather impressive.”

“You hear that, Heather?” I pushed at her chest again. “Marie is in pieces, and you missed it because you’re being fucking stubborn.”

My mouth met hers once more. “Now come on, baby, let me hear your heart beat. I just need one beat. Just one.”

I glanced at Owen as I went back to her chest. “Anything?”

His energy swirled with worry, his face paling as he looked back up at me. Metallic silver flashed in his hazel eyes. He shook his head.

“Maybe I didn’t give her enough blood.”

“It only takes a small amount, plus your saliva. You have given her enough of both. It’s up to her now.”

“Yeah, well, she never does as she is told. Do you, Heather?”

I placed my lips on hers.

“I tell you to stay by my side.” I went back to her chest. “I tell you not to run off and get yourself fucking killed and what do you do?”

Mouth to mouth. “You fucking do it.”

Pain stretched across my chest as I pressed more firmly. “You fucking go and get yourself killed because for some reason, that seems like the answer to everything.”

My Wolf’s claws plucked at my insides. I could feel him scraping down my arms, reaching for her. His energy pulsated as I pushed harder. Those gentle, invisible threads pulled, tightened as my energy flowed over her like a blanket.

The distinct sound of bones crunching met my ear. Panting and the odd groan of pain. Everything had gone silent all of a sudden.

“Bren?” Owen let go of Heather’s wrist and rose to his feet. His energy was rippling with worry and anger, his posture defensive as he stepped forward.

The gentle pad of feet on marble drew closer. The scent of sweat and blood, tinged with oak and sea salt, met my nose. Rocco stopped behind me.

“You need to leave.” His voice was quiet, sorrowful.

“I’m planning on it,” I bit out.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that there are rules about turning a human whilst you are in another Pack’s territory.”

No, you fucking don’t.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” My jaw was tight. “Should I just let her die?”

“I’m sorry, Brendan, truly I am, but she’s already—”

“She is not dead, so don’t fucking go there.” Hands balled into fists, I banged her chest. I felt my energy ricochet against her. “She’s just in the habit of doing everything in her own fucking way.”

I hit again.

I could feel my anger and pain brimming, filling me up, and with each quick punch I delivered to her chest, my Wolf cried out, because I couldn’t. Everything was lodged so tightly in my throat, I couldn’t even draw a breath. I felt as though there were hands around my neck, as though I were choking. I could see my fist meeting her chest, above the spot where her heart was, but I couldn’t feel myself doing it. I didn’t feel the connection. As though I was hitting a barrier when all I was trying to do was force my energy inside her as if somehow, it was fucking possible or would help, because I couldn’t feel hers anymore.

“Wake up.” I choked on the words. “Fucking wake up.”

“Hey—Hey.” Owen grabbed my arms, pulling them behind my head. “That’s enough, lad. You did all that you could, but it’s too late. She’s gone—”

“No,” I growled, trying to prize my arms from his grip. Tears spilled from my eyes. “He said she would survive. He fucking promised—”

“Who said—?”

A pulse, faint and weak, tickled the surface of my energy. I stilled, my gaze fixated on Heather’s chest. It rose, and then fell. Those delicate threads of air tightened and became a little firmer. They pulled at me, a tug that I felt all the way in my gut.

My Wolf yipped. Relief washed through me. I let out the breath I felt I’d been holding for an eternity.

“I don’t believe it.” Owen let go of my arms. “I—I thought she was a fucking goner.”

“Not my girl.” I fell forward and placed my ear to her breast. So faint, a little irregular, but her heart was beating and fuck if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard in all my life. “She’s too fucking stubborn to give up.”

“She’s alive?” Relief and shock tinged Rocco’s tone. “Then I—I must say again, you need to go. Heather may not be your average human, but rules are still rules and what my Pack doesn’t know won’t hurt them, and that includes our Alpha.”

“We understand,” Owen replied. “Brendan, change and get her back to the car as quick as you can. You need to get her to Max’s land so you can go back tonight with Flynn and Phil. She needs to be with the Pack if she is going to fully recover.”

She will recover. My Wolf was adamant.

“Si, my father is on his way here with Angelo. Make sure he doesn’t see you. If asked, I will state she sustained great injuries.”

“And had to be rushed home,” Owen finished.

“Si, my father is going to be very distracted putting this tragic state of affairs right. He need not know about this, ever.”

I pushed myself up and turned to the male. Rocco looked more disheveled than the first time I met him. Blood marred his messed black hair; scratches were carved into his chest, blood marking his tanned skin. His dark eyes swirled with the grey of his Wolf.

“I would appreciate that.”

“After the way we have doubted her—” he glanced at Heather, “—this is the least I can do for her.” His gaze met mine. “For you both.”

“Thank you.”

“She is a special woman. Keep her safe.”

“I will, as long as she doesn’t kill me first.”

I moved past the male to the corner of the room. My eyes tripped over the interior and it only just dawned on me that the large, tall room was void of furniture, bar a very elaborate and grand fireplace at the far end. A black stain stretched across the marble floor near an open doorway that led out onto a wooden pathway built over a back canal.

Something told me that the little Vampire hadn’t stuck around for the end of the show. Then again, only an idiot would remain in a lion’s den and ignore an easy exit, and he sure as hell wasn’t an idiot.

Dropping to my knees, I let my Wolf take over. He needed no encouragement to change. In fact, it was almost painless. The pull of my bones as they elongated, the ripple of muscle as it expanded, stretching my skin along with it. The tension that caged my head as my nose and ears stretched and re-shaped. The stab of a million pins happening in unison all over my body as my fur sprouted and thickened. None of it felt as intense as usual. The physical pain felt like nothing compared to the emotional turmoil that had been raging inside me since I had stepped through the door. My energy somehow felt stronger, fuller.

“Hurry now, Brendan. My Pack are coming.”

I jogged lightly back to Heather, pausing when I caught sight of her sword on the floor. Her mother’s sword. Collecting the heirloom, I knelt down and slid it carefully back into the sheath at her waist. Then reaching down, I gently slid my arms beneath her. My left hand glided over a wet patch on her back. Must remember to cleanse that wound and check for others when we get to the car.

I pulled her close so she was warm and snug against my chest. Her heartbeat was soft, but steady.

“The keys are in the car.” I looked down at Owen as he placed a hand on my arm. His gaze flitted between me and Heather, an odd look of concern forming on his features. “Call me once you’re all home?”

I nodded and took off towards the open double doorway at the back of the building.

The air was cool as I stepped out into the early morning. The sun would have risen by the time we made it back to Maximo’s property. Hopefully, Thomas would already be there when we arrived.

The wooden pathway creaked under my feet as I ran swiftly and smoothly down the back walkways, looking for a landmark or shop front familiar enough to indicate that I was heading in the right direction of the Venice passenger terminal.

Heather twitched in my arms. A throaty, distraught groan escaped her lips. The sound was fucking music to my ears.

Holding her closer, I licked her cheek.

Live for me, Heather. Please, live.