Blake bounded through the dense forest, the moonlight casting shadows across the trees. His breath came in ragged gasps, fear tightening within his chest. They were supposed to meet Sarah in their usual spot tonight.
But when they got there, there was no sign of her.
The blood was fresh, a crimson smear on the forest floor where Sarah should have been waiting.
Jace and Mira, his twin cousins and the only ones who knew his secret, took one look at the scene, then fanned out wordlessly, vanishing into the trees to search.
The metallic tang of it lingered in his nostrils, a grim reminder that something had gone terribly wrong. His heart pounded with a mixture of terror and rage, the primal instincts of his wolf urging him to shift, to find her, to protect her.
His hands trembled as he ripped off his shirt, as he ran, tossing it aside. He couldn't waste any more time. The transformation overtook him swiftly, bones crunching and shifting, muscles tearing and re-knitting under his skin. Fur sprouted along his limbs, and his senses magnified to a nearly unbearable clarity.
Blake's wolf instincts kicked into high gear. The scent of Sarah's blood was potent, but there were other smells too: fear, sweat, and something else, something dark and unfamiliar. He lowered his snout to the ground, inhaling deeply, committing every nuance of the scent trail to memory. His ears twitched at the slightest sound, the rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl, but there was no sound of Sarah.
He pushed forward, muscles rippling under his fur as he sprinted through the trees. Branches snagged as he flew by, but he barely felt them, his mind focused solely on finding Sarah. Images of her flashed through his mind, her bright smile, her laugh, the way she looked at him with those eyes that saw right through to his soul. The thought of her in danger was unbearable.
Blake's paws pounded the earth. The scent trail was erratic, zigzagging through the forest as if Sarah had been running. His heart sank at the thought of her being pursued, her terror so intense that she left it behind in her scent. He pushed himself harder, faster.
Suddenly, a howl pierced the night, not far off.
Jace.
But the howl wasn't a friendly one, Blake knew something was wrong. His hackles rose, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He adjusted his course, following the sound, his body tensed for a fight. As he drew closer, the scent of Sarah's blood grew stronger, mingling with the smell of Mira and Jace.
Blake burst into the small clearing, his eyes sweeping the scene. Jace and Mira stood in their wolf forms, tense and silent, their gazes locked on a figure in front of them.
His heart lurched when he noticed it was her.
Sarah.
She lay on the ground, blood staining her clothes, her face pale and silver eyes wide with fear. But she was alive. Relief flooded through him, followed swiftly by a surge of anger. Who had done this to her?
He nuzzled into Sarah's neck. Her weak hand lifted to touch his fur.
"What happened? Did you see anyone?" Blake asked through the bond, a thread of thought that connected him to Jace and Mira when they were in wolf form.
Jace, now crouched near her, flicked an ear toward him. "She just appeared in the clearing out of thin air and collapsed."
"Out of thin air?" Blake echoed.
"One minute the clearing was empty, then the next…there she was," Mira added, her voice clear in his mind too.
Blake's jaw tightened. He didn't like what he was hearing. "Did either of you catch a scent?"
He needed to know if they'd picked up the same one he had.
A low snarl caught his attention, and Blake turned his gaze to the source. A lone figure stood at the furthest edge of the clearing, partially hidden by the shadows. His scent was the same one Blake picked up a few moments earlier, laced with Sarah's, but now it was stronger. Wrong. A mix of rot and something otherworldly.
Blake stepped forward, and growled, positioning himself between Sarah and the threat. His massive black wolf form, even on all fours, towered above most men, his muscular frame rippled beneath a coat of fur so dark it seemed to drink in the moonlight. His shoulders were broad, his stance grounded and powerful. He caught a flash of white on his left and grey on right as Mira and Jace flanked him, their growls layering into a symphony of menace.
Blake's golden eyes glowed with a warning as it locked on the intruder, daring him to make the first move.
And he did.
The figure stepped forward, eyes sparking with malevolent light, his leather boots soundless against the ground. Though the air was still, his silver-gray hair shifted subtly around him, as if stirred by unseen forces.
The closer he came, the colder the air grew, a chill that seeped deep into Blake's bones. Atop his head sat a wide-brimmed hat, casting deep shadows over a pale, gray-toned face. Yet Blake saw his lips curl into a sinister smile, revealing sharp, unnaturally long teeth.
As he stepped fully into the moonlit clearing, his long black overcoat trailed behind him like a shadow come alive.
Around one gloved hand dangled a silver pocket watch, ticking softly, but out of rhythm, just enough to make Blake's skin crawl.
"Blake," the figure hissed, his voice a sibilant whisper that slithered through the night air. "You cannot save her. She belongs to us now."
Rage ignited in Blake's chest like wildfire. He launched himself forward, a blur of fur and fury, aiming straight for the figure's throat.
But the man moved like smoke, untouchable, impossibly fast. One moment he stood before Blake, the next he was behind him, then at the edge of the clearing, his long coat fluttering like wings. His laughter echoed, cold and mocking.
Blake followed him, snarled and lunged again. Jace and Mira mirrored him, crashing through the trees at the edge of the clearing, snapping and slashing. But no one could land a blow. The figure dodged every attack with effortless grace, his movements taunting, as if daring them to try harder.
They chased him deeper into the trees, drawn into the hunt and away from Sarah.
Only Blake noticed too late.
He was playing with them. The figure gave Blake a wink and vanished.
By the time Blake and the others burst back to the clearing, the figure was already there, hovering over Sarah's body, glowing faintly in the moonlight. One knee bent, a hand cradling her face with eerie tenderness. His other hand brushed back a strand of her hair.
Blake's heart stopped. He was frozen in place.
"Mine," the figure's whisper landed in Blake's ear, then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sarah's lips.
Her body jerked once, then exhaled. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing shallowed, then she stilled.
Blake tore through the clearing, racing back to her side.
But, before Blake could reach her, the figure lifted his head, smiling with those sharp, unnatural teeth. He laughed, tipped his hat, then he vanished into mist.
Blake skidded to Sarah's side, his form rippling as he forced just enough of the shift to speak. His claws retracted into fingers, fur giving way to skin along his arms and chest, though his face remained wolfish. He knelt beside her, hands trembling as he touched her cheek. Her skin was warm. She had a pulse.
"Sarah," he whispered, voice rough with panic. "Come on, baby, wake up."
She didn't move. Her eyes didn't open.
And though she was breathing, Blake felt the cold grip of helplessness clawing at his chest, because whatever that thing had done…
She wasn't gone.
But she wasn't there, either.
Yet as he held her, the weight of their reality sank in. Sarah hadn't just been banned from seeing him because she was a vampire, but because of what her father had accused his family of doing twenty-five years ago, an accusation that tore his family apart, forcing his brother into exile.
Now, he knew with chilling certainty: the fragile peace between their worlds would shatter if the truth of tonight ever got out. And when it did, it wouldn't just be wolves and vampires at war.
Their fathers' kingdoms were bound by a web of ancient alliances, every creature - shade, witch, fae, human, to name a few - tied to the dark corners of their world would be dragged into the war.
And deep down, Blake knew: when the dust settled, only one alliance would survive.