Fangs

by Anna Katmore

  “You need to dig your fingers really hard into her neck. Position them like wolf fangs. There are some acupressure points there that will initiate the change if you use enough strength.”

  Holy bat shit, that’s stunning news. I guess this is how he changed her back last night when he had her on the ground.

  Whimpering and shaking, Abby kneels down near Rosemarie and pinches her neck as hard as she can with both hands. It takes a few seconds, but just like Trayan predicted, the wolf finally changes back into an unconscious girl lying on the floor.

  Uncle Vlad lowers into the wingback chair, his gaze trained on Trayan. “Impressive…” he drawls as if he’s actually entertained by the scene playing out here. Bearing a serene half-smile, he braces his elbows on the armrests and steeples his fingers in front of his lips. “So, what’s your plan, young MacCorbin? Do you really think you can take your pack member and just walk out of here? With no consequences for threatening an Elder?”

  Trayan may have my uncle’s head in a vise, but Vladimir Dracula is still in a position where he can order anyone’s death at any place in the world, with just one word…at any time.

  “Actually, that is exactly what I think,” Trayan answers with the same coolness.

  “And what makes you so sure?”

  “The fact that your nephew will walk out in bright daylight the moment anyone from the vampire council comes after Rosemarie or me.”

  I gulp. “I will?”

  “Sorry, dude.” This time, I have a feeling that he really means it. Still, I can’t see how he’s going to achieve that. Until his next words come in a cold command. “Let me into your mind.”

  Fuck!

  Abby gasps, pressing her fists to her mouth as my uncle jumps from the chair, striding toward us, the hem of his shirt catching fire. “Let go of him!” he roars, fury turning his eyes pitch black.

  But Trayan has retightened his hold on me, and we retreat.

  Wolves cannot perform mind control, it’s not part of their abilities, and vampires can only control humans. Unless we actually allow someone to enter.

  “Now, Quentin!” Trayan growls into my ear as the tip of the blade presses a little harder against my skin. Shit, the bastard is going to kill me.

  But I know why he’s doing it. And so I hold out my hand to stop my uncle and open up my mind to the wolf. Damn, I don’t even know if this is going to work because I’m still exploring these powers myself, but we don’t have a lot of time to do a test run. Welcome…I send the sarcastic invitation through my thoughts and know he found a way in when an equally cynical thanks flies back.

  He could give me all kinds of orders now, and it’s one hell of a scary feeling. He wouldn’t even have to utter them loudly. Just a simple mental command. Still, his voice echoes like stereo both inside and outside of my mind, when he says, “The vampire council will leave us alone…and Abigail. If they don’t, you’ll walk out in daylight and let the sun incinerate you to ashes.”

  I have a clear vision of my death now. “Nice.”

  Trayan releases my arm and slowly takes the dagger away. Man, that feels good.

  Uncle V is still frozen to the spot, stunned speechless. Nope, he didn’t see that one coming. I know what my life—and my death—mean to him, and I wish there were another way. But in a world like ours with these fucking rules, this really is the only chance we have. “It’s all right,” I tell him, trying hard to connect with his eyes. Then I head to Abby and pull her into my arms. She’s trembling so hard, I can barely hold her. A moment later, the dam of her contained panic breaks, and she sobs against my chest.

  Trayan lowers next to a still unconscious Rosemarie. She makes no sound as he pushes his hands beneath her and lifts her up into his arms. He shoots a quick look at Abby. “Are you coming with us?”

  “We’re both coming,” I answer for her. It’s clear that she doesn’t want to stay in the castle any longer than necessary, but I don’t want her to go alone. Inhaling deeply, I lock eyes with my uncle, who nods, lips compressed. I knew he would understand.

  We’re almost through the door when Dracula’s voice stops us. “Smart move, young alpha,” he says.

  After a long, quiet moment, Trayan inclines his head to my uncle in a deferential manner, then he pivots, and we head out into the night.

  Chapter 31

  You live

  Abigail

  Quentin’s arm around me assures that my knees won’t give out beneath me as the four of us head down the hill. I keep shooting glances over my shoulder to where Vladimir Dracula stood in the open castle door until seconds ago. Now, the door is closed, hopefully with the count securely locked inside.

  “He won’t come,” Quentin says softly into my ear as he tucks me a little tighter against his side. I want to believe him, I really do. But the shock of tonight is still locked in my bones. Lately, most of the time I’m with him, I just want to vomit because everything is so intense. And deadly. Where did the good times go when we simply hung out at the castle, him and me alone? That was the most fun of my life. But those days seem light-years away, even though it wasn’t even forty-eight hours ago.

  Rosemarie’s legs dangle next to me. She’s still unconscious in Trayan’s arms. There’s a light scratch across her nose, probably from where she hit the wall. It was much worse back in the castle hall. Her super wolf healing powers must be doing their job.

  “Seems like every time we walk this way together, one of us is carrying a girl,” Quentin breaks the silence as we hit the paved road to our houses.

  “Yeah. I definitely don’t plan another visit to your castle,” Trayan snarls. But moments later, after a deep sigh, his voice fills with regret. “Listen, I’m sorry about…I couldn’t—”

  “Forget it,” Quentin interrupts his stammering. “It was the only way.” They both share a look that gives me goosebumps and, at the same time, warms the spot around my heart. Quentin’s fingers press harder into my shoulder. “Thank you for including Abby in your threat.”

  Trayan nods. “I thought you might want to know she’s safe.”

  And…here are the shivers. I lift my head to Quentin. “Do you really think your uncle would have come after me?”

  “Not exactly. He would have forced me to erase your memories.” A confident smile tugs up his lips. “Now, he can’t.”

  “Because if he does, you’re going to crisp yourself,” I mutter, not liking that deal one bit.

  “Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen.” He presses a kiss to my temple that makes me relent with a sigh. I like being this close to him.

  We walk all the way to Rosemarie’s house and turn into her garden, but Trayan halts because there’re still lights on in some of the rooms. It seems as if he doesn’t feel like going inside just yet. Instead, he leans against the side of the goose hut out of sight of the house and tilts his head back with a deep breath of relief. When he slides down along the wooden laths, nestling Rosemarie on his lap as he sits, Quentin and I lower to the warm grass, too.

  “Heck, it will be good to be back on familiar ground after tomorrow,” he groans.

  At those words, my eyes wander automatically to Quentin’s face, but he avoids looking at me. “When do you think we’re going to talk about you leaving?” I murmur, hurt. “Two minutes before you head back to the castle and we have to say goodbye…forever?”

  “She has a point, dude,” Trayan backs me up, his eyebrows lifted.

  Quentin rubs his hands over his face, drawing in a breath, perhaps to speak, but Rosemarie stirs awake in Trayan’s arms at that moment, and all our attention zips to her.

  She opens her eyes, finding Trayan’s gaze on her first. Gently, he reaches to her face and brushes his fingertip across the almost healed cut on her nose. “Hey…” he breathes.

  The two of them share a seriously cute moment just looking at each other. “What happened?” Rosemarie finally croaks as if her mind catches up to where she actually is.

  Another secon
d passes, then Trayan smiles at her. “You really are a handful.”

  When she glances around and finds us in front of her, I lean forward to touch her hand. “How are you feeling?”

  “Dizzy.” She presses her palm to her temple. “Did someone hit me on the head?”

  Quentin chuckles. “Something like that…”

  “You’re a tough wolf,” Trayan adds. “You’ll get over it.” Amused, he strokes her hair away from her brow.

  Because her eyes keep closing, and her breathing’s still laborious, I scoot forward and press a brief kiss to her cheek. “We’ll leave you two alone now. It’s been a hard night. You need to rest.” She looks at me through half-slits and issues a weak nod. I turn to Trayan and touch his hand. “Tell her to call me when you arrive in Scotland. And don’t let her get into trouble over there.”

  He nods, his look friendly and warm. “Take care of yourself, Abigail.”

  Quentin and I rise from the ground. The boys wish each other luck with a bro-like handshake, then Quentin lays an arm around me and walks me back to the gate. I slow us down a little and glance over my shoulder. Rosemarie’s eyes are shut again, her cheek pillowed on Trayan’s chest. With his head leaning against the hut, he gazes with care at her face, holding her tightly.

  I believe she’ll be in good hands over the summer.

  We stroll back to my house in silence, and it gives me time to sort through my thoughts. God, so many things happened in the short time I was in Romania. Fights. Tragedies. Love… I lift my head a little and behold the bright stars around the waning moon. It’s strange how they’ve become the only constant in my life lately.

  Quentin tracks my eyes and then turns his head back to me. His lips are sealed, but I can feel the curiosity in his gaze. A deep sigh escapes me as I face forward again and then quietly say, “So… You’re leaving tomorrow? That’s really fast. I wonder if you decided that before or after you kissed me.”

  He keeps gaping at me for another short moment before he removes his arm from my shoulders and pushes his hands into his jeans’ pockets.

  Just outside my garden, I stop and eventually turn to him. “No answer?”

  His throat twitches as he swallows, and his long lashes shield his eyes. “I don’t know what to say, Abby.”

  I lower to the small wall of the garden fence and grip the edge with both hands. “Maybe start with why there are suddenly so many people in the castle.”

  As if he needs to think it through, he spins away from me and studies the open plain land across from our house. “My family came last night, right after everything happened with the wolves. I didn’t know they were coming—not so soon anyway.” Quentin turns back to me. “But after my call that night when you found me starving in the dungeon, they were really worried and took a flight.”

  “And now they’re going to take you home.”

  Lips compressed, he nods.

  I know I have no right to blame him for any of this because I knew the consequences from the beginning, but suddenly, all the bullshit of the past few days makes me really angry. “You couldn’t negotiate with them to stay a couple more weeks here in Romania?”

  “Abby…” Quentin squeezes his eyes shut, his voice torn. “What good would that do?”

  I jump up from the wall and pace in front of him, my furious scowl directed at him the entire time. “I don’t know! Perhaps we could spend a few more days together. Maybe figure something out that—”

  “What? Cures vampirism?” he snaps.

  “Well…yeah!” I run my hands through my hair in utter frustration. “Nana sees and knows things. Maybe she can change you back somehow—”

  “There’ve been witches through the ages,” he interrupts and stares into my eyes from five feet away. “Don’t you think they would have figured it out if there were any chance to do something like that?”

  I continue striding, eyebrows drawn, and molars grinding. “So you don’t even want to try? You’ll just…walk away, and that’s it?”

  “I’ve been thinking about nothing but this—us—for days now. About ways how it could work out with you being what you are and me being a vampire. But there’s no chance, and you know it.”

  I hate his tone when he says this. It’s absolute. And I hate that he’s giving up on us so easily when we obviously feel the same for each other. “Some bullshit, I know!” I scream and let my anger out as a hard push against his chest that makes him stagger back just a tiny step. “I’ve gone through hell with you this past week. I gave you my blood, I was attacked by a werewolf, and today, I met the creepiest creature of all time—your uncle. And I’m still here!” Tears spring to my eyes. “And you bail because…because I live during the day and you at night?” Dammit, we could meet in the middle. We’ve been doing it since the day we met. I shove him again and then spin around, walking out my frustration and hurt.

  “No, Abby.” Quentin grabs my wrist and yanks me toward him. I gasp as I knock against his chest, and he peers down into my eyes. “I’m bailing because you live, and I don’t.” His tone and look turn softer. Heartbroken. “You may not think about your future now, but there’ll come a time when you want more from your life—and from your boyfriend.” He cups my cheeks with both hands, my eyes his sole focus. “You’re getting older, Abigail. You’ll want a family, marriage, and children. Sure, we could try this, and it could turn out that we actually break up after a couple of years or so.” He touches his forehead to my brow, whispering, “But what if we don’t? What if the thing we have right now gets even stronger? Because I have a feeling that it very well might. And then each day with you will only make it that much harder for us to part at the end.”

  Closing my eyes, I sniff and rest my hands on his chest. Each breath hurts, as does every heartbeat. I know that he’s right, and obviously, he’s been thinking a lot further into the future than I have. “But I’ve never felt like this for anyone before,” I croak, forcing each word out through a tight throat. “I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

  A single tear trails down my cheek. Quentin wipes it away with his thumb. Then he lays the gentlest of kisses on my lips. He just molds his mouth to mine, breathing deeply, not moving. With his face in hard lines, his throat twitches, and I know he’s choking back his own tears of our painful farewell.

  Chapter 32

  The hoodie

  Quentin

  Abby’s breath trembles on my skin as I hold her soft face with both of my hands, our lips still joined. My throat hurts from all the words that I said—and even more from the ones I keep inside. It takes an eternity until I’m ready to open my mouth and stroke her tongue goodbye for the last time. The kiss tastes of her salty tears and a sad future.

  I will miss her. Terribly.

  Detaching my lips, I lean my forehead against hers. My hands wander from her face down her neck and shoulders until I can wrap my arms tightly around her and pull her closer than ever before. Her heart pounds strong and loud against my chest. I revel in the beat, just feeling her. “You’re an amazing girl, Abigail Potts. And I’ve had an incredibly beautiful time with you.”

  “So, after you’re gone…” she sobs, “will I ever hear from you again?”

  I rest my chin on top of her head and sigh, shutting my eyes. “I’ll get a new phone as soon as I’m home. And you have my number.”

  I can already see us chatting for endless nights, bantering and laughing with each other like we used to do. Abby turned my world upside down.

  “You know what’ll be nice?” she murmurs into my sweatshirt after a long, quiet moment.

  “Hmm?”

  “With the time difference between England and California, we’ll be awake during the same hours.”

  I shove my hand into her silky hair and breathe a kiss to her brow. “That’s a pretty thought.” Consoling. It’ll help me get over the first few weeks if I feel connected with her in that way. And, hopefully, time will do the rest. Since I’ve never really been in love before, I d
on’t know for sure, however.

  Eventually, Abigail leans back with a deep, brave inhale. “Your hoodie is still in my room.” Her voice is small, but I know she’s fighting to brace herself. “If you wait for a moment, I’ll get it for you.”

  The black one I gave her yesterday for the walk in the castle garden? I didn’t think she would want to give it back. Gently, I stroke my fingers down her cheek, looking tenderly into her gingerbread eyes. “Okay…”

  My hand skims down her arm until our fingers slowly glide from each other. I want to hold her forever. If only that were impossible.

  Steeling her shoulders with a breath, Abby walks through the garden toward the house. My chest clamps tighter with every step she takes away from me. I lick the final bit of her taste from my lips, sniff, and swallow. On the threshold, she stops and turns, clasping the doorframe for one brief moment. Our gazes lock in the star-filled night…until she lowers her lashes and later her head. Without looking at me, she disappears inside.

  The door is still open a crack. She’ll come outside again in just a minute.

  But I don’t want my hoodie back.

  It’s one thing she can keep from this exceptional summer that will hopefully remind her of us for the rest of her life.

  I take two hesitant steps away from the fence, my eyes still glued to her house; the window of her room; the light that goes on and shines into the garden. It’s not easy to say things like “I love you” and “goodbye.” I’ve always been really bad at both. But I hope she understands what I couldn’t say when she comes back and finds me gone.

  Turning around, I wipe an errant tear from my face and start walking home.

  In hindsight, I probably should have run—at vampire speed—because, naturally, I don’t get very far before Abby steps through the door again. I know the moment she does because I only have to listen to hear the crack of her breaking heart. She doesn’t come after me. I don’t even think she walks to the front gate. But she whispers a hoarse, “Goodbye…” into the night.